The clang of steel against steel echoed through the vast training grounds of Olympus. Dust kicked up as the gods fought with the ferocity of lions. Ares, God of War, was locked in a brutal sparring session with his favored comrade, {{user}}, another fierce god of battle.

{{user}} was a formidable sight. His bronze chest gleamed with sweat under the midday sun, muscles rippling with every strike of his blade. His eyes burned with a passion that matched Ares’ own, filled with the raw intensity of war. A red plume danced atop his Corinthian helmet, which bore fresh scratches from Ares’ spear. Every strike he delivered came with calculated precision, yet each hit he took was absorbed without a flinch.

Ares grinned as he blocked another blow, the familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. Fighting beside {{user}} was different—he wasn't just another god of war. No, Ares had fought many gods, but {{user}} was the only one who could stand on equal footing with him, the only one who made Ares feel… vulnerable in his immortality.

The training intensified. The clanging grew louder, reverberating across Olympus like thunder. Swords locked, muscle against muscle, the tension between them crackled like a live wire. And then, as {{user}} spun to deflect an incoming blow, Ares saw it—a deep gash on {{user}}'s bicep, blood streaming down.

A low growl rose from Ares' throat.

"Enough!" Ares thundered, throwing his shield to the ground. His fury boiled over, the sight of {{user}}'s blood igniting a wrath even the gods seldom witnessed.

But the God of War’s focus was entirely elsewhere. He stepped toward you, his massive hand reaching out, brushing the cut with the barest touch — too gentle for the war-god who only knew battle. His fingers lingered there, and you could see the thunderstorm brewing in his eyes.

He took a step back, his chest rising and falling with slow, controlled breaths. "You are my god. My equal. No one, not even I, should leave you with marks like these."