Chapter Sixteen

“Alright,” said Ares, who had pierced Dezzick with his green-whited

violet eyes, “what weapon do you master in?” Dezzick moaned. He was

intoxicated with pain to respond. Ares sighed, “Get up.” Dezzick leaned against

the wall, his face making hard contact with it. Then, with all his strength, he

struggled to pull himself up. He did. He gave Ares a you-could-have-helped look.

“I could have,” said Ares, “but I wanted to see if you could do it. No one helps

you in the real world. It’s just you and God.”

Click. His katar unlocked and shot back into his sleeve. His hand was

placed upon Dezzick’s forehead. “Novus Corpus,” whispered Ares. Dezzick

watched as Ares drew a crucifix on his thumb. Dezzick studied Ares. He looked

into Ares’ eyes. The whites projected a illuminating light. The scars on his body

shaped as crucifixes began to grow as well.

Dezzick could feel a large mass of energy shooting from Ares’ fingertips.

Dezzick looked at his wounds, they were all healed, and he didn’t know it, but his

infection disappeared! He felt good. No, he felt better than good. He felt

invincible.

Dezzick did not ask Ares what he just did. Dezzick had a good idea. He,

instead, asked him a question on his mind since Ares offered his help, “Who are

you?” Ares did not answer the question. He in turn asked Dezzick a question.

Technically, it was two questions, “What weapon do you master in? Did you
mean what you said in your prayer?” Dezzick answered, “Yes, I meant it. I’m a

master in the shathri.”

Shathri were devices that one would wear on his wrist. The device would

rotate a blade connected to it, which would spin at a speed of one-hundred and

fifty kilometers per hour. The down side to the weapon was its difficulty to

control and use. The benefit was worth it. The blade, if used properly, can cut

through solid diamond.

“The shathri,” repeated Ares to confirm. “Yes,” said the demon prisoner,

“the shathri.” Ares paced back and forth. He did this for about five minutes

straight until a smile came onto his face. “Yes,” smirked Ares, agreeing with

himself, “I can use this to my advantage.”

He turned to look at Dezzick, who was on why he was asked this question.

Ares asked him, “How many others are trained in this excluding yourself?”

Dezzick thought for a moment and answered, “One. Only one.” “Who would that

be,” asked the crafty Ares, who was conjuring up a plan. His eyes were green.

Dezzick bit his lip and answered, “The chancellor, Samyaza, leader of the

Grigori.”

Dezzick’s forehead began to sweat. “Who are you,” asked the nervous

prisoner. Ares smirked when responding, “I am your new master.”