From the dark, swirling portal overhead, three figures came crashing down—locked in a vicious, near-blinding clash. A two-on-one battle unfolded, each strike shaking the air with raw, divine force. Dust exploded around them as they landed, the ground cracking beneath their feet.
"It didn't have to end like this," the lone woman whispered coldly, her obsidian blade humming with death. Her face—beautiful yet void of mercy—belonged to none other than the Goddess of Death.
Across from her, the two gods bled freely, their forms battered and smoking. One of them—torn and defiant—raised his head and spat blood. "Beat it, you and your so-called balance. You know it's a lie... and it won't be long until *he* returns."
His words had barely left his lips before his head was severed in a single, cruel flash. The other didn't utter a sound—only smirked as death claimed him too.
Then the earth trembled. From their slain bodies, a violent surge of blue and green aura erupted, rippling outward like a wave of living fire. Alex, eyes wide, reacted purely on instinct. His body moved before thought could catch up—he shielded the others, taking the brunt of it.
The God of War didn't move. He stood frozen, not in awe—but in fear.
"The Goddess of Death... was this really necessary?" he whispered, drawing his blade for the first time in centuries.
Behind them, the beast began to thrash violently. The divine auras—one the essence of magic, and the other of beasts —merged with its already corrupted body. The transformation twisted further. Fur black as the void began to bristle, bones cracked and reset at unnatural angles, and its frame bulked into a nightmare—something primal, yet divine.
Alex collapsed, body spasming. Sera rushed to him, pouring her ki into his chest—but it vanished the moment it touched him, nullified by the divine contamination.
Ki, like chi, is the essence of life. It flows through every living thing, allowing mortals to enhance body, mind, and spirit. But when godly energy infects a mortal shell, that energy becomes a poison to all life energy, like oil drowning fire.
And Alex? He wasn't just infected—he was changing. The divine energy was tearing through him, remaking him in silence and agony. Bones restructured. Skin paled. His heart stopped, restarted, and then beat like thunder.
He was becoming something new. Something ancient. A vampire—born not of blood, but of godfire.
Screaming in silence, he writhed as his transformation neared its crescendo. Meanwhile, the God of War—sword now drawn—charged the beast in its evolving form. The clash was monstrous. Steel sang the earth shattered, and each blow sent shockwaves across the battlefield.
The beast grew with each passing second—its power spiralling. But the God of War fought with a skill honed over aeons. Still, he realized he couldn't win through brute strength alone.
He reached into his belt and drew two black daggers—enchanted weapons from another age. With precise aim, he hurled them toward the beast. They clanged off its arms—harmless.
Until they spun in midair.
The daggers returned like vultures, orbiting the beast, glowing with pulsing runes.
As the beast staggered, Ciara left Peter with Alex. Jack joined her, his eyes glowing faintly. His gift wasn't strength—it was foresight. Relying on pure instinct and predictive ability, he guided Ciara to where the beast would be moments before it moved.
Their bodies surged with ki, burning it for raw physical enhancement. Steam coiled off their skin as their muscles surged and hearts raced. Three warriors fought as one, landing punishing hits—forcing the beast back step by step.
But it was still evolving.
In agony, Alex opened his eyes. He could see it all—the beast's movement before it happened. Blow for blow, he was processing every detail faster than his body could move."No, it's stalling for something."
He turned to Peter, whispering, "Make me a puppet."
Peter hesitated. But he obeyed.
Using fine ki-threaded needles, he bound Alex's limbs like a marionette. Every movement was pain, every breath a curse—but Alex stood. And then—he moved. Peter somehow understood Alex's intentions, which made it easy for him to take advantage of him.
With Peter's control and Alex's vision, he surged toward the fight, his large sword dragging shadows behind him. Each step was fire. But he didn't stop.
The vampire had joined the battle.
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The battlefield trembled as steam rose from the earth like breath from the lungs of dying Titans. Jack's predictions and Ciara's strikes pinned the beast down long enough for their relentless attacks to gain ground. Ki surged like rivers in flood within them—powerful, volatile, shortening their lives with each pulse but amplifying their strength beyond human limits.
And then the change came.
The beast—bloated with divine and paragon energy—thrashed, cracked, and screamed in pain as bones twisted and snapped like dry twigs. Fur burst from its flesh, black as void and glistening like wet obsidian. Its eyes ignited—a wicked amber glow eclipsed only by the eclipse of stars. No longer a beast, it was becoming something ancient. Something wrong.
Alex, still being puppeteered through pain by Peter's ki-threaded strings, felt it.
"This… this isn't just evolution. It's desecration."
And then the werewolf lunged.
Its target: the God of War.
"CIARA! MOVE!" Alex's voice thundered as his body tore through the pain, freeing himself from the threads and hurtling forward.
The God of War met the beast's charge, blades clashing in a storm of steel and fury. Every strike shook the ground. Every parry cracked the air. He fought with a brute elegance, with rage born from eras of bloodshed and battle. But even he could feel it—the tides had turned.
And then—
The beast's claws carved a deep gash across his chest. The second strike tore through the divine's shoulder. He staggered.
Alex, screaming, closed the distance—but he was too late.
The beast's fangs sank into the God of War's torso, cleaving through flesh and bone like parchment.
With strength drawn from instinct, Alex caught the upper half of the dying god, blood spilling like dark wine across his hands. The God of War's face, etched with pride and pain, met Alex's.
"You've always… been more than you knew, I get rid of these problems when I come back," he whispered, and with a trembling hand, grabbed Alex by the nape, pulling him close.
And then in response Alex,—he bit the God of war
The blood met vampiric fire. It clashed in Alex's veins like stars colliding.
The God of War smiled, blood running down his chin. "Remember… the war never ended."
And then he was gone.
Ashes, fading into the wind.
The werewolf stood tall now—full, twisted perfection, howling into the sky. A sound that tore through bone and sanity alike.
Alex knelt, fangs dripping with the blood of a god, the pain in his chest no longer just transformation—but rage.
He rose slowly, eyes crimson-black, aura silent and still.
The war wasn't over.
It was just beginning.
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