Drakon shifted his stance, feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, and arms raised in front of his face and torso. His face was a mask of concentration, eyes never leaving his opponent.

Demosthenes mirrored the defensive posture, daggers held at the ready. The two fighters circled each other, tension building with each passing moment.

Suddenly, as if responding to some unspoken signal, they both exploded into action. Demosthenes' daggers flashed in wide, sweeping arcs, aiming to catch Drakon in a lethal embrace. The old warrior weaved and ducked, the blades whistling past him.

As Demosthenes' leg whipped up in a high arcing kick, Drakon was ready. He pivoted, his own leg shooting out to intercept the attack, deflecting it with a resounding smack of flesh on flesh.

But Demosthenes wasn't finished. Even as his kick was knocked aside, he followed through with a lightning-fast dagger strike aimed at Drakon's exposed flank. Drakon's arm came down hard, blocking the blade inches from his ribs. In one fluid motion, he trapped Demosthenes' wrist, twisting it.

The assassin's fingers spasmed, his grip on the dagger loosening. Seeing his advantage, Drakon increased the pressure, preparing to disarm his opponent.

Demosthenes, however, had other plans. He lashed out with a straight kick, targeting Drakon's midsection. The old warrior managed to bring his knee up just in time, deflecting the blow but throwing himself slightly off balance.

Seizing the moment, Drakon wrenched Demosthenes' arm even further, eliciting a grunt of pain from the assassin. The dagger clattered to the ground, but before it could touch the cobblestones, Drakon's free hand snaked out, snatching it from the air.

Both fighters sprang back, reassessing. Now they faced each other in offensive stances – Drakon with a captured dagger held low and ready, Demosthenes with his remaining blade raised high. Their chests heaved with exertion, sweat glistening on their brows despite the cool night air.

Demosthenes broke the silence first. "That was impressive. I've never fought an opponent as skilled as you, old man."

"I've faced more skilled warriors than you, boy. They all ended up dead."

A flicker of recognition passed over Demosthenes' face. "Wait... are you the Wolf of Sparta?"

"I am."

A smile spread across Demosthenes' face. "Well, well. It seems I'm in the presence of a legend."

"Enough talk," Drakon growled, readying himself to re-engage.

But before either could make a move, shouts erupted from nearby. Lucian whirled around to see Mira leading a group of armed figures towards them.

Demosthenes straightened up. "It seems we'll have to continue this another time."

"It seems so."

"Until next time."

In a blink, he melted into the shadows, disappearing as swiftly and silently as he had arrived.

"That was a close one," Lucian approached his master.

Drakon's gaze lingered on the spot where Demosthenes had vanished, then shifted to the dagger in his hand. "Yes... that was a close one indeed."

As Mira and her crew reached them, Lucian couldn't shake the feeling that this encounter was far from over. The way Drakon gripped the captured dagger, the thoughtful look in his eyes – it all suggested that the old warrior was already planning for their next confrontation.

"Old fart," Lucian began, hesitation in his voice, "that man... Demosthenes. Who is he? Do you know him?"

"No, I don’t," he glanced at Mira, who was now standing nearby, listening. "I think it's time we had a serious talk – all of us."

"Uhm," Mira, already know what’s he’s going to ask, scratched her head. "It’s a long story."

"Amuse me then."

"Could we get out of here first?" Lucian said, glancing around the two unconscious bodies lying around. "Before the guards see’s us here."

As the captured assassins were secured, Mira, Lucian, and Drakon left the scene to walk through the streets. The trio discussed recent events, with Mira and Lucian recounting their daring theft of Theo's necklace. They described the planning and execution of the heist, sharing details of how they managed to snatch the valuable piece right under Theo's nose. Their animated conversation continued as they strolled, with Drakon listening to the tale of their exploits. The story came to an abrupt end as they stopped in front of Thais’ house.

Drakon extended his hand, palm up, and Mira carefully placed the necklace in it. The old warrior lifted the piece, turning it this way and that in the flickering light of nearby torches. His eyes narrowed as he studied the intricate metalwork.

"What could that assassin want with this necklace?" Drakon mused.

Lucian shrugged. "Beats me. It's just a necklace, isn't it?"

With a thoughtful grunt, Drakon handed the piece back to Mira. "I'm tired," he announced, already turning towards the house. "I'm going to sleep. We'll discuss this further in the morning."

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

As Drakon's figure disappeared into the shadows of the doorway, Lucian and Mira exchanged glances. The weight of the night's events seemed to settle on their shoulders all at once.

"I'm grateful, you know," she said, her usual bravado absent for a moment. "For saving my life. Even though we still have... unfinished business."

Lucian waved her off as he walked inside. "Don't mention it. That's what friends do, right?"

The words came out more bitter than he'd intended, and he didn't wait for her response before heading to his room.

"Friends?" Mira paused to consider its concept.

The idea felt strange and unfamiliar to her. Throughout her life, she had never formed any close bonds with others. The notion of having someone to confide in, to share experiences with, was something she had only observed from afar. She wondered what it might be like to have a person she could trust, someone who would stand by her side through good times and bad. She had grown accustomed to relying solely on herself. Despite her uncertainty, a small part of her longed for the connection that Lucian’s friendship might bring.

Collapsing onto his bed, Lucian closed his eyes, ready for sleep to claim him. But just as he was about to drift off, a familiar tingle raced down his spine. His eyes snapped open and his first thought was of his uncle Linus, but when he peered out the window, he saw a different figure.

Kyra.

Curiosity overrode exhaustion, and he found himself making his way downstairs and out to meet the unexpected visitor. The cool night air helped clear the fog from his mind as he approached the deity.

"This is a nice surprise," Lucian said. "Why are you here?"

Kyra's lips curved into a smirk. "It's not really illegal for one deity to greet another, is it?"

"Yeah, I know that," he replied, crossing his arms. "But why are you here at this time of night, talking to me? After everything that's happened?"

"You know why I'm here."

Lucian's brow furrowed as realization dawned. "Is it about that power you unlocked in me when I was in the arena?"

"Yes."

"What about it?"

"How does it make you feel, to unlock a portion of your true power?"

Lucian turned away, considering the question. The memory of that moment in the arena flooded back – the world slowing around him, his movements fluid and precise beyond anything he'd experienced before. The raw power that had coursed through his veins, making him feel invincible, unstoppable.

"Does it matter?"

"To me it does," Kyra said. "I’d like to know your thoughts."

"Yeah, that’s the thing I don’t understand. Why are you helping me?"

He shrugged. "There is no harm in helping a fellow diety."

Lucian examined the man's features, searching for signs of deception. What was Kyra’s motive? The offer of help seemed unexpected. He wondered about the potential gains from this exchange. Trust didn't come easily, especially in these circumstances. Every word, every gesture could hold hidden meaning. Is he trying to get his attention? On the other hand, what’s the harm of answering his question? None.

He sighed and said, "I've never felt anything like it in my life. The ability to slow time... it was surreal. I felt like... like a god." He paused, struggling to find the right words. "It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once. Like I could reshape the world with a thought, but also like I might lose myself in that power." He turned back to Kyra. "But why now? Why unlock that power at that moment? And why only a portion? What else am I capable of?"

"What you experienced is just a taste of what your power can bring. You know, I can give you that power again."

Lucian felt a shiver run down his spine, recognizing the temptation in his words. He couldn't help but ask, "You can?"

"Oh yes," Kyra purred, stopping directly in front of Lucian. "Imagine having the power to defeat multiple enemies at once. Wouldn't that be a sight for sore eyes? And what’s incredible about it is that’s only a fraction of your power. You can do more than just slow time."

"I know what this is. You're trying to tempt me to join you."

Kyra's lips curved into a smile. "Yes, I am."

Crossing his arms, Lucian steeled himself. "No."

"Really? After all the humans have done to you? All the suffering they've inflicted on your family, on your mother? Humans are selfish and greedy. They don't give a damn about you, about us gods. All they care about is who pays the largest sum."

Lucian felt his resolve wavering as memories of past pain and betrayal flashed through his mind. The temptation to embrace his power, to rise above the mortals who had caused him so much grief, was almost overwhelming.

But then he thought of Drakon, Stephanos, Thais, of Mira, of the friends he'd made. They weren't perfect, but they had shown him kindness and loyalty.

"You're wrong. Not all humans are like that. And I won't betray the ones who have stood by me, no matter how much power you offer."

"Is that right? You're making a mistake. One day, you'll realize that I was right. These so called allies that you have will betray you in a snap. And when that day comes, you’ll be begging to me for that power."

"Then why even ally yourself with Aristos?" Lucian asked. "Why be his partner in all of this?"

"Aristos has his uses," he replied in a casual tone as if discussing the weather rather than the fate of nations. "He betrays Greece, allies with the Persians, and I..." He paused, savoring the words. "I get my souls."

"So all of this is just a game to you?" Lucian spat. "The lives of countless people, the fate of entire cities – it's all just pieces on a board for your amusement?"

"Everything is a game, young god," he said, spreading his arms wide as if to encompass the world around them. "All you need to do is play it. Some play for power, some for wealth, some for love. I play for souls."

"But you're playing both sides. You're manipulating everyone – Sparta, Persia, Aristos, probably even me. How can you justify that?"

"Justify?" Kyra laughed. "I'm Thanatos. I don't care about sides. Sparta, Persia, Greece, it's all the same to me. In the end, they all succumb to me, the god of death."

The deity took a step closer. Lucian stood his ground, though every instinct screamed at him to retreat.

"You see, young one," he continued, "mortals wage their wars, build their empires, love, hate, betray – and in the end, what does it matter? They all die. And when they do, their souls are mine. So why shouldn't I play the game? Why shouldn't I move the pieces to my advantage?"

Lucian felt a wave of revulsion wash over him. The casual disregard for life, the cold calculation behind Kyra's actions – it was almost too much to bear.

"And what about me?" He asked. "Where do I fit into your game?"

"You, my dear Lucian, are a wild card. A new player on the board with potential I haven't seen in millennia. You could tip the scales in ways even I can't predict. That's why I'm here, offering you power, offering you a chance to play the game on a level you can't even imagine. Whatever you and your friends are doing, it won’t matter. You’ll still lose."

"And if I refuse? If I choose to play my own game?"

"Then you're playing the losing side. But remember, whether you play or not, you're already part of it. The question is – will you be a pawn, or will you be a player? I suggest that you play with your own kind, the winning side."

"It’s all about winning to you isn’t it?"

"Yes it is. And it’s the winners that control fate."

"We’ll stop you."

"Try as you may, my friend. You’ll fail."

With those words hanging in the air, Kyra began to fade, his form becoming translucent. "Think on it, young god. The game is always in motion, and your move awaits. You can join me if the time comes."