I looked at the Greek God of War, Ares, as he just revealed to me he was my grandfather.
"What?" I said again, my mind still reeling from the God's statement.
"What do you mean 'what,' boy!" Ares said with a tone of utter disbelief at my reaction. "Is it so surprising to hear you're the grandson of a God?"
My mind reeled, but not because of his statement. Not entirely, anyway. It was because I just noticed his accent in that moment, I realized he wasn't speaking with the same accent that the Amazons or even Psyche had. That accent he spoke with sounded distinctly Irish.
But why would a Greek God have an Irish accent?
The thought circled in my head like a vulture. Everything I knew about Greek mythology—from my past life, from the comics, from the stories—painted Ares as this ancient, Mediterranean deity. Born on Olympus. Raised among the Greek pantheon. His entire existence was supposed to be rooted in Hellenic culture and tradition. Yet here he stood, towering over me, speaking with the rolling cadence of someone from the Emerald Isle.
It didn't make sense. Unless...
Maybe Ares had spent significant time in Ireland, enough to pick up the accent naturally. Gods lived for millennia, who knew where they'd been, what forms they'd taken, what lives they'd lived among mortals?
The questions continued to pile up in my mind, but I didn't have time to voice them.
That's when I felt a large hand place itself on my shoulder.
The weight of it was immense, not just physical, though it was certainly that. It was the weight of divine power, and of a bloodthirsty conquer. It pressed down on me like gravity had suddenly tripled.
"Are you there, boy? I'm speaking to you," Ares said, his voice cutting through my thoughts.
I snapped back to the moment in front of me, blinking rapidly as I refocused on the God of War's face. His crimson eyes bore into mine with an intensity that would have made most people look away. But I held his gaze.
"It's not that I'm all that surprised," I said slowly, choosing my words carefully. "I mean, it's not like it's not surprising at all consideringthe world we live in. But I'm just wondering why Mom never told me about you. Or why you never visited me."
Ares sighed, and for a moment, something flickered across his face. Regret or maybe frustration? It was hard to tell with a god whose expressions who was know for being intimidating and imposing.
"Listen, son," he said, and I noticed he didn't call me 'boy' this time. "Me and your mum have a long, complicated history."
"Well, uncomplicate it for me, old man."
The words left my mouth before I could stop them. I then saw Ares's red eyes widen, and I saw the way his entire body tensed. The hand on my shoulder tightened, and I felt the pressure of his divine presence increase exponentially.
"What did you say to me, boy?" The God said, his eyes staring hard at me in a cold gaze as he towered over me. His blood thirsty pressure trying to break me, and force me to my knees, to make me submit.
But I kept eye contact and took a step forward instead of back.
My Viltrumite blood surged in response to the challenge, pushing back against his divine aura with my own absolute power. I felt my TTK flare instinctively, creating a barrier between us that held firm against his pressure.
"I said uncomplicate it, old man," I repeated, my voice steady despite the tension crackling in the air between us. "And stop calling me 'boy.' It sounds weird. Use the god-given name your daughter gave me, or my codename Superior. But I doubt you want to do that."
The air at the altar became palpable, and thick with tension that made it hard to breathe. We stared at each other, neither one of us backing down.
I could feel Nubia and Hippolyta behind me, could sense their tension as they watched this confrontation unfold. Psyche stood off to the side, her expression unreadable but her eyes sharp and observant.
And right as the air between us began to shift, right as I felt something dangerous building in the space between our locked gazes, I heard a laugh come from Ares.
It was a loud, hearty laugh that echoed across the altar and probably throughout the entire city.
"Hahahaha! You definitely are your mother's son, and you are certainly my grandson! Hahahaha!"
He looked at me again, and the tension was completely gone. His eyes were still fierce, and still carrying that edge of danger that never quite left a war god, but now they were warm too. Almost... proud?
"Very well, Caius," he said, and I noticed he used my name this time. "For showing your courage to stare me down, I will make a long story short."
He removed his hand from my shoulder and crossed his arms, his bronze armor catching the light from the nearby flames.
"Your mother grew up not really knowing me," he began, his voice taking on a more contemplative tone. "But I kept an eye on her. I changed my form and taught her things from time to tiime. I would even send your aunts and uncles to toughen her up a little bit here and there."
I knew what he meant by 'toughen up.' He meant testing her. Putting her through trials. Making her prove herself worthy of her divine heritage. Or just his notice.
This is giving me major Percy Jackson vibes, and I dont like it.
I couldn't get a read on this God. Unlike the original from the comics I was familiar with, the bloodthirsty, war-hungry monster who reveled in conflict for its own sake, this Ares seemed different. More nuanced, like he wasn't lying or hiding anything, at least not that I could tell.
And his entire outfit was different as well. The bronze armor, the burgundy cape, and not the same black one from the comics, and the way he carried himself. It all spoke of a warrior, yes, but also of something more.
There was also the fact that he seemed more like an old, grizzled man who was speaking to his family. Which technically he was doing.
God's this man really is my Grandfather. I can see where my mother got the hight from at least.
"So you were a deadbeat father," I said casually, unable to keep the edge out of my voice. "Who told his older kids to go toughen up the youngest."
Ares stopped talking and paused for a moment. Causing the silence to stretch between us, and I wondered if I'd pushed too far. But then he spoke, his voice quiet but firm.
"Yes, Caius. I guess you can say that."
I looked at him, confused about what to say next. Part of me wanted to be angry, wanted to rage at him for not being there for my mother, for not being there for me. But another part of me understood that family was complicated. Especially when gods were involved.
"I have a quick question," I said, breaking the silence. "When did you reveal yourself to her?"
Ares paused. Then when he spoke, his eyes were heavy, like he was remembering something painful.
"When she was about fourteen. She awakened her powers, at the same age you did."
I blinked. "Awakened her powers? I did too? What are you talking about?"
Ares sighed, and I saw genuine weariness in his expression. "Tell me, Caius, do you remember when you fought the boy Mark Grayson and you were on the verge of losing?"
I paused as I remembered the fight. Parts of it were blurry, especially once everything went red. I remembered the rage, the overwhelming need to win, to dominate, to prove myself stronger. I remembered feeling something inside me break open, like a dam bursting, and then...
"I do," I said slowly. "What about it?"
"When you were at your lowest and your angriest, you went into a blood rage and unleashed your godly ability."
My eyes narrowed. When I looked back at the footage from the Tower incident, footage I'd reviewed multiple times, trying to understand what had happened, I saw that my TTK's golden aura had turned blood red with wisps of black threading through it. And I saw from a freeze-frame that my irises had turned blood red as well.
At the time, I'd thought it was just a side effect of my Viltrumite heritage mixing with my TTK. But now...
"So!" I said, my voice harder than I intended. "What about it? You gonna teach me to learn how to wield it? Even though after I already awakened it, I never saw you anywhere in my life after for years."
The words came out cold, bitter. Five years of frustration, of wondering why I was different, of dealing with powers I didn't fully understand, it all came pouring out in that moment.
Ares just looked at me with a stern but somber expression. "Caius, I was around you. But not in this form."
And then he morphed.
His body shifted, the divine aura fading, the bronze armor disappearing. In his place stood a man I knew, a regular at Wildcats gym. He was a man Ted would have me spar with, someone I'd trained with dozens of times over the years. The man who gave me good advice about staying calm, about controlling my anger, about channeling my aggression productively.
I'd always appreciated that advice that man gave. Especially considering part of me had wanted to cut loose, to say screw the consequences and just use my powers however I wanted. This man, Ares in disguise, had helped me stay grounded.
My eyes narrowed as I stared at the familiar face. This changes nothing.
"So what?" I said, my voice low and dangerous. "Is this supposed to make up for not being in my life? Giving me sagely advice like a fucking fortune cookie but not being man enough to say 'I'm your fucking grandfather directly and not fucking guide me?"
Ares's eyes narrowed hard on me. He shifted back to his true form, the divine presence returning in full force.
"Watch yourself, boy," he said, his voice carrying a warning edge. "Don't let your courage turn into blind pride, or you will regret it."
I heard him. I understood the threat disguisedas a warning. But part of me, the part that had been angry for the past five years, the part that was tired of adults making excuses for their shitty behavior, only got more pissed off.
I don't know if I felt stronger from sleeping with Nubia and losing my virginity, from finally releasing all that pent-up energy and tension. Or because I didn't want to hear another adult's excuses for their failures. Maybe it was both.
"Well, I'm not surprised," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "You're the God of War. You were never known for your kind-heartedness. You were just a bloodthirsty monster who is always hungry for conflict. It makes sense, the only way you know how to talk is with your fists..."
The moment I finished that sentence, Ares's fist hit me in the face.
The impact was instantaneous and devastating not even my TTK caught it. One second I was standing there, the next I was flying backward through the air. I felt my body crash into a nearby marble pillar with enough force to crack the stone. The pillar shuddered from the impact, and I fell to one knee, my head ringing.
I felt blood dripping from my mouth as I looked up at Ares, who stood where I'd been standing, his fist still extended from the punch.
It felt like I'd been hit by one of Conner's strongest punches, or like the Omni-Man program at the Tower set to its highest difficulty. My jaw ached, my vision swam slightly, and I tasted copper on my tongue.
Ares looked down at me coldly, his crimson eyes blazing with an emotion I couldn't quite identify. Anger, yes, but also something else.
"I've been called a monster by my own parents," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "But you, who knows nothing of the real me, will not call me one."
He then placed a helmet on his head, it was a magnificent bronze war helm with a red plume that seemed to burn like fire. From somewhere, he produced a golden coin and tossed it toward me. It landed on the ground near my knee with a soft clink.
"Toss this into a fire when you're ready to talk like an adult," he said.
And then Ares disappeared right in front of me, his form dissolving into red mist that dissipated on the wind.
I could only sigh as I knelt there, blood still dripping from my mouth. I knew he was right. I'd pushed too far, and said things I knew shouldn't have said. I just didn't think he would actually hit me.
But then again, he was the God of War. Of course he'd respond to disrespect with violence. That was literally his nature.
And why did he talk with an Irish accent? The question still nagged at me, even through the pain.
That's when Psyche walked up to me and offered her hand.
"He must really like your mother," she said, her voice gentle and knowing. "Otherwise, he would have cursed you after beating you to a bloody pulp."
I took her hand, and she helped me stand. Her touch was warm, comforting in a way that made me think of my mother's hugs when I was younger. I wiped the blood from my face with the back of my hand, feeling the cut on my lip already starting to heal already.
"I had it coming," I admitted, my voice rough. "I guess I can consider myself lucky he didn't swing more."
Psyche bent down and picked up the golden coin, then handed it to me. Up close, I could see it was beautifully crafted, with Ares's profile on one side and a crossed spear and sword on the other. It radiated a faint warmth, like it was alive somehow.
"Here," she said. "You don't want to lose it."
I nodded, taking the coin and slipping it into a pocket in my costume. "Thank you."
She smiled, and it was a beautiful, genuine expression that made her already ethereal features even more striking. Then she looked to Hippolyta and Nubia, who were standing to the side, watching everything with careful expressions.
"I will take over from here, ladies," Psyche said.
And before they could respond, or before I could even process what was happening, Psyche snapped her fingers.
Then the world around us suddenly changed.
One moment we were standing at the altar in Themyscira, surrounded by marble and offerings and the distant sounds of the Amazon city. The next moment, we were somewhere else entirely.
Bright, beautiful nature surrounded us on all sides. The air smelled sweet, like honey and flowers and something indefinably divine.
Sunlight filtered through leaves overhead, creating patterns of light and shadow on the grass beneath our feet. Birds sang in the distance, their songs more melodious than any I'd heard before.
"Don't worry," Psyche said, her voice carrying easily in the peaceful atmosphere. "We won't be bothered here. I asked the nymphs to give us some privacy."
That's when I noticed the apple trees.
But they weren't any ordinary apple trees. The apples hanging from their branches were golden, literally. Each one was perfect, unblemished, radiating power that I could feel even from a distance.
Those can't be what I think they are?
And then I noticed something sleeping nearby, a fierce dragon-looking creature coiled around the base of one of the trees. Its scales shimmered with iridescent colors, and even in sleep, but it radiated danger.
If my Greek knowledge was correct, this was Ladon. The guardian of the golden apples known as Ambrosia.
My breath caught as I took in the scene. This was a place of myth, of legend, somewhere mortals weren't supposed to be able to reach.
Psyche smiled at my reaction and said, "Welcome to the Garden of the Hesperides, Caius Dawn."
She paused, and her smile took on a knowing quality that made my stomach drop.
"Or should I say... Jasen?"
In that very moment, my eyes that had been staring at the beautiful nature and scenery around me shot to Psyche. My entire body tensed.
My eyes narrowed as I stared at the beautiful goddess who stared back at me with that knowing smile.
But I couldn't speak. My throat had closed up, my mind racing through possibilities and implications. How did she know? How could she possibly know my real name, or the name from my past life, the name of the person I used to be before I came to this world?
Jasen.
I hadn't thought about that name in years. I'd buried it deep, locking it away in the deepest parts of my mind along with all my memories of my previous life. Unless it was my comics book knowledge I never used it.
I was Caius Dawn now. A hybrid of Viltrumite and human and demi-god.
With my lifespan I would have long forgotten that name in a Century or two God know's about a millennium.
But how does Psyche know.
Is it because she is the Goddess of the Soul?
I just stared at her, unable to form words, unable to process what this meant. My heart pounded in my chest, and I felt a cold sweat break out across my skin despite my enhanced physiology.
Psyche's smile softened, becoming less knowing and more compassionate. She gestured to a nearby stone bench beneath one of the golden apple trees.
"Sit, Jasen," she said gently. " Or Caius, if you prefer. We have much to discuss, and I think you'll want to be sitting down for this conversation."