In the eternal chamber of Divine Balance, twelve colossal thrones floated in a circle across an endless void—each carved from a different element of existence.
Fire. Light. Time. Shadow. Death. Chaos.Creation. Gravity. Thought. Judgment. Fate. Void.
These were the seats of the Prime Pantheon—twelve gods who ruled reality itself. They had never bowed. Never feared. Never united. Until now.
A figure stood in the center of the circle, bathed in light from above.
Lyra Solan, Prime Goddess of Light, arms folded, jaw set, wings dimmed.
"I fought him. And lost."
The gods whispered. Some sneered. Others frowned.
Vael'Tor, God of Chaos, laughed from his throne made of exploding stars.
"You lost? You, the Divine Executioner?"
Mal'Zor, Warden of Order, stood slowly, his voice layered with time itself.
"This Zayn… this 'Aetherborn'... he is not part of the Balance. Not mortal. Not divine. Not even system-born. He is a rupture in the Sequence."
Korelia, Goddess of Fate, eyes spinning with infinite timelines, narrowed her gaze.
"I cannot see his past. Or his future. He is the only variable I did not account for."
"Then erase him," snapped Thal'Kur, God of Flame. "We've erased worse anomalies."
Lyra shook her head.
"You can't. You didn't see him fight."
Silence.
She stepped forward, her voice softer now—less divine, more human.
"He's not just strong. He's free. He doesn't follow our laws because he was never bound by them. Every time he fights, he learns. Adapts. Evolves. He doesn't want to conquer… but if we strike him first, we will make him an enemy."
Zor-Mekh, the blind God of Judgment, tilted his head.
"Then you fear him?"
Lyra looked down for a moment, then back up.
"No. I admire him."
Gasps.
Mal'Zor's eyes darkened.
"Then you are compromised."
He raised his staff. With one motion, a portal formed behind her—a prison dimension built for rogue gods.
"You would defend the thing that threatens the Sequence?"
Before the gods could react, a ripple passed through the chamber.
The air cracked.
The thrones shook.
And then—
Zayn appeared.
Casually. Shirt torn. One hand behind his head. Smiling.
"Sup. Nice room. Bit cold."
Every god stood.
Weapons summoned. Armors ignited. Dimensions began to fold inward.
Zayn looked around and waved.
"You lot always meet in circles? Real culty."
Mal'Zor stepped forward.
"You have trespassed into sacred space, Aetherborn. Explain yourself."
Zayn grinned.
"Sure. I came here to ask one thing."
The gods paused.
"Where's the strongest one of you? I'm getting bored again."
The chamber cracked. Entire laws of reality twisted under the weight of that sentence.
Lyra smiled softly despite herself.
"He's not bluffing," she whispered. "None of us are safe anymore."
Mal'Zor's voice dropped low.
"Then we make the first move."
And so, for the first time in 10,000 years—all twelve gods of the Prime Pantheon raised their weapons…
...against one man.