TITANIOUS Book One: Rise of the Titans

PROLOGUE

Miles into the earth– deep within the planet’s depths, 2,500 years ago– there is a dark abyss of fire and brimstone. Towering structures of granite, pillars of bone, pathways of coal, rivers of flame, seas of magma. All is abandoned, for the subterranean world is inhabited by cursed spirits of creatures of all. Their screams of agony echo from across, drowning in despair. Tartarus, the underworld– where souls come for their judgment.

In the far reaches of the realm, there lies a pit, filled with a verdant ooze that flows in a spiral. Eventually, a colossal, muscular figure begins to crawl its way out of the thick mass, covered in wounds that have been sealed, and are in the process of healing. After the giant frees itself from the bath of slime, he marches toward his black armor that has been resting aside, waiting for its owner to don it once more. The figure then covers himself with the dark plating of this armor, and slowly, places the helmet, covered in charred ebony, sporting two horns that protrude from the front, upon his head. The gargantuan male has kept his eyes at rest– but once the uniform has been fitted to his person, he lifts the covers of his eyes, which unleash a bright, deep red flare, filled with rage, hatred, and a desire to destroy. Ares, the god of war, who had just fallen, losing the war on Olympus, tends to his wounds in the trenches of Tartarus.

Another armored figure, one whose head is in the shape of a skull, shrouded in blue flames, approaches the war god from behind.

How are you feeling, Ares? the knight asks so sternly.

The horned god glares to his direction for a brief moment, before beginning to wander. Why are you here? To console me?

"This is my domain, in case you had forgotten." The skeletal warrior trails.

Ares continues to tread along, entering an amphitheater.

The warrior inquires further. What are your intentions now?

I do not answer to you. the god of war leaves a cold reply. After you had raised an army of the dead that proved itself ultimately useless?

You asked for forces, I simply provided.

And would a servant of mine be so willing to deliver such a pitiful excuse for troops?

If we had known the existence of the Elysium Saber, then–

Ares swiftly turns back to scold the knight. If I hear another word about what happened, I will tear off that disgusting head of yours!

The knight stops in his tracks. You are welcome to try, but I understand. I am only curious as to what your next step is.

Oh, trust me, old friend. This is all just a minor setback to me. Even if it takes a thousand years, or even longer than that, I will have another chance at conquest.

Minor, you say? As far as I can tell, Zeus did very well to make sure that–

What did I say?

If you wish to reign supreme, I suggest we start with the faults in the operation.

I am very much aware of what went wrong. I am surrounded by weak and incompetent fools who could not do so much as lead a picnic! The god of war looks off to the distance of the underworld, watching as souls sweep through the dark sky. Why does he even bother protecting this world and its people? He will see that it will all be for nothing. Violence is within our nature as living and breathing things, so why suppress it? Why not let things play out as they should if the natural order calls for it?

The warrior peers downward at a slight angle. Aptly put… for someone who murdered his wife.

Your point? Ares faces him again.

I know not to answer a question with another question, but why should such a genius tactician such as yourself be concerned with such petty matters? If you want to talk about natural order, allow me to clear things up: Zeus is the ruler of Olympus, you are the god of war. It appears you could use a little more self-reflection than I had thought.

It must be so easy to be as neutral as you are. No need to pick sides, safely hiding away from shame, and free to judge, no matter the consequences.

With a soul as dead as mine, can you really blame me?

Perhaps you intentionally sabotaged my plans by giving me such poor infantry.

So I am at fault for your blind arrogance? You are lucky to have made it as far as you have with Kronos and Rheia at your side.

Yet, here we are. You think your shallow compliments will help your case?

"What case, exactly? If anything, this is all your doing. I am being as reasonable as one could be. If you are willing to wait eons before the next opportunity for world domination, we can proceed with this: leave this place now."

The war god draws a smirk.

Ares….

He cackles. I am not going anywhere.

But am I not useless? Have you forgotten that I am somehow the reason for your failure? Clearly, you have demonstrated that Tartarus has no worth to you.

"Oh, but did I really say that? My apologies, old friend. You are correct in admitting how pathetic you are. And since I am the genius tactician here, I have a proposal. The only one who is to leave… Ares proceeds to aim his index finger at the skeletal warrior. ... is you."

So, you wish to duel? For total control of Tartarus? How far have you fallen?

Not far enough. Because control is not all I seek. Oh, no… I also want the luxury of never having to see your horrid face ever again!

The god of war quickly draws a dark longsword from the sheath at his hip, and charges at the knight. The knight then removes a large scythe from his back, and clashes it down onto Ares’ weapon, catching his advance. He then performs a swift maneuver that swipes the war god’s sword outwards, and swings the bladed end of the scythe for an upward slash against Ares. However, the god of war recovers just in time to defend himself, rendering the strike useless. Ares parries himself to get closer to his opponent, and commits to a swing at the knight’s torso, but he was quick enough to use the blunt side of his weapon for protection. The warrior jabs the end of his scythe to the ground, and uses the momentum of the force to elevate himself, and kick Ares away with both feet. The horned fighter stumbles backward, as the knight regains his footing and stance, the two squaring off, orbiting each other. Shortly, the two fighters’ blades engage in combat once more, slash after slash, swipe after swipe, swing after swing– each attack blocked by the next. It is as if the two are enacting an elaborate song and dance with how their swordsmanship plays off against one another.

Eventually, their blades interlock into a struggle. In a moment’s notice, Ares gains enough leverage to raise his opponent’s scythe, grip onto its staff with a single hand, pull the knight towards him, and execute a powerful headbutt, discombobulating the target. This blow leaves the warrior collapsing backwards, gripping onto his weapon so desperately, as he attempts to raise himself back to his feet. But, Ares comes closer, knowing full well victory is ripe for the taking. Eagerly, he marches toward the downed fighter, though at the second he is about to drive his longsword towards the back of his enemy, the knight swings his scythe towards the war god’s torso, which results in an effective blow, as it glides across his chest, blood spraying from his body. Ares screams in agony, and great disbelief– taking in the fact that a brilliant fighter such as him had willingly let himself open for such a devastating attack. This causes the god of war to release his weapon, as he falls backwards on top of the dead ground beneath him.

The knight then shakes off the headbutt, reorienting himself before making his way towards his opponent, weapon in hand. He looks down upon the war god in both pity and disappointment.

It appears your time for dominion has passed. But through all of the bloodshed and suffering you have caused to this world, it is only fitting that you see a fate similar to those you have slaughtered.

Ares grunts and grits his teeth, containing the pain with all of his might, as blood now runs from his mouth. He looks at the knight standing above him, as he slowly raises his scythe in the air.

Goodbye, old friend.

Suddenly, a pair of chains, scorching in embers wrap themselves around the scythe, and pluck it away from the warrior’s grasp, leaving him in shock. He turns around to see where his weapon had gone, but before him, a feminine figure, wearing armor of her own, approaches.

Rheia…? Then that means–

The knight swivels his head back around, but is immediately met with a blow from a trident to his midsection, wielded by one with a demonic visage.

Kronos!?

The trident’s strike launches the knight backward a good distance, leaving deep scratches in his body. Upon landing, the warrior struggles to breathe, battling for air, as the wind had been knocked out of him, before managing to regain just enough for a cough to draw breath once more. He looks to the two other warriors who had entered the fight, and faces Ares, who carries himself back up, bracing his wound with one of his hands.

The knight shouts. You bastard! How could an honorable fighter like yourself stoop to such lows!?

After calling the war god on his hypocrisy, the chains of Rheia entangled themselves around the warrior’s arms, with Kronos wandering behind him. Ares steps forth.

Because I could care less about such feeble-minded principles, or any of that nonsense. All that matters is that I get what I want, and unlike you, I have the fortitude to do whatever it takes to make sure of it.

Soon, large figures proceed to enter the amphitheater– an accumulative total of ten other creatures of varying forms, from beastly to humanoid, make their presence known. In a short panic, the downed warrior looks to his surroundings, upon the revelation that the twelve Titans now obey the will of the god of war.

You… he cries out to Ares once more. What have you done!?

Do not act so surprised. I have merely planted the seeds for my upbringing. And it would only be a matter of time before they blossom in my name.

Killing me will not change a thing! The warrior cries. You are only showing that you are a desperate fool who has gone way over his head!

Is that so…? Ares’ focus then shifts to the Titans. Get this cretin out of my sight– but keep him alive for me… May he enjoy immortality living amongst the rest of the worthless mortals on this Earth… He forms a devilish smirk toward his enemy. ... Nowhere to go… no one to rule.

The Titans proceed to crowd around the warrior, who attempts to fight back in despair, but to no avail. His cries echo through the underworld.

"Damn you, Ares! You can take my world all you want, but know this… you will fail!!!"

The war god turns away, and walks toward what was once the throne of Tartarus’ former ruler, for he now takes it for himself. Following Ares is Kronos, wielding his trident. As the war god sits upon his new throne, he and the king of the Titans watch as their former ally is forced away.

Well done, my lord. Kronos bows to his master. Are you certain about keeping him alive?

"Letting him live is a far greater humiliation than death. I want him to see my rise to power from afar, knowing there is not a