The Martians

PERSEUS MANGAL-GRAH

Perseus dashes towards Ares, his heart pounding with urgency as his son begins to plummet. He reaches him just in time, his arms wrapping around Ares's falling form. But the moment of contact is not one of relief; instead, it's an assault on his senses.

His arms feel as though they're being seared by the sun, the heat from Ares's body like a furnace, scorching through his clothes, the smell of singed fabric mingling with the acrid scent of burnt flesh. The pain is immediate, a sharp, relentless fire that seems to brand his very bones, yet he holds on.

He lays Ares gently on the ground, his hands pulling away as if from a live ember. Looking at his arms, he sees the skin charred, blisters already forming, pain assaulting him in waves. But he pushes through the agony, ignoring his own suffering to focus on Ares, watching intently as his son begins to stir back to consciousness.

Ares tries to speak, but his words come out in a struggle. Perseus urges him, "Take your time, son."

Ares then speaks, his voice faint and slow, "Mother... Romulus, Juno and Jove... are they safe?"

Perseus smiles, "They're safe, at the hangar, waiting for you."

A small smile graces Ares's pale face. "That's a relief. I followed your order to the end, father," he manages to say.

Perseus nods, pride swelling in his chest. "You not only saved our family but possibly a lot of other Martians too. You drew the bulk of the K'tharr to you."

But Perseus's expression shifts to one of profound sadness, his heart shattering within his chest. He asks Ares, "Was this truly the only way to have stopped them?"

Ares nods weakly, "Yes."

Perseus presses on, his voice laced with pain and guilt, "Even when you knew the consequences of invoking that power?"

"Even so," Ares replies, his voice barely above a whisper.

Perseus tightens his fists, anger mingling with the pain that surges through his burnt arms. He feels useless, his order having led his son to knowingly use a technique that would kill him and corrupt his soul.

Ares's weak voice interrupts Perseus's self-loathing.

Ares speaks, his voice a whisper of exhaustion, "All the K'tharr are dead. I closed the pocket dimension they were spawning from. But the danger isn't over. I sensed ships approaching Mars from the far distance."

He pauses, gathering strength for his next words, "The power I sensed from them made me shiver, even when I was in that state."

His gaze meets Perseus's, filled with a somber resignation, "I've done my part. My fight ends here. You must quickly take our family and go off-planet while you still can."

"I won't leave you here." Perseus says stubbornly.

Ares shakes his head, a movement that seems to cost him dearly, "My life force is almost gone. There's no way to reverse the damage or even stop it. I will die here, and I've made my peace with that, father. There's no need for more pointless deaths."

He reaches out, his hand trembling, to touch Perseus, his eyes imploring, "Our family needs their patriarch. They need you, Father."

Perseus sighs "No," he says, his voice firm yet laden with emotion, "What they need is you. I'll get you to them."

Ares tries to protest, his voice weak, but Perseus shushes him gently.

He continues, a glimmer of hope in his despair, "It's to be expected that you don't know this, but there's a way—not to stop the technique's effect, but to alter it. A life force for a life force."

Perseus smiles, though it's tinged with sadness, "There are many things I wasn't able to teach you. I've put what I can on a drive. Athena will hand it to you when you land on Earth "

Perseus kneels beside Ares, his posture one of grim resolve. "Now," he says, his voice steady but heavy with the gravity of what he's about to do, "I'm going to transfer the energy that's burning your life force onto mine. But I can't guarantee all of your original life force will return to you. But you'll live."

Ares tries to stop him, his hand reaching out weakly, but Perseus's face darkens. "Be still," he commands, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I can do this with you awake or unconscious, but I'd prefer you awake for it. Maybe you can learn something."

He nods, a silent tear slipping from the corner of his eye, and reluctantly, he stays still.

Perseus places his hands on Ares's chest, the contact reigniting the pain from before, though not as fiercely. He shuts his eyes, seeking to channel his focus inward.

He enters the Crimson Nexus, a state he's never been able to sustain for long. A mere couple of seconds is his usual limit, but that should suffice for this one, desperate act.

He begins to mutter ancient words, their cadence lost to time, powerful and arcane. At first, there's only silence, the Nexus threatening to slip away from his grasp, but with sheer will, he holds onto it just a bit longer.

Then, a pain unlike any other ignites in his chest, tearing a scream from his throat that echoes through the desolate landscape.

The transfer is complete.

Perseus is engulfed by pain, every inch of him feeling as if he had been doused in the molten lava of Olympus Mons itself.

He wonders in awe and agony how Ares could have withstood this inferno for hours, the thought alone sending waves of sympathetic pain through his already tortured body.

Yet, amidst this torment, he senses something else—a surge of power unlike any he's ever touched, a force that feels like liquid fire coursing through his veins, its raw energy vibrating against his very essence, almost audible in its intensity.

But he resists the urge to harness this power while Ares is still here, the knowledge that channeling it would accelerate the consumption of his life force like fuel to a flame.

He feels each heartbeat, each breath, as if counting down the seconds; he estimates he has only a couple of minutes of life force left to burn. His focus narrows, his senses locking onto the dark, ominous presence he senses, hiding, or perhaps waiting.

Perseus turns to Ares, helping him to his feet. He's about to ask if he can run but sees Ares's condition; he's barely clinging to consciousness.

Instead, He grabs Ares's face, locking his eyes with his son's, his gaze intense and filled with urgency.

"Listen, son. You and your siblings are the future of this planet,"

He continues, his voice strained, "I can't say much now. Check the drive; everything is on there."

Perseus kisses Ares on the forehead, a gesture of farewell and blessing. "One last order: stay alive, no matter what." Ares nods, understanding the weight of his father's words.

Then, with a surge of strength, Perseus lifts Ares off the ground. Ares looks at him, confusion etched on his face, but his eyes widen with realization about what his father intends.

Before Ares can voice his protest, Perseus, with a monumental effort, hurls him into the sky, propelling him towards the safety of the space fort.

Perseus watches Ares streak across the Martian sky.

Once assured of his trajectory, his attention shifts, his body pivoting with grim determination.

His voice, a blend of command and challenge, "Show yourself."

The silence that follows is thick, almost suffocating, each second stretching into an eternity.

Then a voice giggles, the sound both juvenile and chilling, cutting through the silence.