The first era was always obscured, hidden deep within the myths of man. And yet… its end could not completely obscure itself. The echoes of clashing giants still ring throughout the world, emanating such power that most cannot even look upon it anymore, cannot even acknowledge its existence lest it destroy them. It was the first true war, and blood covered the earth in a red sea, with demigods and beasts tearing into each other with equal fury. To be human is to subject primal nature to higher ideals, to subject beasts to civilization. And here is where humanity truly grew into themselves.

Micheal left the dragon roaring its fury to the skies, He could feel the command in the sound, rippling out with fiery authority. He, of course, brushed it aside with little effort, but that didn't mean all would. His sibling would protect the children, but the beasts of the world wouldn't be able to.

They would flock to Dargonth in the thousands, and when they were all gathered, it would start.

Micheal looked at the unconscious Hercules in his arms with annoyance. He should have known it would be him who set off the end, but it didn't really matter. It had only been a matter of time, really. Dargonth, by his very nature, could not abide the existence of others on an equal standing with him. He would have come after them eventually.

Still, Michael had hoped for more time, and he once more felt the urge to drop his comatose brother from the sky. He resisted the temptation with difficulty and commanded their return to the Stronghold. The world obeyed without hesitation, the wind rushing forward to form a throne and space warping to shorten the distance. As their surroundings whizzed by in a river of colorful streaks, Micheal commanded the wind to deliver his message.

War was upon them. It was time to withdraw to the center and prepare.

Else they wouldn't survive the month.

—------------------------------------

Over the next few weeks, hundreds returned to the first outpost of humanity, simply named the Stronghold. Micheal’s brothers and sisters, too, heeded the call with grim awareness, having known this day would come eventually.

From up above, I saw the beasts gathering, great rivers of flesh merging into a sea of monsters. Their numbers had swelled, ballooning to the thousands, perhaps tens of thousands while humanity remained in the hundreds. They boiled over in their temporary dens and lair surrounding Dargonth’s volcano, shaking the ground in their collective impatience. In contrast, humanity gathered into the Stronghold, a city of merely a hundred or so finely crafted houses. Finely worked carvings and statues decorated the streets, complemented by the advanced mechanisms of bronze and steel that alleviated the pain of everyday chores.

It looked ridiculous, like a man standing in the path of a roaring avalanche, expecting it to come to a stop upon touching his miniscule stature.

And yet… among them, there were those who would dare try that very feet. For if each beast shone like a dim candle, each human was a raging wildfire, burning with a promise of life, and each of Adam’s children was a star, distant and mighty. Even the Stronghold glowed with power, intricate carvings brimming with meaning and authority and statues seeming to come to life under the pressure.

The battle was still very much to be decided.

—---------------------------------

It was the third week after Micheal’s rescue of Hercules when the last of his brothers, Sidon, entered the stronghold, bearing with him samples of strange metals and embers for Hephas.

That night as Micheal strode of the stairs to the Council hall, he hesitated. In the dark, his simple stone crown seemed to shine, glittering with the light of the stars. For a split second, even his azure mantle flickered into existence before once again being cast into nothingness.

Micheal lifted his head to the stars, and sighed. He knew they were far, but on a night like this, it felt like he could reach out and scoop them up. His mantle once more flared before dispersing. He frowned. He needed its power now, and yet something still prevented him from fully manifesting it. He reached up to run a finger across his crowns' rocky surface. The crown was his strength, his ability to move forward even under the heaviest of weights.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

But the mantle… it was something different. Something he hadn't yet grasped in full. He felt it, flickering at the edges of his mind, but as he reached for it, it retreated, resting just out of his reach, as maddeningly close as the stars.

With a sigh, he put those thoughts aside and refocused.

The council was about to start.

As he strode into the open air temple, he felt their attention on him. Beings who had advanced to the mortal limits. Whose mere thoughts could warp the world. Who blazed with light divine. Their auras washed over him as he walked over the decorated marble floor, trampling him under a myriad of truths, even as he trampled the painted vision of men and beasts underfoot.

Chains of law bound him.

Fire seared him.

Time wore away at him.

Worlds crushed him.

Any other would have perished in an instant, the conceptual weight tearing their soul from body. But Micheal kept walking, heedless of the throned figures lining the path.

Then, only one throne stood in front of him, a simple chair of black rock, matching his crown. He turned and sat, and immediately his own aura manifested itself, forcing the others aside, subjecting them to his authority.

For a long moment, he let his gaze wander around the room, taking it all in. Twenty-six other thrones lined the room, thirteen on each side. All were occupied, except for one, a simple wooden chair decorated with bows and arrows. Each crackled with power, forged by Hephas to perfectly reflect their respective siblings. A few, though, immediately caught the eye, like Thar’s crackling lightning and Nut’s starry sky, while others faded into the background like Thoth’s papyrus throne and Erebo’s softly undulating darkness.

Still all held dense truths, and the temple trembled as it struggled to contain them.

Then, as if by tacit agreement, throned figures, his siblings, nodded and withdrew their auras, and Micheal followed suit.

He wasted no more time. “You all know why we are here.”

He swept his gaze over the room, taking in the first full gathering of Adam’s children since his death. His gaze lingered on the empty throne. Almost full.

“War is coming for us, and it will not stop till we submit.”

The flaring of auras gave ample evidence to what they thought of that.

“We have long prepared for this, and our descendants are ready for battle. But one last problem remains.”

“Dargonth” Hercules rumbled from the back, his bloody throne composed of intricate carvings of defeated foes and might feats. “Dargonth must be dealt with.”

“Yes,” Micheal confirmed. “Dargonth remains an issue.”

Thar snorted, tendrils of lightning crawling down his arm. “I don’t see the issue. A beast is a beast. He cannot stand before our might.” His throne, a collection of jagged white lightning bolts frozen in time, flashed ominously.

“We are not fighting him alone” reminded Heimdall, his cloudy white eyes staring into something nobody else could see. “There are dozens of awakened beasts and even some beast princes on the other side, and in sufficient numbers they can delay us. Enough for Dargonth to isolate us and take us down one by one.”

Thar scoffed, his long red hair falling over his shoulder as he leaned forward.

Before he could speak, Artemis interrupted him. “Don’t you dare trivialize the threat he poses. Even decades ago he was a match for any of us now. Have you forgotten what happened to Orion?”

Thar frowned, but after flickering his gaze to the empty throne, he nodded and sat back in his throne.

For a time, there was silence in the throne room as the children of Adam struggled with the problem in front of them.

Surprisingly, it was Chrono that broke the silence. “The youngsters, your son Gilded especially, have had great success with uniting their paths and minds to fight as one.”

“No” was the unanimous answer.

Chrono sat back, having already known the answer. For the younger ones, such a thing could work, but the children of Adam had traveled too far down their paths, becoming too distinct and separate. They would never surrender themselves to a greater unity.

For them it was the path or death.

“What of the materials I brought? Can we forge weapons out of them?”

Hephas grunted. “Already on it. They will be done in a week's time.”

The room once more lapsed back into thoughtful silence.

It was Saraswa that spoke next, her thorne of painted clouds and imaginary places seeming to shimmer with true life. “Micheal, can you match him in single combat?”

“Can I win? No. But I can delay him.”

“Then is that not the answer? Micheal can delay Dargonth while the rest of us finish our fights. Then we can join him, and end this for good.”

Thoth grimaced. “Is that truly the only way?”

“I see no other.” Saraswa replied.

“Are there any other ideas?” Micheal asked.

The hall was silent.

“Then I suppose we will have to make do.”

The silence was grim, but resolute.

“Next, we need t-”

Heimdall’s head snapped to the west.

“Beasts. Approaching fast.”