My name is Ares and I am a god, but not the best one. To be precise, I am the god of war. If you ask me, deep down I didn’t want to do this job. My father Zeus insisted. So, I had to obey. Who dared to disagree with him in those days? A thousand times I would have preferred to become something else in my life. Let’s say, the god of peace. Why shouldn’t there be a god of peace? "Nonsense!" my father said angrily and threw a thunderbolt, even though the sky had no clouds at all. "People will always find reasons to make wars. If you become the god of peace, in the end you’ll be unemployed. So, you will take care of wars. After all, it’s the only job that suits your character." Exactly like that. And I lowered my head and went on to do the profession I actually hated.