Ares' Region

If hell is the place to deprive men of their human nature the battlefield swarming with dehumanized souls is hell; and is in the real world, hell is the hungry stray dogs licking blood on corpses and vultures ingurgitating rotten flesh from the corpses scattered around on the ruins; then, it would be the place where Ares reigns. The cowardly Ares always conceals himself behind the madness of the battle cry: enjoys watching the sparks flying; swords crossing; he drives warriors into harm’s way; binding their fear; imposing military order, exploiting the absolute ranking system. Ares compels them to exchange their only life given by their mother with a piece of rotten earth covering their terror-stricken soul with the flag named Patriotism there is no friend or enemy in a momentary lulled battleground you won’t see a friend or enemy, except dead or alive, however, dead ones won’t say a word because they are dead while alive ones groan and moan and cry out a beast’s howl and in a such battleground, in the ruins where the time ceased to move a mother sobs while gathering her son’s scattered remains, the mother searches for the son’s victimized soul, becoming a waning moon in this solemn moment.