The Valhalla arena was packed to its absolute limits. Gods from every pantheon filled the divine sections—Greek, Norse, Hindu, Egyptian, Chinese, Slavic, Celtic, Sumerian, and countless others.
Their divine auras created a kaleidoscope of light across the massive structure. Thousands upon thousands of divine beings, all gathered to witness what they believed would be humanity's final judgment.
And scattered among them, looking tiny and fragile, were humans. Mortals who had been summoned to witness their own species' extinction.
They huddled together in their designated sections, faces pale, hands trembling. Some prayed to gods who weren't listening. Others simply stared at the arena floor in numb acceptance.
The arena itself was massive—hundreds of miles across, reinforced with divine power from multiple pantheons.
The ground was made of blessed stone covered in interlocking runes from every magical tradition. Above hung massive displays made of solidified light, ensuring everyone could see clearly.
In The viewing box, Brunhilde paced Back and forth, her heels clicking against marble. Her expression cycling between anticipation and something that looked almost like glee.
Siegfried sat watching her, a helpless smile on his face. Their reunion yesterday had been rather emotional. She had thrown herself at him the moment he'd arrived, both of them crying, holding each other for hours, which then turned into something more intimate.
Thousands of years of separation ending in a night neither wanted to end.
But now her mind was elsewhere.
"You're going to wear a hole in the floor, Brun." Siegfried said gently.
Brunhilde stopped, turning to him. Then that twisted grin spread across her face, the one that meant she was planning something, seeing angles others missed.
Siegfried sighed. He knew that look. "You're enjoying this too much. And please stop smiling like that. I love you and all, but that creeps me out."
"They imprisoned you for thousands of years out of spite," Brunhilde replied, her voice sharp with vindication. "They threatened to erase humanity on a whim. And now they're finally going to face real consequences. Yes, I'm enjoying this."
"I'm grateful to him, to Kratos, Edward, whatever his true name is," Siegfried admitted.
"He freed me without obligation. But Brunhilde... Zeus and Odin are the strongest no doubt. But he's facing thirteen gods at once, even more if they forego all honor. Even if he wounded those two yesterday—"
"They came back injured and terrified," Brunhilde interrupted. "I felt their power signatures when they returned from Tartarus. Diminished. Weakened.
Zeus, the King of Olympus, bleeding and limping. Odin missing half-blind from wounds. They barely escaped with their lives. He should have just killed them to make things easier."
Siegfried had felt it too. Hours ago, he'd sensed Zeus and Odin returning to Valhalla, their divine presences flickering like dying flames.
Then Edward and Hera had arrived, both slightly injured but nowhere near the devastation the two god-kings had suffered.
When Edward had said he'd fight all 13 gods tomorrow, Siegfried had thought it was suicide.
But Brunhilde had only asked: "Are you confident you can win, Edward? I don't fear death, but I would rather die fighting."
Edward had just shrugged and replied. "I'll teach them about consequences. They've forgotten what it means to be weak and helpless."
Now, sitting in the viewing box with Brunhilde's twelve sisters and the thirteen legendary warriors she'd gathered, Siegfried could only hope his wife's confidence wasn't misplaced.
Hrist sat nearby wringing her hands nervously. "Sister, I still don't understand. Why only one name for humanity? Where are the other champions?"
The other Valkyries murmured agreement. Randgríðr asked, "Who is this Kratos? And why is Lady Hera, Zeus's wife, with him?"
Hlökk added gently, "Will he be alright? Without even a Völundr to help him, he might...."
Brunhilde's confident laugh cut through their questions. "Just watch. You'll understand soon enough." But inside she felt nervous. This was after all the gods at their peak strength.
Around them sat the thirteen warriors Brunhilde had once chosen as Humanity's champions — legends reborn, each carved from a different age of defiance.
Lü Bu rested Sky Piercer against his shoulder, eyes half-lidded in feigned boredom. "So," he muttered, his voice like grinding iron, "this Kratos fights in our place now? A mortal who slew their avatars. Hmph. Sounds interesting enough for me to fight him."
Leonidas chuckled beside him, arms crossed, his red cape draped like a banner of old defiance. "He's of Spartan origin according to the Valkyrie. That alone earns my respect.
But I'd like to see how much of the old blood still runs in him. The gods he fought are not same as the ones he faces now."
"He killed all of them, be it avatars" Beowulf rumbled, dragging a whetstone across his sword. "That alone says enough. He's not fighting for himself anymore. He fights for mankind."
Adam, seated quietly at the table's center, opened his eyes. They were impossibly blue, filled with both tenderness and melancholy.
"No," he said softly. "He fights because he's tired of gods deciding who deserves to live. That… I understand."
His gaze lingered on the vision of Kratos upon the divine battlefield, and for a fleeting instant, it was as if he were looking at a mirror version of himself, warped by time and rage.
Jack the Ripper twirled a knife between his fingers, smiling faintly. "So he's a murderer of gods. How poetic. I wonder if he kills them for justice… or joy."
"Joy has nothing to do with it," Sasaki Kojiro said, still seated cross-legged, his sword resting across his knees. His eyes remained closed, yet his tone carried a strange clarity.
"A man who lives by the blade and loses everything to it, he doesn't kill for pleasure. He kills because that's all that's left of him."
Okita Souji looked up from polishing her blade. "You sound like you admire him, Kojiro san."
Kojiro smiled faintly. "Perhaps I do, my young friend. He reminds me that mastery means nothing if the heart behind it is broken."
Raiden Tameemon laughed, his massive frame shaking the table. "Broken heart or not, the man looks strong! You see the way he carries those blades ?
That's not technique, that's will forged into muscle. I'd like to wrestle him once, just to see if the stories hold up."
Sakata Kintoki grinned, gold gleaming across his skin. "You'd probably lose, Raiden. But it'd be one hell of a match."
Nostradamus flicked a tiny glowing bubble between his fingers, watching it warp into alternate realities and collapse.
"I've seen a thousand outcomes," he murmured, eyes distant. "In some of them, Kratos vanishes mid fight. In some, he wins but gets ambushed. But in a few… he becomes something even gods fear and run from."
That earned him a round of silence. Even Lü Bu raised a brow.
"You mean he actually wins?" Qin Shi Huang asked from his conjured jade throne, voice calm but sharp as a blade.
"Interesting. A mortal ascending beyond gods. I did the same once, though not with blood."
"Perhaps," Nostradamus said with a sly grin, "but you didn't rip out your pantheon's heart and wear it as a trophy."
The First Emperor smiled thinly. "If I had, perhaps Heaven would've learned to respect Earth sooner."
Siegfried, who had arrived just now from beside Brunhilde, looked up from his seat. "This Kratos… he reminds me of something. A being twisted by power and grief. I only hope he does not drown in his own rage."
"He already did," Adam replied softly. "And somehow, he crawled back."
Leonidas smirked. "Then he's earned my faith. I'll drink to that."
"Don't get sentimental," Lü Bu said with a scoff. "If he falls, we fight next. And I don't plan to lose to any god, or to that Spartan."
"Ha!" Kintoki laughed. "There it is, the great Lü Bu pride. Careful, old man. Even you'd sweat against him."
Lü Bu's glare was answer enough.
Meanwhile, Simo Häyhä sat apart, invisible as ever, peering through imaginary rifle sights at the divine arena.
"He moves like prey that learned to hunt," he muttered. "Calm, cold, and patient. A killer's instinct. If he keeps that discipline, he'll win."
Jack chuckled. "How clinical of you, Mr. ghost. But yes, the man's a monster forged by loss. I almost envy him."
"Envy?" Beowulf barked. "You envy the man who killed his gods, and his peace?"
Jack's grin widened, knife glinting. "Yes. Because he lived through it. That's rarer than holiness."
Nostradamus leaned back, chuckling. "You're all missing the point. Kratos isn't just fighting gods or fate. He's fighting the idea that humanity needs salvation.
That's why Brunhilde chose him. He doesn't want Heaven's mercy,he wants freedom. For everyone."
Adam's gaze softened. "Freedom is all we ever wanted. The right to fall or rise by our own will. That's why I walked away from Heaven."
Silence fell upon them. not heavy, but reverent. Thirteen warriors who had lived, died, and defied divine plans now watched a single man carrying all of humanity's wrath.
Finally, Leonidas broke it with a grin. "You know, Brunhilde might've finally outdone herself. For once, I feel sorry for the gods. His face alone would give people nightmares."
Beowulf laughed, the sound like a mountain cracking open. "Then let's hope he gives them a show worth remembering."
One by one, they nodded — Lü Bu with pride, Kojiro with serenity, Raiden with excitement, Adam with quiet respect.
They were here not to fight, not this time. but if if Kratos fell, these thirteen legends would fight once more, not as warriors of the past, but as witnesses of mankind's defiance.
And above them all, the murmurs of the gods faded beneath the weight of one truth that every hero in that room understood:
Humanity's greatest weapon was never strength. It was the will to stand against the impossible again and again.
******
On the arena floor, Heimdall stood at the center, his Gjallarhorn gleaming with runic power. The Norse god's armor was polished to perfection, his expression one of barely contained excitement. This would be the greatest announcement of his eternal life.
He raised the horn to his lips and blew.
The sound cut through every conversation, every prayer, every thought. Reality itself seemed to pause.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" Heimdall's voice boomed across the arena, amplified by divine power. "GODS AND MORTALS ALIKE! WELCOME TO THE GRANDEST SPECTACLE IN ALL OF CREATION!"
The divine sections erupted in cheers. The human sections fell into terrified silence.
"TODAY, WE GATHER TO PASS FINAL JUDGMENT ON HUMANITY!"
Heimdall continued, spinning dramatically. "SEVEN MILLION YEARS THEY HAVE EXISTED! SEVEN MILLION YEARS OF WARS, DESTRUCTION, POLLUTION, AND BLASPHEMY! THE GODS HAVE DECIDED: THAT'S ENOUGH!"
The gods in the stands cheered again while the humans felt despair. All of their lives, hopes and dreams now rests on a single battle. Against the very gods they worshipped.
"BUT!" Heimdall raised a finger. "The Valkyrie Brunhilde invoked an ancient law! The right to trial by combat! And so we have... RAGNAROK!"
The word echoed across dimensions.
"THIRTEEN GODS! THIRTEEN BATTLES! HUMANITY'S FATE DECIDED BY BLOOD AND STEEL! " He then paused, " Or that was how it was supposed to be."
Some of the humans looked confused.
Heimdall spoke again with glee. "THIS TIME, WE HAVE A HUMAN WHO HAS DARED TO CHALLENGE ALL THE GODS ON BEHALF OF HUMANITY! IS THIS CONFIDENCE, OR HUBRIS? IS HE DOOMED TO FAIL ? WE'LL FIND OUT SOON!"
The crowd roared with mixed emotions..
"And now," Heimdall's voice dropped to something more intimate, more excited, "allow me to introduce the DIVINE CHAMPIONS who will pass judgment on humanity!"
The massive displays lit up, showing the arena floor where thirteen figures stood in a loose circle.
"FIRST!" Heimdall's voice cracked with enthusiasm. "FROM THE FROZEN HALLS OF ASGARD! THE STRONGEST WARRIOR OF THE NORSE PANTHEON! THE SLAYER OF JÖRMUNGANDR! THE SON OF ODIN WHO SHOOK THE NINE REALMS WITH HIS MIGHT!"
A spotlight illuminated Thor. He stood in full battle armor, red hair and beard wild, Mjolnir resting on his shoulder. Lightning crackled around the hammer, illuminating his scarred face. His eyes were storm clouds given form.
"HE HAS NEVER BEEN DEFEATED IN SINGLE COMBAT!" Heimdall shouted. "HIS HAMMER HAS CRUSHED MOUNTAINS! HIS LIGHTNING HAS SPLIT THE SKY! MJOLNIR ALWAYS RETURNS TO HIS HAND! ALWAYS! IT'S NONE OTHER THAN THE GOD OF THUNDER, THOR!"
Thor raised his hammer. Lightning exploded from it in a massive column that reached the clouds. The Norse section went absolutely wild, chanting his name.
"THOR! THOR! THOR!"
The human section flinched at the display of power. Some began crying openly.
"NEXT!" Heimdall spun. "ALSO FROM ASGARD! THE TRICKSTER! THE SHAPESHIFTER! FATHER OF MONSTERS! THE ONE WHO ORCHESTRATED RAGNAROK ITSELF!"
Loki stepped forward, his form shifting with every step, male to female to shadow to animal to something undefined. Green eyes gleamed with malicious intelligence in every form. His smile was predatory.
Heimdall announced. "THE GOD WHO HAS ESCAPED EVERY PRISON! WHO HAS DECEIVED EVERY PANTHEON! WHOSE TRICKS HAVE TOPPLED KINGDOMS! YOU CANNOT TRUST HIM! YOU CANNOT PREDICT HIM! YOU CAN ONLY FEAR HIM!"
"LOKI!"
Loki bowed with exaggerated courtesy, then his form exploded into a thousand ravens before reforming.
The crowd gasped.
Mixed reactions from the Norse section, cheers and nervous laughter. Everyone knew Loki was dangerous even to allies.
"FROM THE COSMIC HEIGHTS OF THE HINDU PANTHEON!" Heimdall's voice reached fever pitch.
"THE DESTROYER! THE CREATOR! THE COSMIC DANCER WHOSE MOVEMENTS RESHAPE REALITY ITSELF!"
Shiva stepped forward with his four arms relaxed. His Third eye remained closed. His body was wreathed in cosmic fire that didn't burn, it simply existed, fundamental as gravity.
Heimdall roared. "HE ENDS UNIVERSES WITH HIS DANCE! HE RECREATES THEM WITH HIS BREATH! HE HAS NEVER—NEVER!—LOST A BATTLE WHEN FULLY MANIFESTED! TO FACE HIM IS TO FACE THE END OF ALL THINGS!"
"SHIVA!"
Shiva began to dance. Just a few steps, but reality bent around him. Space twisted. Time stuttered. The very laws of physics seemed negotiable in his presence.
The Hindu section chanted prayers, their voices creating harmonic resonance that shook the arena.
The human section was openly weeping now. How could anyone fight beings like this?
"FROM THE DEPTHS OF THE MEDITERRANEAN!" Heimdall gestured dramatically.
"THE EARTHSHAKER! RULER OF SEVENTY-ONE PERCENT OF EARTH'S SURFACE! THE GOD WHO DROWNED ATLANTIS ON A WHIM!"
Poseidon stepped forward. Perfect features twisted with arrogance. Golden hair. Cold eyes like the deepest ocean trench.
His trident seemed to contain entire seas, people could see waves crashing inside the metal. Water pooled around his feet even on dry stone.
Heimdall announced. "EVERY DROP OF WATER OBEYS HIS COMMAND! EVERY OCEAN IS HIS WEAPON! HE ONCE FLOODED AN ENTIRE CONTINENT BECAUSE SOMEONE INSULTED HIS TEMPLE! PERFECTION MADE DIVINE! ARROGANCE GIVEN FORM! THE TYRANT OF THE SEAS!"
"POSEIDON!"
Poseidon said nothing. Didn't acknowledge the crowd. Just stared ahead with absolute contempt for everything around him.
The Greek section cheered, but many glanced toward Zeus's private box. Their king sat there, face unreadable, still bearing faint scars from yesterday's battle in Tartarus.
"NEXT, THE DEMIGOD WHO BECAME GOD!" Heimdall spun. "WHO COMPLETED TWELVE IMPOSSIBLE LABORS! WHO ASCENDED TO OLYMPUS THROUGH PURE WILL AND STRENGTH!"
Heracles stepped forward. Muscles like living marble. The Nemean Lion pelt across his shoulders. His club had crushed mountains and Titans alike. Scars covered every inch of visible skin, each one a story of impossible feats.
Heimdall's voice cracked with emotion. "HE STRANGLED SERPENTS AS AN INFANT! HE DEFEATED THE NEMEAN LION WITH HIS BARE HANDS!
HE CLEANED THE AUGEAN STABLES IN A SINGLE DAY! HE STOLE THE APPLES OF THE HESPERIDES! HE DRAGGED CERBERUS FROM THE UNDERWORLD!"
Heracles raised his club. The weapon hummed with power—the accumulated might of a thousand victories.
"HE NEVER BACKS DOWN!" Heimdall shouted. "NEVER SURRENDERS! NEVER GIVES UP! MORTAL MADE IMMORTAL! THE ULTIMATE HERO!"
"HERACLES!"
The Greek section's cheers were deafening. Heracles was beloved even among gods who normally respected no one.
Some humans felt a flicker of hope. If a mortal could become that strong, maybe they had some hope.
But then they looked at their single champion's empty slot and the hope died.
"NOW, THE GOD OF WAR HIMSELF!" Heimdall's voice took on bloodthirsty glee. "INCARNATION OF SLAUGHTER! UNDEFEATED IN TEN THOUSAND BATTLES!"
Ares stepped forward. Blood-red armor bearing fresh scorch marks . His face was locked in a permanent snarl. Red mist leaked from his armor, visible evidence of his violent nature.
Heimdall roared. "HE FEEDS ON CONFLICT! GROWS STRONGER THE LONGER BATTLE CONTINUES! HAS PERSONALLY STARTED FIVE HUNDRED WARS! HAS SLAUGHTERED ARMIES SINGLE-HANDEDLY! TO FIGHT HIM IS TO DIE SCREAMING!"
"ARES!"
Ares drew his sword. The blade literally howled with the voices of everyone it had ever killed. Thousands of voices screaming in agony.
The Greek section's cheers were more subdued. Ares was respected but also feared for his excessive brutality.
The human section recoiled from the sound of that blade.
"FROM OLYMPUS'S GOLDEN HALLS!" Heimdall gestured grandly. "THE SUN GOD! THE PERFECT ARCHER! THE PLAGUE-BRINGER!"
Apollo stepped forward. Golden skin literally glowing. Perfect features that hurt to look at directly. His bow seemed made of condensed sunlight. The arrows in his quiver were solar fire given physical form.
Heimdall announced. "HE HAS NEVER MISSED A SHOT! NEVER! HIS ARROWS KILLED THE SERPENT PYTHON! HIS PLAGUES DECIMATED THE GREEK ARMY AT TROY! HE CAN EXTINGUISH LIFE WITH A GLANCE! THE RADIANT! THE PERFECT! THE DEADLY!"
"APOLLO!"
Apollo drew his bow and fired straight up. The arrow disappeared into the sky, then exploded like a second sun. Heat washed over the arena. Plants in the garden sections withered.
The Greek section cheered. Some humans fainted from the heat. Most just stared blankly without hope.
"FROM THE CELESTIAL REALM OF ANCIENT CHINA!" Heimdall's enthusiasm hadn't diminished. "THE THIRD LOTUS PRINCE! WHO DEFEATED DRAGON KINGS AT AGE SEVEN!"
Nezha stepped forward. Young warrior with fierce eyes. Multiple divine weapons floated around him—spear, rings, a sash that moved like a living serpent. Fire wheels burned at his feet.
Heimdall shouted. "WHO DIED AND WAS REBORN IN LOTUS FORM! WHO DEFIED HIS OWN FATHER! MASTER OF DIVINE MARTIAL ARTS! PROTECTOR OF HUMANITY—UNTIL HUMANITY WAS DEEMED UNWORTHY!"
"NEZHA!"
The last line made the human section murmur in confusion and betrayal. He was supposed to protect them?
Nezha's expression was conflicted. He didn't cheer or bow. Just stood ready, weapons humming.
The Chinese pantheon section cheered but with less enthusiasm than others. Nezha's story was complicated.
"FROM THE SCORCHING SANDS OF EGYPT!" Heimdall's voice dropped to something darker. "THE GOD OF CHAOS! SLAYER OF OSIRIS! LORD OF THE DESERT!"
Set stepped forward. Animal head—somewhere between jackal and something prehistoric. Massive frame, easily eight feet tall. His was-scepter crackled with chaotic energy. His aura made the air shimmer with heat and violence.
Heimdall roared. "WHO MURDERED HIS OWN BROTHER! WHO RULES THE DESERT WHERE NOTHING GROWS! EMBODIMENT OF STORMS AND DESTRUCTION! HE CANNOT BE KILLED BY CONVENTIONAL MEANS! CHAOS GIVEN FORM!"
"SET!"
Set slammed his scepter into the ground. Sand exploded outward, forming a miniature sandstorm that briefly obscured him. When it cleared, his eyes glowed red.
The Egyptian section was quieter. Set was feared even by his own pantheon. Most hated him.
"FROM THE FROZEN STEPPES OF THE SLAVIC LANDS!" Heimdall gestured broadly. "THE GOD OF SKY AND THUNDER! DESTROYER OF DEMONS!"
Perun stepped forward. Massive, easily eight feet of pure muscle. His axe crackled with electricity. His beard literally contained storm clouds. Eyes pure white with constant lightning.
Heimdall shouted. "PROTECTOR OF TRUTH! HIS AXE HAS SPLIT MOUNTAINS! HIS LIGHTNING BURNS HOTTER THAN THE SUN! HE ONCE KILLED A THOUSAND DEMONS IN A SINGLE NIGHT! THUNDER MADE FLESH!"
"PERUN!"
Perun raised his axe. Lightning struck down from clear sky, hitting the axe and spreading across the arena floor in branching patterns. The smell of ozone filled the air.
The Slavic section roared approval, standing and chanting his name.
"AND HIS COUNTERPART!" Heimdall's voice dropped to something almost reverent. "THE DARK GOD! BRINGER OF DEATH! AVATAR OF PRIMORDIAL NIGHT!"
Chernobog stepped forward—except he didn't step. He simply existed in a new location. Pure shadow. No real form. Just darkness with eyes like dying stars. His presence made plants wither. Made light dim. Made hope feel distant.
Heimdall's voice was quieter now, almost fearful. "WHO FEEDS ON DESPAIR! WHO GROWS STRONGER IN ABSENCE OF HOPE! THE VOID GIVEN CONSCIOUSNESS! TO LOOK UPON HIM IS TO KNOW DEATH!"
"CHERNOBOG!"
Chernobog didn't move or speak. But his eyes swept across the human section, and everyone they touched felt cold grip their hearts.
Even the Slavic section was subdued. Fear mixed with respect. Brunhilde just sighed seeing the humans despair.
"Now FROM THE EMERALD ISLE!" Heimdall's enthusiasm returned. "THE DEMON GOD! THE EVIL EYE! TERROR OF ANCIENT IRELAND!"
Balor stepped forward. Massive frame. Most of his face covered by a metal plate—except for one eye. That eye was closed, but even closed it radiated power that made reality distort. The air around him looked like heat shimmer.
Heimdall roared. "WHO CAN KILL ARMIES WITH A GLANCE! WHO HAS NEVER BEEN DEFEATED—ONLY SEALED! THE UNKILLABLE NIGHTMARE! WHEN HIS EYE OPENS, DEATH FOLLOWS!"
"BALOR!"
Balor said nothing. Didn't move. But everyone could feel the weight of that closed eye. The promise of destruction if it ever opened.
The Celtic section cheered, but many other pantheons looked uneasy. Balor's power didn't discriminate between friend and foe.
"AND FINALLY!" Heimdall spread his arms wide. "THE ELDEST! THE ANCIENT! THE KING OF KINGS!"
Anu stepped forward. His body was made of stellar light. Crown containing actual stars. Staff that predated most civilizations. His aura was absolute authority—the weight of ages given form.
Heimdall's voice carried genuine reverence now. "KING OF THE MESOPOTAMIAN PANTHEON! CREATOR OF DIVINE LAW! JUDGE OF GODS! OLDER THAN MEMORY! HIS WORD IS REALITY ITSELF! WHEN HE SPEAKS, THE UNIVERSE LISTENS!"
"ANU!"
Anu raised his staff. The stars in his crown flared, and for a moment every being in the arena felt the weight of true cosmic authority. The sense that this being had existed before most concepts had names.
Scattered cheers rose from all sections. Anu was respected across all pantheons.
The thirteen gods stood in a loose circle on the arena floor. Legends. Powers that had shaped civilizations. Beings who'd existed for millennia.
The divine sections were delirious with excitement. Cheering. Chanting. Celebrating their champions.
The human sections were in despair. Some wept openly. Others sat numb with shock. How could anyone stand against beings like that?
"THESE ARE THE CHAMPIONS OF THE DIVINE!" Heimdall roared. "LEGENDS! HEROES! GODS! EACH ONE CAPABLE OF ENDING CIVILIZATIONS! TOGETHER—UNSTOPPABLE!"
The cheering reached a new height.
Then Heimdall turned. Spun dramatically. Raised his Gjallarhorn.
"AND NOW!" His voice dropped, taking on mocking tone. "LET ME INTRODUCE HUMANITY'S CHAMPION!"
The display showing humanity's side flickered to life.
Only a single name appeared.
KRATOS
No image. No title. No feats. Just a name in stark white letters against darkness.
The arena fell silent.
Three heartbeats of absolute quiet.
Then the human section exploded.
"ONE?!" someone screamed. "JUST ONE NAME?!"
"WHERE ARE THE OTHERS?!"
"THEY GAVE US ONE CHAMPION AGAINST THIRTEEN GODS?!"
Panic spread like wildfire. People jumping to their feet. Shouting. Crying.
"WE'RE DEAD! THEY'RE JUST MOCKING US!"
"THIS ISN'T A TRIAL! IT'S AN EXECUTION!"
"THERE'S NOT EVEN A PICTURE! WHO IS HE?!"
"HOW CAN ONE MAN FIGHT THIRTEEN GODS?!"
Mothers held their children. Fathers tried to maintain composure and failed. Old people who'd lived full lives wept at seeing their species end.
"NO HISTORY! NO FEATS! NOTHING!"
"DID THEY JUST WRITE A RANDOM NAME TO MAKE IT LOOK FAIR?!"
Some tried to flee but found they couldn't leave their seats. Divine magic kept them trapped as witnesses.
"THIS IS CRUELTY! THEY'RE MAKING US WATCH OUR OWN EXTINCTION!"
In the Valkyrie box, Göndul looked worried. "Sister! The humans are panicking! Shouldn't we do something?"
"Wait," Brunhilde said calmly.
"But they think we've abandoned them! That this is just theater before they're erased!"
"There's nothing to do. Action speaks louder than words."
The divine sections were laughing now. Gods mocking the humans openly.
"One champion!" a Greek god called out. "How generous!"
"I'm surprised they even bothered with a name!" a Norse deity added.
"This will be over in seconds!"
"The man who dares to be a godslayer," Heimdall continued, his voice dripping with false drama. "The foolish mortal who dared to blaspheme! Who fought against divine avatars in another realm and somehow survived!"
Some gods in the audience shifted uncomfortably. Those whose avatars had died on Earth-X knew he didn't just survive. But they wouldn't spread that around.
"His origins are shrouded in mystery!" Heimdall continued. "Though his title claims he hails from Sparta! He looks more like a ghost than a man! Pale as death! Marked with the blood of his victims!"
The human section was still in chaos. People shouting questions that no one answered.
"WILL HE PRESERVE HUMANITY'S HOPE?!" Heimdall's voice rose. "CAN HE SAVE THEM FROM EXTINCTION?! OR WILL HE DIE SCREAMING LIKE ALL MORTALS WHO OVERREACH?!"
In the preparation tunnel, Göll stood beside Edward. The young Valkyrie was shaking, hands twisting together nervously.
"There's your cue, Mr. Kratos," she managed, voice trembling. "Um... please don't die. Sister would be sad, and the humans are so scared, and I don't want to watch everyone get erased, and....."
She was rambling. Terror making her words spill out.
Edward looked down at her. Then, despite everything, he smiled. Reached down and patted her head gently.
"Thanks, lass. You're pretty cute and funny." His Kratos voice somehow gentle.
"I wish I had a daughter like you. Mine are always looking for fights."
Göll blushed furiously, her fear momentarily forgotten. "Hehehe... really?"
"Really."
Hera stepped forward from the shadows. She wore more practical clothing now, still regal but designed for movement. Her purple hair tied back. She looked every inch the warrior queen.
She moved to Edward, fixing his armor straps with practiced efficiency. Checking each piece. Making sure everything was secure.
"Maybe we can try for a daughter when we get back," she said lightly, though worry showed in her eyes. "Alphonse would love a little sister."
Edward pulled her into a firm embrace. She melted into it immediately, arms wrapping around his waist. For a moment, they just held each other.
"Be careful," Edward murmured. "Sit with Brunhilde and the Valkyries. The gods are treacherous. If they think they're losing, they might try to use you as a hostage."
Hera pulled back enough to look up at him. Then kissed him deeply. When they separated, she whispered, "Return safely to my side, husband. Our son is waiting. Our family is waiting."
Edward nodded. His expression shifted. The warmth drained away, replaced by cold emptiness. The loving husband disappeared. The Ghost of Sparta emerged.
In his soulscape, Kratos stirred. "They prepared a grand stage for their funeral."
"Then Let's not disappoint them," Edward replied internally.
He turned and walked toward the light.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" Heimdall's voice echoed. "GODS AND MORTALS! I GIVE YOU HUMANITY'S CHAMPION! THE MAN WHO WILLINGLY ACCEPTED THIS BATTLE!
THE GHOST OF SPARTA! KRATOS!"
Edward emerged from the tunnel.
The first thing people saw was his skin. Pale. Ash-white like a corpse. The color of death itself.
Then the red tattoo running from his eye down across his body. Like dried blood.
Scars covered every visible inch of skin. Burn marks. Claw marks. Blade wounds. Each one a story of violence.
His Spartan armor was simple but well-worn. Leather and bronze. Battle-tested. The red sash was faded from countless fights.
His eyes were Coldand Ancient. Empty of mercy or fear. Eyes that had seen gods die and felt nothing.
The Blades of Chaos hung at his sides, their chains wrapped around his forearms. The weapons looked hungryfor blood.
He walked forward steadily. Each step measured.
Some humans recognized him immediately.
"That's the man!" someone shouted. "The one who stopped the truck three days ago!"
"He saved that café! I saw the video!"
"He's real! He's actually real!"
Hope flickered in small pockets of the human section. Not much. Not enough to overcome the overwhelming despair. But a spark. That's all humans need sometimes.
Others saw only a ghost. A monster. Something that looked more dead than alive.
"That's our champion?" someone wailed. "He looks like a corpse!"
"How is he supposed to fight thirteen gods?!"
But regardless of their feelings, cheers and applause rose from the human section. . Desperately clinging onto hope. He was fighting for them. Fighting for humanity's survival.
That had to count for something.
The gods, meanwhile, studied him with various expressions.
Most showed contempt. Amusement. This pale scarecrow was supposed to threaten them?
But several gods—those whose avatars had died on Earth-X reacted differently.
Poseidon's eyes widened slightly. His grip on his trident tightened until knuckles went white.
Ares's scarred face twisted with pure hatred. He still remembered how he toyed with him.
Thor's expression darkened, storm clouds gathering in his eyes.
Apollo's perfect smile faltered. His lips twisted into a snarl.
They recognized him very well.
The barrier rose around the arena with a hum of power. Collaborative magic from multiple pantheons.
Norse runes interwoven with Greek enchantments. Hindu cosmic energy reinforcing it. Egyptian death magic stabilizing. Blessed by dozens of minor deities.
The barrier was designed to contain battles between true gods at full power.
Nothing inside would escape.
Nothing outside could interfere.
The thirteen gods spread out, forming a loose circle around Edward. Each drew their weapons. Divine power radiated from them in visible waves.
The
Poseidon stepped forward first. His cold eyes locked onto Edward with hatred so intense it was almost physical.
"Do you remember," Poseidon's voice was quiet but carried clearly, "what you did to my avatar?"
Silence fell across the arena.
"You toyed with him," Poseidon continued, his voice dropping lower. "Made the God of the Sea drown in his own domain. My avatar choked on saltwater, limbless, while sharks devoured their god ." His words were silenced by the barrier, to prevent others from knowing.
His trident began to glow. Water materialized from nothing, forming a sphere around him.
"Today, I will return that humiliation." His voice was arctic. "Tenfold. A thousandfold. I'll make you beg for death."
Ares moved to stand beside him. The God of War's face was twisted with rage that went beyond reason.
"No more holding back," Ares snarled. "No more mortal realm restrictions. No more limited power." His multiple weapons materialized.
"I'll tear your limbs off one by one. Slowly. I'll hang your corpse from Olympus's highest gates for every human to see what happens when you defy the gods."
His sword howled with the voices of the dead.
Thor stepped forward, Mjolnir spinning in his massive hand. Lightning crackled, illuminating his scarred face.
"Last time we fought, my avatar was constrained," the Thunder God rumbled. "Limited by the mortal realm's rules. Weakened by distance from Asgard." He pointed the hammer at Edward. "This time, my full power. No restrictions. No limitations. You'll learn what it truly means to face a god of...."
Edward raised his hand.
The gesture was so casual, so completely dismissive, that all thirteen gods stopped mid-sentence. The entire arena fell silent.
Edward looked at them. His expression hadn't changed. Still empty. Still cold.
Then he spoke. His voice was rough, like stone grinding against stone. But it carried clearly across the massive arena.
"You gods love to hear your own voices."
Pause.
"Are you done running your mouths?"
His eyes swept across all thirteen of them.
"If not, make it quick. Those will be your last words."
For three heartbeats, no one moved. No one spoke. The sheer audacity of dismissing thirteen gods, gods who'd just been introduced as legends, as world-enders, as unstoppable force, was beyond comprehension.
Then Heimdall, sensing the tension reaching a breaking point, raised his Gjallarhorn and blew.
The sound cut across reality itself.
"LET RAGNAROK BEGIN!"
Set sneered. " Foolish Mortal, you are now trapped here until we tear you apart. Beg for mercy, and maybe I'll leave a full corpse."
Edward looked at him without any emotions, " I'm not the one trapped here with you. You all are trapped her with me. " His voice sent a shiver down their spines.
All thirteen gods charged at once.
Thor from the front, Mjolnir already swinging. Shiva from the left, four arms creating a web of attacks.
Poseidon from the right, water forming spears. Ares charging from front with bloodlust.
Apollo drawing his bow. Set raising his scepter. Perun calling lightning. Loki shifting forms. Heracles raising his club. Nezha's weapons spinning.
Balor reaching for his eye-plate. Chernobog spreading darkness. Anu channeling cosmic authority.
Thirteen gods. Thirteen legends. All attacking from different angles simultaneously.
The human section screamed in fear. Some closed their eyes.
The divine sections cheered.
But then, something strange happened.
Edward vanished.
He didn't run or dodge. He simply ceased to exist in his original position.
Then he appeared in the exact center of the attacking circle.
The Blades of Chaos materialized in his hands, wreathed in crimson flame.
He spun. A full circle. Both blades extended.
The weapons moved faster than thought. Faster than divine reflexes could track.
Thirteen streaks of red fire blazed across the arena.
At the same time, Golden ichor erupted from different points on each god's body.
Thor's shoulder sprayed gold. Shiva's second left arm opened with a deep gash. Poseidon's perfect cheek split.
Ares's fresh wound from yesterday reopened. Apollo's golden skin parted across his ribs. Set's animal hide tore at the throat.
Perun's massive chest leaked gold. Loki's current form bled from the stomach. Heracles's thigh opened. Nezha's shoulder split.
Balor's arm carved deep. Chernobog's shadow form leaked something darker than blood. Anu's stellar light flickered and dimmed.
All thirteen gods jumped back simultaneously, shock written across their faces.
They looked at their wounds. At the golden ichor leaking from injuries that shouldn't exist.
The arena fell into absolute silence.
Then, slowly, Edward straightened. The Blades of Chaos still burned in his hands. His expression hadn't changed. Still empty. Still cold.
He spoke quietly, but in the silence, everyone heard:
"If this is the so-called divine might..." A pause. "You should give up calling yourselves gods."
Three heartbeats of stunned silence.
Then the human section exploded.
"HE HIT THEM!"
"ALL OF THEM!"
"GODS ARE BLEEDING!"
"HE DREW FIRST BLOOD!"
Cheers erupted like a tidal wave. People jumped to their feet. Crying and cheering simultaneously. The impossible had just happened. One human had made thirteen gods bleed in a single attack.
In this battle that should have been an execution, humanity had drawn first blood.
And Edward stood alone in the center of the arena, flames reflected in his ancient eyes, waiting for the gods to realize their mistake.
The battle had only just begun.