“…” Grita stared at Ares who tried to avoid her gaze, but the creeping sensation of disappointment that flooded against him was too much for him to ignore.

“Hey Grita, it’s good to see you again so soon. I’m sorry for interrupting your meal, but I seem to have gotten myself into a little bit of trouble.”

“Yes… I have heard from Lana.” Grita replied in a tone that filled Ares with even more guilt. It was a tone he was quite familiar with, one that a mother would give their son when they were disappointed in them. What a terrifying pain that filled his body.

“You see, there was a little bit of…” Ares looked into Grita’s eyes. “No, there’s no excuse. I shouldn’t have gotten so heated, that’s my own fault. Though now we’ve come to this, so would you be willing to watch the bout?”

“Very well, I will oversee the matter.” Grita bowed her head.

“Thank you, and I’m sorry again.” Ares rubbed the back of his neck and then looked over to Rori. Rori merely nodded, and Ares returned the nod. There were no need for words. So then Ares made his way to the large empty space that was the field outside of the ramshackle village.

It was then Ares started to stretch, trying to warm up before the fight. It would be the most dangerous fight he would have engaged in since arriving in this world. Perhaps he’d have to go feral in order to beat the others, though then again, he had been training for some time and now he had access to his void magic.

It was then that the oxfolk had arrived, all eleven of them. The tribe had come to watch them from one side, leaving Ares’ back free. About eight of the oxfolk were fairly elderly, another two were perhaps in their thirties or forties, then the last was quite young, around Ares’ age, maybe even a little younger. Each of them all had their own kind of weapons from a pair of curved swords, to large spears, one of them even had a hammer.

“Bringing kids to the battlefield, you’re one hell of a guy.” Ares joked as he was squat down, stretching out his hamstrings.

“Enough with your chatter. The rules.” The older oxfolk growled at him.

“A fight to the death. Though if you give up, I don’t mind letting you go once I’m done with you.” Ares grinned.

“Hurry it up.” The older oxfolk snapped.

“We get to use whatever weapons at our disposal, there will be no limits in that regard. Weapons, magic, whatever. However, this is a bout between us twelve only. There’s no need to involve anyone else that’s just watching.” Ares waited, but they didn’t seem to want to change anything he had said. “The winner of the bout then becomes the chief of the village. I stand to lose much, but what do I gain?”

The old man waited. Then Ares bowed his head a little. “It’s simple. Everyone here will know that when I say something, I mean it. You will go down as the unnamed eleven that laid the foundation of what will become an entire empire. Well then, are you ready?” Ares asked.

The oxfolk did not respond, but Ares glanced over towards Grita to give her a nod. Then his eyes darted back to the oxfolk, and Grita’s voice cut through the silent air.

"Then, I shall oversee the bout. May Rivea smile fortune upon you." Grita said. Then she clapped her hands once.

‘How scary…’ Ares managed to think as eleven feral oxfolk darted towards him. Four had gone around to close off his escape. Ares didn’t move, he let them close in. They seemed to have slowed down, after having reached him, but metres away, they had stopped. No doubt they were waiting for him to move.

“What… is that all your conviction amounts too?” Ares asked, smiling at them. Even though he had spurred them to action, they remained cautious. An older oxfolk thrust forward with his spear and the rest braced to see what he would do, yet he didn’t move. The spear plunged through his front and then pierced out of his back. The sharp pain caused him to tense up, but a moment later he relaxed. He didn’t move. Another with a pair of blade came and stabbed forward too, piercing through his stomach. Ares coughed up some blood, but then spat it into one of their faces. “Didn’t I say? That I’d die for my convictions?” Ares let out a soft sigh. “Still… did you really think the likes of you could kill me?” He asked, his voice low.

Then he smiled. It was then the smartest of the oxfolk, all those that hadn’t stepped so close to plunge their weapons into him, leapt away. He then shifted the earth around them to trap the pair of oxfolk that had stabbed him in a cylinder of earth. He then shifted into his phoenix form, the light splashing against the walls, before he reached out to grab their faces. His hands were half formed into flames at the time, and he slammed their heads against the walls. He inhaled deeply before the smell of burnt skin started to fill the cylinder. The pair of oxfolk tried to get him to stop by slashing and stabbing, but he continued to shift into flames as they struck him, before they finally fell limp. For good measure, he continued to burn them for a little longer, then slammed the back of their heads together before he then crashed them through the dirt walls around him, shifting them back into his ring. The dust began to clear around him and he held the pair by their heads still, though this time outstretched on either side of him.

The other oxfolk had come to rush in, but had stopped when they saw the pair of older oxfolk, their heads melted and burnt.

“What madnes-” As the instigating oxfolk spoke up, Ares tossed one of the dead oxfolk at him and then he tossed the other in the opposite direction.

“Don’t tell me you’ve lost your nerve already. Didn’t you come with the intention to die? Or perhaps, did you think, I’d actually show you a little bit of mercy?” Ares asked, cocking his head to one side again. “Don’t tell me… are you regretting your actions? Do you wish to repent?” He asked.

Yet this only enraged the remaining elder oxfolk, and they charged at him with blinding speed. This time, however, Ares didn’t allow them to reach him. He raised his hands up, his hands seemed as though he was controlling puppets on strings, as he brought up the earth around him. They crashed through it and charged with their horns ahead, but all they met was air as Ares back flipped over them like a swan. When he was about to land, he saw that an oxfolk had stopped under him, the one with the hammer, and she swung her hammer around to meet his head.

Ares grabbed the hammer and landed safely down beside her. Then he gripped the head of the hammer, causing it to shake, before parts of it crumpled under his strength. He smiled at her, with the smile creeping like darkness over his face, before he reached in front of her stomach. Then he summoned his sword and pierced through her with it, then withdrew it when another oxfolk swung their spear over towards his neck. Ares met the blow and then pushed the hammer into the other oxfolk’s gut, letting her strike her own ally, before he hopped into the air and slammed his knee into the man’s face, then swung his blade down to cut one of the woman’s legs, letting her tumble.

Once he was on his feet, he thrust the blade through her neck and up through her skull, pulling out as he reached her horn and then he deflected a blow from another elder. The pair went into a dance, where Ares deflected each beautiful swing. They attacked him like a butter fly, spinning their spear repeatedly. They were like an artist, a man of nature, even Ares could feel some form of comfort from the way they moved their spear. He could hear another behind him, ready to plunge forward with their own spear, but he made to leap up, only to actually drop backwards until only his boots were planted on the ground and he was knee level, then he swung his blade and cut the oxfolk at their ankles, swiftly spinning his blade to his chest to deflect the spear that had plunged forward to him. Then he span away from the oxfolk, only to find himself face to face with the oxfolk that was leading them. They used a pair of curved swords too, and plunged them like a wolf’s fangs at him.

Ares inhaled as he summoned a tree trunk ahead of him, letting the oxfolk plunge into the tree as he then kicked through the trunk and struck their abdomen, kicking them away from him. The oxfolk began to growl to one another, swiftly getting into position. The spear oxfolk stood ahead of the oxfolk that had lost both of their feet.

“Sorry about that.” Then Ares reached up, and two spears plunged straight into their skull. The oxfolk had turned around to see what had happened to their companion, but Ares dashed to appear ahead of them. “Are you sure you should be looking away?” Then he kicked them across their neck, though they managed to brace themselves as their neck grew taut. ‘Oh! He’s a strong on-’ The oxfolk had grabbed his leg, spun and then flung Ares away, but he landed onto his feet.

They had lost quite a few of their members, about four of them were dead and one was injured. There was a darkness within Ares that he kept at bay. “Well then, what is next?” He asked. “Perhaps I should stop holding back so much?” Ares asked as they charged at him. The man with the beautiful spear work charged at him, spear pointed back as they tried to slash at Ares. Ares reached forward and right as they appeared, he shot out four spears into the man, before stepping aside behind them, grabbing onto one spear and pulling it through them, then tossing it towards the younger man with such ferocity, that even though the younger man tried to deflect it with their sword, it shattered and the spear plunged straight into their skull. Even Ares winced.

It was then a roar filled the air, and enraged, the older oxfolk that had led the others charged forward, breaking away from the others. ‘Oh, they were related?’ Ares thought as he dashed towards them, and then as the oxfolk lunged with their swords, Ares slashed the blades so they broke, before then striking the back of their head with his knee. As he swiped down with his sword to cut off a horn, the other oxfolk were on him. He was surrounded, and they each slashed with their weapons to try and pin him down. Yet Ares then rolled forward with the old oxfolk, then kicked then up towards his allies, only to them summon more spears to cut through them to pin the pair together.

In the next moment, he cut down the remaining oxfolk with his mithril blade, cutting their heads clean off before he then walked to the pair of oxfolk that were stuck together. “Just a second.” He said as he then pushed his sword through the oxfolk’s ribs, aiming the tip towards the other’s heart, piercing through it as the pair howled in pain until only one voice remained. The oxfolk panted out, staring up at Ares with such hatred, that Ares had to pause.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t tell me your name. It would have been useless to remember.” Ares then grabbed their horns, twisted them off before finally plunging them into his eye sockets. The squelching noise caused him to gag before he then let them drop down. He saw the mess that he had caused, the blood that had soaked the grass crimson. Then he looked out towards his tribe.

There was a wetness on his face, down his cheeks. Then he looked down to see his hands were shaking. Even though he had spoken so darkly… he did kill eleven due to not being able to control his anger… no, it wasn’t his anger. It was his pride. He looked out to see Rori, but then turned away. Then he reached out a hand and started to shift the dirt away, starting to form the graves of the eleven.