Moon butterfly

The trial was over, but the tension remained.
The gods had seen something unsettling.
Ares had endured their presence longer than expected, but that alone wasn’t what disturbed them. It was how he endured.
And then there was the butterfly.
A delicate creature of moonlight blue, fluttering in broad daylight.
It should not exist here.
It was a creature born only during the Blue Moon, appearing once every few decades. And yet, it had appeared now, in a time when the sky burned gold, in a place where gods and mortals stood together.
It had chosen to dance around Ares.
And he had let it go.
Not crushed. Not broken. Admired.
The gods whispered among themselves.
“What is he?”
Aeryn, the Goddess of Life, remained silent. She had already begun to suspect something was unnatural about Ares, but this confirmed it.
Meanwhile, Irkalla, the Goddess of Cruelty, merely smirked.
She already knew.
And she was enjoying every second of this.
The Sorting of Strength 
The gods soon moved forward with the next process.
The mortals—those who had survived this far—were to be sorted.
It was necessary.
The trials had already shown that not all were equal. Some had shattered instantly under divine pressure, while others had barely clung to consciousness.
Now, the gods divided them.
The weak—those who could not withstand the trials but still held potential—were given easier paths, under gods who valued patience.
The average—the survivors who endured but showed nothing extraordinary—were assigned to gods who sought warriors and servants.
The strong—the ones who lasted, who did not fall, who could be forged into something greater—were placed under gods who demanded true champions.
And then, there was Ares.
He did not fit into any category.
He had not merely endured—he had consumed. He had taken in fear like a beast devouring prey.
Not strong. Not powerful. Something else entirely.
The gods did not know where to place him.
Until one spoke.
“Abomination.”
The voice belonged to Vhalzith, the God of Judgment.
His golden eyes burned into Ares.
“There is no category for him,” Vhalzith continued, his voice cold and absolute. “He does not belong among the strong. He is something beyond strength.”
The other gods did not argue.
They could feel it too.
Ares did not belong.
And so, a new classification was made.
Abomination.
Neither mortal nor divine. Neither hero nor villain.
Something unknown.
Something feared.

The moment the declaration was made, the mortals stared at Ares.
Their eyes were filled with terror.
Some of them had already feared him from the battle trial. They had seen how he fought—how he inflicted the smallest wounds and twisted them into agony, how even the slightest cut became unbearable in his presence.
They had seen how he smiled as he danced through the battlefield, weaving between attacks like a specter of death.
Now, they had confirmation of what they already felt deep in their bones.
He was not one of them.
Some stepped back. Others averted their eyes.
The whispers began.
“Monster.”“Something unnatural.”“He shouldn’t be here.”
Even among those who had survived alongside him, he was alone.


As the mortals were escorted to their respective quarters, Aeryn lingered.
She gazed at Ares, who stood motionless, still absorbing the weight of what had just happened.
The butterfly from before still lingered in the air, its wings glowing faintly in the light.
It circled above Ares before disappearing into the wind.
Aeryn’s hands tightened.
She had checked his records.
He was not one of the summoned mortals.
He was a mistake. A bug in the system.
Yet, the gods had let it slide.
Not out of mercy.
Out of curiosity.
Aeryn knew how gods worked. They did not act out of kindness—they acted out of interest.
And Ares…
Ares had become the most interesting thing in this world.
She glanced at Irkalla.
The Goddess of Cruelty was watching Ares like a prized possession.
Her expression was one of amusement, but beneath that, Aeryn saw something else.
Possessiveness.
Danger.
Aeryn exhaled.
She didn’t know if Ares was truly an abomination. She didn’t even know if he was a threat.
But one thing was certain.
The gods had made their decision.
Ares was no longer just a mortal.
He was something else entirely.
And whatever he was—he was now theirs to watch.

Three days had passed.
The gods observed. The mortals trained.
And Aeryn watched Ares.
She had been waiting for something—some sign of malice, some proof that he was as monstrous as the others believed.
But it never came.
Ares did nothing abnormal.
He trained alongside the others. His movements were precise, efficient—but not excessive.He ate, rested, and read, just as any other would.He followed orders, never arguing, never resisting.
He was simply… there.
Yet, no matter how much he acted like the others, the fear around him did not fade.
The mortals avoided him. Their eyes held the same lingering terror as before.
They whispered behind his back, careful never to say anything too loudly.
"He's not like us.""He doesn't even flinch.""Why does he act so normal?!"
But it wasn’t just them.
The gods, too, kept watching.
Vhalzith, the God of Judgment, observed Ares like an enigma he could not solve.Orion, the God of War, tested the mortals constantly, but never approached Ares.Even Elysia, the Goddess of Mercy, who had been kind to all… never spoke to him.
And Aeryn, despite watching him closely, found nothing.
No malice. No hatred. No ambition.
Ares existed in silence, walking the thin line between man and monster.

On the third day, the gods gathered.
The mortals assembled, nervous and expectant. They had survived the trials. Now came the true purpose of their summoning.
A god with a voice like rolling thunder spoke.
"You have proven your worth."
"You shall now descend upon the world."
The words struck like a hammer.
The mortals’ hearts pounded. They had trained for this moment—the moment they would be sent to the world as heroes.
To be chosen by the gods meant power, glory, and purpose.
But then, the next words fell.
"Except for one."
Silence.
All eyes turned to Ares.
The gods’ gazes weighed down on him like mountains.
"You were never meant to be a hero."
The words rang across the hall like a final judgment.
The mortals stared.
Some were confused. Some were relieved. Others, deep down, had already expected it.
Of course.
Of course, he was different.
But what did that mean?
What was he meant to be?
A villain? A monster? A mistake?
The gods did not answer.
Instead, they moved forward.
The summoning circle shone brightly, magic swirling like golden threads around the chosen ones.
One by one, they began to disappear, sent into the new world.
Ares remained where he stood, untouched by the spell.
Left behind.
Alone.

As the last mortal faded away, a small flicker of blue caught the gods' attention.
The butterfly had returned.
It fluttered gently toward Ares, glowing with the same hue as the Blue Moon.
The gods whispered among themselves.
That butterfly should not be here.
Vhalzith narrowed his eyes. “That insect… it is not an ordinary creature.”
Orion, the God of War, watched in silence. Even he did not know its true nature.
Elysia, the Goddess of Mercy, pressed a hand to her chest. “It is a sign… but of what?”
The butterfly danced around Ares, landing lightly on his shoulder.
For the first time in three days, Ares smiled.
It was not a cruel smile.
It was not a twisted grin.
It was small. Almost… soft.
And in that moment, Aeryn felt something.
Something ancient. Something far beyond the gods’ understanding.
The butterfly.
The Blue Moon Butterfly.
It was a symbol.
A sign of the Queen of the Kingless World.
The wife of Ren.
A ruler who no longer existed.
Yet, no one knew.
Not the gods.
Not Ares.
Not even the butterfly itself.
But still, it lingered.
Still, it stayed by Ares' side.
And for the first time, the gods felt something they had not expected to feel.
Uncertainty.