Scene One: The Message of War
The air across the realms changed.
Olympus, Tartarus, even the world of men felt it — a tremor, not of destruction, but of command.
The gods gathered in their council, unease clawing at their immortality.
A rift split the air open beside them, gold and black fire spiraling outward. From it, a voice emerged—calm, deep, unshakable.
Megumi Valentine.
"To the gods of Olympus… and to Cronos, false King of Time:
I no longer chase your shadows.
I summon you.
Meet me atop Mount Oryx in three days' time.
I will sit upon the throne you abandoned.
And I will await your answer."
The rift closed with a thunderous crack that shattered glass across the pantheon.
Silence fell.
Then Cronos laughed—low, bitter, ancient. "He sends commands now?"
Zeus rose, his fists crackling. "Then we answer him with fire."
But Poseidon held up a hand. "No. We go. We meet him. And we see what fear looks like when it wears a crown."
Scene Two: Mount Oryx – The Throne of the First King
The peak of Mount Oryx was a place lost to time, a battleground where gods once knelt before kings older than Olympus.
Now it had been claimed again.
The sky was split, clouds torn apart by a spiral of divine magic.
Lightning arced in unnatural silence.
Megumi sat alone on the ancient black-stone throne, once carved for the King of Titans. His legs rested casually over one arm of the throne, the other draped with a shimmering black-and-gold cloak. In his right hand:
The scythe of Cronos.
Its blade shimmered with stolen time, looping futures and dead centuries screaming across its edge.
Behind him, the air shimmered with power. No army. No gods. No allies.
Just Megumi.
He waited.
And then they came.
Zeus, Poseidon, Athena, Cronos, and the remaining Olympians — each radiating divine power, cloaked in ego and paranoia.
They landed in a semicircle, cautious, uncertain.
And still, Megumi didn't rise.
"I see you got my invitation," he said, voice echoing like judgment through the summit.
Zeus stepped forward, sneering. "This throne is not yours."
Megumi finally stood, towering over them from the stone.
"No," he said, resting the scythe across his shoulder. "But the last one who sat here… isn't standing anymore."
A hush followed.
Then Megumi's tone shifted—serious, almost solemn.
"I didn't summon you here for war.
I summoned you to offer you a chance.
End this. Step down. Leave mankind be. Walk away before all that you rule turns to ash."
Athena narrowed her eyes. "You speak as if you have the authority."
"I have power," Megumi replied. "And I've earned every drop of it in blood."
Cronos stepped forward now, amused. "And if we say no?"
Megumi's golden eyes flared, the throne behind him cracking under the weight of his aura.
Then he said it—not as a threat, but a promise etched in prophecy.
"If you won't stand down… then kneel.
And if you won't do that—
Next time we meet, you will perish by my hand."
The wind screamed around them. The mountain trembled.
But no one moved.
Not yet.
Zeus's lightning sparked.
Cronos's scythe twitched in its original owner's direction.
But still… no one dared strike.
Megumi sat back down, exhaling.
"Three days. Decide."
Then he vanished—leaving nothing but silence, and a throne that now obeyed a new master.