Disenchantment Epilogue

Disenchantment: Epilogue

 

 

Ares awoke.

 

After several decades of sleep, he was free again. Zeus had not taken kindly to the last time he had waged war, played his role in things. Two unheard of weapons had been used, weapons that the gods could not have imagined the mortals having ever possibly created, weapons to rival the power of Zeus himself.

 

Zeus had forced a slumber on him. He was to remain in a state of unconsciousness until his father had felt that he was punished enough. It was supposed to be several centuries, but somehow it was less than one. Then there was a reason for his awakening. Perhaps his father needed him for something.

 

The mortals no longer required Ares to war amongst themselves, oh how they had grown into hardened warriors. Of course, it was easier for leaders to wage war when civilizations advanced and the leaders causing it no longer knew the warriors fighting it. There had been multiple altercations and millions dead without the guidance of Ares. Still, when the bloodlust reigned in his mind, he could make the wars more vicious, cause more casualties, spread more destruction. It was his role, and because of that, he thoroughly enjoyed the massacres, the chaos, the bloodletting. He only felt truly fulfilled when screams of rage, pain, and death engulfed the very air of battle.

 

While he slept he had dreamt of everlasting battle, beautiful carnage. The war drums beating, people screaming, rage and confusion and loss permeating all, those things were euphoric for Ares, things he was designed to love. Now he was awake again, and desired more death and destruction.

 

In days of old, the opposing armies would sacrifice to him, and he would choose a side to help. His patrons always won, but at a very dear cost. After a time, when the mortals had ceased believing in his almighty power, they had forgotten the very secrets of worshipping him in their infinite growth and stupidity, then he chose no side, just reveled in the will of man to destroy. He allowed the stronger side to prevail, those who fought more, were more powerful or vicious, occasionally picking an outnumbered side for their complete lack of sympathy and destruction.

 

Distracted by his thoughts, he hadn’t noticed another god enter his chambers. “Your father wants to see you.”

 

“I know, else I wouldn’t have been awoken.” Ares sneered at the newcomer. He didn’t respect most of his peers. Zeus and his brothers, god of sea and god of death, were deserving of it, and Aphrodite brought out something akin to lust in him, he could do without the rest, especially the messenger god, whose role was highly insignificant in Ares’s mind.

 

“Yes, I was told to inform you, so that is what was done.” Hermes usually opted to float on his winged feet while most of the others walked about the way mortals travelled.

 

“Are you still interfering with my father’s plans?” asked Ares.

 

“Only when I disagree. I recently just guided a mortal in the right direction, gave him something to ponder to help out his kind. Not all of us need destroy them.”

 

“That is what a coward would say. They only respect might and victory and power.”

 

“Throughout all the millennia you still choose wanton destruction over creativity and warmth.”

 

“Yes, it is not my role to be the errand boy. I command armies. I don’t deliver messages for my betters.”

 

“Yes, well, when I disobey Zeus, I tend to be more subtle about it, something you might benefit from learning. He does not feel the need to condemn me to centuries of sleep for my actions. Then again, my role is more important than tyrannical slaughter, so you might say I am needed.”

 

“You can fool yourself into believing your role is of import but do not waste your time and rhetoric on convincing me that you are one solitary step above a glorified mortal whore.”

 

“Well, nothing happens without the knowledge of father anyhow. So, we can assume that any lack of punishment toward me is proof that my role is more important in the scheme of all things.”

 

“Believe whatever nonsense you will, but I grow weary of your petulant insolence. Feel free to leave me now.”

 

“With pleasure,” the god said, then Hermes was gone.

 

Ares began putting on his armor and grabbed his sword. He always wore his finely crafted armor when in the halls of Zeus. He felt vulnerable without it. The steel was forged by Hephaestus himself, strong against enemies, but quite pliable and comfortable for movement when not in battle.

 

Ares then paused and closed his immortal eyes. He sought out mortal thoughts. No one had prayed to him at all since his slumber, but that was to be expected in this time of no more faith. He marveled at all the technology that had come into existence during his sleep. The mortals were truly astonishing when it came to inventions. How did they even think up such things? The humans could all interact with anyone on the planet now. How very strange of them to desire such communication. That mattered little to Ares as they still had the will to hate and fight.

 

Ah, yes, the A-bomb was no longer the most powerful weapon. These new, nuclear ones had the potential to be even more destructive. He searched the thoughts of leaders. One of the main powers that was dominating before his forced slumber, was now faltering some, yet not completely neutered, but a new one had risen to take its place in Asia. There were several relatively powerful tribes, but two stood out the most. They also had their petty grievances against each other, typical human ignorance. Those could be used to his advantage. Mortal fools always made it so easy for him to slip between the cracks and influence outcomes.

 

He would go see his father, but he knew what was wanted of him. His role was the god of war. There would be a war, he was already planning his manipulation of the two great powers.

 

Yes, there would be a war, the likes of which had never been seen throughout the history of man.