'No wonder... No wonder the heavens once trembled at his name. Even Zeus fears him… Even now, even in this form…'
Alkira was full of despair.
The memories of ancient battles flickered through his mind. The countless preparations, the alliances forged in dread of one being—Deus Anima.
And now, he—Alkira, the Tenth Ascended God of Nature—stood hollow before him. Proud and newly divine, yet pathetically ignorant.
He could not plead for his life. That window had long closed. But perhaps… perhaps his kin could be spared.
Falling to his knees, soul slipping from his body, Alkira made one final plea.
"Alkira, the Tenth Ascended God of Nature... pays his final respects to the Almighty Deus Anima. I beseech you… spare the Alkira Clan. They are innocent. Do not let my blasphemy damn their bloodline..."
Deus's eyes narrowed. His presence quieted.
"Hmph."
A dismissive snort. Yet it was not a denial.
Deus was not a petty god. He did not butcher kin for the foolishness of one. Unless provoked, he would not move against Alkira's family.
But Alkira would never know. His divine glow faded. His body fell limp. A god was dead.
A god whom mortal races praised. A god whose name carried weight and reverence across continents. Now, nothing more than a vessel void of a soul.
Alkira, the Tenth God of Nature, newly ascended, proud and promising... now a husk.
His soul, unless claimed, would drift to the realm of the dead.
And he died on Earth—Deus's domain. The world gifted power over souls. His dominion. His law.
Meanwhile, in the Heavenly Realm…
The High Temple of Zeus loomed in majesty.
Suspended in divine heights, the temple radiated celestial power. Clouds of heavenly Qi curled around its towering spires. The light of its halls reached down to the mortals who looked up in awe, reverence, and prayer.
This was the world of the Angels—one of the most exalted races in existence. Draped in flowing robes, adorned with divine wings, they stood in stark contrast to the accursed demons. They worshipped Zeus with unwavering faith.
Mortals, elves, and ancient races populated this realm, but none rivaled the angels in holiness or purpose.
And above them all—Zeus.
Within the temple's heart stood a throne forged from stardust and divine crystal. Even the most virtuous of cultivators would betray their path for a glimpse of its splendor.
Seated upon it was a man who appeared no older than twenty.
His countenance was that of carved divinity—beautiful and perfect, yet cold, unyielding. His expression, unreadable. His white robe glimmered with golden thread. His long black hair, tied into a martial ponytail, crowned him like a deity of old.
He was ageless. Beyond time. Beyond mortality.
He was Zeus.
The Supreme God. The Unshakable One.
His eyes opened.
They did not blink.
They pierced. Through time. Through planes. Through stars and galaxies, all the way to a small blue world—Earth.
A frown crept across his otherwise serene face.
'Alkira is dead. As expected.'
A pause. A darker thought surfaced.
'Deus... Still alive. You stubborn wretch, I do not know how you clawed your way back into existence... But know this—this time, there will be no salvation. No mercy. I will finish what I began. I will erase you… just as I erased him.'
His eyes narrowed, glowing with thunderous wrath.
A storm was coming.
A reckoning that would shake the very foundation of godhood.
Just then, the great doors of the divine temple creaked open.
An angel, wings white as snow and bathed in divine radiance, stepped in with reverence. Each of its steps echoed across the marbled floor, yet its feet never dared rise in flight. For though it possessed wings, to fly in the temple of the Almighty Zeus was an unforgivable sin.
It made its way toward the floating throne—an ethereal seat woven from lightning and golden clouds—where Zeus, the Supreme God, the Lord of All Realms, sat in silent majesty.
The angel fell to its knees, bowing low, its voice trembling as it spoke.
"Oh Great and Mighty God, Zeus, the One True Lord, whose name reigns both in this realm and beyond... I bring a message, and I seek thy permission to speak it aloud."
"Speak."
A single word—but the power behind it trembled the very air. The echo of his voice stretched beyond the confines of the temple, as if the universe itself paused to listen.
The angel gulped, dread coiling in its chest.
"We have discovered that the life force detector inscribed upon the soul of your divine messenger, Alkira... has diminished."
A pause.
Zeus turned. Slowly. His thunderous eyes locked onto the angel with a gaze that could split galaxies.
"You dare?"
His voice was cold—too calm.
"I suppose you seek death. You wish your head to be severed this instant and hung upon the gates of Olympus for all to see."
The divine anger in his voice was not just fury—it was judgment.
He was not angered because Alkira had died. No... he was angered because the angel presumed he didn't already know.
Of course Zeus had known the moment Alkira's soul flickered out. He felt it like a splinter in his divine heart. The angel's presence here was not for information—it was to probe, to test boundaries, to indirectly ask permission.
The angel, now trembling with sweat pooling at his feet, stammered in panic.
"Spare me, O Great Lord! I meant no offense—I only seek your divine will. Should we act? Should we take arms against the God of Souls for daring to strike down thy subordinate?"