The heavens broke into war.
No speeches, no parley—only power unleashed. The sky ripped open as storms, suns, moons, and fire clashed all at once. The ground of the Shinto realm was nothing but splinters of stone and burning cloud, temples shattered into drifting rubble. Lightning laced every horizon, thunder shook rivers of starlight into ash, and divine fire poured like molten rain.
Zeus and Odin pressed at the front, their presence turning the battlefield into chaos itself. Gungnir carved arcs through the air, runes bursting from its edge like living fire. Every spin of Odin's spear split the sky into threads, unraveling charms and nets that the kami had cast to bind them. Beside him, Zeus moved as storm incarnate, fists burning with the primordial sky. His strikes turned valleys into craters, clouds into oceans of sparks. When he roared, it was not sound but thunder rolling through creation.
