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Arrogance of The Living

In the midst of the creation of wondrous power, the towering entity that presided over death dashed across the chamber, attempting to interrupt the formulation of energy.

“Skadi!”

VRRRRR

Through the air, verdant streaks of light etched across the darkness, swiftly colliding against the forgotten deity. Stopped in its tracks, the nefarious entity raised its arms, creating a spherical barrier of deathly presence around itself before more projectiles curved through the air and arrived.

“On target,” Vanya confirmed with a monotone voice.

Standing beside the bow-wielding adventurer, Jason laughed as he adjusted his goggles, “Is that thing copying my moves now? What gives?”

The pitch-black barrier vanished, allowing the inhuman entity to erupt forth as its body warped with every step it took; its grinning head enlarging and shrinking, the limbs that swung by its sides growing and retreating back to their normal size as they moved.

It was within but a few steps of Sirius; the death deity’s limbs contorted, transforming into a mass of blades–greatswords, scythes, claymores and all–salivating abyssal drool from its mouth as it lunged towards the man.

“A hand, old man?” Sirius asked with a confident smile, not moving from the spot he stood while continuing his build-up of rising energy.

Just before the swarm of blades could dice apart the arrogant Invictus, lines of burning plasma whipped around, binding the body of the deity. Landing in front of Sirius, Beowulf’s boots crushed the tiles beneath him.

Around his forearm, thick and solid like the trunk of a tree, the ropes of pure heat were anchored; the silver-bearded man had an unpleasant look on his face, using the strands to restrain the deity.

“If you’re going to be such a pain in the ass, you’d better make sure you at least win,” Beowulf said, straining the last words out as he slid his boot across the cracked tiles, pulling back as he drug the deathly entity aside.

The temperature in the abyssal chamber shifted; the iciness of the air was overwhelmed by a heat that flourished through its boundaries. The pulsations of such grand warmth originated from the energy woven between Sirius’ hands, merging his divine lightning with the peerless heat.

[“Among all the gods, there is none more conceited than the one who rules over the heavens—Zeus. It isn’t surprising that a deity of such reverence would be selective with who he blesses.

Once every lifetime, an Invictus of Zeus is chosen. That person is destined to be a king; a conquerer with hubris not unlike the almighty.”]

The allied forces acted as a wall between the maddened deity and Sirius, with Beowulf unleashing beams of fiery force and Vanya’s arrows piercing forth with unseen speed. Jason sped around the battlefield, creating fields of slowed time that unhastened the floor guardian’s array of projectiles.

“How much longer are you going to take?!” Beowulf yelled out without looking back, casting pillars of fire in the direction of the guardian.

Sirius responded with an unheard whisper, focusing entirely on what he created by merging divine abilities, “Can’t rush greatness.”

As the swirling combination of star-born flames and seraphic electricity grew, the unrestrained deity flipped itself back with surprising nimbleness, landing with its feet pressed against the side of the black-steel wall.

“Death. Death. Death: Black End.”

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The hollow chant from the black-fleshed entity bore itself into existence through abyssal rings that painted themselves into the air, rotating with an ominous hum. Between the spiraling rings, trickling darkness condensed itself.

“That looks bad,” Jason remarked with a smile.

Sirius finished weaving the energies together, moving his hands as if kneading dough, shifting the swirl of unstable power into a miniature ring itself. Compact into that small ring was an unbridled quantity of energy; the heat that pulsated from it caused the air to shudder and the tiles around the man to begin melting.

Strands of the discolored lightning lashed out, sizzling across the abyssal chamber with no hope of being tamed.

The confident Invictus reached his hand through the bright-orange, electrified ring, stopping once his elbow was through before closing his hand, turning it as if unlocking an unseen lock.

“Open.”

Pulling his arm back out through the blazing rim, a spiral of ascendant energy followed through as if pulling back an inverse spear. Placing his hand on his right arm, he guided the newly-formed spirals of searing heat to unravel itself forth, reforming itself through interlaced waves of energy, pointing towards the forgotten deity.

As a howl of death shot forth, the manifestation of the deity’s authority was born through the hollow rings: a colossal spinal cord forged from the abyss–a deathly incarnation.

Just the very presence of the deity’s authority incurred sickness upon all in the chamber, weakening flesh and rattling the minds of those that witnessed the unnatural spinal extension.

“Blegh…!”

“Ah!”

“Hyeurg–!”

Within the presumed safety of the time zone, the adventurers that waited helplessly became pale, some falling to their knees and heaving, spewing bile.

“Jason!” Beowulf yelled, finding a trail of blood dripping from his nose already.

The goggle-wearing Invictus nodded his head, racing over to the safe zone in aid of those inflicted by the deity’s authority.

This was the unrestrained, purest form of a god’s power; those that existed within its isolated temple may as well be naked in a hailstorm, assaulted by the mortality-eating miasma. Fabric began to be eaten away, dwindling the white uniform worn by the Invictus of Zeus as he stood amidst the haze.

Sirius’ own nose began to leak blackened blood, dripping from his ears as well, yet his smile remained unfading as he allowed his original creation to be flung forth. Its brilliant form from the union of two gods filled the hollow room with a radiance.

[Zeus ⚪ Hyperion: Fulminating Lance of The Burning Star]

“Let’s see–does death fear death?!” Sirius announced with a wild smile, his hair blowing in the heated winds.

As the magnificent spear of electrifying heat collided with the deathly chain of bones, so too did the will of humanity clash with that unforgiving Tower.

‘I have to win here. If I lose, what the hell does that say for humanity? I’ll give them something to believe in–somebody that the world can cheer in unison for. Until I get that wish, I’ll be a light in the darkness for those enduring. Watch me reach the top–I’ll take that Wish and bring an era of peace like none other. A world where kids don’t have to beg for scraps, a world where fathers don’t go to wars to leave their children without a dad. I’ll make it a reality. That’s why I accepted this Blessing–that’s why I’m fighting, right here and right now. That’s why I have to be the strongest–why I am the strongest!’ Sirius thought.

[“Unrivaled in his arrogance, The Invictus of Zeus of this generation, Sirius, conceitedness was his own adamant belief that he alone will save humanity. In the unorthodox mind of Zeus’ champion, he fervently believed there was no point in his own strength if others risked themselves in a fight he could win himself.”]

–Yet, with such lofty goals, Sirius Federov’s attack did not break through. It was a harrowing dash of reality for those that witnessed the unrivaled clash: the colossal spine moved like a serpentine through the soil, swirling around the fulminating spear of pure energy in a quick motion.

“Huh–”

Before Sirius could react, the end of the spine, covered in waving hairs, pierced itself through his chest. As if his flesh was no less fallible than paper, the deathly bones penetrated his body in completion, digging out through his back.

“Sirius!” Beowulf yelled out.

“No–Boss!” From within the safe zone of locked time, Alcides rushed out, despite his wounded forearms.

The abyssal spine pulled away, leaving a gaping hole in the Invictus’ torso as it slithered back to the harrowing deity. It slid around the guardian’s body before sinking into its back, locking in as the foul vertebrae became a spine for the one who ruled over death.

“The end is coming. The end is here. I am the end,’ the malevolent entity spoke in a voice that could only be described as a crescendoing whisper.