Should I Be the One to Apologize?
A person begins to fall apart the moment they start giving up.
In that sense, Ares had reached a dangerously precarious place.
A young boy balanced on the threshold between surrender and hope, slowly crumbling from within.
In situations like this, the mentally immature tend to take ever greater risks—and those risks often invite catastrophe.
Just like now…
“Find him! He’s hiding somewhere around here!”
“You little rat! Come out already, you filthy brat!”
Titans tore through the undergrowth, hunting for him. Dodging their eyes, Ares bitterly regretted the rash decision that had brought him here.
Damn it… To think I would end up this pathetic…
Until now, Ares had always fought by weathering the Titans’ assaults and then counterattacking. This time, however, he had been the one to strike first—and against the forces of Atlas, no less, one of the strongest among them.
The result had been a complete and utter rout.
“Guh!”
“Foolish little brat! How dare you challenge Lord Atlas himself? Go crawl back to your mother’s teat!”
The overwhelming power of the high Titan Atlas. Before that monstrous strength—said to be capable of uprooting mountains—even the god of war could do nothing but flee. He had tried to fight back with his blade, yet even that failed to leave so much as a scratch on Atlas’s steel-hard body, which far surpassed any other Titan’s.
With his spirit thoroughly broken and the troops he had brought scattered in total defeat, Ares found himself essentially alone and isolated deep in enemy territory—a crisis of the highest order.
It was the first bitter taste of true defeat he had ever known.
Yet in truth, Ares had half-expected it from the start. This battle had been reckless from the beginning. Unfamiliar terrain. Uncertain enemy numbers. And above all, Atlas’s strength, which had exceeded every estimate. A reckless gamble launched with nothing certain.
Still, Ares had forced this impossible war for one reason alone.
He wanted recognition—somehow, any way he could get it—from his mother.
From Hera.
She who had done nothing but scold him, constantly comparing him unfavorably to Tartarus and Hephaestus. If he could just bring down Atlas, a renowned powerhouse among the Titans… or at least put up a respectable fight…
Then… maybe Mother would look at me a little differently?
But that hope, that courage—or rather, that foolhardiness—had ended in this miserable failure. No, worse than failure. In the worst case, he could be captured by the Titans and subjected to unspeakable humiliation and degradation.
Even on Olympus, stories still circulated of boys who had been taken and violated. If he were made a prisoner here, that same fate would surely await him. He would wail like a girl, become a plaything for the Titans, and drown in shame and despair.
Heart pounding as if it might burst from sheer terror, Ares crawled along the ground itself—enduring that final humiliation—moving with the utmost caution so as not to be discovered.
Then—
“!”
“What is this?”
“Hiiik!”
A thick pair of legs appeared right before his eyes. In that instant Ares froze solid with fear. Slowly, trembling, he lifted his head.
What met his gaze was a face he had never seen before—hideous and terrifying in equal measure. Heavy eyes looking down at him.
Already pushed to the brink mentally, Ares could only shake violently, unable to form a single word. He muttered the phrase soldiers on the battlefield most often spoke in their final moments.
“Mo…ther…”
“Tch. Where the hell is that brat?”
“We have to find him! He’s Zeus’s son! Bring him in and Cronus himself will reward us handsomely!”
Titans and lesser spirits noisily scoured the area. With the enemy forces scattered, there was no guarantee the boy was still nearby—yet their eyes were blinded by the prospect of glory, and they hacked roughly through brush and trees in their search.
Then—
“There’s a suspicious one over here!”
“What?”
“Did you find him?”
At the urgent shout, Titans swarmed toward the voice. What appeared before them, however, was not the son of Zeus they had expected.
“…Who the hell is this?”
A man in a shabby robe, hauling a cart loaded with goods. Nothing particularly remarkable at first glance—yet a faint divine power radiated from him, giving off a strangely suspicious air. More striking still was his face: so grotesquely ugly that it was almost painful to look at.
“Move. You’re in the way.”
The man’s voice was flat and hard. The Titans only leveled their weapons and answered sharply.
“Did you just tell us to move?”
“An ugly little minor god like you, talking big—!”
“You’re the one who needs to get lost. No—before that, we’re searching that cart of yours!”
“…Haa.”
Without even trying to identify who he was, they simply reacted with hostility and threatened him outright. The ugly-faced god let out a quiet sigh laced with irritation.
Then the lead Titan’s eyes finally caught something else: a girl perched on the cart, hooded in a black robe.
“Oho… That woman there looks pretty fine.”
Licking his lips, the Titan started toward the cart. For a moment the man’s expression turned ice-cold—but the Titan never noticed so small a detail.
“Heh-heh, perfect. I’ve been starving for a woman these past few days. Time for a little fun—”
In the next instant the ugly man seized his head.
And then—
—BOOM!!!
“Guh…”
His skull was smashed straight into the ground. The sudden, crushing impact knocked the Titan unconscious on the spot.
Their comrade had been dropped in a blink. Shock and a far sharper wariness spread across the faces of the gathered Titans.
“I’ll say it one last time. Move.”
His voice had grown even colder. But no one left in that place was willing to listen.
“You bastard! How dare you—!”
“Th-this one’s clearly one of Zeus’s remnants! Kill him!”
“Rape the woman! Rape the man too!”
Whether he truly was one of Zeus’s followers or not, they had no idea. In the heat of the moment, such trifles no longer mattered. Put a weapon in a man’s hand and even the mildest soul can turn violent; with battle still unfinished, those surges of emotion ran even hotter.
Drunk on bloodlust, the Titans charged without thought for front or rear.
But—
—Thud!
“You don’t listen, do you.”
“Huh?… Uwaaaaagh!!”
The man seized the lead Titan by the throat and casually hurled him. The others rushing in collided with their flying comrade and tumbled across the ground in a tangled heap.
“Guh!”
“Damn it… What kind of strength is this…!?”
They staggered, trying to rise. Before they could reform their ranks—
“Then I’ll make you understand with your bodies.”
“!!”
Radiating a chilling divine power, the man slipped into their midst in an instant. From that moment, the Titans’ personal hell began in earnest.
“Kehek!”
“W-what kind of monster— Guhk!”
Alone, he mercilessly beat down more than a dozen Titans and lesser gods. Superhuman strength. A terrifying heat that rolled off every punch. And somehow, an absurd defense that simply chewed up every attack they threw at him. Their numerical advantage meant nothing; they were being one-sidedly pulverized.
While the brutal thrashing continued on one side—
“Ugh… uh…”
The Titan who had first kissed the dirt earlier finally regained his senses. Carefully he rose and edged toward the cart.
Damn it… Fine. Let’s see how long you can keep rampaging!
From the start he had only had eyes for the woman on the cart. Even a strong man loses his edge when his woman is threatened. Planning to take her hostage—and, while he was at it, to have his fun with her—he watched the fighting man carefully and moved fast.
But—
“Kihit!”
“…?!”
The moment he turned his head, his eyes met the girl’s dead-on. No fear at all. Only pure interest and murderous intent filled those blood-red irises as she stared straight at him.
In that instant the Titan finally realized something was very wrong.
And then—
“Ah… I-I’ll just be goi— Keheeeergh!!!”
Before the words finished, his throat was seized. Amid the bone-crushing, breath-choking agony, a woman’s chilling voice reached his ears—the same woman casually pulverizing his neck with her bare hands.
“Kihihihit! What’s wrong? You said you wanted to have some fun after so long, didn’t you?”
“Ke… he… e… eergh…”
“Let me enjoy myself a little more too. Come on! Hurry up!”
“He… Hephaestus? Wh-what is all this?”
Bodies—no, not quite. As immortals they could not truly die, but the subordinate Titans lay half-dead on the ground. Looking at them, the high Titan Atlas—who had been riding high on victory only moments before—wore the expression of a man who had just been cracked over the skull with a hammer.
Gazing up at him, I spoke in a quiet voice, stating nothing but pure fact.
“These ones pointed their weapons at me first.”
“!…”
“Should I be the one to apologize?”
“Ah… n-no. No need. It was our side’s mistake. Forgive us, Hephaestus.”
“Fine.”
Atlas stood nearly four meters tall, and according to the old texts possessed strength enough to hold up the very sky. In pure martial power he ranked among the absolute top of the Titans. Yet in this moment he quietly tucked his tail between his legs.
It was not simply because his side had been in the wrong.
In the age of ancient Greek myth—this savage era—justice between men was ultimately defined by one thing alone: strength. The strong were justice, and the words of the strong carried corresponding power and weight. Faced with the “strength” of the one who had already brought down Tartarus, even Atlas had no choice but to step back.
Whether in my past life or this one, landing one solid achievement really does make everything else so much easier.
Once the situation was settled, I lifted the sacks from the cart and held them out casually.
“This month’s weapons. Take them.”
“…Mmm… th-thank you.”
And once again, I had only come here to deliver supplies. The fact that these Titans could not even tell that much apart and had picked a fight only to get beaten like dogs said everything about the state of their discipline. Compared to Oceanus’s forces—whom I still occasionally helped train—they were a complete mess.
Business finished, I took the now nearly empty cart and prepared to leave the camp.
Then—
“…Hey. What’s in that remaining sack?”
All the arms and armor had been cleared away; only one small sack remained, sitting beside Keres. Atlas eyed it with a mix of curiosity and faint suspicion.
“Her spoils.”
“Kihihit. Want a look?”
With those words Keres reached into the sack and pulled something out. In her hand dangled a fairy’s head, still dripping blood. The expression of agony from the moment of death remained vivid on its face. Even Atlas grimaced at the gruesome sight.
“Khrm… A-all right. Just go.”
We had barely exchanged a few words, yet Atlas already looked thoroughly drained. Leaving the Titan camp behind, we reached a forest path where divine presence was scarce. Only then did I quietly address the “thing” still inside that sack.
“Come out.”
“…”