The underworld trembled like it was alive, stone ribs splitting as Ymir's frost spread unchecked and Pangu's axe carved through reality itself. Yet in the center of the ruin, two figures still stood. Night draped around one, death's fire around the other.
Nyx moved first. Her robe of stars ripped open above her, constellations spilling down like blades. They cut through the frost, each shard of light spearing into Ymir's chest, forcing the giant back a step. He roared, swinging blind with his massive arm, but she folded into shadow, reappearing behind him. Silver arcs carved across his spine, tearing frozen flesh into splinters.
Pangu's eyes narrowed. He shifted, his axe lifting high, and the air bent under the weight of it. Creation itself tried to reset around him. The swing came down, enough force to split a realm in half. But Hades stepped forward.
