The god without mercy
The girl had fled, the last echo of her footsteps swallowed by the darkened forest. Silence pressed in around Thal, broken only by the gentle hiss of falling rain. The world around him was ash and ruin. A village, once full of life, now lay broken—its walls shattered, its warmth erased. And he stood in the middle of it all, blood on his hands and weight in his heart.
He had saved them… and still failed them. He could feel the lingering magic from Elias pulsing far away now, with the girl—safe. But something deep within him was unsettled. A storm was coming. Not of clouds or rain… but of judgment.
The wind shifted. The air grew heavy with a crackling tension that raised the hairs on his arms.
Then came the light.
A bolt of searing lightning split the sky in two and slammed into the earth just paces ahead. In its wake stood a figure wrapped in divine fury—tall, golden-armored, crowned with a wreath of storm. His presence stole the warmth from the air.
Zeus.
The Olympian king's eyes glowed with cold disdain, thunder murmuring beneath each breath. His voice, when it came, sounded like a verdict.
"You… abomination. You dare walk this world as if you belong to it."
Thal stood his ground, heart pounding but hands steady. "I didn't ask to be born. But I was. I exist. And I will not bow."
Zeus scoffed. "Existence is not a right. It is a gift—one I will revoke."
Before Thal could respond, lightning flared again—blinding, brutal, pure wrath. It crashed into him like a tidal wave, flinging him across the scorched field and into shattered wood and stone. Pain roared through his ribs, but he rolled back to his feet, coughing blood, refusing to fall.
He summoned water from the shattered well, forming spears mid-air and launching them toward Zeus.
The god batted them aside like flies.
"You think you can match me with tricks?" Zeus raised his hand. Another bolt formed—twisting, wild, angry—and launched. Thal dove, dodging barely, the ground where he stood erupting in a geyser of fire and light.
Every strike Zeus delivered was monstrous in scale, divine in fury. He wasn't just fighting—he was punishing. Toying. Testing. His strikes came with taunts.
"You struggle well for a mistake."
Thal gritted his teeth, blood dripping down his brow. He hurled shards of hardened ice, chained with flowing water, striking again and again. He tried to wrap the god in a vortex of liquid force—but Zeus broke free every time, laughing as he did.
"You will never be more than what you were made to be—fragile, fractured, mortal."
Thal roared and surged forward, fists wrapped in spirals of water and frost. He struck Zeus with all he had. The blows landed—and for a moment, Zeus stopped laughing.
But then, he smiled again. The smirk of a god playing with his prey.
He caught Thal's next punch and drove his knee into the boy's gut, then slammed him to the ground with enough force to create a crater. "This is mercy, child. The mercy of being ended before you become a danger."
As Zeus lifted his hand again, lightning gathering for the final strike—
The skies split.
Water surged upward, forming a towering wall between Thal and the falling bolt. The lightning struck it—and fizzled. Steam rose like breath from the earth.
From the crashing wave stepped Poseidon, his trident pulsing with oceanic might, his face locked in grim fury.
Zeus didn't move. His voice was colder than the sea. "So, the coward shows himself."
Poseidon's gaze didn't waver. "That boy is my son."
Zeus scoffed. "You shame yourself defending a mistake."
Poseidon took a single step forward, and the rain intensified around him.
"What runs through him, brother, is my blood." His voice was thunderous, ancient. He raised his trident slowly, his eyes now locked with Zeus's.
"And I will not let you be like Father to my blood."
For the first time, Zeus's smirk slipped.
Thunder cracked the sky open again.
"You would challenge me? For him?" Zeus asked, venom in every syllable.
Poseidon's answer came with the rumble of crashing waves. "I challenge anyone who raises a hand to my son."
With that, the two gods collided. Lightning met tidal fury. Their power sent shockwaves that leveled what little remained of the village. The earth shook as titanic forces clashed—each strike breaking the air itself. The sky dimmed, the clouds split, and the sea rose in answer.
Thal, still on one knee, looked up at the chaos. The pain in his ribs was matched only by the fire in his chest. He hadn't won. He hadn't even come close. But he had stood his ground. And now… he knew he was not alone.
Poseidon had come