Ares stood in the royal treasury, counting gold coins with calloused fingers. Sweat dripped from his beard onto the marble floor. He dreamed of something greater than serving in these silent chambers. In his mind, he saw an arena where warriors clashed with swords and shields. The crowd would roar as blood spilled on sand. Every coin he saved brought him closer to building that place of glory and combat. He moved to the weapons vault at the back of the treasury. Two golden spears leaned against the stone wall, their tips dark with dried blood. Ares gripped them both and spun them through the air. The balance felt perfect. These would be ideal for warriors to train with in his arena. They could practice their strikes and blocks until their arms moved faster than thought. Real combat required real weapons, and blood would make his fighters strong. A decorated horn hung from a hook beside the spears. Gold designs wrapped around its curved surface. Ares lifted it and turned it in his hands. When his arena finally opened, this horn would announce each fight. The sound would carry through the streets and bring people running. They would fill the seats and watch warriors prove their worth. He set the horn down and looked at the coins stacked on the table. His dream was taking shape, one piece at a time. He pulled a rolled parchment from inside his armor and spread it flat on the table. The design showed a massive coliseum with marble columns and crystal arches. Waterfalls would cascade down its golden walls. Fountains would cool the fighters between rounds. Hanging plants would soften the hard edges of stone. The Arean Coliseum would be unlike anything the world had seen. Ares traced his finger along the drawing's main arena floor. This was where blood would flow and legends would be born. He rolled up the parchment and tucked it back against his chest. The coins, the spears, the horn—everything waited for the day when his vision became real.