Trial of the will

The air in the Divine Hall shifted. The choosing had ended. Every mortal now stood beneath their chosen god or goddess, uncertain of what would come next.
Ares remained beside Irkalla, the Goddess of Cruelty, her presence cold and intoxicating. Unlike the others, she had said nothing about the power she would bestow upon him. He knew better than to ask.
The God of Order stepped forward. “Now that you have chosen, the Divine Gifts shall be granted. Step forward, mortals, and receive your god’s blessing.”
One by one, the champions moved toward their gods.
The God of War pressed his hand against his warrior’s chest, igniting their blood with raw strength.
The Goddess of Wisdom whispered to her follower, knowledge seeping into their mind like an ancient tide.
The God of Shadows simply snapped his fingers, and his champion disappeared into the void.
Then, it was Ares’ turn.
Irkalla’s grin was wicked as she stroked his cheek with the back of her fingers—a gesture too gentle for the woman she was. Then, she dug her nails into his skin.
Ares didn’t flinch. Pain was expected.
“My dear Ares,” she purred, “your power is simple. Make them suffer.”
A sharp pain lanced through his skull. A wave of something dark and ancient sank into his bones.
System Notification: Divine Gift Acquired.→ Title: Harbinger of Suffering→ Effect: The more pain you cause, the stronger you become.→ Additional Effect: The suffering you inflict is doubled.
Ares clenched his fists. The power felt good. It slithered through his veins, whispering of destruction, of control, of endless possibilities.
Irkalla leaned close, her lips just inches from his ear. "Break them, my dear. And let them break you in return."
Ares exhaled, his smirk returning.
“Sounds fun.”

Ares took a slow breath as the power settled into his body. It was unlike anything he had ever felt—not a simple increase in strength or speed, but something deeper, more insidious. A dark energy coiled inside him, waiting to be unleashed. A power that fed on suffering.
The Divine Hall was silent. The other mortals had witnessed the moment Irkalla bestowed her blessing, but they had not expected what came next.
The first to react was a man standing a few feet away, a former soldier who had chosen the God of Justice. His hand instinctively reached for his hip—where a sword should have been. His instincts screamed that Ares was dangerous.
The office woman who had chosen the Goddess of Wisdom took a step back, her hands trembling. Her eyes darted to Ares, then to Irkalla, as if she had just realized what kind of monster she had been summoned alongside.
A few feet away, the young girl who had almost chosen Irkalla shuddered violently, clutching her arms as if she were cold. She whispered something under her breath, her lips forming the word:
"Demon."
Even some of the gods looked at Ares with curiosity—or concern.
The God of Order frowned, his piercing golden eyes scanning Ares as if to measure the full extent of his power. The Goddess of Mercy sighed, her expression full of regret, while the God of War let out a low chuckle, intrigued.
Then, a voice shattered the silence.
"W-What… what kind of power is that?"
A young man, no older than Ares himself, stood among the summoned. He had chosen the God of Light, yet his face was pale, his breath shaky. He pointed a trembling finger at Ares. "D-Do you even realize what you just received?! You grow stronger by making others suffer?! That’s—!"
Ares tilted his head. He could hear it in the boy’s voice—fear. It clung to the air like a thick fog, poisoning the atmosphere.
He smiled. It felt good.
He took a single step forward. The boy flinched. The office woman gasped. The young girl stumbled backward.
They were scared.
Ares exhaled slowly, enjoying the moment. And then, he tested his power.
He simply reached out his hand—not touching anyone, not doing anything—just moving as if he might.
A small, insignificant gesture.
But it was enough.
The boy screamed. He collapsed to his knees, clutching his stomach as if an invisible force had struck him. The pain doubled. The moment he had felt fear, the moment his body had tensed—Ares’ power had taken that suffering and multiplied it.
Ares watched, fascinated. I didn’t even do anything.
The others stared in horror. They had just realized something far worse than Ares’ ability to inflict pain.
He didn’t even need to attack to make them suffer.
Irkalla laughed. A delighted, honey-sweet sound that sent shivers down the spines of those who heard it. "Oh, my dear Ares, you really are perfect."
The God of Order narrowed his eyes. "Enough."
A heavy force pressed down on the Hall, silencing Irkalla’s amusement. The divine authority in his voice was absolute. Even Ares felt the weight of it—though he didn’t show it.
The boy who had collapsed panted heavily, eyes wide with terror. The office woman was whispering prayers. The young girl looked like she was about to break into tears.
Ares simply shrugged. “I didn’t even do anything.”
The God of Order’s frown deepened.
The God of War let out a low whistle. "This one's going to be a problem."
The Goddess of Mercy sighed. "A mistake, more likely."
Irkalla, still grinning, stepped closer to Ares, placing a hand on his shoulder. "A mistake? Oh, no, my dear gods. He is exactly what this world needs."
Ares smirked. “Glad you think so.”
The room was still thick with unease. Every mortal in the hall now knew one thing for certain.
Ares was the most dangerous person here.
And he hadn’t even begun.

The Divine Hall remained silent, the weight of Ares' presence lingering in the air like an unshakable curse. No one spoke. No one dared.
Then, the God of Order stepped forward, his voice cutting through the tension.
“The first trial begins now. The Trial of Will.”
A low hum spread through the hall as the black marble beneath their feet shifted. Symbols, ancient and unreadable, glowed in gold as divine energy surged through the space. A new battlefield was forming.
Ares watched as the once-solid ground melted into a vast, endless void. The mortals gasped, some instinctively taking steps back.
The God of Order raised his hand, and suddenly, the world broke apart.
Ares' Perspective 
Ares blinked.
The Divine Hall was gone.
Instead, he stood in a field of endless black, stretching into infinity. No gods. No mortals. No Irkalla. Just him.
He frowned. An illusion? Or something more?
Then, he heard it.
A voice. Soft. Familiar.
"You really think you deserve this power?"
Ares’ breath hitched. He recognized that voice. It was from his childhood. A memory.
"You're just pretending, aren’t you? You act strong. You act smart. But you’re nothing."
Ares clenched his fists. The Trial of Will.
This wasn’t a battle of strength. This was a battle of the mind.
Then, the whispers grew.
"You don't care about anyone. No one will ever care about you."
"You're just a scared little boy pretending to be something more."
"You don't deserve power. You deserve to suffer."
Ares' smirk faded. His heartbeat slowed. The whispers dug into his skin like claws.
He had seen people break before. He had watched them crumble under pressure. But now, it was his turn.
The void shifted.
A figure emerged. Himself.
But this Ares was different. Tired. Hollow. Broken.
The other Ares smirked, his voice laced with mockery. “Do you really think you're in control?”
The whispers turned into screams.
Ares' head pounded. His breath was unsteady. His vision blurred.
For the first time in a long time… he felt something close to fear.
Meanwhile—The Other Mortals 
The trial had begun for all of them. Each mortal stood frozen, trapped in their own personal hell. Some screamed. Some fell to their knees. Others wept.
The soldier relived the battlefield, his comrades dying around him, unable to stop it.
The office woman stood before her family, who told her she had never been enough.
The young girl was drowning in a sea of voices, whispering that she would always be weak.
And then… there was Ares.
Unlike the others, his body was perfectly still. No trembling. No tears. Just silence.
But the gods saw it.
The God of War frowned. "That one… he's struggling."
The Goddess of Mercy whispered, "Will he break?"
Irkalla, watching closely, simply grinned.
"Oh, I do hope so. That would make things so much more fun."
Inside Ares' Mind 
The false Ares laughed. "Just admit it. You aren't strong. You're just a scared little boy who learned how to hurt others first."
Ares exhaled slowly. His pulse steadied. He could feel it now—the pain, the fear, the doubt.
It was all trying to consume him.
But then…
He smirked.
"Is that all?"
The false Ares faltered.
Ares took a step forward. "You think this is enough to break me? After everything?" He let out a sharp breath, a laugh—not shaken, not weak, but amused.
"You’re going to have to try harder than that."
And just like that… the illusion cracked.
The void shattered around him.

Ares' eyes snapped open.
He stood in the same spot as before, completely unfazed.
The other mortals? Still trapped in their trials. Some screamed. Some sobbed. A few had collapsed, unable to bear the weight of their minds.
But Ares?
Untouched.
The God of War let out a slow whistle. "Well, well. First one to break free."
The Goddess of Wisdom adjusted her glasses. "Not break free. He destroyed it."
Irkalla’s smile was vicious. "Of course he did."
Ares tilted his head, watching the others struggle.
Weak.
He wondered how long they would last.
And more importantly…
Who would survive?