The air around Olympus felt wrong.
Every breath came with resistance — as though reality itself was struggling to stay whole.
The sky no longer shimmered with divine light but pulsed with distortion, flickering between existence and oblivion.
And in the center of the ruin stood Uranus, his divine form scorched, his celestial mantle shredded from the ongoing battle. His silver hair rippled in the cosmic wind, his eyes burning like dying stars.
Across from him, the King of Erasure floated just above the shattered marble, his aura twisting the world into a storm of disintegration. The ground decayed where he hovered, marble dissolving into ash, light bleeding into black mist.
The heavens themselves whimpered beneath his power.
Cronus staggered forward, his armor broken, golden ichor spilling from deep wounds. "Father—please—he's too strong. If we keep fighting like this, Olympus will—"
Uranus held up a hand. "Enough, my son."
The Sky Father's voice cut through the chaos — calm, but heavy with inevitability. "The time for battle has passed. Now comes the choice that defines eternity."
The King of Erasure sneered, his shadowed form flickering with malignant delight. "Choice? You speak of choice, Sky Father? You and your sons chose defiance long ago — chose to cage me within that mortal husk, chose to chain oblivion. And now…"
He extended his hand — the air rippling like liquid void. "…you'll choose to die."
With a flick of his wrist, a spear of condensed nothingness shot forward.
Uranus moved faster than sight. The attack tore through empty air — and in its wake, the king felt a flicker of something he hadn't felt in ages: pressure.
A ripple of power struck him in the chest — a single blow that sent him crashing backward through the remains of Olympus's pillars. The impact sent tidal waves of light scattering through the void.
Uranus hovered in midair, his expression unreadable. His aura expanded, stretching far beyond the mountain of the gods, touching the stars themselves.
Cronus shielded his face as the divine wind howled around him. "Father—what are you doing?"
Uranus turned his gaze down, his expression serene yet sorrowful. "I am ending this… once and for all."
⸻
The Sky Father's Final Command
Uranus descended beside Cronus, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. The contact carried an impossible weight — the kind of ancient warmth that spoke of millennia of regret and love.
"Cronus," Uranus said softly, "you have done well. But this battle is no longer yours to fight."
Cronus gritted his teeth. "Father—if you go alone, you'll—"
"I know." Uranus smiled faintly. "But the cosmos cannot endure another war like this. You must gather the gods — both Olympian and Titan — and forge a plan for what comes next. Balance must be restored before the void devours everything."
Cronus shook his head violently. "You can't mean to—"
But Uranus had already turned back toward the battlefield.
The King of Erasure was rising from the rubble, black energy bleeding from his form like a living storm. "You think you can contain me again, old god? You think the universe still bends to your will?"
Uranus raised one hand. The stars above Olympus dimmed. The ground split. The sky folded inward, forming a vortex of spinning energy.
"No," Uranus replied. "This time, I don't bind you. I take you with me."
⸻
The Black Hole
Reality began to collapse around Uranus's outstretched hand.
The air screamed as gravity inverted, light stretched into ribbons, and the very concept of time bent under his command.
A singularity began to form — a sphere of perfect darkness suspended in the heart of Olympus. It grew, expanding like an unblinking eye. Winds of cosmic force tore through the mountain, ripping apart the remnants of divine architecture.
Cronus and Hyperion were forced to retreat, shielding their faces as the pull intensified.
"Father!" Cronus yelled, his voice cracking. "You'll be dragged in too!"
Uranus turned one last time. The faintest, almost human smile crossed his lips. "I know, my son. That is the point."
Then he moved.
At speeds that defied comprehension, Uranus became light — and light became motion. He struck forward, closing the gap between himself and the King of Erasure in less than a heartbeat.
The King barely had time to raise his hand before Uranus seized his arm, twisting, forcing him toward the vortex.
"WHAT ARE YOU—!"
"Finishing what your arrogance began!" Uranus thundered.
He used his cosmic speed again, pushing the both of them beyond the horizon of space and time — their forms dissolving into streaks of light and shadow.
The black hole roared, swallowing everything.
⸻
Beyond the Event Horizon
Inside the event horizon, there was no up, no down, no sound.
Only silence. Only the weight of eternity folding in on itself.
Uranus and the King of Erasure floated within the void, their energies tearing the fabric of space with every movement. Here, there were no laws. Only raw existence.
The King struggled, his voice distorted, echoing across nothing. "You fool! You think you can trap me here? I am this void!"
Uranus's body was already fading, fragments of his divinity scattering into motes of starlight. "Perhaps you are," he whispered. "But even the void needs a cage."
The King lashed out, striking Uranus with enough force to shatter galaxies — yet the Sky Father held his ground. His eyes glowed with the color of dying suns, his hand gripping the fabric of reality itself.
He began to compress it — pulling the energy of the singularity inward, collapsing the black hole from the inside out.
The King's eyes widened. "No… NO! If you do that, you'll—"
"—destroy myself, yes." Uranus's voice was calm, resolute. "But I will also erase your freedom. Forever."
For the first time, true fear crossed the King of Erasure's face.
The void screamed. Space folded. Time stopped.
Uranus looked upward — though there was no sky here — and smiled faintly as if looking at someone far away. "Cronus… protect the boy. He is your key to balance."
Then he closed his hand.
The singularity imploded.
A flash brighter than the dawn of creation consumed everything — and then… silence.
⸻
The Aftermath
The skies over Olympus cleared for the first time in days.
The storms faded, leaving behind a strange, fragile calm. The once-violent winds were now still, as though the world was holding its breath.
Cronus stared at the empty void where the black hole had been. His chest tightened with a hollow ache that words could not describe.
Hyperion placed a hand on his shoulder. "He's gone."
Cronus said nothing. He could still feel faint traces of his father's energy — distant, fading, but steady.
"He did it," Hyperion murmured. "He took the King of Erasure with him."
Cronus exhaled shakily. His golden eyes reflected the fractured horizon. "And now the heavens have no Sky Father."
He turned toward the ruins of Olympus — silent, scarred, but still standing.
"Gather the gods," he said quietly. "Zeus. Poseidon. Athena. All of them. Father's command stands — we form a plan. We must protect the worlds in his absence."
As Hyperion nodded and took off to carry out the order, Cronus lingered for a moment longer. He looked at the sky — the one his father had ruled since time began — now empty and unguarded.
"I'll make sure his sacrifice wasn't in vain," he whispered. "I promise."
⸻
– The Echo Between Worlds
Far beyond the physical plane, where black holes devoured time itself, two energies continued to struggle in the dark.
Uranus's divine light and the King of Erasure's void intertwined endlessly — neither extinguishing the other.
And within that impossible storm, a single thought echoed from the Sky Father's fading consciousness:
"The cycle must end… The boy must rise…"