From the dawn of time, the gods waged war.
Not for justice, not for love, not even for survival — but for dominion.
The earth was their battlefield, the crown of creation their prize.
Yet among the nine gods, a tenth appeared.
He was tired — of repetition, of blood, of immortality.
An idea took root within him, one that might end the madness once and for all.
But gods always pay for their own thoughts.
That idea became action — and the result was not peace, but ruin.
Light split the heavens, the ground trembled, and every trace of divinity was swallowed.
Since that day, the gods have slept.
No one knows why.
But two questions remained among mortals:
"Why did it happen?"
and
"Is there a god left who can set things right?"
_______________________________________________________________________________________
Continent of Neos — City of Voltarium
The gray fog clung to the streets like dust on glass.
Parsa walked among the shops, trying to keep his calm.
Three days had passed since his father's death, and the ache still gnawed at him.
Even so, something inside whispered that his father's death hadn't been ordinary.
He stopped in front of a bakery window.
The reflection staring back at him looked worn out — dark hair, gray eyes, pale skin.
He ran a hand down his face.
"Dad… I wish there was a sign from you."
At twenty, Parsa already felt a century older.
His university had burned down months ago, the government still promising to rebuild.
Work was scarce, money thinner still.
Only his sister Sara and his older brother Arman kept the family standing.
From his pocket he pulled a small note — Sara's shopping list.
"Thank God they finished the funeral fast… I miss him, but I can't fall apart now."
He shook his head.
"Just buy the bread, Parsa. Keep moving."
He crossed to the bakery, bought what he needed, and stepped back into the street.
That was when a boy ran up to him, arms full of newspapers.
"Sir! Want today's paper?"
Parsa smiled faintly.
"Sure, kid. Thanks."
He handed over a coin, unfolded the paper — and froze.
The headline screamed:
"Return of the Gods?! Scientists Detect Unknown Energy in Northern Ocean"
"Gods…?" he murmured. "Could they really still exist?"
He frowned, thinking.
"If they do… people's faith in the true Creator would crumble. The government would never let that happen."
Folding the paper, he slipped it into his coat.
The fog around him thickened, pressing on his chest like a weight.
In his head, a voice whispered — soft, unfamiliar.
"Arian… the return is near…"
Pain flashed behind his eyes.
"What the hell was that…?"
The street blurred.
Light rippled through the air — and for a heartbeat, radiant lines burned across his chest.
He gasped, knees hitting the ground.
"Stop… stop this …"
Then the light vanished.
The world fell silent.
When he opened his eyes again, everything looked normal — but he knew it wasn't.
Something inside him had woken up.
Just then, a voice called from behind the door of his house.
"Big brother! You're finally home! Mom's been calling for you!"
Parsa forced a smile, glancing once more at the faint warmth on his chest.
"Just a sound," he whispered. "Nothing else."
But deep in his mind, that same whisper echoed again — slow and dreadful:
"The awakening has begun…"