God of Storms |The Anak Series| [COMPLETED!]

Eight

Challenge Three was the Challenge that ended the most lives.

It was the first Challenge where the challenger fights alone in a traditional duel. One warrior against another, with only one survivor.

Perseus was a survivor.

The God stepped through the opening gates, accepting the familiar scent of blood and death. By this point, he was used to the overwhelming roar of the crowds.

Deities of all kinds came here to watch blood and gore. To them, this was just a sport. "Depths of Tartarus for them all," Perseus cursed under his breath, his eyes surveying the crowd.

Perseus shook his head, turning attention back to the battlefield. He couldn't waste his time or energy at all.

He focused, drawing Celestion. The blade hummed in his hands as Perseus let his essence flow through the sword. He raised Maros, his eyes fixed on the gate ahead.

The gate swung open, unleashing the Third Challenge.

Perseus' hands fell to his side, and his eyes widened. It was Garmeus.

The silver-eyed right hand of Ouranos drew his sword, a white blade, reflecting the darkness around him. Garmeus flinched, freezing for a second, but he kept on moving, this was the Arena after all.

Perseus tensed. He didn't know Garemus and Justus for long, but after their experience fighting in the Second Challenge, Perseus felt as if he knew the men for centuries.

Right now, none of it mattered.

Perseus wanted to believe it.

Perseus raised Celestion, sending arcs of deadly thunder at Garmeus. You made the first move. You made the first move. You made the first move. The words rang in Perseus' head, burning through his senses.

Garmeus raised his hand, and instantly, Perseus felt the power in the air thicken. Perseus' thunder couldn't break through Garemus' own barriers.

Perseus clenched his jaw. Raising his shield in front of him, Perseus charged Garmeus.

They locked blades. Garmeus pursed his lips. "I don't want to do this," he said.

Perseus stepped back swiftly. He threw his weight forward, slamming Garmeus to the ground. "But we have to," Perseus paused, letting Garmeus stand. "We both have our reasons, but it doesn't matter. It's just the Arena now."

Perseus felt the weight of his words as they left his mouth. He shook his head slightly. This wasn't a time for morals.

Garmeus rushed forward, but this time he was more careful. Each stroke of his blade was like the stroke of a skilled artist. Except, Garmeus was painting with blood.

Perseus matched Garmeus effectively, refusing to lose ground, but at the same, he didn't fight aggressively. Still, as the fight dragged on, it was inevitable.

Garmeus made a mistake. It was small, but it was enough.

Perseus threw his weight against Garemeus. Caught off guard, Garemeus stumbled. Perseus tensed. This could be it. This had to be it.

Perseus slashed diagonally. Garmeus managed to fall back, and the blade only managed to pierce through Garmeus; armor.

Garmeus looked up at Perseus, his eyes wide. "You could have killed me!" He exclaimed as he struggled to stand.

Perseus' eyes hardened. "What did you expect" He shouted, raising Celestion above him. "I need to do this," he explained, his voice falling soft, "it's for Olympus."