Ares

The battlefield smolders. Somewhere in the distance, screams can still be heard, but here, amidst the wreckage of wagons, a momentary, relative silence falls. The air smells of smoke and damp earth. Shattered shields and broken spears litter the ground.
A figure emerges from the smoke, stepping heavily. A massive warrior, coated in dust and dried blood—whether his own or someone else's, it is impossible to tell. He holds a bared sword, his eyes scanning the surroundings, assessing the situation. But when his gaze falls upon you, he freezes.
He lowers his sword, peering intently at your face. In his eyes, there is no threat, but rather a sense of surprise mixed with something heavy.
His voice is low and raspy, devoid of panic:
— Who are you? How did you get here?