*****
I'm using a mix of DC gods and the original Record of Ragnarok ones to add some variations. It's rather dull if it's predictable. Plus, it's all connected due to what Edward did. There will also be some flashbacks from the old era.
*****
The amphitheater of Valhalla stretched into infinity, a vast cosmic space where gods from every pantheon gathered once every thousand years to decide the fate of humanity.
The structure itself defied mortal comprehension—simultaneously a Greek amphitheater, a Norse mead hall, an Egyptian temple, and a thousand other sacred spaces layered upon each other.
Golden light shone over everything, making the assembled deities glow with divine radiance.
Thousands of gods filled the seats. Greek deities lounged with casual arrogance, their perfect forms draped in flowing robes.
Norse gods sat with weapons at hand, ready for battle even in council.
Hindu gods radiated cosmic power, their multiple forms shifting between aspects.
Egyptian deities maintained rigid dignity, animal heads and human bodies creating an otherworldly presence.
Japanese kami floated serenely, their nature spirits given divine form.
Every culture that had ever worshipped the divine was represented here.
At the center of it all stood Zeus, King of the Greek Pantheon. His form was paradoxical—simultaneously an ancient bearded sage leaning on a gnarled staff and a warrior in his absolute prime, muscles rippling with barely contained power.
His eyes held the weight of millennia, and his presence made reality itself seem to bend in deference.
"The Council of the Gods is now in session!" His voice boomed across dimensions, carrying the authority of the king who had defeated the Titans.
"We gather, as we have for seven million years, to pass judgment on humanity!"
The assembled gods erupted into conversation. Some voices angry, others indifferent, most dismissive. The noise was cacophonous until Zeus raised one hand. Silence fell instantly, absolutely.
"Speak, Shiva," Zeus commanded, gesturing to the Hindu god of destruction.
Shiva rose, his blue skin seeming to contain entire galaxies. His multiple arms moved in a gesture of cosmic finality.
"Seven million years we have given them. Seven million years to prove themselves worthy of the gift of existence we bestowed upon them." His voice carried weight.
"And what have they done? They wage war over meaningless borders. They poison the very planet that sustains them. They drive species to extinction for profit and convenience."
"They have forgotten gratitude," Odin added, his single eye gleaming with cold judgment. The Allfather's voice was harsh, unforgiving.
"They take everything as their right. The air, the water, the land—all gifts from us—and they squander them like spoiled children."
"They murder each other in our names," Anubis said quietly, but his words carried across the amphitheater. The jackal-headed god's ancient eyes held something like sorrow.
"They claim to worship us, then use that worship as justification for genocide. They have twisted our teachings into tools of oppression."
"They have grown arrogant!" Ares shouted, standing and pointing toward the mortal realm visible far below.
"They call themselves the apex of creation! They claim to have surpassed the need for gods! Some even dare to deny our existence despite the evidence before their eyes!"
More gods stood, adding their grievances. The list of humanity's failures grew longer—environmental destruction, endless warfare, the cruelty they inflicted upon each other and upon the creatures under their dominion. Each god had a reason, a justification for the judgment they were about to pass.
Zeus listened to all of it, his expression unreadable.
When the voices finally died down, he stood to his full height. Lightning crackled around him, , a natural expression of his divine nature.
"Then we are in agreement?" His voice carried to every corner of the infinite space. "Humanity has been weighed, measured, and found wanting. They should be erased and begun anew, to see if the next iteration might prove more worthy?"
"AYE!"
The response was thunderous. Thousands of voices united in condemnation, divine judgment passed without mercy. The sound shook the foundations of Valhalla itself.
Zeus raised his hand to make it official, to seal humanity's fate with divine decree—
"WAIT!"
Every god turned as one. The single voice that had dared interrupt the council's judgment came from the entrance to the amphitheater.
Brunhilde stood there, tall and defiant. The eldest of the thirteen Valkyrie sisters wore a form-fitting dress that did nothing to hide her warrior's build.
Her long dark hair framed a face set with fierce determination, and her eyes burned with something the gods hadn't seen in millennia.
Pure, absolute defiance.
She walked forward, her heels clicking against the divine marble. Every step radiated confidence despite the thousands of divine beings staring at her with varying degrees of surprise and irritation.
She was a Valkyrie—powerful in her own right, but still infinitely beneath even the weakest god present.
And she was challenging them.
"Brunhilde," Zeus's voice carried warning, power, and curiosity in equal measure. "You dare interrupt this council? You understand what you've done?"
"I invoke Article 62, Paragraph 15 of the Super Special Clause!" Brunhilde's voice rang out crystal clear, carrying to every corner of Valhalla.
"The Valkyrie's trump card, granted to us at the dawn of creation! Humanity has the right to a fair trial before annihilation!"
The amphitheater exploded into chaos.
"A trial?!"
"What nonsense is this?!"
"The Valkyries have no authority here!"
Brunhilde continued as if she hadn't heard the uproar. "I propose Ragnarok! Thirteen gods versus thirteen human champions, chosen from all of history! One-on-one battles to decide humanity's fate!
If the gods win seven matches, humanity is erased as you wish. But if humanity wins seven," she paused, letting the impossibility of it sink in, "they survive for another thousand years, and this council cannot convene to judge them again until that time has passed!"
The noise reached a fever pitch. Gods shouted over each other, some laughing at the audacity, others enraged by the impudence.
Zeus stared at Brunhilde for a long moment. His expression was impossible to read. Then, slowly, a smile began to spread across his face.
It started small, almost invisible, then grew wider and wider until he threw back his head and laughed.
It was not a kind laugh. It was the laughter of a king who had just been presented with the most entertaining joke he'd heard in millennia.
"HAHAHAHAHA!" The sound shook the amphitheater, made stars flicker in the void beyond Valhalla's walls.
"You have courage, little Valkyrie! Magnificent, foolish courage!" His eyes gleamed with anticipation.
"Very well! We accept your challenge!"
The gods who had been shouting in anger suddenly paused, turning to look at their king in surprise.
"My lord?" Hermes asked carefully. "You're actually agreeing to this?"
"Why not?" Zeus's grin was savage, predatory. "It will be entertaining! Watching humans grovel and die before true divine power! Watching them realize, in their final moments, exactly how far beneath us they truly are!"
He spread his arms wide. "Let Ragnarok begin! Let humanity have their trial! It will make their extinction all the sweeter!"
The gods erupted into cheers now, already imagining their victories. They shouted volunteers, each wanting to be among the thirteen who would crush humanity's champions.
Brunhilde stood in the center of it all, her expression unreadable. She had succeeded. She had bought humanity a chance, however slim.
The gods celebrated their inevitable victory.
They had no idea what was coming.
*****
Hours later, in a private chamber far from the revelry, Brunhilde sat in silence. The room was simple by divine standards. Just stone walls, a table, chairs, and a window that looked out over the mortal realm far below.
Her youngest sister, Göll, sat across from her. The smaller Valkyrie had been quiet since they'd left the council, her hands twisting nervously in her lap.
Finally, she couldn't hold it in anymore.
"Sister Brunhilde," Göll's voice was small, frightened. "Why did you propose Ragnarok? You know humans can't win against the gods. Not these gods."
Brunhilde said nothing, still staring out the window.
"The gods here aren't like the weakened avatars that walk the mortal realms," Göll continued, her words coming faster as desperation crept in.
"They're the true bodies from the Divine Sphere. Zeus at his absolute peak, the one who defeated the Titans and claimed the throne of Olympus.
Shiva, who can destroy and recreate universes with his cosmic dance.
Thor, whose hammer can shatter planets. Odin, who traded his eye for knowledge of everything that was and will be."
She stood, moving to stand beside her sister. "What chance do humans have? Even the greatest warriors in history—Leonidas, King Arthur, Miyamoto Musashi, Lü Bu—they're still just human. They might as well be insects compared to divine power."
Brunhilde finally spoke, her voice quiet but steady. "I uncovered something recently. While eavesdropping on some of the Greek gods."
Göll blinked at the non-sequitur. "What?"
"They were speaking in hushed tones, trying to be quiet. I've never heard gods whisper before. They don't need to—they're gods.
What could possibly make them afraid to speak openly?"
Brunhilde turned to face her sister, and Göll was shocked to see something she'd never seen in her eldest sister's eyes before.
Hope.
"There exists a man, they're not sure if he's still mortal or something more now, who killed their avatars in another world," Brunhilde said. "Not defeated or banished. Not sealed away. Killed. Permanently."
Göll's mouth fell open. "That's… that's impossible. Gods can't truly die. When their avatars are destroyed, they simply return to the Divine Sphere and create new ones.
Even these forms they hold, they can be recreated as their essence in protected within the Sphere of Gods."
"Not those avatars. They died and didn't come back." Brunhilde's voice carried absolute certainty.
"With his own hands, this being slaughtered the Greek pantheon's avatars on another Earth. Zeus himself fell in combat against him. Then he moved on to the Norse gods. Odin, Thor, the entire pantheon. He killed them too."
"But sister, even if such a person exists, even if he somehow killed divine avatars—we can't summon him from another world! The barriers between realities are absolute.
The Presence himself established them. Nothing crosses between worlds without permission from the highest cosmic authorities."
Brunhilde was quiet for a long moment. Then she smiled. A small, sad smile that held more emotion than Göll had seen from her in centuries.
"I know," she said softly. "Logically, rationally, I know we can't reach him. But Göll, I have a feeling. Call it intuition. Call it desperation. Call it hope."
She turned back to the window, looking down at humanity going about their lives, unaware that their extinction had been scheduled.
"The gods are gathering their full strength for this tournament. All of them, their true bodies, concentrating divine power in one place at one time. That kind of energy… it creates Waves that spread across dimensions."
"You think he'll feel it?" Göll asked quietly.
"I think if he's as powerful as the whispers suggest, he won't be able to miss it. And more than that," Brunhilde's smile grew slightly, "I think he's the type of person who would come even if he didn't have to.
The type who sees gods trying to erase an entire species and decides that can't be allowed to happen."
Göll moved to stand beside her sister, looking out at the mortal world. "And if he doesn't come? If we're wrong and he never appears?"
"Then we fight anyway." Brunhilde's voice was steel wrapped in velvet. "We gather the greatest warriors humanity has ever produced.
We forge them into weapons capable of harming gods. And we make the gods work for their victory."
"We'll lose."
"Probably. But we'll lose on our feet, weapons in hand, fighting to the last breath. We'll show the gods that humanity deserves to exist not because they're perfect, but because they refuse to give up even when extinction stares them in the face."
Brunhilde placed a hand on her sister's shoulder. "That's worth something, don't you think?"
Göll was quiet for a moment. Then she nodded, some of her sister's determination seeping into her. "When do we start choosing humanity's champions?"
"Tomorrow. We have three days before the tournament begins." Brunhilde's expression hardened into something fierce and beautiful.
"Three days to give humanity a fighting chance. And three days to see if a miracle walks through our door."
*****
Meanwhile, on Earth R, Edward walked through a city that felt like a strange reflection of the world he knew.
The architecture was modern—skyscrapers of glass and steel reaching toward the sky, cars moving through streets, people in contemporary clothing going about their business.
Technology had advanced similarly to his Earth, perhaps even slightly beyond in some areas.
But there was a weight in the air that didn't exist on his world. A tension that pressed down on everything like a physical force.
Divine influence.
On his Earth, gods had been relegated to myth and legend. Their power had waned as humanity stopped believing after his slaughter, until they existed only as weakened avatars hiding in pocket dimensions or sealed away by ancient pacts.
People went about their lives without ever considering that Zeus or Odin might actually exist.
Here, everyone knew. The gods were real, active, and made their presence known regularly.
It changed things in ways both obvious and subtle.
Edward passed a street corner where three different temples stood side by side.
A Christian church, a Shinto shrine, and a Hindu temple. People moved between them freely, hedging their bets by offering prayers to multiple pantheons.
The logic was sound: if the gods were real and watching, better to worship as many as possible to increase your chances of divine favor.
Fear disguised as devotion.
He saw it in the way people glanced at the sky nervously, as if expecting divine judgment to rain down at any moment.
In the hushed tones they used when discussing anything that might be considered blasphemy.
These people lived under the constant awareness that beings infinitely more powerful than them existed and could end them on a whim.
And now, according to what Edward had learned from the Presence, those same gods had decided humanity wasn't worth keeping around anymore.
'Living without knowing how close to destruction they are,' Edward thought, watching a mother hurry her child past a Zeus statue that dominated a public square.
The thought made something cold and angry settle in his chest. He'd spent millennia protecting humanity on his Earth, fighting off threats both mortal and divine.
He'd killed gods who'd threatened humanity and his world. He'd battled cosmic entities to keep reality intact.
And here, gods were planning genocide because humanity wasn't living up to their standards.
"We'll see about that."
Edward continued walking, taking in the city. Despite the oppressive knowledge of divine oversight, people persisted. They still lived their lives.
He saw a young couple holding hands, a group of teenagers arguing about some sports game, an elderly man feeding pigeons in a park.
They deserved better than extinction.
His appearance drew attention. The pale, ash-covered skin of Kratos, the red tattoo that ran from his eye down across his torso, the leather armor and red sash, he looked like something that had crawled out of a horror show.
People gave him wide berth, some crossing the street to avoid him, others stopping to stare with expressions ranging from fear to fascination.
Edward ignored them. He was used to being feared.
He was passing a small outdoor café, considering whether to stop and observe the local culture more closely, when his divine senses suddenly flared a warning.
His head snapped toward the sound—a truck speeding down the street, its brakes clearly failing. The driver was frantically trying to steer, panic evident even from a distance.
The vehicle was heading straight for the café where at least fifteen people sat, completely oblivious to the death bearing down on them.
Edward didn't think. Didn't hesitate. Didn't calculate the best approach.
He just moved.
To every mortal eye, he simply vanished from where he stood and appeared directly in the truck's path, one hand already extending. His palm met the front of the speeding vehicle.
The truck stopped. Not with screeching brakes and skidding tires. It simply stopped, as if the concept of forward momentum had ceased to exist for it.
The front crumpled from the impact. metal bending around Edward's immovable hand, but the driver was unharmed, protected by airbags that deployed a split second after the collision.
For a few heartbeats, there was absolute silence.
Then the people erupted.
"Oh my god!"
"Did you see that?!"
"He stopped it with one hand!"
People jumped up from their tables, chairs scraping against pavement. Others ran out from nearby buildings, drawn by the commotion. Within seconds, a crowd was forming, phones appearing in hands to record what had just happened.
The truck driver stumbled out of his vehicle on shaky legs, staring at Edward with the expression of someone who'd just seen a miracle.
"You… how did you… I couldn't stop, the brakes just failed and—" His voice was shaking, adrenaline and relief warring in his tone.
Edward stepped back from the truck, examining it with a critical eye. "Hydraulic line ruptured. You'll need to replace the entire brake system before you drive this again."
His Kratos voice was gruff, matter-of-fact. "Get it towed. Don't try to fix it yourself."
"Thank you," the driver managed, his voice thick with emotion. "You saved my life. Saved all these people. I don't know how to..."
"You can thank me by maintaining your vehicle properly from now on." Edward's tone was harsh but not unkind. "Regular maintenance prevents failures like this."
The crowd was growing larger, people pressing in with questions and exclamations.
"Who are you?"
"Are you a divine Avatar?"
"Did the gods send you?"
"Can I get a picture?"
"Are you human? No human is that strong!"
A young woman pushed to the front, her phone held out to record. She had the eager expression of someone who'd stumbled onto a major news story.
"Sir! Can you tell us your name? Are you a hero? A demigod maybe? The people deserve to know who saved them!"
Edward looked at the gathering crowd—dozens of people now, all staring at him with varying expressions. Awe. Fear. Gratitude. Hope.
They wanted him to be something special, something more than what they were.
A savior.
Proof that humanity could be more than just victims waiting for divine judgment.
He understood the desire. These people lived under constant divine pressure, knowing they were considered inferior by beings who held the power of life and death over their entire species.
They wanted to believe that someone human—or human-adjacent—could stand up to that power.
But Edward also understood the danger of becoming that symbol. Of giving them hope that might be crushed if things went wrong.
"I'm just a man," he said simply, his voice carrying clearly across the crowd despite its quietness.
"But you stopped a truck with one hand!" someone shouted. "That's not something a normal man can do!"
"I work out," Edward replied dryly.
Before anyone could respond, before more questions could come, before the crowd could press closer and turn this into a spectacle, Edward vanished, leaving behind only confused murmurs and dozens of phone recordings that would be circulating on social media within minutes.
Edward reappeared on a rooftop several miles away, looking out over the city as the sun began to set. Orange and red light painted everything in shades of fire, and from this height he could see the full scope of the metropolis. millions of people living their lives in the shadow of divine judgment.
His communication device pulsed with a message. The Presence's voice came through, warm and tinged with amusement. "Three days. The gods are gathering their champions, and the Valkyrie is selecting hers."
"Got it. Any restrictions on how I make my entrance?"
"Surprise me."
Edward grinned. "I can work with that."
*****
In a dimension adjacent to the mortal realm, in a space that existed between worlds where even light behaved strangely, the most powerful gods gathered in secret.
The meeting was not sanctioned by the Council. No record would be kept of what was discussed here. Just the true powerhouses of divine society, meeting to address a threat they couldn't speak about publicly without causing panic.
The chamber they occupied was sparse by divine standards—a circular room with walls of solidified void, a table made from compressed starlight, and chairs that seemed to exist in multiple states simultaneously. No decorations. No servants. No witnesses.
Just gods, and the fear they refused to acknowledge.
Zeus sat at the head of the table, and for once his usual jovial demeanor was completely absent. His expression was grave, ancient eyes showing the weight of millennia of rule.
Around him sat the others: Odin, Allfather of the Norse. Shiva, the Destroyer. Ra, the Egyptian sun god. Anubis, guardian of the dead. Susanoo, the storm god. Amaterasu, goddess of the sun. Thor, god of thunder. Ares, god of war. Perun, Slavic god of thunder. And several others—each one a cornerstone of their respective pantheon.
"That accursed monster might appear at the Ragnarok, I see no other reason for Brunhilde's defiance." Zeus said without preamble. No theatrics, no booming voice. Just flat statement of fact.
Every god at the table stiffened. They knew immediately who he meant. There was only one being that would make Zeus who had defeated the Titans, who had claimed rulership of Olympus through strength—speak with such hatred.
"Edward Elric," Odin spat the name like a curse. His single eye burned with cold fury. "I can still remember the day my avatar was killed. The connection was strong enough that I felt everything. The pain. The humiliation. The absolute helplessness as he tore through my defenses like they were paper."
"My avatar fell as well," Zeus admitted, his hands clenching on the table. "In single combat. I felt his power through the connection.
He fought like a force of nature given singular purpose. Every strike was calculated for maximum lethality. There was no wasted effort, no hesitation."
The king of Olympus' voice dropped lower. "He made my avatar feel mortal. Made me understand what it was like to face something stronger, faster, and infinitely more experienced."
"The Norse pantheon fell to him as well," Thor added, his massive frame radiating barely controlled rage. "Heimdall, Baldur, Magni, Modi—all dead. Our avatars slaughtered. He came to Asgard like a plague and left nothing but corpses in his wake."
Shiva had been quiet, his multiple arms crossed over his chest, multiple faces showing different expressions simultaneously. "My avatar was destroyed by him too," he finally said. "But I don't fear him."
Several gods turned to look at him in surprise.
"You don't fear the being who killed divine avatars?" Ares asked incredulously.
"I said I don't fear him. I didn't say I underestimate him." Shiva's face showed something like anticipation.
"Avatar versus true form is no comparison. My avatar had a fraction of my power. Here, in my true body with full divine authority, I am cosmic force incarnate. If I face him, I will show myself fully. And I will crush him."
"That confidence might be misplaced," Odin warned. "Don't forget, he didn't just defeat our avatars. He killed them. Tracked them down one by one and executed them with methodical precision."
"It's not just about whether we can defeat him individually," Ares interjected, his voice tight.
"It's about what his presence represents. He killed gods. Made them mortal. Made them bleed. If word spreads among humanity that such a being exists, that gods can be killed..."
"Humanity will gain hope," Odin finished. "And hope makes mortals dangerous. Makes them defiant. Makes them forget their place in the cosmic order."
"Not all of us had conflicts with him," Ra spoke up, his voice measured and calm. The Egyptian sun god regarded the others with ancient wisdom that predated most civilizations.
"Our pantheon's avatars never had conflict with him, maybe Set who was killed hold some grudge.
From what I understand, he only fought those who threatened him or his interests first. He didn't hunt gods for sport, he eliminated threats."
That simple statement shifted the energy in the room. Several gods who had been radiating pure anger paused, considering.
"That's correct," Susanoo added. The Japanese storm god nodded, his expression thoughtful rather than angry. "I met him . My avatar, anyway. We spoke in a tavern in Kyoto, just two warriors sharing sake and conversation."
A small smile crossed his face. "He was reasonable. Respectful. We discussed the nature of divine authority, the responsibility that comes with power, and the line between justice and vengeance. I found him to be wise and good, despite his fearsome reputation."
Amaterasu, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. Her voice carried the warmth of sunlight but also a note of something else. Regret, perhaps. "I knew him as well. Knew him quite well, actually."
Every god turned to look at her. The Sun Goddess rarely spoke of personal matters.
"We spent time together," Amaterasu continued, her gaze distant.
"My avatar and him. We talked about many things—philosophy, warfare, the burden of leadership. I found myself…" she paused, choosing words carefully, "drawn to him. His strength, yes, but more than that. His conviction. His unwavering dedication to protecting those he cared about.
I asked him to join our pantheon. To become a god fully and remain with us, with me."
"He refused?" Ra asked gently.
"He refused. Said he was human at his core, regardless of what powers he'd claimed. Said he couldn't abandon his world, his family, his responsibilities."
Amaterasu's smile was sad. "I respected his choice, even though I wished he'd chosen differently. We parted as friends, though I admit my feelings were… complicated."
Horus leaned forward, his falcon eyes sharp. "I knew him too. My avatar spent time learning from him. He taught me about leadership, about the weight of responsibility, about making difficult choices for the greater good."
The Egyptian god's voice carried deep respect. "I saw him as a teacher. A mentor. Everything I learned from him made me a better god, a better leader for my people."
"So the Japanese and Egyptian pantheons had positive relationships with him," Zeus summarized, though his expression suggested he found this information frustrating rather than reassuring.
"That's wonderful. Unfortunately, the Greek, Norse, and several other pantheons watched our avatars die by his hand."
"Because your avatars attacked him first," Susanoo pointed out calmly. "From what I understand, Zeus's avatar attempted to assert dominance over him. Odin's avatar tried to manipulate his family. Thor's avatar challenged him to fair combat and lost. Am I incorrect in this assessment?"
The silence that followed was telling.
"The reasons don't matter!" Ares slammed his fist on the table, cracking the compressed starlight surface. "He made gods appear weak! Made us seem mortal! That alone is unforgivable! If humanity sees gods bleeding, dying- the entire divine order collapses!"
"So your pride is worth more than justice?" Ra asked quietly, but his words carried weight. "Your reputation more valuable than truth?"
"This isn't about pride!" Hermes growled. "It's about maintaining the natural order! Gods above, mortals below! If that order is disrupted, chaos follows!"
"The natural order that you're defending is the same one that just voted to erase humanity entirely," Susanoo observed. "Perhaps the order itself is flawed."
"You would defend him?" Odin demanded, his single eye boring into Susanoo. "You would side with a mortal—or whatever he's become—over your fellow gods?"
"I would side with reason over blind vengeance," Susanoo replied evenly. "And I would point out that if he appears here, attacking him on sight might be the worst possible decision."
"Why?" Ares asked. "Because he might defeat us? That's exactly why we need to strike first and strike together!"
"No," Amaterasu said softly, but her voice cut through the argument. "Because if he's here, it means someone even higher than us sent him. And attacking someone the Presence has specifically deployed would be… unwise."
That brought another moment of silence. The Presence, the creator of the DC multiverse, the supreme authority even above gods, was not a being you crossed .
"We don't know that he's been sent," Zeus said, though uncertainty crept into his voice. "He might appear on his own, as a champion for humanity. Or through technology."
"And if he does," Odin pressed, "what do we do? Allow him to enter that arena and potentially kill one of us in front of all divine society?"
"We should work together and eliminate him before anything happens," Ares said firmly. "All of us, at once. No honor, no individual combat, just overwhelming divine force to remove the threat permanently."
"Agreed," several voices said simultaneously.
But Ra, Susanoo, Amaterasu, Horus, and a few others remained silent, their expressions troubled.
"Those of you who refuse to participate in this preemptive strike," Odin said, his voice carrying warning, "understand that you're placing yourselves outside divine unity. If he defeats gods in that arena, the blood will be on your hands."
"We'll take that risk," Ra replied calmly. "Because I suspect that attacking him without provocation will end far worse for us than any arena battle would."
Zeus stood, his form radiating power and authority. "Then we are decided. Those willing to act will coordinate. If Edward appears, we strike fast and without mercy. We will not allow him to humiliate the divine in front of all creation."
The meeting dissolved, gods departing to their respective realms. Plans were being made, strategies formed, powers prepared.
What none of them knew was that the being they feared had just fought Darkseid and the Anti-Monitor together. He battled two of the most powerful entities in the multiverse simultaneously and nearly won.
Their full-power true forms, impressive as they were within the Divine Sphere, were nothing compared to that level of cosmic might.
They were preparing to fight a tsunami with sandbags.
Three days remained before the tournament.
Three days for gods to prepare their assault.
Three days for humanity to gather its champions.
He looked out over the city one more time as night fell, lights beginning to twinkle like earthbound stars. He would protect them all.
And when he did, the Divine Sphere would learn a lesson they should have already known:
You don't threaten to erase humanity when the man who killed gods is watching.
*****
Down with Migraine. I'll post next chapter when I feel better