The void shifted around them, and in the blink of an eye, Ares found himself standing beneath a massive, planet-sized forge—an inferno of gold and divine energy that churned and burned with an intensity that seemed capable of melting the very stars themselves. The air was thick with the sound of molten metal slamming against stone, the rhythmic pulse of a godly hammer ringing in the distance.
In the heart of this celestial forge, Ares stood, his body now encased in golden divine liquid. It poured over him like a flood, engulfing him entirely, as though he were being forged anew, reshaped from the inside out. This was no ordinary liquid; it was Chase's ichor, his very essence. It bubbled and seethed with power, filling the air with an almost intoxicating heat.
