[Scene: The void stretches infinitely, fractured fragments of stars and broken worlds orbiting like shattered glass. Gods stand upon floating shards of light. The silence is deafening, broken only by the hum of divine power. At the center, John emerges—his form cloaked in illusions, his eyes reflecting amusement.]
God of Thunder (booming, voice echoing): Who… who are you? Speak! How did you breach the Eternal Domain?
John (smirking, voice calm yet razor sharp): Finally… you notice. A million years of blind arrogance and only now you see the cracks.
Goddess of Light (stepping forward, radiance burning brighter): A million years? Speak plainly! We are eternal—timeless! Your riddles mean nothing.
John (interrupting, laughter shaking the void): Eternal? Hah! Puppets on strings. Actors who never knew they danced to my tune.
God of War (snarling, fists igniting in fire): You dare mock us! You dare claim our triumphs, our victories, were yours?
John (tilting his head, illusions swirling): Claim? No. Reveal. Every war you fought, every enemy you crushed, every ally you trusted—my design. Your blades were mine before you swung them.
[A ripple surges through the void. Lesser gods—side deities—shift uneasily on their shards. The God of Harvest lowers his sickle; the Goddess of Winds trembles, her storms faltering.]
Goddess of Shadows (whispering, almost breaking): You… you've been manipulating us… for a million years? Like children… like toys?
John (smiling wider, stepping closer): Toys. Puppets. Call it what you will. Every doubt you felt, every fleeting hope—mine. You were never gods, only characters in a play I never stopped directing.
God of Time (eyes wide, voice cracking): No… no, that cannot be! I felt time itself bend to my will! I saw eternity unfold at my fingertips!
John (mockingly tender, leaning closer): And did you think the stage lights turned on by themselves? No, dear timekeeper. Even your eternity was… my illusion.
God of Thunder (clenching his hammer, defiant): LIES! You cannot control all of us! We are eternal! Beyond anyone's grasp!
John (laughing, shadows rippling): Beyond my grasp? Every strike you ever thought was free—already calculated, already countered. You are thunder only because I allow the storm.
Goddess of Light (trying to rally the others): Do not falter! If we unite, we can resist him!
John (raising his hand, bending reality itself—the shards twist, skies collapse inward): Unite? Even your unity was mine. Every fragile bond, every betrayal… a script you followed without question.
[The side gods erupt in chaos—The God of Beasts growls, half-shifting into monstrous forms; the Goddess of Dreams sobs, visions collapsing in her hands.]
God of War (roaring, flame consuming him): Enough! If you truly think us your pawns, then strike us down! We will carve our own destiny!
John (eyes gleaming, illusions writhing around him like serpents): Destiny? Even this defiance was written. You fight shadows, while I pluck the strings holding your limbs.
Goddess of Shadows (clutching her staff, voice breaking): Then… what are we… without freedom?
John (softly, mockingly sweet): Exactly what I made you. Children in a cage of stars. And oh, how fascinating you are when you struggle…
[The God of Oceans slams his trident into the void, waves crashing violently. But the water halts midair—twisted into frozen glass shards at John's gesture.]
God of Oceans (horrified): My tides… they do not move!
John (calm, almost bored): Because I grew tired of your storms. Did you truly think your sea raged of its own accord?
Goddess of Winds (screaming, storms spiraling into nothingness): My skies—my freedom—it's all… gone!
John (amused): Gone? No. They return when I wish them to. Your freedom was always… borrowed.
[The God of Time trembles, clutching at his hourglass, which shatters into dust.]
God of Time (desperate): Everything I guarded… the endless flow… was an illusion?
John (whispering coldly): Yes. A million years of false divinity, all for my entertainment. Every tear, every triumph… mine.
[The void itself bends at his words. Stars flicker out. Whole shards collapse. The gods stagger under the weight of realization.]
God of Thunder (voice shaking, yet defiant): No… no! You will not have the last word! We are gods! We will break your chains!
John (laughing, his voice reverberating across eternity): Chains? Oh, my poor thunderer. The chains are inside you. You cannot break what you cannot even see.
[Minor gods begin to fall apart—the Goddess of Dreams collapses, whispering to herself; the God of Beasts claws at his own chest, desperate to feel something real.]
Goddess of Shadows (softly, defeated): Then… we were never gods. Just… stories.
John (smiling, spreading his arms as the void bows to him): Yes. Stories I wrote. Puppets I moved. And the grandest jest? You believed you were free.
God of War (last defiance burning in his voice): Then strike us, if you must! But know this—your play will end. Even the puppeteer tires of his own stage!
John (chuckling, stepping back into the swirling illusions): Perhaps. But not today. Today, you dance. Today, you bleed. Today, you finally understand.
[Scene: The gods are left trembling, some broken, some furious, some lost in despair. John's laughter echoes endlessly as the void bends and warps around him. The battlefield—the universe itself—remains his stage.]