Nature in this world was not a place that knew mercy.
The endless land stretched like a piece of a world forgotten since the first ages, where no clear law ruled… except survival of the heaviest.
Ares walked in silence.
His small feet sometimes sank into dry soil, sometimes hit cold rocks that seemed never to have felt the sun. He was not tired, yet his body remained in constant alert, as if the air itself could turn into an enemy at any moment.
The Ancestor walked ahead of him.
Steady steps.
Breath unheard.
A calm presence… more than necessary.
At first, Ares thought silence was the most notable thing about the path.
But after a fair distance… he began to feel that something was not natural.
The air.
It became heavier.
It was not a storm, nor a sudden change in weather.
But a strange feeling… as if every breath required extra effort.
Ares stopped for a moment, watching the dust particles that usually danced with the wind.
They fell.
No… not just fell.
They collapsed toward the ground sharply, as if the sky had lost patience with them.
His pupils shrank.
Then he noticed something else.
His clothes… no longer moved.
Even the wind seemed to step back.
He slowly lifted his eyes toward the Ancestor's back.
He was doing nothing.
No burning aura.
No flowing energy.
No tangible pressure.
And yet…
Everything around him behaved differently.
As if the world had suddenly noticed his presence… and decided to become more disciplined.
Ares swallowed.
A primitive feeling seeped into his depths.
This was not a display of power.
This… was closer to acknowledgment.
Another step from the Ancestor.
Click.
The faint sound of a foot against the ground.
Then…
A thin crack appeared under the place his foot touched.
It was not an explosion, nor a dramatic collapse.
Just a small… clean… respectful crack.
But Ares felt a shiver run along his spine.
Because he understood instinctively — without being able to explain how — that the ground did not crack because it could not bear the weight…
But because it was trying to adapt.
Ares's feet stopped without him realizing.
He lifted his eyes to the Ancestor.
He did not ask.
But his gaze was a complete question.
The Ancestor finally stopped.
Turned halfway, and his deep eyes settled on the child.
A short silence passed between them…
A silence that even time hesitated before moving.
Then he spoke in a calm voice, without any attempt to impress:
"True power is not to affect the world…
But to have the world adapt to your presence."
He did not explain.
Added no other words.
And resumed walking.
Ares…
Felt that the sentence was not just a lesson.
It was a small window opened to a terrifying concept of power.
A power that does not need to show itself…
Because reality itself bends to it.
The two continued forward.
With each step, the features of the land began to change.
At first, the change was subtle… barely noticeable.
Then it was no longer subtle.
A mountain appeared on the horizon as if someone had grabbed its peak and tilted it to the side.
Not collapsed.
But leaning… with an uncomfortable stability.
Ares froze his gaze there.
As they got closer, he heard the sound of water.
But the direction was wrong.
A full waterfall…
Was flowing upward.
The water rose against the world, flowing toward the sky as if falling was no longer a law here.
Ares's breath shortened.
Even the light was affected.
Sunbeams appeared bent, their lines slightly curved, as if space itself had lost its straightness.
Something deep inside whispered:
This place… is sick.
The Ancestor stopped at the edge of a high rocky stretch.
Beneath them, strange land stretched unlike anything they had passed before.
Twisting valleys.
Rocks that looked as if they had melted and then suddenly frozen.
And a horizon… that could not be trusted.
He remained silent for a moment, as if giving the place its due recognition.
Then he said:
"Ares… welcome to the broken world."
Only at that moment…
Ares understood a feeling he had never known before.
It was not fear.
But a clear realization that the next step forward…
Could change everything.