The moment they stepped back into the obsidian halls of Nyx's sanctuary, the shadows felt heavier. Orion was still processing what he had learned- Fates, Gods, monsters- he was part of some ancient cosmic balance he never asked to be in.
Nyx's voice cut through his thoughts.
"We need to start preparing," she said. Her tone was calm but laced with urgency. The gathering is soon. Days will pass faster now. Time bends differently when you're too close to divine thresholds."
Heracles leaned against one of the sleek black pillars, arms crossed. "We've got seven days- in God time, but who knows how long that will feel back on earth. Weeks? Months?" He looked over at Orion. "I tried warning you, remember?"
"I remember," Orion muttered.
"But I don't see why I should even be there," Orion said."I'm not a god. I'm not a monster. I can't do anything in a fight."
Before Hercules could respond, Nyx stepped forward, her eyes glowing faintly in the dim torchlight. "Your logic is flawed," she said coolly. "You're thinking like a soldier, not a piece on the board."
Orion blinked. "I'm not a-"
"You're a player, whether you like it or not," she said. "The worst thing we could do is leave you unwatched. Some gods and monsters won't attend the Gathering. The ones who don't show up... those are the ones we all worry about."
Heracles nodded grimly. "She's correct. You will be much safer if you're with us. You've already seen what Sekhmet's like"
"And that was just her," Nyx added. "There are worse out there. Creatures who don't answer to rules. Those who thrive in chaos. Besides, the Gathering isn't just about power- it's about presence. Every major force will be there. If things are about to change for humanity, you might as well see it happen with your own eyes."
Before Orion could reply, a loud crack echoed from outside.
The floor beneath them trembled
Nyx's expression hardened. "I think Wukong is here."
Orion barely had time to react before Heracles and Nyx were already moving, rushing towards the archway that led outside. Orion rushed behind them.
The moment they stepped outside, the temperature dropped, not from cold, but from the weight of presence- something powerful had arrived.
The two massive shade guards had taken formation, blocking the obsidian gates to the temple. Each was nearly ten feet tall, dropped in ethereal armour woven from purple mist and streaks of living shadow. They held halberds formed of cracking black energy, pulsing slightly, as if anticipating violence.
Across the threshold stood Wukong.
He looked casual, relaxed, almost bored. One hand behind his head, the other waving lazily like he'd just arrived for a party.
"Really?" he said with a tilted grin. "You guys still doing the spooky shadow guardian thing? It's been what, a thousand years? No updates?"
The shades didn't respond. One of them took a single step forward, lowering its weapon towards Wukong's chest.
That's when it happened.
The air changed.
Orion couldn't describe it, not fully. One second, Wukong was his usual unpredictable self. Next, the very idea of him seemed to shift. Like a mask had dropped, and something buried deep inside had awoken.
The world felt heavier. Denser.
The sky above dimmed slightly—not from clouds, but as if the sun itself was afraid to shine too brightly in his presence.
Orion felt his breath catch in his throat.
His legs refused to move.
His heart pounded so loudly that it was the only sound he could hear. Every instinct in his body screamed: don't move. Not from fear, but from reverence. From warning.
This wasn't the Wukong who joked and lounged on temple rooftops.
This was something older. Something that gods feared and legends tried to forget.
Wukong's eyes dimmed, golden irises darkening into a deep, stormy bronze. His smirk didn't change, but his body language did. He no longer looked like a trickster.
He looked like a problem waiting to happen.
The second shade lunged forward.
Wukong didn't flinch.
His left hand rose slowly like he had all the time in the world. He caught the spear mid-air - caught it- between two fingers.
The entire courtyard went silent.
He tilted his head, whispering something into his right palm. Orion leaned in, trying to hear, but the words dissolved into static. The air around Wukong's hand shimmered, and a dust-like powder began to swirl, grey, pale and dry as bone ash.
He pressed his hand against the shade's chest.
A low hum followed.
Then stillness.
Then- cracking.
The shade's body convulsed. Its edges shimmered violently. Mist peeled away as its armour began to stiffen and harden, turning from ghostly essence into matte, obsidian rock. Within seconds, it was no longer a living phantom but a petrified statue, frozen mid-swing, weapon locked in place forever.
The change was so complete, so immediate, that even the wind seemed afraid to blow past it.
The other shade didn't move. Even it seemed to understand what had just happened.
Orion's jaw was clenched tightly, hands shaking slightly.
What... is he?
The pressure lifted, suddenly all at once- like a massive weight had been lifted.
"Show off," Nyx growled, striding forward, her heels clicking against the black marble.
Wukong casually dusted off his hands, expression returning to that familiar mischief.
"He attacked me," he said innocently, spinning his staff with a shrug. "Self-defence. What was I meant to do? Besides-" He leaned in towards Nyx, lowering his voice." -I missed you."
She rolled her eyes.
"You look divine," he said while winking.
Nyx narrowed her eyes. "Don't start."
"O,h come on. Admit it. You missed me, too."
She smirked, leaned forward slightly, fingers trailing up his shoulder... then slapped him so hard his body went airborne.
Wukong sailed across the courtyard, crashing into a stone column.
"Yeah," he wheezed. "I deserved that."
Orion blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of what he'd just witnessed. The slap wasn't the confusing part. It was the sheer contrast. In an instant, Wukong had gone from a cosmic storm to... comic relief again.
What kind of creature can shift like that? Orion wondered. Is this someone I'm supposed to trust?
Then, the sky above them split once more—not from violence, but from electricity.
A bolt of pure, blinding-white lightning crashed down into the courtyard, carving a web of glowing cracks across the ground. When the light faded, Susanoo stood in the centre of it, his long black-and-blue coat fluttering, eyes cold as moonlight.
"Nice entrance," Wukong called from where he still lay slumped against the column.
Susanoo crossed his arms. "I try."
He glanced at the now-turned-to-stone shade, then at Wukong with an arched brow. "Already causing problems?"
"Always," Wukong replied with a grin.
"Some things never change."
The gods gathered their composure, and without another word, they all began walking back inside—each step echoing in the silence that followed.
Behind them, the obsidian statue of the shade loomed tall, unmoving, a silent reminder of the chaos Wukong carried in his shadow.