Scene 1 — Uncle Tasi's Bar
Tasi's bar was one of the few places a Helstrong could breathe.
That didn't mean it was comfortable. The moment I stepped in, conversation snapped shut and chairs scraped a cautious inch backward. No one wanted to be too close to Tasi's nephew. No one wanted to tempt the attention of a man whose real surname — like mine — didn't appear in any database without half the file being redacted.
"Hello, uncle Tasi."
He looked me over with the focus of a surgeon and the suspicion of a criminal overlord. When he confirmed I wasn't bleeding or dragging a corpse behind me, he slid a cold soda across the counter.
No greeting. Tasi didn't do greetings.
He poured himself something that could strip paint and asked, too casually:
"So. How do you feel about that dungeon business the academics are pushing?"
Most people would've heard academics and thought he meant tests, exams, curriculum.
But Tasi wasn't "most people."
He was asking how I felt about the weeding.
The culling. The unspoken truth behind the Death Knight incident: who freezes stays weak, who moves gets to survive, and the rest… are dead weight in the new era.
I took the soda. "You mean the cull."
He smirked — pleased I caught the real question.
"I want to say it doesn't bother me," I said slowly, "but if I had to pick teammates from the ones who failed? I wouldn't. The dungeon made that obvious. They froze when it mattered."
The room behind me shifted. Older Travelers, listening, nodded without hesitation — each one having survived their own weeding years ago.
Tasi tapped his glass with a knuckle.
"Good. Was making sure your instinct wasn't soft."
He drank once, then spoke with the blunt honesty only my uncles ever used.
"Weakness can be trained out. Dead weight can't." He leaned in slightly. "That dungeon was the first real line drawn for your generation. And now you know who will break when the next monster breathes wrong."
He wasn't wrong.
"And don't forget — you can hide here anytime," he added. "Just don't let guilt bite you. Mercy gets people killed. That's the one lesson the academics refuse to teach."
He slid me a stronger drink.
"The kids Tasey sent can't even keep Huginn out." A snort. "And rats like Zeus? Even I could break his legs. Quit worrying about your mother. If my brothers fear her, you stressing is pointless."
He clapped my shoulder with the weight of someone who had dragged entire battlefields behind him.
"Now drink. If you can dance with Death, you can drink with me."
Somehow, in this hole-in-the-wall bar surrounded by criminals and ex-soldiers, I felt safer than anywhere else.
---
Scene 2 — Nicole Draws the Line
The Traveler Society war room held the tense stillness of a battlefield waiting for a command.
High-rank Travelers lined the table. Veterans. Guild captains. Strategists. All of them watching me with an intensity that made the fluorescent lights feel too bright.
Baldur stood at my side, the weight of old Astral memories resting like iron across his shoulders.
"Nicole…" he said quietly. "Are you sure about this?"
Every head turned.
The air grew still.
I placed my glass down with deliberate calm.
"Yes," I said. "I'm sure."
A tremor — not mana, not sound — moved through the room as the meaning settled.
"Zeus believes he can pressure the government into controlling us," I continued. "He thinks the Society is something he can steer. Something he can inflict his politics on."
I let the silence stretch until it became suffocating.
"He thinks Travelers will kneel to legislation."
A few captains looked away — not in disagreement, but in recognition of the naïveté of the world outside these walls.
"The government only gets one last clean exit," I said. "The second they step out of line, I stop shielding them."
Baldur clenched his jaw.
Everyone here understood exactly what that meant. Travelers didn't need to go to war to collapse nations — withholding cooperation was enough.
"I've been the only barrier preventing Explorers from fracturing this country into territorial factions." My voice hardened. "I won't keep holding them back if Washington decides to use us as political leverage."
A younger captain swallowed.
This was no longer internal policy. This was the moment the US Traveler Society stepped out of the federal shadow.
"Send the notice," I ordered.
The communications officer nearly dropped his pen. "To— to all guilds, Madam President?"
"To every major guild," I said. "Inform them that the Traveler Society is suspending all operational partnership with the federal government."
Several gasped. Others bowed their heads.
"This directive is approved and authorized," I finished, "by the President of the Society."
The title — normally ceremonial — dropped like a weapon.
Travelers nodded, some grim, some relieved. All of them aware the world's balance had shifted.
When the room emptied, Baldur remained.
"You just cut the country loose," he murmured.
I tapped the table with one finger.
"No," I said. "I cut the world free of Zeus."
His expression softened — just a little.
"This will make waves."
"It's supposed to," I replied.
Outside, thunder rolled — faint, distant, unmistakable.
The kind of omen the Astral Sea never delivered by accident.
---
Scene 3 — The Breaking Point
"I smell fear!"
The wall of the minor guild hall disintegrated as Tasi — not quiet, not subtle — barreled through it like a wrecking ball in human form. Dust flooded the room. Olympus mercenaries scrambled to aim their weapons. My men surged in behind me.
But I froze.
Not because of the enemy.
Because of the children.
Thin. Wide-eyed. Hands still trembling from drills they were too young to survive.
Eyes too old. Fear too familiar.
Zeus's hand was all over this place.
My jaw clenched hard enough to crack the cigar between my teeth.
"Come on!" an Olympus officer barked. "If we don't attack, then we're—"
I released a wave of mana so sharp the entire room's instincts buckled under the pressure. The children collapsed or staggered, their conditioning forcing them upright again.
Zeus's methods. His training. His twisted version of discipline.
I saw enough.
"Grim," I said without raising my voice. My second-in-command straightened instantly.
"Spread the order. Capture everyone. Every location tied to this bastard gets taken tonight."
Grim's eyes sharpened. "Understood."
He moved, barking orders as my pulse darkened.
I turned to leave—
—but the air shifted.
Heat. Pressure. A presence so war-forged it felt like a battlefield remembering its purpose.
Tasi stopped mid-step.
And a voice rolled through the ruined hall:
"Tch. This is pathetic."
A figure stepped through the dust — armor dented, blade drawn, eyes glowing with old violence.
Ares.
The God of War himself.
Even the mercenaries didn't breathe.
Even my men tightened their grips.
Ares cracked his neck, gaze sweeping the room like choosing which enemy deserved to die first.
"Well," I muttered, rolling my shoulders as battle heat surged through me, "looks like it's about to get loud."
Ares stepped forward.
And the war truly began.