For a brief moment, as the silence of the room swallowed everything, Zeus realized that what awaited him beyond these walls would be the last time he would use his powers…
and the last time he would bear the name Zeus.
A simple thought, yet enough to awaken something deep within him.
His eyes gleamed with a strange light, a light that had not appeared in many long years.
He then slowly turned toward the window.
The sky stretched open before him, vast… clear… as if it had been waiting for him all this time.
Suddenly, strong winds rushed through the window—not a storm, but directed winds that knew him as well as he knew them.
He turned in the air, strands of his hair lifted, and his feet rose entirely from the ground.
He did not resist; he let them carry him as if they were a part of his own spirit.
In mere seconds, he pierced the first layer of the sky, ascending above the island… above everything.
The upper sky was clear, pure, infinite.
But the moment he reached it—
everything changed.
Light began to fade slowly.
Gray swirls formed from nothingness.
They grew denser… multiplied… and began to engulf the entire sky, as if the air itself was breathing fury.
In just a few moments, the calm sky transformed into a sea of dark clouds spinning above him, as if his mere presence was enough to awaken the heavens from slumber.
Zeus ascended, and the sky changed with him.
As the winds lifted him higher and the clouds gathered above like a heavy curtain, Zeus paused in midair, as if recovering a sensation long buried under rubble.
Amid the rising storm…
he felt his children.
It was not a supernatural sense, nor a mysterious force.
It was a clear, sharp awareness that coursed through his body like a cold current:
They were there… waiting.
Far from the island, above the vast waters, their ship awaited his emergence.
He could not see it, yet his awareness of their presence was natural, like a father knowing his children waited behind a closed door.
His children were safe… outside the island.
Exactly as he had planned.
Aboard the black ship were the slaves whose spirits Zeus had broken many years ago.
Their faces were rigid… eyes empty… moving as if merely breathing, without consciousness, hesitation, or will.
Nothing remained of them but the ability to execute orders immediately, as if their bodies acted on their own.
They were guardians, protection for the children.
Above Zeus, the clouds grew denser.
The sky became a moving black, as if breathing along with his ascent.
The winds wrapped around him tighter, carrying his body away from the palace.
As the winds carried him higher and higher, Zeus paused in midair, suspended between the heavy clouds and the raging sea below.
Then he lowered his height slightly, just enough to see the entire island beneath him…
The island where he had lived for forty years, and ruled its people for twenty.
The houses.
The port.
The streets he had walked.
The people who obeyed him, who feared him.
Everything looked small from this height… insignificant.
No emotion passed over his face.
No sadness, no longing, not even anger.
His eyes were icy, almost frozen, covered in that stark whiteness that had become his signature—without warmth, without life.
He slowly turned his gaze toward the dark sky above…
He raised his hands to unleash his power… but something small caught his attention before he began.
On a tree near the edge of the island, a black crow stood, silently watching him.
Zeus stared at it coldly.
It was no ordinary crow.
He knew immediately what its presence meant.
Odin.
His son, always the most curious…
And the closest to understanding the wrath of the sky.
Zeus thought to himself, in chilling calm:
"Odin wants to see for himself what I will do…
So he watches, without defying my command to ascend to the ship."
He lowered his arms slightly and fixed his gaze directly on the crow.
It remained still, looking up as if waiting.
Zeus closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them slowly, speaking in a low voice… yet one that pierced through the air:
"Focus well… and feel the wrath of the sky."
Zeus stood in the sky, winds whipping around him, waves crashing below the island as if awaiting his command.
He raised his hands slowly, with a cold confidence that knew no hesitation.
Suddenly, the clouds around him began to churn.
Lightning flashed across the sky in irregular patterns, as if the sky itself was screaming.
The core within him, the center of his power, began to spin at tremendous speed—a whirlwind of energy almost visible to the naked eye.
With every rotation, the winds intensified, and the clouds gathered above the island, thickening and darkening, until Storm Island was surrounded by a dense gray veil of tempest.
The lightning in the sky began to rage wildly, striking here and there, illuminating the horizon and casting its glow over every corner of the island, as if nature itself were waiting for Zeus's command.
The air became charged with energy; every gust of wind carried unnatural force, as though the entire earth were breathing the wrath of the heavens.
Zeus suddenly opened his eyes, the luminous whiteness within them blazing with terrifying power, shining like an exploding star amid the storm.
He raised his voice, strong and resonant, cutting through the roar of wind, rain, and lightning, so that everyone on the island could hear him:
"THE WRATH OF THE SKY!"
His voice was law, a decree leaving no room for doubt or resistance. Every living thing on the island trembled with awe and fear at once.
Above the island, the sky became a display of absolute power—lightning spiraling, winds howling, dark clouds swirling around each other as if alive, all under the cold, merciless will of Zeus.
Beyond the island, Odin watched everything through the crow.
He immediately realized that his father was observing him through the bird. This did not anger him; it seemed as though he wanted to see… to learn from what he was witnessing.
Odin focused his eyes on his father, on every movement, every breath, every gesture, as if trying to comprehend what would unfold.
As he concentrated, he heard Poseidon's voice:
"Won't Father come? He said we're going to our new home!"
Athena turned to him angrily:
"Silence, fool! He must be doing something important. Don't speak too much—just wait!"
At that moment, Odin interjected with a firm, commanding voice:
"Silence, all of you!"
Then Hades added:
"Do not speak… our father has entrusted you with responsibility over us."
Odin sat quietly, observing his father through the crow, grasping the magnitude of what was happening, ready for whatever command might come next.
When Zeus shouted:
"THE WRATH OF THE SKY!"
The storm intensified beyond belief.
Lightning poured from every corner of the sky, a never-ending torrent of fire and light, striking everything in its path.
The winds grew fiercer than any hurricane humanity had ever witnessed, sweeping ships from the harbor, tossing them into the air like wooden dolls, shattering masts and rigging with merciless force.
Lightning struck every building on the island, scattering columns of houses and roofs in all directions.
Trees were ripped from their roots, massive rocks shattered, as if the island itself were unraveling under the wrath of the heavens.
The harbor was completely overturned; bridges collapsed into the water, and ships, boats, and small vessels were destroyed and sank beneath the fury of the waves.
The streets turned into rivers of mud and debris. Houses collapsed onto one another, and plumes of dust and smoke rose from every corner.
Even those who survived for a moment found no place to hide, for the very ground shook violently with each lightning strike.
When Zeus sensed that everyone on the island had either died or been utterly obliterated, he did not stop.
He began to pull every dead soul from the island into the core within him.
With each soul drawn, cracks appeared in his body—his human form could no longer contain such energy.
Yet he continued, knowing that even a second of hesitation could mean the end of his existence.
The storm had reached its peak; the island was nothing more than a moving ruin. Waves, wind, and lightning tossed debris along with the living and the dead, creating a complete, merciless catastrophe.
The island he had lived on for forty years had become nothing but ashes, water, and celestial fury. Yet the sky above had not yet calmed.
The islanders' perspective under the storm:
The sky had been clear moments ago… then the light vanished abruptly, as if the day itself had shattered.
Dark clouds descended on the island with alarming speed, though most people hardly reacted—they had grown used to sudden weather changes.
But the first lightning bolt struck with a sound that split the earth.
Everyone froze.
Then came the second… the third… and soon lightning poured down like rain.
Some men ran toward the harbor, but the wind pushed the waves with such force that the boats capsized before they could reach them.
They screamed—but the roar of the wind drowned out all sound.
Women in the market dropped their goods from the stalls, and children clung to their mothers, crying.
Stones began falling from rooftops, and roofs split with every lightning strike.
An elderly man tried to flee to his home, but the wind threw him to the ground before he could take three steps.
He curled into himself, shivering, searching for any place that could protect him… nothing.
A group of young men tried running across the main street, but dust and debris made visibility nearly zero.
They crashed into walls, stumbled, one screamed that he could see nothing, another was knocked down by the wind and dragged along the dirt-covered road.
In the square, a woman knelt on the ground, clutching her child in terror, shielding his head with her hands while lightning split the sky above them.
Each strike intensified… each scream came from a different direction.
Some tried to hide inside buildings, but doors were torn open by the wind's force, windows shattered, and glass flew like high-speed shards.
Every face bore the same expression: shock… fear… incomprehension.
They had grown accustomed to the island's changing weather, but this… this was as if the island itself had turned against them.
No one knew where this wrath had come from,
and no one could escape it.
As for Zeus, everything inside him came to a halt for a moment after swallowing the souls of the island:
After the last soul had been drawn from the island and entered the core within his body…
He felt his body grow heavier than mountains.
The core in his chest spun violently, unnaturally, as if it were about to explode.
His body was filled with so much energy that he no longer felt his limbs.
He could not even move his fingers freely.
His chest tightened… and tightened more.
It was as if the power of his soul was unraveling his human body, demanding a new vessel capable of containing it.
But he had to resist—or his body would crack and shatter from within.
He gritted his teeth and gathered all his willpower to maintain control over the core.
Every time he tried to exert his power too much, he felt as though his bones were slowly disintegrating.
He knew immediately:
If he used his power even slightly now—his body would collapse.
He focused on only one thing:
To prevent his body from breaking.
To prevent his soul from destroying the vessel.
He hovered in the air with extreme difficulty, as if the winds no longer held him and he were standing alone on the edge of collapse.
He felt trapped… imprisoned within his own power.
His body could no longer withstand it.
His soul was stronger than the vessel containing it.
With every breath he took, he heard faint cracks in his bones… a clear warning that he would shatter if he did not maintain his delicate balance.
He could no longer use his rage or his power.
He could no longer even release a single lightning strike.
Now… all he could do was stay intact—if only for a few more moments.
The sky still roared with the echo of the force he had unleashed moments ago, but Zeus barely felt anything.
His body was on the verge of collapse, and the power within him raged like a storm trapped inside a narrow box.
He slowly descended from the sky…
Not by his power, but because the winds that had carried him began to weaken, as if they could no longer lift a body breaking from within.
Every part of him trembled.
Each step he took in the air cost more effort than it should have.
Finally… the ship appeared.
It was moving away from the destroyed island, its sails shaking violently in the wind.
The slaves standing on deck were silent, their faces devoid of any expression, like dolls… waiting for their master.
And at the bow of the ship stood his four children.
Odin was the calmest of them all.
His eyes had been focused through the raven before his father arrived, but now he looked directly at him, as if measuring the situation.
Athena watched the sky, then turned quickly when she saw her father approaching, but remained silent.
Hades crossed his arms, staring sharply, as if trying to understand the apparent weakness of their father.
Poseidon was the only one to take a step forward without thinking, then froze when Athena shot him a warning glance.
When Zeus landed on the deck of the ship, he did not utter a single word.
He couldn't.
His chest rose and fell with difficulty, and the core within him was still boiling.
Odin was the first to move.
He took only a single step, then stood before him… staring into his eyes.
It was a silent look, yet it said everything:
"You are in danger… your body is breaking down."
Zeus, with extreme effort, lifted his eyes to him.
For the first time in many long years, Zeus's gaze held no anger… only weight, exhaustion, and a struggle to remain intact.
As the ship sailed farther from the island, he managed to speak in a low, halting voice:
"Let… us leave."
He said nothing more.
His children exchanged glances—silent, cautious, tense—then stood by his side, each in their place, as if they knew that any word might shake the fragile balance he maintained.
And the ship carved its path through the waves…
Moving away from the island that no longer existed.
Carrying with it a man on the verge of bursting from his power… and children who knew their fate had only just begun.