If someone had seen Omnipotence City just an hour ago, they would've called it the most beautiful place in existence. The streets were made of shining stone that seemed to glow like stars. Massive monuments towered high, as if they could touch the sky. Statues of ancient gods stood tall and proud.
Fragrant flora not of any mortal soil, blossoms of gold and silver opening to the eternal sun; fountains spilling nectar into crystalline pools where minor gods bathed without care.
An hour ago, the city was calm. Peaceful.
Inside the grand hall, Zeus, round and smug, wasn't talking about war or wisdom. He was holding a meeting to plan the next big orgy, and schedule for the cuckoldry festival. The mood was light, full of laughter and arrogance. The gods were too used to feeling untouchable.
But that was an hour ago.
Now, Omnipotence City was burning.
Gods screamed as they fell from the skies. Their golden blood splattered across the white marble. The pools ran red. Smoke filled the air. Explosions and clashes echoed everywhere. War had crashed into their paradise, and paradise couldn't handle it.
In his hall, Zeus sat comfortably on his throne, wrapped in expensive robes like this wasn't his problem. He sipped wine, smirking as if everything was under control. His confidence came from someone who had never really been tested.
A messenger god ran in, panting, clothes ripped, eyes wide with fear. He dropped to one knee.
"Lord Zeus—Lord Hercules has returned… to Valhalla. It was… it was the green creature."
For a second, everything went quiet. Only the sound of wine dripping echoed in the hall.
Then Zeus laughed. A deep, mocking laugh that grew louder until it filled the room. His belly shook with amusement, like he'd just heard a good joke.
Even as the city burned, he didn't panic. His eyes sparkled with arrogance.
"Send Ares," he said, swirling his wine and taking a slow sip. "Let the god of war deal with it. And tell him…" His grin turned sharp. "Don't kill the beast too quickly. I want it alive."
The messenger nodded quickly and ran out.
Zeus leaned back in his throne, watching the city burn from afar. The screams of gods echoed through the air like some twisted song.
He still thought the city belonged to him.
He still thought he was in control.
He had no idea what was actually coming.
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Inside the Chitaurian Mothership, at the viewpoint, two figures stood side by side.
Erik, dressed in his sleek black Ebony Maw–style suit, hands clasped behind his back, watched the chaos below with calm satisfaction. Beside him, Hela stood in her black and green battle suit, arms folded, her eyes locked on the battlefield like a wolf watching sheep scatter.
"Hulk defeated Hercules within fifteen minutes," Erik said casually, as if announcing the weather. "You know the rules, Hela. Loser has to give up what they staked."
Hela didn't even glance at him. She crossed her arms tighter, chin tilted up. "I'm the Goddess of Death," she said coolly. "I don't partake in silly mortal things like bets."
Erik rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Haughty loser goddess's classic denial. Just honor the bet, or I'll be doing the same thing you're doing with my promise to take you to all the places I conquer after this."
Hela exhaled sharply through her nose, almost a scoff. "Fine," she said, clearly irritated. "I'll tell you everything I know about the Eternal Flame."
The blonde man in the black battle suit smiled with satisfaction and nodded before resuming to observe the battle.
Today was just not her day. First, she lost the bet. Now she had to give up secrets. Usually, she was the one who got under Erik's skin, not the other way around. Her eyes narrowed as she turned back to the burning city below. Maybe she could take her annoyance out on these so-called gods.
"When are you sending me in?" she asked, voice low, almost eager.
Erik tilted his head thoughtfully. "Hmm… well, I'm almost done watching the performance of my upgraded army. I could let you out for a walk."
Hela's lips curved into a cold smile, and she looked at him sideways. "Dear husband-to-be," she said softly, "stop talking to me like that."
There was so much coldness in her eyes and such emotionless sharpness in that smile that Erik immediately knew he had pushed the wrong button.
Choosing peace over death, he nodded quickly, clearing his throat. "Yes. I should stop that."
Erik cleared his throat with a sharp ahem, his gaze softening as he looked at Hela. "Go and raze their paradise, Hela," he said, his voice low but commanding.
Hela's lips curled into a wicked smile, her goth eyes smoldering with a dangerous beauty, those deep, shadowed pools glinting with barely restrained chaos.
Her full, perfect lips parted slightly, and the intensity in her expression was nothing short of breathtaking.
Hearing his words, she gave a slight bow of her head, her fingers running through her raven-black hair. With a flicker of power, her hair twisted and hardened into sharp, spiky horns that crowned her like a queen of destruction.
"As you command, my husband-to-be," she purred, her voice dripping with menace and devotion. "I'll bring ruin to those pathetic gods. I'll stain their crystal pools with their own blood. I'll hand you this whole realm by daybreak… my lord, my husband-to-be."
Her words carried a reverence that stoked Erik's dominant side, his heart pounding harder than he expected. The fire in her eyes, the eagerness to obey, the sheer reverence radiating from her—it was intoxicating. He watched, almost entranced, as she turned toward the exit ramps, her movements graceful but predatory, like a panther ready to strike.
Before she took another step, Erik's hand shot out, grabbing her arm. In one swift motion, he pulled her close, her body pressed against his, the heat of their proximity sparking something electric.
Hela's eyes widened briefly, a soft "Huh" escaping her lips as she tilted her head, a teasing smirk forming.
"Is this what your women call finally making a move on someone?" she asked, her voice laced with playful challenge.
Erik didn't answer right away. His eyes locked onto hers, searching those dark, mesmerizing depths.
For a moment, his thoughts raced—then he discarded them all. Leaning in, he captured her succulent lips in a searing kiss.
Hela's breath hitched, a low "Hmm~~" vibrating against his mouth as she melted into it, her hands sliding up to caress his cheeks. His fingers mirrored hers, brushing against her face, the heat of their touch igniting something primal.
It was her first kiss, and the sensation stirred something unfamiliar in her core—a strange, thrilling warmth she hadn't expected.
They lingered there, lips locked, for what felt like an eternity compressed into minutes. The realm of gods burned while the mortal kissed the goddess.
When they finally parted, Hela's lips chased his for a fleeting moment, as if reluctant to let go.
She caught herself, stepping back with a thoughtful expression, her index finger resting on her chin. "Huh," she mused, her voice soft but intrigued. "That was the second thing that's ever amazed and excited me, apart from war. Let's do it more from now on."
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