Tyr saw Castor come into view as the sun was beginning to set, as well the concerned look he had when Castor saw the field, still torn from the fight.

“Tyr, what in Zeus’ name happened?”

Tyr leaned up against the wall of the house, the activities of the day catching up to him.

“Four riders came up and demanded food, women and anything of value. I refused to give anything to them and there was a confrontation. After which they left empty-handed.”

“Raiders no doubt, since the war started there have been the occasional roving band. Were they soldiers?”

“They said they were, but they were lying. At the very least they were not part of the either army involved in the conflict.”

At that moment, Ambrose ran out of the house excitedly.

“Father, Tyr was amazing! I was a little worried when Ares stabbed him, but Tyr came out fine and beat Ares to a screaming wreck.”

Castor suddenly gave a wide-eyed look at Ambrose then turned to Tyr.

“What does he mean by Ares?”

“One of the riders said that he was Ares, however, Ares usually spends his time on the frontlines where the fighting is the bloodiest and not somewhere for a small raid.”

Castor gulped several times, then took Tyr to work on the tree while talking to him.

“You had stated before that they were lying about being soldiers. Perhaps this fellow was lying about being Ares?”

“I am afraid that he was being honest Castor. His strength was far beyond that which a man of his size should be, for if I compare your heights, his eyes would be where your brow is. Furthermore, he materialized his armor through some supernatural means. If that man was not Ares, then he was a fraud with the power to pass as him.

“Still, what would Ares be doing so far from the front? His place should be the on the battlefield, not the pastures.”

Castor placed his head in his hands and moaned.

“Olympus has indeed deserted me, for now I am ruined! Do you truly know so little of Ares, Tyr? True, he would be at the frontlines of any mortal war or battle, but in times of peace, Ares and his followers from Old Sparta would raid lone houses and small villages to satisfy his bloodlust. What is more, when a war is decreed by an Olympian, Ares must have the blessing of one who is involved. Athena hates Ares, and Poseidon had refused Ares due to the murder of one of Poseidon’s daughters by Ares, so Ares wanders through the territory of both sides, raiding and pillaging. No mortal has had the power to stand against before now.

“And now, oh Zeus have mercy upon me, now you defeated him! Were you not aware that out of all the Olympians, Ares is the most spiteful? The quickest to wrath and the most unwilling to forgive? You may feel as though you won, having manage to give him some wound or such, but he is immortal. He will not die, but simply return once he is healed and finish the fight with you, and the next time, he will kill you and burn this place to the ground. And he will enjoy every moment of our horror as he does so.

“Though I thank you for the aid you have offered me, I cannot condone the angering of a god. Please be on your way and leave me and my family in peace.”

“No.”

Castor looked at Tyr, dumbfounded by his response.

“No? Did you not hear what I said? Ares will come looking for you, and we will die because of your transgression. Leave now, do you not fear the wrath of a god?”

“As of now, I cannot leave, and Ares is no god. In fact, there is not one Olympian that can be called a god.”

Castor face turned white when Tyr had said this.

“Heresy. Zeus forgive me for ever letting you dine with me and curse you for your blasphemy.” Castor then ran back to his house.

“I thought Hecate and Apollo were in charge of curses.” Tyr muttered to himself.

Tyr then stayed near the house of Castor, never entering it, but tending the fields at night as well as tearing down trees that could be used as firewood for the household and finding a few edible plants in the surrounding woods. Castor went to Tyr every day, trying to convince Tyr to leave. He begged, bribed, cursed, threatened, and even tried to strike Tyr, but to no avail. Tyr remained as the days grew colder and Autumn began to reach its peak. Ambrose was the only one who did not curse Tyr to his face and would sometimes sneak out at night to speak with Tyr, though when he asked Tyr why he would not leave, Tyr would not say, and merely asked Ambrose to go down the path to a point beyond the trees to see if someone were coming, to which Ambrose would do so and usually come back to report that no one was there.

Then, one midwinter day Ambrose ran to Tyr and said, “There is someone coming!”

Tyr, who had been sitting at the time listening to Castor curse him in the name of Hephaestus (by now there was not an Olympian Castor had not asked to curse Tyr at least twice), stood up, brushed what snow there was off himself, then spoke calmly to Castor.

“Gather with your family some provisions and go into the woods behind the house. Stay hidden until tomorrow morning, then check to see how the farm fares.”

“Where are you going?”

“To face the Ares a second time and, if possible, keep him away you, your family, and the farm. Farewell Castor.”

Tyr walked down the way that Ambrose had just come and did not look back. As he passed through the trees Tyr was fighting the gnawing feeling of fear that was growing in him. He had known this day was coming since Ares ran away, but there was no shaking the sensation of dread now that the day had come.

Guide my actions, Allfather. Grant me strength to see this through and may all be to your will.

Tyr prayed inwardly as he heard a sound coming from ahead of him and stopped. Coming up the path was Ares.

But Ares was not like he was before. Now he was on a golden chariot, pulled by four horses, two black as coals and two white as hot metal, all exhaling fire with every breath. As the chariot came to a stop, Tyr looked at the drivers beside Ares. Both were young looking men, armored in shining bronze and had one gray eye and one green eye each, with the colors switching from left to right and back again every so often.

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Deimos and Phobos, the sons of Ares.

And standing between them was Ares himself. His chest plate and shield were on him as before, but now there were gauntlets and greaves as well, all glowing as though it was burning hot. The spear was now jagged and toothed, as if its purpose were to rip into its opponent rather than pierce. The sword was different too, but Tyr could not see the blade, though he guessed from the hilt that it was meant for slashing rather than stabbing as before. Upon Ares shoulder rested a vulture, its beak caked in dried blood and staring at Tyr with half glazed eyes. But Ares eyes themselves were what added to Tyr’s uneasiness the most. He had prepared himself for bloodshot red eyes, or blazing coals that looked like unholy fire. Instead, Ares eyes were completely black orbs, like polished black marble, soulless as the abyss, and even though Ares was some distance away, Tyr could see his reflection in those eyes. Castor words about Ares made the purpose of those orbs quite clear: So that the last thing Ares’ victims saw as they died was their own horrified expression in his eyes. A final torment.

Tyr stared at Ares as he got off the chariot, the vulture flying into the nearby trees.

“You saved me the trouble of going to the house.” Ares said calmly, walking to the front of the chariot as he did so. Tyr watched Ares closely, keeping it so he could see Ares, the charioteers, and the vulture always.

“Shouldn’t Enyo and Eris be with you as well?”

“They were invited to fight at Athena and Poseidon’s side.” answered Ares, holding his spear out. The shaft began to shrink until it became to a size akin to the sword, thus being ideal for close-range combat.

Once the spear reached this size, Ares charged forward, attempting to shield bash Tyr. Tyr jumped, using the power in his legs to soar over Ares and land in the chariot, knocking Deimos and Phobos down. Wasting no time, Tyr grabbed the reins and struck the horses hard. The chariot began to lurch forward, and Ares turned around from his charge, the horses struck him and trampled over him at full gallop.

These things can go zero to 60. Wait, 60 what?

Tyr yanked the reigns to the right and forced the chariot to go through the woods away from the house urged the horses ever onward. At this point Deimos and Phobos had recovered from being knocked down, and were now striking at Tyr, trying to get the reins from him. Tyr struggled, but soon found himself pinned down by Phobos while Deimos simultaneously tried to slow the horses and struck Tyr in the face. Tyr pushed and shoved against Phobos while trying to dodge Deimos’ blows, but that he lacked the energy that he had when he fought Ares those months before.

Still, something inside Tyr told him not to give in. Waiting until he saw Deimos preparing to strike again, Tyr pulled Phobos between himself and the blow. Upon being hit by Deimos, Phobos loosened his grip as he turned to yell at his brother. Tyr took this chance to give hard push against Phobos into Deimos, during which a strange thing seemed to happen.

Did these two just begin to shrink? Hold up, it is me that grew!

Indeed, Tyr had begun to grow to three times his height, and then wasted no time using his size to force them over the chariots side. As Tyr grabbed the reins to spur the horses onward, he began to shrink back to his regular size and muttered to himself: “Super strength, incredible durability, size growth and quickened healing, just who in heaven’s name am I? It is clear to me now what I am though.”

Just then, Tyr felt a searing pain in his shoulder, and felt a sensation of being pulled back. Gritting his teeth, Tyr grabbed onto the chariot rim to stay on while the pain became greater. Eventually, Tyr felt the pain tear through him and then disappear, only for something to fly past him and strike one of the horses. It was Ares’ spear.

The horse tumbled into the others, causing the chariot to veer and turn over. Tyr was thrown from the chariot and rolled upon the ground landing upon his wound.

“Ouch. Okay healing factor, kick in anytime now.”

Tyr stumbled to his feet as a vulture landed upon the spear, before morphing into Ares and pulling it roughly out of the horse.

“It will take weeks for the Ambrosia to heal Aithon. That is yet another sin committed by you.”

Tyr took stock of his surrounding: To his front right was Ares and some trees probably the forest he had just driven through. Behind him was an open field, and to his left in the distance there appeared to be a cliff’s edge. Tyr then looked to Ares and his black eyes and smiled.

“Come now Ares, from what I have heard, beating you is the proof that a mortal has been blessed by your kin, not a crime. In fact, a part of me wonders if Themis and Nemesis actually cheer when you are beaten.”

Tyr rushed left, then when Ares charged at him, Tyr kicked off the ground towards Ares and drove his right elbow into Ares’ shield. The shield held, but Ares did not and tumbled over. Tyr grabbed the spear with his hand and tried to yank it out of Ares grip, but Ares held on and was swung around in a circle instead. Suddenly, Ares began to grow until his feet were touching the ground and he started to rival Tyr.

“So, you can do that too?”

Tyr then began to force himself to grow as well. However, he soon found that his growth was limited to three times his original size as was the case in the chariot, while Ares could grow until he towered over Tyr’s largest form as Tyr did Castor.

“So that’s what it feels like.” Noted Tyr.

The spear had grown with Ares, and now it was Tyr being swung in a circle. Ares then let go of the spear and sent it flying with Tyr still holding on to it. Tyr moved the spear to the side, got his feet upon it and ran down the shaft towards Ares leaping off it as he did so. As Tyr began to get close to the ground and Ares, something in Tyr told him to twist his body. Doing so, the spear flew past Tyr face and struck Ares’s shield.

Ah, one of those spears that follow its target when thrown. Classic. Didn’t think Ares had one of those himself.

The shield glowed red and absorbed the spear into itself, then Ares threw a punch at Tyr. Tyr threw a punch as well and the two fists met. Tyr felt himself wavering and redirected Ares’s blow to the side. Ares swung wildly, but Tyr ducked and then jumped forward, striking Ares with an uppercut followed with a kick to put some distance between them.

“You are beginning to annoy me beggar!” Ares once more rushed Tyr with his shield, which Tyr began to dodge back.

Suddenly, a spot appeared molten on the shield and the spear shot out. Tyr quickly grabbed its shaft and redirected it away him, then felt a searing pain. Looking down, Tyr saw that a second spot became molten and shot the same spear shot out of the shield and more were forming. Realizing he could neither dodge nor deflect, Tyr held his arms in front of his face as the blows came. The jagged edges tore at his flesh every time they returned to the shield and were burning hot when they went in. Ares began to press forward upon Tyr, which caused Tyr to walk back in hope of getting beyond their reach to no avail.

When the blows finally ceased, Tyr dropped his arms in exhaustion, fell to his knees, and coughed blood. Tyr then looked at Ares and realized that he had reverted to his regular sometime during the fight, so now Ares towered above him. Ares then smiled at Tyr.

“Do you see the error of your ways now?”

Ares then kicked Tyr and sent him flying. When Tyr finally stopped, he saw he was at the edge of the cliff, and he could hear the sea below.

Almost there, but not yet. He needs a little more.

Tyr grunted as he rose to his knees, then looked at Ares as he walked toward him, taunting Tyr as he did so.

“You should have run away when you had the chance, your life would have been spared even if the farmer’s wasn’t. But you stayed, because your hubris told you that you were higher than the gods of Olympus, and that would beat me so easily.

“But when you faced me before, I came for fun. This time I came to fight, and no beggar giant living off some dirt farmer’s scraps will have the power to defeat me. I am War itself.”

Ares had reached Tyr at this point and shrunk down to a size like Tyr’s own, as well as taking the spear out of the shield and turning it to its smaller size. The shield too had become molten and turned into a gauntlet on Ares’ arm.

“Now, let me see your despair and horror, as your life leaves your body.”

Ares grabbed Tyr’s head and forced it back so Tyr would look into Ares’ eyes. Tyr saw his reflection clearly for the first time: Hair that looked like dull gold, white skin, and eyes deep blue like diamonds, with the left one having what looked like a pair of wings around the pupil.

“Where is your fear beggar?”

“Saved for one more worthy, coward.”

Tyr then reached out and grabbed Ares’ sword, drew it, and cut upward inside Ares’ helm. Then, in one fluid motion, swung diagonally downward upon Ares’ arm and then leg, followed by a stab to the opposite leg. Ares released Tyr and howled in pain. Instinctively, Ares also reverted his shield back, striking Tyr with edge. Tyr released the sword, as it was heating up in his hand, and fell backward off the cliff.

As he began to lose consciousness Tyr prayed.

Watch over them Eru Illuvatar. Hide them from Ares eyes.

The last thing Tyr remembered was the feeling of the cold water hitting his head.