The VIP room, previously shrouded in a controlled and arrogant silence, began to vibrate with an invisible pressure that seed to compress the very air, as if sothing gigantic were crushing the reality outside, pushing its effects into that isolated space. Shiva remained motionless for a few seconds, but his eyes, once serene, began to contract with increasing tension, as if sothing were draining his essence little by little. He placed his hand on his chest, feeling the strange emptiness forming within him, an absence where once there had been limitless power.
"I am being suppressed." His voice ca out low, but laden with an unusual weight, sothing that did not match the divinity he represented.
Kali did not respond imdiately, but her smile disappeared, replaced by a cold and calculating expression, her eyes scanning the space as if analyzing sothing unseen. She felt it too. The energy around her was being sucked away, ripped away, as if the very concept of divinity was being negated by a greater force, sothing profane enough to defy even the most ancient gods.
Without hesitation, she raised her hand and struck the air, not against a visible enemy, but against the very fabric of reality, and the space before her tore like fabric being cut by a blade, revealing a dark and unstable portal, its surface rippling with an energy that did not belong to that world.
"Let’s go." Her order ca dryly, directly, leaving no room for questioning.
Shiva, however, did not move toward the portal. His eyes narrowed, focusing on sothing beyond the room, sothing only he seed to see at that mont. The presence of his son. Without saying a word, he raised his arm and struck the void before him with even more force, creating a second fissure, more violent, more unstable, its opening revealing a fragnted view of the destroyed battlefield.
Among the wreckage, covered in blood and residual energy, lay Shura’s body. For an instant, ti seed to slow down, silence filling that space like a grief that had not yet been accepted. Shiva reached through the portal, his expression now completely blank, devoid of any trace of hesitation, and pulled his son’s body towards him, bringing him back with a firm movent, as if refusing to leave him in that place.
The weight of Shura’s body fell into his arms, and even lifeless, he still carried the presence of who he had been. Kali watched silently for a brief mont, but said nothing; there were no words that could fill that instant. The world outside was collapsing, and this was not the ti for lantations. Shiva adjusted his son’s body, holding it firmly, and then turned his gaze back to the portal Kali had opened.
"Let’s go." This ti, his voice carried no hesitation, only decisiveness.
Without further delay, the two crossed the portal, carrying Shura’s body with them, as the rift closed behind them, leaving behind a world that was slowly being devoured by sothing far beyond the gods.
In our area.
The area where the northern gods resided remained partially intact, but the surrounding air no longer held the sa stability as before; there was a growing distortion, as if the very fabric of reality were being slowly corroded by a force that recognized no limits or divine hierarchies. The once clear sky was now stained by currents of dark energy that snaked like open veins, and in the distance, it was possible to feel—not just see—the progressive collapse of everything that sustained that world. Still, three figures stood motionless in the center of that silent chaos, like pillars refusing to yield, even in the face of the inevitable.
Odin was at the forefront.
His posture was erect, but not rigid; there was a calculated serenity in his presence, like soone who had seen this kind of destruction before, perhaps not in the sa way, but enough to recognize its signs. His single visible eye was fixed on the distorted horizon, observing not only what was happening, but what lay behind it. He did not seem surprised. Not alard. Just... resolute.
"It’s best if we ignore this and leave." His voice echoed authoritatively, firmly, without any hesitation, as if the decision had already been made long ago, long before that mont even materialized.
Thor, standing beside him, frowned imdiately, the weight of the hamr still resting in his hand as his attention turned to his father. There was sothing profoundly wrong with this order, sothing that didn’t align with everything he knew about honor, duty, and responsibility. His eyes quickly scanned the scene ahead, absorbing the magnitude of the disaster, before returning to Odin, clearly dissatisfied.
"Ignore?" The word ca out laden with disbelief, his deep voice reflecting the growing tension in his body. "Do you see what’s happening? This isn’t just ordinary destruction, soone is... consuming gods." He gripped the hamr’s handle lightly, the electrical energy around him instinctively oscillating, reacting to his emotion. "If we let this continue, there will be nothing left to return to."
Loki, who remained slightly behind, casually leaning against a floating fragnt of stone, let out a long, dramatic sigh, as if he were tired of this discussion before it had even truly begun. His eyes, however, were far from relaxed; they followed every movent of that dark energy that spread, analyzing, calculating, understanding more than he showed.
"I hate to admit it..." he began, tilting his head slightly, his usual smile reduced to a faint line, "...but the brute is right this ti." His fingers twirld slowly, manipulating a small illusory fla that appeared and disappeared between them, a reflection of his constantly active mind. "This isn’t sothing you simply ignore. It’s not an ordinary war, nor a conflict of divine egos." His eyes narrowed, his tone becoming more serious. "This is soone breaking the rules of the ga."
Thor looked at Loki, surprised for a mont, not by agreeing with him, but by hearing that seriousness in his voice. "So you also think we should fight."
"I think," Loki replied, rising slowly, abandoning his previous relaxed posture, "that if we do nothing, we might end up being the next to disappear." His smile returned, but now there was sothing darker in it. "And I, personally, prefer to continue existing."
The silence that followed was heavy, laden with tension, as both turned their gazes to Odin, waiting for an answer, a change, any sign that he would reconsider. But Odin... did not move.
His gaze remained fixed on the horizon.
And then he spoke.
"My eyes have already told everything I need to know."
The way he said it left no room for doubt or interpretation. It wasn’t arrogance. Nor disinterest. It was knowledge. Sothing that transcended what they were seeing at that mont.
Slowly, Odin raised his spear, and with a single movent, pierced the space before him. There was no resistance. Reality opened up as if naturally obeying his will, forming a deep, dark, yet stable portal, whose surface reflected not the current chaos, but a distant, untouched place.
Safe.
"This is not a battle that belongs to us."
His voice was low now, but still carried absolute authority. He wasn’t asking. Nor suggesting.
He was ordering.
Thor took a step forward, clearly about to argue again, but stopped mid-movent. Sothing in Odin’s expression made him hesitate. There was no fear there. No doubt.
There was certainty.
And that... was heavier than any argunt.
His fingers tightened around the hamr, the electrical energy around him vibrating intensely for a brief instant before slowly dissipating. His jaw clenched, his muscles tense, like soone fighting against their own nature.
But, in the end... he didn’t speak.
Loki, on the other hand, let out a small, dry laugh, crossing his arms as he watched the open portal. "Always the most dramatic one, isn’t it?" he comnted, but there was no real mockery in his voice this ti. Just acceptance.
He already understood.
If Odin was choosing to leave...
Then that was sothing even he didn’t intend to face.
And that said much more than any explanation.
"Well," Loki shrugged, walking slowly towards the portal, "I can’t say I’m looking forward to staying here and finding out what happens next."
Thor remained motionless for a few more seconds, looking once more at the chaos in the distance, at the destruction, at the gods still fighting, at the energy that devoured everything indiscriminately. His instinct scread to fight. To stay.
But... he trusted Odin.
And, reluctantly, he retreated.
His steps were heavy as he made his way to the portal, each movent laden with an internal conflict he couldn’t completely ignore.
Odin was the last to move.
Before crossing, he cast one last glance back, his single eye gleaming faintly, as if registering that mont, recording every detail, every consequence yet to co.
The vastness of the space where the Olympian gods gathered no longer possessed the serene grandeur that had once defined that domain; the air was heavy, saturated by a presence that not only invaded but consud everything around it, as if every particle of that plane were being slowly torn from its original essence and converted into sothing... inadequate. The golden glow that normally enveloped the environnt had been replaced by an unstable oscillation, like a fla about to go out, while, in the distance, echoes of destruction reverberated at irregular intervals, revealing the advance of sothing that did not respect divine boundaries.
In the center of that growing tension, three figures remained.
Zeus stood, with a firm posture, but without the theatrical arrogance that normally accompanied him; There was sothing different in his expression, sothing more restrained, more calculated, like soone who recognized a real danger and, above all, understood that confronting it at that mont would bring no glory. His eyes scanned the fragnted horizon, following the trails of dark energy that spread like a disease across the world, and, for a brief instant, his fist clenched, not out of fear, but out of frustration.
Ares, beside him, hid absolutely nothing.
His body was tense, his muscles contracted, as if he were a single impulse away from advancing directly against whatever was causing all that chaos. His eyes burned with fury, not only because of the destruction itself, but because of the idea that sothing dared to challenge the dominion of the gods in that way. For him, it wasn’t just a threat.
It was an invitation.
A challenge.
And he hated the idea of retreating.
"Is this a joke?" His voice was thick with irritation, the weight of his words reflecting the internal conflict that clearly consud him. "Soone is massacring gods and our response is... to walk away?" He stepped forward, the energy around his body oscillating violently, as if reacting to his indignation. "We are gods. It is our responsibility to crush this before it gets worse."
Athena, on the other hand, remained completely still.
Her posture was erect, her breathing controlled, her eyes fixed on the sa point Zeus observed, but, unlike Ares, there was no impulse in her presence. Only analysis. Calculation. Comprehension.
She didn’t just see what was happening.
She saw what it ant.
And, above all... what would co next.
"You’re looking at this as a battle," she said, her voice calm, firm, but laden with a weight that made her words resonate more deeply than usual. "But this is no ordinary war." Her eyes narrowed slightly, following a wave of energy that swept across the sky, consuming everything in its path. "This is an extinction event."
Ares turned sharply to her, clearly irritated by that cold, almost distant approach. "And since when do we retreat from a threat?"
"From the mont we understood that facing it unprepared guarantees our defeat," Athena replied, without raising her voice, without showing any sign of hesitation. She then turned her gaze to Zeus. "You’ve already decided, haven’t you?"
The silence that followed was brief.
Because Zeus... didn’t deny it.
He let out a long sigh, as if releasing the weight of a decision that had already been made even before that mont. His eyes, which normally carried arrogance and unquestionable authority, now reflected sothing rarer.
Prudence.
"We’re not going to wait and see what’s coming."
His words were direct. No beating around the bush.
No room for discussion.
Ares opened his mouth to argue again, but stopped before making a sound. Sothing about the way Zeus said it was enough to make him hesitate. It wasn’t fear.
It was... recognition.
If even Zeus was choosing to retreat...
Then this wasn’t sothing that could be treated as a simple confrontation.
Zeus slowly raised his hand, and, in the next instant, the air around him began to vibrate intensely. Lightning bolts began to appear, not as uncontrolled discharges, but as precise lines of energy, tearing through the space before him with absurd force. The sound was deafening, like the roar of a storm concentrated in a single point, while reality yielded, opening at the god’s command.
The portal took shape.
Unstable.
Violent.
But functional.
Inside it, there was no destruction. There was no chaos.
Only... an exit.
Zeus kept his arm raised, easily supporting the opening, while his gaze turned to the other two.
"Let’s go."
It wasn’t a request.
It was an order.
Athena was the first to move. Without hesitation.
Without looking back.
Her steps were firm, determined, like soone who had already accepted the consequences of that decision. Before crossing the portal, however, she paused briefly, her eyes drifting for a mont to the distant horizon, where the collapse continued to expand.
She said nothing.
But her expression made it clear.
This... wouldn’t end there.
And when they returned... the world would not be the sa.
She crossed the portal.
Ares remained motionless for a few more seconds, his body still tense, his mind clearly in conflict. Every instinct in his being scread to fight, to advance, to crush that threat before it grew even larger.
But... he was not a fool.
He clenched his fists tightly, his teeth grinding in frustration, before finally turning towards the portal.
"This isn’t over," he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else, before stepping through the opening.
Zeus was the last.
His gaze swept across the scene once more, absorbing the magnitude of what was unfolding. Unlike Ares, he wasn’t frustrated.
And unlike Athena... he wasn’t just analyzing.
He was... anticipating.
"If anyone survives this..." he murmured, almost thoughtfully, "then perhaps it’s worth coming back."
And, without another word, he crossed the portal.
Far from the epicenter where reality was beginning to crumble under the weight of a force that shouldn’t exist, there was a point where chaos hadn’t yet fully touched, but its approach was already impossible to ignore. The sky, once stable, now carried dark veins that spread slowly, like invisible cracks threatening to split the very fabric of the world. It was a high, isolated place, where silence could still exist—but not for long.
There, two figures observed.
Sun Wukong sat nonchalantly on the edge of an ancient structure, one leg dangling slightly in the void while his eyes, normally filled with irreverence, were fixed on the distant horizon. On his head, the golden crown rested like a constant irony—a symbol of restraint, of limitation... and yet, he smiled.
But it wasn’t a smile of amusent.
It was recognition.
Beside him, standing with his hands tucked within the wide sleeves of his robes, Buddha observed the sa point, though his expression was much more serene, almost distant, as if watching sothing inevitable unfold exactly as it should.
The silence between them lasted a few seconds.
Until Wukong spoke.
"It was what I feared..."
His voice carried no fear. Nor surprise. Only... realization.
His eyes narrowed slightly, following the distortion on the horizon, where a dark energy expanded in irregular pulses, consuming everything around it and leaving only emptiness.
"In the end... she beca fuel."
He let out a small, humorless, nasal laugh, tilting his head slightly to the side, as if it were the final piece of a puzzle he had assembled long ago.
"Yama..."
The na carried no emotional weight.
But it carried aning.
Because this wasn’t just a death.
It was a process.
And soone... had understood exactly how to use it.
Buddha remained silent for another mont, absorbing those words, his eyes reflecting not the event itself, but its implications. He didn’t need to ask what had happened.
He already knew.
But that didn’t make the situation any less serious.
"So... it has already begun," he said, his voice calm, as if narrating sothing that had already been decided long before that mont.
Wukong let out a small sigh, resting his chin on his palm as he continued to observe the horizon.
"It has begun," he confird simply.
The wind passed by them, carrying a faint trace of that distorted energy, enough to make even the air seem... heavy.
Buddha then turned his face slightly towards Wukong, his eyes briefly falling on the golden crown that rested on his head.
"You are still sealed."
It wasn’t a question.
It was an observation.
And, for the first ti, there was sothing more there—not worry, but a silent reflection on everyone’s role in that mont.
"If this continues at this rate... there won’t be much left to protect."
Wukong didn’t answer imdiately.
His gaze was still distant, as if he were observing sothing far beyond what was visible to the naked eye. Then, slowly, a smile began to form on his lips.
But this ti...
It was different.
It was the smile of soone who knew exactly what he was doing.
"Relax," he said, in a light, almost carefree tone, as if this wasn’t an existential threat expanding across the world.
He raised one hand and vaguely pointed to the horizon.
"The younger ones are there for that."
Buddha remained silent.
But his eyes followed the gesture.
And then he saw.
Even at an absurd distance, where space was already beginning to fragnt, it was still possible to feel... it.
Two presences.
Colliding repeatedly.
One, unstable.
Mutable.
Learning.
The other... cold.
Precise.
Inevitable.
Wukong tilted his head slightly, his smile widening a little more as he observed that specific point in the middle of the chaos.
"Look there..."
His voice now carried a slight interest, sothing closer to excitent than anything else.
"It seems he’s getting stronger."
Buddha didn’t need to ask who he was talking about.
Because it was... evident.
Even from so far away, the pressure generated by that confrontation stood out from the rest. It wasn’t just destruction. It wasn’t just brute power.
It was evolution.
It was adaptation.
It was... real-ti learning.
"And the other one?" "The other one?" Buddha asked, still observing.
Wukong chuckled softly, this ti with a slight trace of genuine amusent.
"The other one?" he repeated, as if he found the question interesting.
His eyes glead slightly.
"That one was born wrong."
The wind passed again.
Stronger this ti.
Carrying distant echoes of destruction.
Screams.
Collapse.
And sothing else...
Sothing that shouldn’t exist.
Buddha closed his eyes for a brief mont.
Not to avoid seeing.
But to... understand.
When he opened them again, his gaze was firr.
More determined.
"If they fail..."
He didn’t finish the sentence.
But he didn’t need to.
Wukong shrugged, as if that were just another possibility among many.
"If they fail..."
He finally took his eyes off the horizon, tilting his head slightly back, gazing at the cracked sky above them.
"...then we’ll see what to do."
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