The Void was in absolute silence, so pure it seemed to swallow all thought, sound, and time. In this perfect emptiness, two figures faced each other: Ares, the God of Unleashed Force, and Wamy, the Black Angel without oath.
But this duel of gazes was about to be broken.
From everywhere, through invisible cracks, cosmic folds, and bends in divine laws, more than two thousand Gods appeared. Quaternaries with raw auras, Tertiaries with cold eyes, and Secondaries whose very names made constellations tremble. They gathered, filling the vastness of the Void until it took shape.
Ares smiled faintly. This was not a trap, but a sentence.
Wamy, squinting, looked at the divine crowd. A mischievous gleam crossed his face:
Wow... You brought so many Gods for me? Too much honor. You shouldn't have.
A mocking murmur ran among the Gods until a pale figure draped in lunar mists spoke:
If we are all here, it's because you are going to die. You should stop acting proud.
But Wamy replied calmly, almost sadly:
So I must understand... that you have decided to make Gods fight each other. You are breaking the Supreme Commandment.
Ares growled back:
You're just a shitty Black Angel who wants to play redeemer. Don't worry, we have the right to eliminate you.
Wamy sighed, fearless:
I thought you were wiser, Ares... I speak of the Goddess Mü Thanatos.
Ares then extended his hand. With a simple gesture, a cyclopean green energy bubble, radiant with Divine Law reflections, engulfed the entire Void. The limits of reality vanished. There was no outside. No escape.
You are trapped. No retreat, no excuses, no fate.
Wamy smiled.
Well, if it comes to this... then I will fight without restraint.
The silence shattered.
Wamy struck the Void's ground with his heel, and space tore like an overstretched canvas. A dense, infinite black breath burst from his back, taking the form of wings made of absence, oblivion, and erased memories.
The Gods launched their assault.
A thousand solar spheres, cosmic arrow showers, soul-erasing incantations-all fell upon him in a second, but Wamy raised a finger.
Time curled around him. He did not stop it, but emptied it of its content. The attacks crumbled to dust. The laws of causality were torn and sewn back in the wrong order.
Wamy appeared in the heart of the divine ranks, like a hole in the narration, and his hand struck the chest of a Secondary God of War. The god's heart was torn-not physically, but symbolically: the very idea of his courage was destroyed.
The god collapsed, inert, forgotten by all.
Others charged in a celestial cross formation: a God of Storms, a God of Forms, a God of Multiple Judgments.
Wamy cast a hollow look-and their functions were denied. Judgment lost its target. Wind lost its direction. Form lost its volume.
The gods fell, erased by the anticonept he bore.
Ares finally leapt forward. His axe of stars roared, each strike capable of shattering a dimension. He struck.
Wamy parried.
The clash created a gash in the Void itself. A scar in the absolute.
But Ares roared with rage, and with a second blow, he forged an inverted sun that exploded at point-blank range. Wamy, thrown back, rose silently. He bled black blood, heavy and refusing to flow.
Then the Gods changed tactics.
They invoked the Choir of Redemption, a forbidden technique sung by two hundred synchronized voices. A chant capable of reducing the enemy to a weak idea, making him doubt his own essence.
But Wamy, impassive, opened his mouth.
And sang a silence. A silence so pure, so perfect, that it silenced the choir. Doubt was turned back onto them. The Gods began to fear their own roles. Some wept, others fled or imploded under their own faith.
Wamy struck the ground. An inverted wave spread. Ares's force field crackled but held firm.
Ares returned, furious. He donned the Armor of the 7 Realms and raised his divine axe.
You are nothing but blasphemy. A virus in the celestial structure.
And you... an arrogant relic. Die in your empty glory.
They charged at each other. The Void cracked. Laws bent.
Then everything turned white.
In the vast hall of Mü Thanatos's castle, silence reigned. The Queen sat on her onyx throne, arms crossed, her gaze lost in the void. Her eyes seemed to pierce the veils of the present, searching for answers in a misty future. She appeared thoughtful, almost worried.
Her son, Validus, entered the room. He stopped a few steps from the throne and asked in a grave voice:
Mother... why do you sit so lost in your thoughts?
Mü Thanatos slowly straightened, her face expressionless.
Don't worry, it's nothing. I was just wondering... where Wamy has gone.
At that moment, a shadow slipped into the room. Mortuus, her daughter, appeared silently.
He said he had "something to settle." Then he left, she declared simply.
A heavy silence settled. Mü Thanatos closed her eyes. An image imposed itself on her: Niyus, in tears, kneeling, begging her to save Rivhiamë. She remembered the distress in his voice, the burning love in his eyes. A scene engraved in her memory.
She murmured softly, as if the word escaped her despite herself:
…Love…
Mortuus abruptly turned her head toward her.
Did you say something, Mother?
But Mü Thanatos had reopened her eyes, her face hard.
It's not important. Don't worry.
The two children bowed their heads.
As you say, Mother...
In the heavy silence of the Void, Wamy's body stood upright despite everything. The ground beneath his feet was cracked, soaked with residual divine energy. He gasped. Blood flowed from his mouth and a deep cut under his left eye. His arm trembled from the pain, but his smile remained fixed.
He's still standing... murmured one of the gods, incredulous.
He's holding his ground... and he has already eliminated several of us.
This Black Angel is no mere mortal...
Ares, unscathed, chest puffed out and eyes full of contempt, stepped forward.
You're truly pathetic, he spat coldly.
Wamy raised his head, his smile widening despite the blood.
Pathetic? You want to destroy an all-powerful goddess... simply because you can't classify her. If anyone here is pitiful, it's you.
No sooner had he finished than several gods charged at him. Wamy vanished, as if swallowed by shadows, only to reappear behind them.
I think it's time... to give it my all.
A black wave burst from his body, forming a vortex that shook the Void. A mass of dark aura enveloped him, then suddenly dispersed. He reappeared, transformed: immense black wings spread wide, and a crown of shadows floated above his head, woven from anti-light. His eyes shone with cruel intensity.
The battle began.
Wamy threw himself at the gods with prodigious speed. Each wingbeat sliced through space, each wave twisted matter. He chained gods together, dodging celestial spears, blocking divine flames with bare hands. His aura seemed to absorb attacks and turn their power against their senders.
A four-armed god launched a chain of lightning. Wamy teleported behind him, crushing his neck with a single blow. Another tried to attack from behind but was pulverized by a salvo of compressed darkness.
He dominated.
But every move cost him. His body bled more. His breathing grew wheezy. Then Ares stepped forward.
The ground cracked beneath his feet.
I'm going to give it my all too, you filthy bastard.
A blood-red halo enveloped Ares. His armor cracked to reveal his true form: a pure martial entity, muscles knotted with lightning and flames. He leapt.
The clash was titanic.
Ares's fist met Wamy's wing. The blow generated a shockwave that pulverized everything for miles. They fought at the speed of thought. Every strike from Ares was met with a precise counter from Wamy. Lightning tore the Void, spheres of annihilation swallowed each other.
Wamy retreated. Ares struck again, his brutal style against the demon angel's agility.
The Void vibrated with apocalyptic tension. Wamy, wings spread, sliced the air in an unreadable arc, propelled by pure shadow pulses. Ares charged with the rigor of a war titan, each step leaving craters of burnt energy.
The clash was a collision of absolutes: Ares's incandescent fist struck Wamy's palm. Silence fell. Then the Void briefly imploded around them.
Wamy pivoted backward, using the momentum to slash space with an arc of black aura. Ares raised his arm, took the hit, but stepped back half a meter-an achievement for anyone facing the Black Angel.
As the ground regained its solidity, another god leapt, screaming, a solar spear in hand. Wamy bent, dodged, planted a wing in the intruder's chest, and hurled him back in a flash of shattered darkness.
Ares took advantage. He followed up: celestial uppercut, Wamy blocked; knee strike, Wamy felt it in his ribs; straight right, Wamy spat blood but grabbed the arm, twisted it with a sick crack, then flung it against a pillar of divine energy.
But another god appeared behind him. This time, a wind deity, swift as the moment. She slashed his back with a cutting breath. Wamy screamed, turned, unleashed a void vortex that swept the traitor into oblivion.
Ares returned, eyes blazing, and struck. Strike, feint, elbow, knee, throw. Wamy resisted, his flesh fraying under the impacts. Their breaths were storms, their movements poems of destruction.
Then Ares stopped abruptly. Panting. A bloody smile on his lips.
Ares jumped back, smiling, blood dripping from his lips and nose.
You know what to do, he called to the other gods.
More deities leapt on Wamy. One attacked from above, another from the ground, a third hit from behind. Wamy parried, dodged, struck. But his gaze was fixed on Ares, who stayed at a distance, concentrating a familiar... forbidden energy.
Then Wamy felt a shiver.
He turned.
Too late.
A divine lightning bolt struck him.
Zeus's thunder, materialized by Ares, fell on him with cosmic brutality. A howl rang out. The ground collapsed. The sky of the Void tore.
Wamy was thrown against a cliff of raw energy, broken, almost unconscious.
Ares advanced slowly, blood running down his face. He smiled, victorious.
It's over... you filthy black angel.