In the dimly lit hospital room, the team—Ray, Maya, Kaizen, and Michael—lay in recovery, their bodies battered and broken from the brutal battles they'd fought against Aliyah and Doku. The constant beeping of medical machines filled the room, punctuated by the soft steps of doctors moving about, monitoring their progress. Despite the advanced care they were receiving, the weight of their injuries hung heavily on them. They knew that full recovery would be a long and grueling journey.

The silence was abruptly shattered by the sharp, jarring sound of glass breaking. The room grew cold in an instant, and the team awoke in an instant, their pain momentarily forgotten as adrenaline surged. Their eyes darted around the room, searching for the source of the disturbance.

Standing in the doorway, towering like a dark omen, was Deimos.

His massive form loomed in the doorway, draped in dark robes that fluttered like smoke in the cold air. His red eyes glowed with an unsettling intensity, like embers smoldering in the darkness. The pupils, shaped like satanic stars, only added to the otherworldly aura that surrounded him. A chill ran through the team, and despite knowing that Deimos had helped them in the past, the mere sight of him struck fear into their hearts. His presence was as terrifying as it was divine.

Ray, Maya, Kaizen, and Michael froze, their hearts pounding in their chests. They had heard the rumors, the stories of Deimos—the god of rape, torture, and murder. It was said he ruled with a cruel, iron fist, using pain and torment as tools to enforce his twisted vision of justice. Now, here he was, standing before them with an air of authority and power that dwarfed their own.

Deimos spoke, his voice a low, cold rumble that filled the room. "Hello, team. I see all of you are injured."

Though his words were seemingly casual, they carried an unsettling weight. The air around him seemed to thicken, the shadows whispering as they twisted around his figure. The team's fear deepened as they watched the dark tendrils of his power stir.

Without a word, Deimos extended a hand, and the shadows seemed to respond to him, swirling and coiling like living creatures. They reached out, wrapping around the team, engulfing their bodies in an eerie, dark mist. The room grew even colder, and strange whispers filled the air, as if the shadows themselves were speaking.

And then, something extraordinary happened.

The pain, the agony of their injuries, began to fade. Broken bones, burns, cuts, and bruises healed at an alarming rate, the swelling in their limbs disappearing and the bruises on their skin fading away. It felt as though their bodies were being revitalized, the fatigue draining away as their strength surged back. The team looked at each other in stunned silence, unable to comprehend what was happening.

But Deimos was not finished.

As the shadows continued to swirl around them, the team felt something beyond healing—a surge of power coursing through their veins, like a fire igniting deep inside them. It wasn’t just physical recovery; it was as if they were being infused with an unimaginable strength. The power thrummed within them, a raw and primal force that made their hearts race.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

"This," Deimos's voice echoed, booming like thunder, "is a blessing. A blessing of power regeneration. I have given you the strength to heal faster, to endure more. Use it wisely."

The shadows danced violently around him as his crimson eyes shifted from one team member to the next. Each word was measured and deliberate.

"Kaizen," Deimos said, his voice colder now, "your dual sawed-off shotguns have been blessed. With a single blast, they can reduce entire mountains to rubble. Wield them with the fury they demand."

Kaizen’s jaw tightened, his fingers twitching, itching to reach for his weapons. The power that surged through his body exhilarated him, but also filled him with a deep sense of unease.

Turning to Michael, Deimos's voice was firm and unyielding. "Your dual Glock 17s now hold the same destructive might. One shot from them will erase mountains. Do not waste their power on trivial targets."

Michael’s eyes widened in shock, his usually stoic expression faltering for a moment. He clenched his fists, contemplating the responsibility that came with such overwhelming power.

"Maya," Deimos continued, his gaze piercing through her, "your blades can now cut through anything, no matter how strong. With a single strike, they can bring down mountains. And as a final blessing, you now wield an infinite summoning pool of knives. The skies will rain steel at your command."

Maya’s lips parted in disbelief. She could feel the weight of her blades in her hands, pulsing with newfound energy. A mixture of awe and dread settled over her as she glanced at Ray, the implications of such power heavy in her heart.

Finally, Deimos’s gaze settled on Ray. His voice was final, commanding. "And you, Ray, are now a weapon in your own right. Your hands and feet are blessed with the power to level mountains and cities with a mere touch. You can unmake the world around you."

The room fell silent, the enormity of Deimos’s words sinking in. Ray flexed his fingers, staring at them as if they belonged to someone else. His mind raced, torn between the possibilities of such power and the responsibility it carried.

"Why?" Ray's voice broke through the stillness, hoarse but steady. "Why give us this power?"

Deimos’s crimson eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable. "Because the battles you face will demand it. Your enemies will stop at nothing to destroy you, and you will need every ounce of strength to survive."

The shadows around him swirled violently, as if echoing his words. "But remember this," Deimos added, his voice sharp, "power is both a gift and a curse. Use it wisely, or it will consume you."

The team remained still, absorbing the weight of his words. They had been given a gift, but it came from a being whose motives were as murky as the shadows he controlled. What did Deimos want in return? Why had he chosen them?

Before they could ask, Deimos turned toward the door, the shadows dissipating as he began to leave. "I have done what I can," he said, his voice carrying a finality that sent a shiver down their spines. "The rest is up to you. Be ready. The battles ahead will be even more dangerous than what you've faced so far."

With that, Deimos vanished into the darkness, leaving the team in stunned silence. The room was still, the only sounds the faint beeping of medical machines.

Ray, Maya, Kaizen, and Michael exchanged looks, their minds racing. They had been granted power, but at what cost? What did Deimos expect in return? And how would they wield this newfound strength against the forces threatening their world?

One thing was certain—they would never be the same again. Deimos’s blessings had made them stronger, but they were also bound to him in ways they couldn’t yet comprehend.

As they lay in the aftermath of the encounter, they knew their next battle would be even more deadly than the last. The blessings had been given, but the price remained unknown.