CHAPTER 119: CHAPTER 18

Athena and the gods watched as monsters overrun the mortal world, their expression grim.

"Those bastards..." Zeus growled, "Right when I decided to use the mortals, they actually attacked!?"

"They surely know that mortals can kill them," said Athena. "...but aren’t they worried that they will anger lord Hades?"

"Hmph! Forget about Hades, aren’t they worried that they will anger us!?" Said Poseidon.

Athena turned towards the other gods, "For now, we should—"

Before she could finish her sentence, a terrible shadow swept over Olympus.

At first, it was subtle—a dimming of the sky, as though clouds had passed over the sun.

But then the darkness thickened.

It pressed in from every direction, blotting out the golden light of the divine peak, swallowing marble pillars and radiant halls in a suffocating gloom.

Wind screamed through the columns. The very air changed—becoming heavy, tainted, choked with the scent of ash and brimstone.

Every god present froze.

From Athena’s place at the center of the hall where she stood, she felt the shift instantly.

Not a storm. Not a divine omen. But something far worse. Her fingers tightened as her expression turned for the worst.

A tremor rippled through the marble beneath their feet.

Then a second, stronger.

Statues cracked.

Gold-trimmed ceilings quivered.

Goblets trembled on tables.

"So here they come," Zeus muttered, eyes narrowing, lightning crackling across his fingers. "This time for sure, I will bury them to Tartarus."

And just then, before any command could be spoken—before even Hermes could run—they appeared.

Out of the shadows, the Giants emerged.

Not through the gates, not by storming up the mountain as many had dared to do so before.

No, they came through the darkness itself, as if the gloom were a curtain pulled aside by hatred.

The air tore like fabric, and massive figures stepped forward—colossal, twisted forms, each one different in shape, but united in presence.

They radiated raw, elemental chaos.

Porphyrion, their leader, stared at the gods with his cold, indifferent eyes.

"Gods, self-proclaimed ruler of the cosmos, we have come to end your reign."

Then, with a unified roar, they launched their assault.

Flaming boulders and jagged spikes of dark stone were hurled through the air.

They struck Olympus’ glowing spires and shattered them in thunderous blasts.

Great temples exploded in a spray of divine marble and fire.

The Hall of Seasons collapsed in a single blow.

The Temple of the Muses fell before a second breath could be drawn.

Lesser gods—gods of song, of morning dew, of wind and laughter—cried out in alarm as the first blasts struck.

They scrambled to flee, wings flaring or feet pounding on shattered stone.

But there was no escape.

From the shadows that enveloped Olympus, more Giants came—some half-beast, some formed of stone and magma, some so large they had to bend to fit among the palace ruins.

They struck like natural disasters, tearing lesser gods apart like dry leaves.

Divine spirits shattered under claws.

Nymphs screamed as the air was ripped from their lungs.

One by one, the gods fell—many without even understanding what had struck them.

Athena acted first.

Her voice was sharp and commanding. "Everyone! Get into formation! Do not let them surround us!"

But it was too late.

They were surrounded , their escape routes were gone.

Walls had crumbled.

Skies were darkened by the very presence of the enemy.

The divine bridges leading to the outer rings of Olympus collapsed as Giants ripped them from their moorings and hurled them like weapons.

The gods were trapped.

Athena turned, eyes blazing with fury and precision. "...no choice. Fight with your life on the line!"

She raised her spear and summoned her shield, Aegis, its ancient power pulsing.

Across the courtyard, a thunderous footstep echoed.

From the smoke and rubble, Enceladus emerged.

He was a giant carved from fury itself—twice the height of any Olympian, skin like scorched earth and lava veining his arms.

His eyes glowed like twin volcanoes, and with each step, the ground cracked.

He locked eyes with Athena.

"Ah, we meet again." he rumbled. "I couldn’t finish you off last time, but this time for sure, I will make sure to erase you."

Athena held firm. "That’s rich coming from someone whose head I blew up."

She stared at his empty hands, "Where’s your weapon?"

Enceladus smirked, baring jagged teeth.

"I don’t need a weapon to kill you," he said. "I want to crush your bones with my hands. Snap your spine like a twig. That’s how much I hate what you represent. Your entire existence is repulsive."

Athena leveled her spear. "For someone who resents our throne, your race seems a bit too eager to replace our rule."

The Giant snarled. "That is because we will be the one to rule the cosmos, as it should be!"

"Then how are you different from us?"

"Enough!" Encaledus roared as he rushed towards Athena.

The goddess of wisdom raised her spear and charged forward as well.

Within a blink, they clashed.

Enceladus charged with terrifying speed, the earth shaking beneath his steps.

Athena sidestepped, pivoting on her heel with a dancer’s precision, her spear flashing in a blur.

She struck at his side, aiming for a gap in his shifting armor of molten stone.

The tip bit in—but only shallowly.

Enceladus turned with a snarl and backhanded her with a blow that cracked the ground as it missed, only grazing the edge of her shield.

Still, the force flung her off her feet and sent her crashing through a column.

She rolled and landed on one knee, shield up.

The moment she stood, he was on her again.

Fists like falling mountains slammed down where she’d been a second before.

Athena weaved and ducked, barely avoiding the crushing force of his bare-handed strikes.

Each blow left craters in Olympus’ once-pristine stone.

She slashed with her spear, stabbing into his shoulder, then his thigh, then his side—but each time, the wounds barely slowed him.

He laughed.

A deep, hideous sound.

"You don’t get it, Athena," he growled, grabbing a piece of broken statue and hurling it like a cannonball. "This? This won’t even tickle us!"

Athena batted the projectile away with her shield, gritting her teeth.

She ducked beneath his next strike and plunged her spear into his abdomen.

This time, the strike went deeper, angled just beneath the ribs.

Enceladus roared—but instead of retreating, he reached out and grabbed the shaft of her weapon, yanking her forward like a rag doll.

With a vicious roar, he smashed her into the ground with one hand, raising his foot to crush her completely.

Athena barely rolled aside.

His heel shattered the stone where her head had just been.

She gasped, then rolled to her feet again, her arm bleeding, her shield dented.

"Weak. So weak! Is this the limit of an Olympian?!" Enceladus sneered.

She breathed hard. "Not in the slightest."

Again, they clashed.

Their battle spilled across the ruins of Olympus—through what remained of the courtyards, through broken temples and shattered halls.

Athena’s blows were precise, surgical.

She struck at joints, at eyes, at the base of the skull. She fought like a tactician, like a veteran of ten thousand wars.

But it was not enough.

For every blow she landed, Enceladus returned three.

For every dodge, every block, her strength waned just a little more.

Her muscles burned. Her arms grew heavy. Her divine ichor stained her silver armor.

He did not slow down. His strength was unnatural, endless—drawn from the very earth, from Gaia’s hatred.

Still she stood.

Still she fought.

And with every movement, every drop of blood, she adapted. She began to predict him.

His wild swings.

His patterns.

She baited him into overextending. To dodge narrowly. To attack places that will leave him wide open.

Their fight became a blur of rage and discipline, chaos and precision.

Then, with a cry, Athena drove her spear directly into his eye.

Enceladus howled, staggering back—half-blind now, ichor and fire spraying from his ruined socket.

Athena, wounded, coughing, limped back and raised her shield.

"See? No matter how powerful you are, you have no skills to back that up," she muttered.

The Giant ripped the spear from his eye, snarling. A second later, the injury healed quickly.

He grinned.

Athena sighed. She forgot about their anti-divine properties.

’We really can’t win this if they just keep on regenerating like this.’

"Come on goddess of wisdom, show me more!"

Encaledus laughed, his voice echoing throughout Olympus.

Athena raised her shield.

Their battle has just began.