CHAPTER 153: “LET US END THIS ARROGANT STORM.”

The Shinto heavens lay in ruin.

Ash and sparks drifted where rivers of prayer had once flowed. The temples that had hung in the skies were rubble scattered into endless clouds. The great torii gates snapped and toppled, their red beams drifting like bones in a broken sea.

And at the heart of it all, two bodies sprawled.

Izanagi and Izanami—creators of islands, parents of gods, the first spark and the last breath—now corpses. Their forms, vast and endless, slumped across mountains that they themselves had once shaped. One hand that had raised worlds now hung limp. One mouth that had spoken death now lay silent. The realm trembled still from their fall.

Upon them sat two figures.

Zeus, his chest bare, sparks still crawling faint across his shoulders though his fists were quiet. Odin, his cloak burned and torn, one eye dark and the other glowing, Gungnir resting across his knees. Both sat without grandeur, their bodies cut and bruised, their breathing steady but heavy.

For a time there was no sound, only the faint hiss of smoke rising from the wounds they had left in the Primordials.

Then Odin spoke. His voice was low, rasped by the fight, but clear.

"This was a mistake."

Zeus tilted his head, sparks flashing faint along his jaw. "You mean the battle?"

"I mean my choice," Odin answered. His single eye turned across the ruin, across the kami broken and scattered, across the corpses of the father and mother of this land. "This isn’t mine. I came because you called. Because I thought perhaps the old order could stand together against what rises. But this... this is not my war. And I will not fight beside you again."

Zeus’s storm flickered faint, but he only gave a small nod. He did not argue, did not press. His voice came calm, quieter than his thunder had ever been.

"You have done enough. You stood when I asked, when no other Godking would. That is more than I could have asked for. For that, I am grateful."

Odin’s mouth twitched, not quite a smile. "Then take that gratitude with you. You will need it. Every realm you step into will bleed for it. And eventually, you will stand alone."

Zeus exhaled, lightning sighing through his breath. "Alone is fine."

Silence stretched between them again. Not of tension, but of warriors who had seen the end of one battle, knowing another waited beyond the horizon.

–––

The silence did not last.

A ripple of power stirred across the ruined skies. The smoke bent, the ash scattered, the ground trembled. Then light flared—some bright, some dark, some burning, some silver.

One by one they arrived.

Hades, his cloak torn, pale fire clinging to his bident. Poseidon, blood still staining his trident, the sea echoing faint behind his eyes. Athena, spear still gleaming despite the blood that streaked her helm. Ares, sword dripping red flame, his grin sharp even in exhaustion. Apollo and Artemis, one glowing with sunfire, the other with moonlight touched now by Tiamat’s sea. Hermes, sandals flickering shadow and gold, eyes too sharp for how battered he looked. Nyx, her starry veil dim but steady, silver gaze unblinking. Gaia, the oldest of them all, her roots still bleeding from where they had been torn, her body heavy with the weight of the earth itself.

They gathered like a storm made flesh, their presence bending the air of the broken realm.

Zeus rose from the corpse he had been sitting on. Sparks dripped from his shoulders, his eyes turning to the host of his kin. For the first time since the battle began, the faintest smile crossed his lips.

"This," he said, voice carrying like thunder across the silence, "is my cue."

And before any could answer, his storm flared bright. Lightning wrapped around them all—brother, sister, child, mother, night, earth. The flash split the ruins in white.

When it cleared, they were gone.

–––

Odin remained.

He stayed seated upon Izanagi’s still chest, his one eye watching the last sparks fade. Around him, the kami who had survived stirred weakly—Amaterasu among them, her body dim, her fire guttering, her once radiant light now barely a glow in the broken skies. Susanoo groaned somewhere in the rubble, Tsukuyomi’s silver cracked into pale shards.

Odin’s gaze fixed on Amaterasu.

When he spoke, it was not cruel, but heavy, sharp as a truth that could not be softened.

"Next time a Godking calls for aid," he said, voice like iron, "do not forsake them. Forget the ancients who sired us. Forget the Primordials who shaped our bones. They do not care for us. Not until the storm breaks against their own halls. You saw it now. You felt it."

Amaterasu’s glow flickered, her lips parting but no words leaving.

Odin leaned forward, his eye burning gold. "Learn from this. If you do not, your sun will gutter out forever."

He rose then, Gungnir in hand, his cloak flaring faint with runes. His body was battered, his soul heavy, but his stride steady as ever.

The Shinto heavens groaned under the ruin of their gods, the corpses of their creators sprawled across the land. Odin walked into the broken horizon, leaving the silence heavier than any thunder Zeus had brought.

Elsewhere

The storm cut across the void like a scar.

Its light cracked through nothingness until it touched a horizon painted gold.

The Realm of Ra.

Where the sun never set.

–––

Zeus stepped into it, his storm dim but steady, arcs whispering across his chest. His kin followed in silence, their bodies bruised, their weapons scarred, their breaths heavy but unbroken. Hades’s cloak of pale fire dragged against the sand, Poseidon’s trident still wet with Varuna’s blood. Athena walked straight-backed, spear gleaming, while Ares rested his sword on his shoulder, grin faint under the ash. Apollo and Artemis came together, one carrying dawn, the other moonlight, both dimmed but alive. Hermes flickered at the edges, sandals sparking. Nyx trailed last, stars dripping from her torn veil, Gaia beside her, the ground trembling under every step.

They appeared on sand that stretched endless, dunes rolling like a sea of fire, pyramids rising in the distance, rivers of molten light cutting through the horizon. Above, the sun glared—too close, too heavy, bleeding heat that crushed the air.

Waiting for them, lined against the golden horizon, were gods.

An army, their auras blinding, their bodies towering.

Ra stood at the center, his crown a blazing disc, his eyes two suns. His staff burned like the first dawn, light searing the ground beneath his feet. Beside him loomed Horus, wings folded tight but sharp as blades, his falcon gaze steady. Osiris stood rooted, his crook and flail humming with the weight of afterlives, the green of the Nile glowing faint around him. Isis hovered close, her palms radiant, her power weaving like silk through the air, steadying her kin.

Anubis stepped forward, black-jackal head gleaming, his scales in hand, his gaze cold as graves. Sekhmet roared, mane aflame, her claws dripping blood before the fight even began. Thoth raised his scroll, the ibis head bent low, his pen already scratching laws that bent the battlefield. Sobek rumbled, crocodile jaw grinning wide, spear dripping river water onto the sand. Bastet crouched, her body sleek, her smile sharper than knives.

Behind them, more: Hathor with her music spilling through the air, Set with his storm eyes and cruel smirk, Khonsu glowing pale with moonlight, Ptah steady with hammer and chisel, Geb crouched heavy as earth itself, Nut spread wide like the night sky.

And around them, the Primordials.

Shu was the first to move, god of air, shoulders broad, his breath steady as winds that held up the heavens. He opened his eyes, the sand stirring, the sun dimming for a moment. His gaze swept the storm that had arrived.

He sighed.

"They’ve fallen, then," he murmured, voice like the shifting desert. He felt it in his bones—Erebus, Ymir, Pangu, Izanagi, Izanami. Gone. Their echoes silent.

Tefnut appeared beside him, her lion face grim, her body dripping with the water of chaos, steam hissing where it struck the sand. Geb rose, his body a mountain, skin cracked stone, eyes glowing deep green. Nut unfurled above, her body the night itself, arms stretching across the sky, stars spilling from her skin.

The four stood together, the Egyptian Primordials, parents of gods, older than the pyramids, older than prayer. Shu lifted his head, his air sweeping wide, carrying his call.

"Ra."

The sun flared brighter in answer.

He was already watching. Already burning.

–––

Zeus’s storm flickered higher, sparks snapping across the desert. His kin shifted behind him, weapons raising, their eyes hard. They knew what waited.

The horizon bent as Ra stepped forward, his body a tower of flame, his gaze endless. His light scorched the sand into glass beneath his feet, his presence enough to make even Ares still his grin.

His voice rolled like the first dawn rising.

"It ends here, storm-born."

Shu spread his arms, air pressing heavier. Tefnut’s waters boiled, Geb’s chest shook the ground, Nut’s stars dimmed the sun itself. The gods around Ra braced, weapons glowing, eyes fixed.

The desert waited, heavy with silence, burning with heat.

Zeus exhaled, thunder whispering through his breath. His fists closed, sparks dripping to the sand.

The storm was ready.

And the war of Egypt was about to begin.

–––

Shu turned to the others, his face stern, voice tight with warning.

"The others have fallen. We are all that remains. Do not underestimate him. He is not just thunder anymore. He carries pieces of those he has slain. If he is not stopped here, the Nile itself will dry."

Geb growled deep, his body quaking like quakes beneath pyramids. "Then we bury him."

Tefnut hissed, steam spilling from her claws. "Or drown him."

Nut’s stars flared above, her voice a whisper across the sky. "And if he breaks us, the heavens themselves will fall."

Shu’s gaze stayed on Ra. "Then let us not fall."

Ra’s crown burned brighter, his hand lifting his staff. His eyes locked on Zeus, his flame rising until even Apollo’s glow dimmed beside him.

"Let us end this arrogant storm."