The walls of the cell pulsed faintly with divine runes, glowing with celestial restraint. Megumi's body lay slumped against the cold floor, his wrists raw and bloodied where the golden chains bit into his skin. Each breath was a war against the crushing silence, the divine bindings choking not just his power—but his very will.
But the silence wasn't empty.
It whispered.
Not in words, but in feeling. Memory.
Ava's voice cut through the cold like sunlight in winter.
"Come back to me…"
He winced. The image of her trembling hand on his cheek, the sorrow in her eyes as Lythic threatened to take her—just like Chloe. And then, the surge of fury, the trembling ground, the storm of light and darkness he couldn't control.
The Fallen King.
It hadn't just awakened.
It had remembered.
The gods feared that power. That's why they lured him through the portal. That's why they chained him in Olympus. He wasn't on trial. He was a threat.
He was a weapon they didn't understand.
One they wanted to bury.
A faint crack echoed through the chamber. Not from the walls. From the chains.
Megumi's eyes opened—no longer glowing, but alive with something older than hatred. Something older than fear.
Conviction.
The room vibrated. Faintly at first, like the hum of a caged storm. Then stronger. The divine seals etched into the marble floor flickered, like they too were afraid.
And then—he stood.
Chains groaned.
A gust of wind slammed against the cell walls, though there was no wind to summon. The torches on the walls extinguished all at once, plunging the chamber into darkness… until a dull glow radiated from Megumi's chest. A pulse of gold. Then black. Then both.
"You think chains can hold me?" His voice echoed, layered with something deeper. Something ancient.
Above the prison, on the peak of Olympus, alarms blared. Golden bells tolled, echoing across the realm.
Zeus stood from his throne, sensing it instantly. "The seal is breaking."
Hermes appeared in a flicker. "He's resisting the divine bindings."
"No one resists those," Athena said, her voice sharp. "Not unless—"
"Unless he's no longer mortal," Hera finished grimly.
Lightning split the skies.
In the cell, the first shackle cracked. Splintered light poured out of the break like divine blood.
Megumi screamed—not in pain, but in release. The kind of scream that echoed from the soul. The storm that had once nearly consumed him now surged willingly through his veins.
You are more than they believe.
You are wrath forged in loss.
You are the Fallen King.
The final rune shattered.
With a deafening blast, the golden chains exploded in all directions, embedding molten links into the stone walls. A shockwave surged upward, breaking through the upper floors of the prison, ripping a hole straight through Olympus.
The gods appeared instantly.
Zeus at the front, lightning pulsing in his hands. Hera beside him. Athena, Ares, Poseidon—every Olympian stood on the broken edge of the prison, looking down into the crater where Megumi hovered.
Not stood. Hovered.
Wreathed in black and gold light, his form cast shadows that bent unnaturally. One wing black as night unfurled behind him. The other, angelic and radiant, shimmered like divine flame.
His halo had returned—but cracked, fractured like a broken crown.
Zeus stepped forward. "You should not exist."
"Neither should your fear," Megumi replied, his voice calm but shaking the heavens.
The gods prepared to strike. Runes formed above their heads. Weapons drawn. Spells prepared.
But Megumi raised a hand.
The world paused.
Literally.
For a heartbeat, everything froze. The gods, the clouds, the wind—time bent under his will.
And then he moved.
In less than a blink, he stood before Zeus, their faces inches apart.
"You're afraid of me because you don't understand me."
Zeus raised his hand—but Megumi grabbed it mid-swing.
"You fear what I might become."
He tightened his grip.
"And you should."
With a blast of energy, Zeus was hurled backward into a marble pillar, shattering it on impact. The others moved in, but Megumi flared with power, releasing a roar that flattened the temple with its force.
Ares lunged, blade raised—only to be caught mid-strike, his weapon disintegrating in Megumi's grip.
Athena tried to ensnare him in a psychic net, but the threads caught fire before reaching him.
Poseidon summoned tidal force—but Megumi walked through it, untouched, as if the sea had never dared to move against him.
Then, silence again.
He stood in the center of the wreckage, wings flared, the gods broken or stunned around him.
He turned, looking toward the heavens.
A whisper escaped his lips.
"Ava…"
And then, without warning, he vanished in a flash of black and white light—gone from Olympus.
The gods remained behind, stunned.
Zeus sat in the rubble, breathing hard. "He's not mortal. He's not divine. He's…"
"…Something else," Athena finished.
"He's not just the Fallen King," Hera whispered.
"He's the end of the age of gods."
Far below Olympus, Megumi landed in the shadow of a ruined mountain. The stars overhead flickered—distant, cold, but watching.
His halo pulsed.
He was free.
But freedom came with cost.
And war was coming.