The movie of the past continued to play before Sunny's soul, a silent, relentless film of cosmic tragedy. He was now watching the beginning of the end, the first moves in a game so vast and cruel that it would ultimately consume billions of gods.
"It's time to hunt Gods like dogs," Deimos whispered to the void, his form newly reborn, unbound by any oath. His eyes, burning with ancient malice, scanned the swirling tapestry of the multiverses.
He did not seek the strongest, not yet. His power, though immense, fed on weakness. He was a predator who targeted the fringes of the herd.
"Let's start with the weakest," he mused, a cruel smile twisting his lips, "and let the discord begin."
