The High Heavens were silent, a place of forced peace and blinding light, until the shadow appeared.
A lone figure was seen walking toward the golden gates. To anyone watching from the battlements, it was a jarring sight. This wasn't a regular divine being, a soul seeking entry, or a servant of the light coming into the sanctuary behind the golden gates. No—this figure was something else entirely. Every step he took was a declaration of war. He didn't want to enter the divine sanctuary; he wanted to destroy it.
As soon as the divine gates came into sight, the figure stopped being just a man. He became a vessel for a tremendous rage that came from the very depths of his soul. It was a heat that didn't burn him, but fueled him. Why was he so angry at the gods? Only he knew. He remembered the chains, the betrayals, and the "holy" lies. That memory was a poison that turned his blood into liquid fire.
The lone figure approached the divine gate with heavy steps. Each footfall on the marble sounded like a hammer hitting an anvil. He was clad in ancient black armor made with obsidian—a material that didn't reflect the light of the heavens, but seemed to swallow it whole. At his sides hung two swords. He rarely used them—his monstrous strength was usually enough to crush anything in his path—but today was different. Today was the day he would draw them. He had made a promise to himself: he would coat those blades with the blood of the gods. He wouldn't stop until the obsidian was slick with divine gold.
The gatekeepers were elite, divine warriors, but they were busy talking to themselves, safe in their arrogance. That safety shattered in an instant. They felt an enormous pressure descend upon them—not a physical weight, but a crushing aura that made the very air feel like lead. Their bodies began to fight a losing battle against the urge to collapse.
One of the guards, a warrior who had stood for centuries, was completely overwhelmed. The pressure exerted by the black figure was too much; his knees hit the marble with a sickening thud. What is this creature? That was the only thought his mind could hold. He had stood in the presence of Zeus, the King of Gods, but even Zeus had never exerted pressure this terrifying. This was different. This was primal.
Their bodies were screaming at them, every instinct yelling to get as far away as possible from the lone figure, but they were pinned in place. They were just too weak. As the figure walked, a black aura flared around him like a dark sun. It was a "killing intent" so pure that it corrupted the environment itself. The beautiful, holy flowers that lined the path withered as he passed. They didn't just wilt; they turned into blackened husks, their life force drained by his mere presence.
The lone figure stopped walking and stood still, a black stain against the perfect gold of the gate.
Then, the gate keepers heard a voice. It was deep, vibrating through their bones rather than their ears.
"Go get your masters."
The gatekeeper who hadn't collapsed yet didn't hesitate. He didn't even try to stand his ground. He struggled with everything he had just to take flight, his wings beating frantically against the heavy air. He didn't even bother trying to open the divine gates properly; he was terrified. He wanted to get as far away as possible from the demonic creature standing on the path.
But he didn't have to go far.
Before the gatekeeper could reach the inner sanctuary, he was met by a group that made the air shimmer. Zeus and the other greater gods had arrived. They had all felt it—that killing intent emanating from the gate. It was like a needle prick in their perfect world, and they wanted to investigate what could possibly harbor so much hatred.
Zeus stood at the front, clad in a white light that seemed pure enough to blind. He wore a flowing white robe that moved as if in a wind only he could feel. His long white hair was a halo around a face of stone, and his eyes... they weren't human. They were flowing with literal lightning, sparks jumping between his eyelids.
He approached the gate and looked down at the figure in the obsidian armor. To Zeus, this was a "vile demon" from the depths of hell, an insect that had crawled out of the dark.
"What do you want?" Zeus's voice was deep, booming with a divine authority that sounded annoyed rather than worried. "What is your purpose here, vile demon?"
A hollow laugh escaped the lips of the figure. "I want the destruction of all gods, Zeus," Arc replied, his voice flat and cold. "Don't act like you don't know who I am, you damned god."
"Arrogant fool," a new voice commented. It was Ares. He stood beside Zeus, a beautiful god with perfect features and a handsome, sculpted face. His long hair flowed over his shoulders, and he stood there casually, clutching an apple in his left hand as if this were a minor distraction.
Zeus looked at the demon carefully, his lightning-filled eyes squinting. He seemed to be pondering what to do with this "Variable."
"What makes you think you can kill all the gods, demon?" Zeus asked, his voice echoing off the golden gates.
"You know what you did, Zeus," Arc said, and the killing intent spiked, cracking the marble under his boots. "You and your pompous group of idiotic gods, thinking that nothing can ever happen to you. Thinking you can do whatever you want, doing vile things and calling them holy. You know what? Frankly, I'm tired of your stupid act. I'm here to bring judgement upon you."
Arc paused, a grim smile hidden behind his helm. "Judgement, huh? Sounds weird, right? A demon like me passing judgement on the holy gods."
Zeus's expression shifted from annoyance to cold contempt. "Just because you inherited the power of that vile and ancient beast doesn't mean you can kill us all of a sudden, demon. Leave now, before I call the armies of heaven to show you your place."
Another hollow laugh escaped Arc. It was a sound devoid of joy, filled only with the promise of slaughter. "You don't get it, do you? I came here to kill you all. So yeah... call your entire army."
"Arrogant fool. So be it," Zeus said.
Without another word, Zeus and the other greater gods turned their backs, retreating into the sanctuary as if Arc were beneath their notice.
Then, with a deafening sound that shook the very foundation of the heavens, the divine gates groaned and swung open. Behind them wasn't a room, but a sea of gold. Hundreds of thousands of angels stood in perfect formation, all clad in golden shingle armor, their spears leveled and their wings spread wide.
Arc didn't flinch. He just watched the sea of gold pour out toward him.
"So they were ready. Should have known," Arc whispered to himself, his hand finally moving toward the hilt of his twin blades. "They were always scared of something they couldn't control…"