The sky was tinged with dark gold, as if ti had stopped between sunset and eternal night. In the center of a hall ford by floating pillars and platforms that defied the logic of gravity, deities from different pantheons watched each other with caution... and curiosity.
That was when a golden cloud whizzed through the air and stopped with a muffled crack in the center of the main platform.
"Well, well... what kind of interesting gathering is this?" asked the newcor, with a broad smile on his face.
It was Sun Wukong, the Monkey King. He wore a red robe torn at the shoulders, adorned with golden pieces, and lazily twirled his Ruyi Jingu Bang staff between his fingers as if it were just a toy.
"I hope you didn’t call for another heavenly tournant. I’m already bored of humiliating dragons and generals." He yawned exaggeratedly.
"You weren’t invited, Wukong," ca the cold and sharp reply.
A female figure walked to the center with firm steps. Susanoo, Goddess of Storms, wore a black kimono with silver clouds embroidered on it, and her long katana was already half unsheathed. Her violet eyes burned like lightning trapped in crystal.
"And yet, you walk in as if you own the hall."
"Susanoo! Darling, please!" Wukong raised his hands, sitting cross-legged on his own cloud, still with a mocking smile. "We’re friends, aren’t we? F.R.I.E.N.D.S." He spelled out the word in the air with golden smoke, clicking his tongue.
Before more divine sparks could fly, another voice erged from the side with treacherous softness: "Friends or enemies... it depends on the day of the week, doesn’t it?"
Loki entered the scene. Tall, slender, dark green hair with a white streak waving like a living shadow. His black suit looked like it was made of intertwined snakes, and he walked as if dancing with danger.
"I confess it’s exciting to see so many cosmic egos in one place. I almost feel small." He smiled, like a wolf before ard sheep.
"Silence, liar," ca the deep, powerful voice. Kali appeared like a wave of heat.
Her bronze skin glowed like obsidian, her four arms adorned with war jewelry, and her flaming hair waved like living flas. Her eyes burned with ancestral rage.
"I don’t rember giving the god of lies the floor."
"Calm down, Kalizinha!" Loki raised two hands in a gesture of surrender, while the other two pulled an ebony apple out of thin air. "I am the god of lies, not physical resistance! I die easily!"
Wukong laughed loudly, clapping his hands. "Finally, a eting where I can die laughing before the fight even begins."
Before the taunts turned into thunder, poison, or fruit thrown with divine intent, a sharp laugh echoed through the hall—this ti coming from above.
From a tear in the golden fabric of the sky, a chariot made of celestial bones pulled by crows spiraled down. On it, standing upright like a shadow that had learned to walk, was a woman with black hair as wavy as the sea in a storm, dressed in a cloak of crow feathers that seed to absorb the light itself.
It was Hel.
Half of her face was hauntingly beautiful, pale and eternal. The other half, rotting, revealed bones and muscles dark as frozen mud. Her eyes—one dead, the other alive—watched everything with bored supremacy.
"I ca only for the scent of conflict," said Hel, descending from the carriage with funeral elegance. "The invitation? Ah, I thought it was a trap, but I am disappointed. Nothing exploded when I crossed the portal."
Right after her, an erald wind swept through the hall. Spinning like a tribal dance, Quetzalcóatl appeared in his winged serpentine form, before taking on a humanoid shape—golden skin, eyes like molten eralds, and living feathers that hissed on his back like leaves in the wind.
"If this is a trap," he said, with a smirk, "let it be a beautiful trap." His gaze swept over the group of deities with almost scientific fascination. "And what a bold choice... to call so many egos to a single stage."
"That’s exactly what worried ," added a deep voice, resonant like the dawn in the valleys. Amaterasu, the Sun Goddess, appeared walking on a thin circle of light, each step leaving floral trails that wilted at the touch of the divine air. "No one here would summon so many gods without a purpose. Not even Loki."
"Thank you for your trust," replied Loki, with feigned offense and a theatrical bite into the black apple.
That was when a burst of black smoke and bitter wines cut through the space. A portal in the shape of a cracked mirror appeared, and from it Baron Sadi erged—top hat tilted, gold teeth, sunglasses even in the divine twilight.
"Now we’re talking," he humd, lighting an ethereal cigar that burned with spectral blue light. "I thought it was going to be one of those boring etings... but I see faces that haven’t been seen since Ragnarok." He laughed heartily. "And others who should have stayed dead."
A buzz began. Everyone was talking, speculating, suspicious. Who had brought them together? Why so many pantheons? Why now?
Until the sky fell silent of its own accord.
A chill ran through the pillars and platforms.
The crows began to caw.
And then she arrived.
Morrigan.
Floating on a spiral of wings, dried blood, and liquid shadows, the Goddess of War, Prophecy, and Death landed with a silent impact—as if reality had held its breath so as not to disturb her.
Her hair, like sacred oil, floated lightly, and her eyes were two eclipses in flas. Her body, wrapped in a dress of mourning and combat, exuded a power without vanity — only inevitability.
The silence was complete. Even Wukong stopped spinning his staff.
Morrigan walked among them like a reaper among ghosts, and stopped exactly in the center of the main platform. She did not smile. She did not blink. She just watched — as if she already knew the outco of that eting.
And then, in a low, sharp, blunt voice, Morrigan said, with a half-smile that seed to ooze venom:
"Who wants to kill the two Dragon Empresses?"
For a mont, silence reigned supre. No bravado, no jokes — not even Wukong dared to laugh.
It was Kali who broke the mont, raising an eyebrow with visible disapproval. She sighed as if listening to a child asking to play with dynamite.
"I’m leaving."
Her silhouette dissolved into red flas, disappearing from the plane with the sa intensity with which she had arrived.
Morrigan didn’t even blink. She just watched the ashes scatter. And then she said, as if speaking to no one — or to the entire universe at once:
"They will be reborn. In a few days... maybe weeks."
A purple flash broke through the air, and Kali reappeared in the sa spot where she had been, her eyes more attentive this ti. "Tell more."
Morrigan crossed her arms, indifferent to the surprise. "The seal is weakening. And, as you all know, they are not exactly... diplomatic."
She paused dramatically and, with a slight nod, blurted out, "I’m warning you because I owe so favors. One to Sepphirothy... and another, older one, to Agares." She shrugged, as if talking about cosmic debts were trivial.
"If you want to leave, feel free. I just made sure this summons reached the gods who don’t care about laws, consequences... or the fate of the world."
She looked around casually—but her eyes were blades, and every deity knew it.
When she looked again, the hall had emptied.
Everyone was gone.
All... except three.
Kali, imposing as ever.
Wukong, now sitting on his floating staff, nibbling on a heavenly peach with a smile of pure excitent.
And Susanoo, his katana glinting slightly, as if the steel felt anticipation. He looked eager to cut sothing.
Morrigan raised her eyebrows, genuinely pleased. "Much more than I expected."
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