The Children // ASSASSINS CREED ODYSSEY // DEIMOS

C36: The Edge

The Champion had woken up to men pulling him on to a wagon, had felt someone yank the arrow out of his back and apply pressure, felt as they'd douced it in alcohol and brought a hot knife to his skin, searing the wound shut.

The pain from that may have killed a man but, not him, it was like a scratch, an irritable one - one he didn't need to be dealing with right now.

A piece of decoration, nothing more...

Deimos had grabbed on to the Athenian, the want to smash his head in to the man vials and potions next to him almost over taking his want to find Kleon - to make sure the bastard was dead.

Before the Champion had fell, more from shock than anything, he was sure, he'd seen the man run, saw his sister on his tail.

The bastard had shot him in the back like the coward he was.

Deimos hoped his sister had caught up with him, that his death had been slow, painful - hoped the life had been choked out of him, that he'd suffered, that he'd drowned in his own blood.

Letting the Athenian doctor go, Deimos stood up, ignoring the words of the tired and terrified men around him and, found his way back to the battlefield, to where Kleon had been chased away...

His sister, she was nowhere to be seen; the man he'd killed, the general, Brasidas, his body had gone too.

His sister had been so angry about that. Deimos had seen it, the hate, the sadness in her eyes, that want to kill him for it - it wasn't personal. War was war. People died. Men like Brasidas died. Men who went up against him died.

That was how it was, that was how it would always be. There couldn't be any other way.

Deimos followed the path up, finding himself on the beach. At first, he hadn't seen anything, no sign of a fight, no blood but, it was as he looked, towards the setting sun, that he saw someone at the edge, the water lapping over them as the tide came in.

Kleon.

His neck had been broken.

Quick and swift. A death he didn't deserve but, dead none the less..

Deimos left him to the waves, sure they'd find his body eventually, blast him as a coward whod' ran away. Which, it seemed (in his absence anyway0 they'd lost the battle. The Athenians grab for the northern territory had been lost in one full swoop.

But, Deimos did not care for that. He did not care what colour owned what. Deimos had, had his sights on the whole of the Greek world. This war, it was a war for control, nothing else.

A war that would end one day...

There was no place for men like him in the peaceful world so many of them wanted.

So, in that moment, he decided the only way to hold on to himself, was to take what was his, to deal with a past that was trying to destroy everything he was.

Then. Then he could go towards that order he was destined to bring - the Order he'd bring in anyway he could.

What did he have left otherwise...

Eos... Eos...

He had her but, for how long, how long could she live in a world she'd never wanted... How long until she chose a different path that didn't involve him. When would his temper finally snap and Eos lost her life because of it...

He'd find out soon.

He'd take her with him.

He had something he had to do. A place he needed to see for himself.