I Am Zeus

Lightning was the first to strike.

Zeus drove both hands forward, and a sheet of white-blue fire leapt from his palms. It engulfed the Father’s chest and sent him tumbling backward, hissing, into the roaring light. Stone struck stone, and a choking haze of dust and smaller bits of rubble rolled outward. Before the sound could finish, Poseidon’s trident was driving through the chaos, a column of seawater forming into an even more massive spearhead. Hades, from the left, tore shadows and green fire into a single thick wave. Athena’s spear sliced down from above. Odin’s Gungnir pierced the whirling dust like a falling star. The Monkey King’s staff expanded impossibly, and then came down like a mountain. Chains spilled from Kratos’s arms as he charged headlong into the fray, his very thoughts on fire.

It was not nearly enough.

The Father stood amidst their attack, his broad back still smoking, one side of his chest cracked open to reveal tendrils of pale light. He regarded his condition with something like interest, a small part of him disappointed.

"Better," he said, and then he moved. Not quickly, not in any particular way that suggested he stopped being where they had him. His hand shot out and seized Athena’s spear by the shaft, halting it a hair’s length from his throat, and drove his palm into her chest. She gasped as he sent her flying backward, her shoulder colliding with a pillar in a shower of stone. With a grunt, Poseidon leapt forward, but the Father’s free hand caught his trident by the blade, and with a twist of his body, sent the sea god slamming into the opposite wall, his ribs cracking with wet noises.

Zeus alone stood his ground against the Father. Their eyes met across the room as their attacks flew past each other, lightning and raw power smashing the chamber into smaller and smaller pieces.

They pushed each other, the sound of their movements dull and flat, but for the three heartbeats it lasted, impossible power met impossible will. Zeus’s feet tore furrows into the stone floor, his teeth bared, every muscle tense with effort as he shoved against the Father. The latter leaned into the press, his face unreadable save for perhaps a touch of contempt.

"You always thought power was the answer," he said quietly, his voice rumbling like distant thunder. "Always your weakest habit, I’m afraid."

With a sudden lurch, he broke free, driving an elbow into Zeus’s ribs. The king of the gods choked, staggered, and then took a second blow to the face that sent him skidding backward across the floor in a spray of sparks and blood.

Hades and Persephone were upon him next, and the two of them combined their magic in a single vicious effort. Black roots and green fire wrapped around the Father’s legs, constricting, while both Hades and Persephone pressed into his torso, attempting to rip his soul from his body, as the Underworld lord had so often done to his own children. His form wavered, his eyes rolling back, revealing something ancient and feral beneath the surface. Then he exhaled, a great gust of wind that sent the roots withering and the flames snapping out. Hades went flying, coughing blood, his skin glowing faintly green and then white as the light underneath his skin failed. Persephone caught him, her magic flickering under the strain.

The Monkey King vanished in a flash of golden mist and reappeared above the Father’s head with a shout, his staff already falling. It came down across the Father’s shoulders, sending him sprawling onto his knees. Kratos’s chains were already around the Father’s wrists, the Blades of Chaos biting deep into his ribs as Odin’s spear drove into his thigh, holding him in place. Hermes darted around the group, his attacks light but fast, carving shallow gashes across the Father’s chest and arms with every pass. For a few seconds, they had his full attention.

The Father’s head lifted, his gaze sweeping over the attackers.

The pressure in the room was already too tight. Sun Wukong was sent skidding across the floor, his eyes wide as his staff struck something far stronger than flesh and bone. Kratos’s chains snapped one after another, and Odin was driven backward, his boots carving sparks into the stone. Hermes appeared for a fraction of a second before vanishing again, this time with the sound of a slap echoing through the chamber.

The Father stood, his body whole, though his eyes held a look of disappointment.

"You are the best this failed world could produce," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "You are still children playing with stolen toys."

Zeus pushed himself up onto his elbows, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. Weak lightning sizzled hungrily along his arms, and the others were already rising, though none of them looked particularly well. Athena wiped her mouth, her spear still in her hands, while Poseidon’s trident trembled. Hades was slumped over Persephone, the black veins under his skin glowing with green fire.

They attacked again. There was no particular finesse to it, no real attempt at working together, but it didn’t matter. The effort was there, the will to finish the job, and that in itself was enough. The Father took it all in, the chaos of conflicting powers hammering at him from all sides, each attack weaker than the last but none missing entirely. The room itself shook under the strain, the walls melting and the floor fracturing down to deeper layers of stone. The column of white light above the doorway flickered.

The Father took it all in silence.

When it was finally over, most of them were on their knees or worse. Zeus’s left arm dangled useless at his side, and Hades was struggling to draw breath. The Monkey King, blood streaking his chin, was grinning like he’d never seen a battle he liked. Kratos stood over a patch of broken floor, his breathing shallow, staring at the Father with something like awe.

The Father’s gaze was fixed on the doorway, the white pillar of light above it. Something had changed, something subtle but no less important for it. The light no longer simply climbed upward, but pulsed, once, twice, in slow, steady beats, as if whatever lay on the other side was also breathing. The pressure in the room grew noticeably stronger, and the gods present all felt it, the sheer weight of something that had nothing to do with any of them.

The Father’s face softened, almost sad.

"They have noticed," he said simply.

Something vast and immeasurable stirred on the other side of the barrier. The doorway groaned under the strain, and the first cracks of black light spread out along the edges, as if the other side was already pressing through.

Zeus forced himself to look up, his vision swimming. Lighting crackled angrily in his eyes as he fixed his stare on the Father.

The latter turned back to the group, his hands open as he gestured for them to come, to try again.

"Come," he said, his voice heavy with something like regret. "Show me everything you have."

Above them, the beam of light flared suddenly, brilliantly white.

And the first shapes began to press against the far end of the hallway.

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