It was past midnight, but the White House blazed with light.
Convoys arrived one after another — military jeeps, official motorcades, and even luxury limousines belonging to the country's wealthiest families.
Within half an hour, the largest conference room in the White House was packed wall-to-wall.
Representatives from the military, government, and financial conglomerates — every major power in the nation — had gathered.
If someone were to drop a single missile on this building right now, the country would collapse into chaos overnight.
At the head of the table sat the President, his expression grim as his eyes swept across the room.
"Gentlemen," he began, his tone sharp, "you are the most influential figures in the military, the government, and our nation's industries. I assume you're already aware of what happened tonight."
In this capital-driven nation, money ruled everything — and anyone with half a brain knew the White House was riddled with spies from every camp represented in this room.
At the President's words, silence descended.
These men and women — usually loud, arrogant, and endlessly self-assured — now sat pale and wordless.
They knew.
Their intelligence networks were vast enough that within hours, all classified footage and reports had already reached them.
That was why their faces were drained of color.
Because tonight, something absurd — something terrifying — had happened.
A god and a demon had fought a battle… on American soil.
It was the kind of thing you'd expect to hear as a dark joke told in Hell.
But this wasn't a joke.
A towering giant of light, tens of meters tall, and a dark, demonic entity of equal size had waged a war that shattered the land itself.
There was footage.
There were witnesses.
The devastation was real — too real.
This wasn't some Photoshopped internet hoax.
This was reality.
No one wanted to believe it, but disbelief didn't change the truth.
The President frowned, tapping the desk.
"Now is not the time for silence," he said, his tone tightening. "Our nation is facing a crisis like nothing we've ever seen. I want answers."
"Who were those beings? Where did they come from? Why did they fight? I want explanations — now."
But again… silence.
Not because no one had answers.
But because no one dared to speak.
After all, America was a country that claimed to believe in God — churches, pastors, faith everywhere.
Yet belief was one thing.
A god actually descending to Earth?
That was something entirely different.
No one wanted a deity hovering over their head, judging their every move, demanding worship.
Especially not the powerful — people who liked being gods in their own right.
The President's face darkened as silence stretched on.
BANG!
He slammed his palm against the table.
That sharp sound cut through the stillness, forcing everyone's attention back to him.
"I need answers!" he thundered. "And I need a plan for what we're going to do next!"
At last, one of the old men — a patriarch from a major financial dynasty — cleared his throat.
"Mr. President," he said carefully, "before we discuss solutions, we need more detailed intelligence. No one here has access to more complete data than you. We ask that you share it."
The President hesitated, then nodded to his personal aide.
The aide immediately began handing out a stack of classified reports.
As the documents reached each participant, the screens around the room came alive with images:
Cratered landscapes.
Flattened towns.
A monstrous pit — so deep it swallowed light itself.
The aide began speaking, his tone low but steady.
"According to field investigators, the battle between the god and the demon affected an area of over twenty square miles."
A collective gasp swept through the room.
Twenty square miles — that was equivalent to the size of three full towns.
That level of destruction rivaled, perhaps even exceeded, some low-yield nuclear detonations.
The thought sent chills down every spine.
"F—fuck," one of the generals muttered under his breath.
"Can we even stop something like that? Either of them?"
The President didn't respond, but his aide did.
"In theory, our most powerful nuclear warheads have greater destructive potential."
A brief sigh of relief passed through the room.
Until the aide continued:
"However…"
That single word froze everyone again.
A new set of projections flickered onto the display — blurry footage from multiple angles, captured by drones and satellites.
"As you can see," the aide said, "neither of these entities appear to be biological in nature. They seem to be composed of some form of energy-based matter. Against such beings…"
He didn't finish the sentence — he didn't need to.
Everyone in the room understood.
Against energy lifeforms, nuclear weapons might be meaningless.
A long silence. Then, someone spoke again.
"Can we… contact one of them?"
Murmurs spread.
"After all," another added dryly, "we don't exactly believe in violence, do we?"
The irony wasn't lost on anyone.
The United States, not violent — a dark joke if there ever was one.
Yet no one laughed.
"Gods need faith," one tycoon said slowly. "Demons need souls. If we can communicate — offer the right incentive — we might not need to fight them at all."
Eyes began darting across the room, silent conversations passing between the powerful.
In this capitalist empire, human rights were a convenient slogan — useful in peacetime, disposable in crisis.
If appeasing these beings required sacrifices — faith, souls, whatever — then so be it.
"The only question," another voice said quietly, "is who's going to approach them?"
The air froze again.
One second.
Two.
Three.
Then, a clear voice cut through the tension.
"The Trump family is willing to take that responsibility."
All heads turned.
The patriarch of the Trump family sat upright, composed and regal beneath the scrutiny of every pair of eyes.
"I know what you're all thinking," he said calmly. "And yes, we're afraid too. But someone has to step forward."
"The Trump family will take charge of communication with these divine and infernal entities."
He paused, his voice taking on a calculated edge.
"Of course, we'll need proper compensation. After all… when facing gods and demons, our family could very well end up as nothing more than a sweet little snack."
The room fell silent again — but this time, it wasn't fear that filled it.
It was calculation.