From afar, Khonsu watched the immense power that was about to collide between Ares and Rodrigo. The wicked god had managed to escape at the very moment Areopagus exploded, and everyone had scattered to avoid the volcanic eruption. Amid the shock of the phenomenon, the gods had stopped paying attention to him.

  Even so, Khonsu was gravely wounded—without legs, missing an arm, and with barely any ichor left to sustain his life.

  “I swear I will avenge this humiliation,” Khonsu snarled, biting his lips until fresh blood flowed from them.

  At that moment, he sensed a presence behind him. Though his divine power was nearly depleted, he felt an instinctive certainty that this presence was merely concealing itself. It was immeasurable and terrifying—powerful enough to make the god’s hair stand on end. Its presence was so overwhelming that Khonsu was afraid to even turn around.

  “Khonsy, I am pleased to see that you are still alive,” said a man standing behind the trembling, cold-sweating god.

  “You are… the current Anunnaki of the Land of Manu?” Khonsu asked nervously.

  “Indeed,” the man replied.

  “And what brings you to this place?” Khonsu asked, still unable to turn and face him.

  “Is it not obvious? I have come for you—and for Sekhmety,” the man answered.

  “But Sekhmet is dead…” Khonsu replied, and gathering his courage, he turned to look at the man.

  He was very tall, with two small wings on his back, and his body was coiled by a golden serpent. His face could not be clearly seen, but Khonsu assumed the man was smiling. In his arms, he carried Sekhmet, unconscious.

  “I am capable of reviving the dead, Khonsy,” the mysterious man said. “Although it seems she has already seen that thing.”

  Khonsu was about to ask what he meant by “that thing,” but instantly regretted even thinking of it. An overwhelming urge forced him to press his head to the ground.

  Khonsu had never shown respect to anyone. As the adopted son of Amon, the former Anunnaki of the Land of Manu, arrogance had always surrounded him. Yet this man’s presence felt as though he were the god of gods.

  “I am unworthy of your presence, my lord,” Khonsu said nervously, keeping his face pressed to the ground.

  “Why do I feel compelled to kneel before this man? I do not understand!” he thought.

  The man smiled and extended his left hand toward Khonsu. The Egyptian god lifted his face, grasped the man’s arm, and stood. At that moment, Khonsu realized his limbs had returned.

  “Khonsy,” the man said, “I require your aid to create a magnificent new Land of Manu. Will you help me?”

  Khonsu began to weep with joy, though part of his mind could not believe what he was doing.

  “I will follow you even unto the lands of Duat,” he replied, filled with overwhelming happiness.

  At that moment, a dark portal opened behind the man. Turning halfway, he walked toward it while still carrying Sekhmet. Khonsu quickly followed.

  Both gods vanished as the portal closed and disappeared from the horizon.

  Nearby, Al-Qaum watched the scene, frozen in terror at what he had witnessed.

  “I must inform the others… but… but… I don’t think we’re going to survive,” he thought, trembling with fear.

  As the planet continued to shrink, magma erupted from the ground and new continents formed through seismic activity. Rodrigo, transformed into a tannin, landed a devastating blow on Ares.

  The god of war staggered back three steps, dropping both Epona and Tania from his grasp.

  Rodrigo moved his hands, and both goddesses floated gently through the air before landing softly on the ground.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  “What was that? Why did that punch hurt me?” Ares thought in alarm as he wiped his face.

  At that moment, Ares realized something he had failed to notice since the beginning of his transformation: his wounds were not healing, as if he had no ichor.

  “The girls’ attacks earlier made me bleed slightly, but I didn’t recover. The damage was so minor I couldn’t tell whether it healed or not. But now this boy has shattered part of my jaw—and my ichor isn’t restoring it. Did I fail to achieve a perfect assimilation?” Ares thought in terror as Rodrigo approached.

  Ares regained his composure and smiled at the young tannin.

  “I must admit, you caught me by surprise—but that will not happen again. You have no idea how important I will become if I bring your head to An—” the god of war said, just before being interrupted by a brutal punch to the stomach.

  Ares doubled over in pain, retreating step by step before a furious Rodrigo, whose serpent-like eyes burned with rage.

  “I never expected such power from a tannin. He’s as strong as the monster Typhon,” Ares thought as blood poured from his mouth and fear made his body tremble.

  Rodrigo charged and began pummeling Ares mercilessly. He then grabbed the god by the head and slammed him into a cluster of mountains. Ares’s helmet shattered in half, and blood poured from his forehead.

  Ares rose, panting, and with a murderous glare formed a gigantic red sphere between his hands and shouted, “I orgí tis Spártis (The wrath of Sparta)!”

  He hurled the attack at Rodrigo.

  The young man roared and summoned a vortex before him, obliterating Ares’s attack. The air phenomenon then transformed into razor-sharp wind blades that slashed Ares across his body, inflicting severe wounds.

  “This is impossible! I am the perfect god now!” Ares screamed in fury.

  At that moment, he studied Rodrigo carefully and understood why the young man had lost his ability to reason.

  “If that is what I need, then I too shall surrender my sanity to defeat you!” Ares shouted.

  The god plunged his hands into his own body at the same points where he had impaled himself with his weapons. His body immediately grew to twice its size.

  Ares’s form twisted into that of a colossal, bipedal, crimson boar. From his snout poured saliva, blood, and steam. His eyes lost their pupils and irises, turning completely carmine. His armor shattered, leaving only a bloodthirsty beast before Rodrigo.

  “I will abandon my sanity to crush you!” Ares roared and lunged at Rodrigo, who was struck and hurled away.

  Ares continued his assault, leaping after Rodrigo while he was still airborne and crashing into him like a meteor, slamming both into the planet’s surface and splitting Mars apart once more.

  The planet now resembled little more than a cluster of rocks surrounding an increasingly unstable core.

  Ares pinned Rodrigo against the dimensional wall and began pounding him relentlessly. But Rodrigo caught Ares’s claws with his bare hands.

  “You made a grave mistake, boy! I will crush your hands and turn you into my servant!” Ares laughed triumphantly as his claws—now grotesque metallic hooves—drew blood from Rodrigo’s fists.

  The laughter died when Rodrigo’s expression did not change.

  “Don’t tell me tannin are immune to the powers of Phobos and Deimos!” Ares screamed in terror.

  Rodrigo stared back with unwavering determination and, in one brutal motion, tore off Ares’s right arm. The god howled in agony as Rodrigo hurled the limb away and kicked him backward.

  Ares crashed onto a drifting fragment of the dying planet. His monstrous boar form faded, returning him to his post-assimilation state. His arm, as expected, did not regenerate.

  “This can’t be happening! I was going to return to Olympus! I was going to reclaim everything I lost!” Ares cried as he saw Rodrigo flying toward him for the finishing blow.

  But just before Rodrigo could strike, his eyes turned green once more. His transformation began to fade, along with his immense power. His rage subsided, replaced by dizziness and overwhelming exhaustion.

  Ares rose, laughing nervously.

  “Even without my arm, my power is still enough to kill you,” he said as he grabbed Rodrigo’s face and began crushing his skull.

  “You will now become my most loyal servant, boy. The fear of Phobos will consume you—”

  Before he could finish, a woman’s voice echoed behind him.

  “Release Ramiro.”

  Ares turned, stunned, to see Athena—fully restored. Her expression was tired and irritated, her gaze filled with fury.

  “How is this possible?! You should still be under Deimos’s spell!” Ares screamed in horror.

  “You lost your right arm. Haven’t you realized that your son Deimos died at that very moment?” Athena replied.

  “Nonsense! My son was already dead!” Ares shouted as he flung Rodrigo away. The young man landed on a floating fragment of the collapsing planet.

  “When a god becomes an idol, even though their ichor dies, their divine essence remains alive. Their dreams, hopes, and desires persist within those vessels. That is why assimilation is possible. You never truly assimilated, Ares—you forced a failed assimilation, because you were incompatible even with your own sons. That is why your wounds cannot heal!” Athena shouted.

  Ares laughed.

  “You speak as though you’ve already won, sister. Have you forgotten that I defeated you with this transformation before? Even without Deimos, Phobos still resides within me, and that is more than enough to defeat you.”

  Athena sighed.

  “I did not wish to use this against someone as pathetic as you. But I must admit—you exceeded my expectations in terms of brute power. Still, brother, you never had a chance of defeating me. That is why I devised no plan. It was as simple as playing chess against an infant.”

  “I want to hear you say that after I tear your head from your neck and present it to the great Anat,” Ares replied.

  Athena closed her eyes. When she opened them, they were no longer blue, but shining silver—nearly colorless—as she spoke calmly:

  “Athiná Glafkópis (Athena, she of the gray eyes).”

  Only seconds remained before Anpiel’s execution.

  Duat is the name of Hell in Egyptian mythology.

  Typhon was a legendary monster in the greek mythology.

  Next chapter tomorrow.