Under the blue moon

Ares held the goddess’s gaze, his smirk never wavering. Around them, the gods stirred, their murmurs turning to sharp whispers.

Then, a deep voice cut through the noise. “You overstep, Irkalla.”

The Goddess of Cruelty—Irkalla—tilted her head, her amusement unfazed. “Oh? And what exactly have I done?”

One of the other gods, a towering figure clad in gold and white, stepped forward. His presence radiated authority. The God of Order.

“You chose before the summoning was complete,” he said coldly. “You disrupted the balance.”

Irkalla clicked her tongue, placing a delicate hand on her hip. “So what? I saw something I liked.” She turned her burning eyes back to Ares. “He’s mine now.”

Ares remained silent, watching, calculating. He had been the first to arrive, but the gods had expected more.

And right on cue, the others began to fall.

One by one, figures crashed onto the black marble floor, groaning and gasping for air. More summoned people.

Men, women—warriors, scholars, and the unprepared. Some screamed in confusion, while others scrambled to their feet, taking in the overwhelming sight of the gods.

The murmurs grew louder. The gods watched their new toys with detached curiosity. All except for Irkalla, who only had eyes for Ares.

The God of Order turned to her again. “You act without discipline. This is why your dominion remains on the fringes.”

Irkalla laughed. A chilling, honey-sweet sound. “Oh, don’t be so serious. You all get your pick. Let me have my fun.”

Ares finally spoke, his voice smooth. “Seems like you’re causing trouble for me already.”

Irkalla's grin widened. “Trouble makes things interesting, doesn’t it?”

The other summoned were beginning to realize what was happening. Some of them looked toward the gods, searching for answers. Others turned their eyes to Ares, the one who arrived first, the one already marked

The room was tense.

And then, the true selection begins.

The platform trembled as the last of the summoned fell to the cold, black marble. The gods stood before them like celestial judges, their eyes gleaming with expectation. Mortals would choose their gods, and the gods would choose their champions.

Ares stood apart from the others, arms crossed as he watched the chaos unfold. He had already made his choice—or rather, Irkalla had chosen him.

The others weren’t so lucky.

A woman stumbled forward, her breath shaky. She looked like she had just come from an office job, her blazer and skirt torn from the rough landing. She turned her eyes toward the gods, fear in her expression. “Where… are we?”

The God of Knowledge, a serene being cloaked in flowing silver robes, answered first. “You stand in the Divine Hall. Mortals have been summoned here to become champions. Choose your god, and your fate shall be decided.”

Murmurs spread among the summoned. Some exchanged glances. Others trembled in fear.

One man, tall and muscular, stepped forward with confidence. “And what happens if we refuse?”

The God of War grinned. “Then you are free to leave.”

A moment of silence.

Then the marble beneath the man’s feet crumbled into an abyss. He didn’t even have time to scream before the darkness swallowed him whole.

Ares barely reacted. He had expected something like this. This wasn’t an invitation. It was a demand.

The fear spread quickly now. The office woman fell to her knees. A young man in a hoodie whispered a curse under his breath. A soldier-looking type clenched his fists, his face set in stone.

Ares smirked. Watching people break under pressure was always fascinating.

The God of Order spoke again, voice heavy with finality. “You will choose. There is no other path.”

One by one, the summoned mortals hesitated, then stepped forward, eyes scanning the divine figures before them.

A hooded rogue-like man chose the God of Shadows, vanishing into the darkness.

A knightly woman knelt before the God of Justice, swearing her loyalty.

The office woman, shaking but determined, chose the Goddess of Wisdom, who smiled gently in return.

A brute of a man, muscles twitching with excitement, roared his devotion to the God of War.

One after another, choices were made.

Then, someone hesitated in front of Irkalla.

A young girl, barely in her twenties, stood frozen. She was staring at Ares.

Her lips parted, unsure. "I... I want to be strong."

Irkalla tilted her head, amused. “Strength comes with pain, little girl. Can you handle it?”

The girl swallowed. She hesitated.

Ares sighed. “Pick someone else. You won’t survive her.”

Irkalla's grin widened. "Aww, how sweet. Are you worried for her, my dear Ares?"

Ares shot her a look. "No. I just don't like dead weight."

The girl paled. Then, without another word, she turned and ran toward the Goddess of Mercy instead.

Irkalla let out a delighted laugh. “You really do know how to hurt people, don’t you?”

Ares simply smirked.

The choosing continued.

And when it was done, the gods finally revealed what came next.