The Bay of Uchiura churned with ominous intent. Akkorokamui, the titanic octopus-kamuy, rose from the depths. Its skin was a shifting crimson, mimicking the blood it intended to spill. It had sensed a powerful intruder on its sacred beach. Tide-Tentacle Embrace. It lashed out with three limbs the size of redwood trees, seeking to crush the lone warrior standing in the surf.
Ares, the Greek God of War, did not retreat. He smiled. He adjusted his bronze helmet and waded deeper into the waves.
"Finally," Ares grunted, "something that hugs back."
The Butcher of the Bay
The tentacles slammed into the god, dragging him under. The pressure was immense, enough to shatter a trireme. But Ares was not a boat; he was the personification of violence.
War Frenzy.
Ares’s armor glowed with a chaotic red aura. He drew his sword, Battlefield Dominion, and began to hack. The water turned black with ink, then red with divine ichor and monster blood.
Akkorokamui shrieked, a sound of bubbling rage. It tried to spray Red Ink Veil to blind the god, but Ares fought by instinct, not sight. He severed one limb, then another. The octopus regenerated, but Ares was faster. He laughed as he worked, treating the battle like a butcher treats a carcass.
Finally, Ares drove the Spear of Ares through the monster’s massive beak, pinning it to the seabed.
"A worthy warmup," Ares declared, wiping slime from his crest as the massive carcass dissolved into the tide.