Vincent van Gogh, a mere dutch painter.
In all honesty, he does not consider himself a man worth anything.
He used to feel he would rather rot in a corner than try again. He used to feel like he would not account for anything, that he is worthless.
Yet, here he is.
Here he is, going toe to toe with a god. Here he is, fighting for humanity in the final struggle of humankind. Here he is, standing, wielding power he has never imagined was possible to attain, and yet here he is.
Here he stands before the odds presented to him.
Here he is.
A hope for a better future.
"Bring forth life! Miss Reginleif!" Vincent shouts, his paintbrush pointed forward, pointed at what remains of Set's upper body. "Let this turmoil of ours lay to rest!"
Vincent wishes to give Set a peaceful death, but the sudden twitch of the god's body was enough to trigger Vincent's reaction.
Lightning crackles and sizzles.
The sound of thunder rumbles across the entire Valhalla.
"Vincent does not waste a moment!" Heimdall announces from above. "He has painted Jupiter's God Bolt, and it is aiming to finish Set once and for all! Will this be enough-"
Heimdall's voice was drowned by something guttaral.
"RAAAAAAAAAH!"
The scream and roar of Set, not remotely close to anything humane, shook the space around everyone who heard it.
"Soar!" Vincent roars with Reginleif's entire arm now missing.
The lightning bolt broke through space, leaving a dark streak of emptiness that is soon filled in by reality once more.
The thunderous sound partnered with Set's guttural scream was unbearable even for the deities, rupturing the ears of many.
This includes Vincent whose ears bled.
The God Bolt reaches Set's proximity but it was all in vain.
"HOW DARE YOU!"
Set's roar, accompanied by a tidal wave of Chaos, momentarily stops the God Bolt in its path.
Soon, Chaos manifests more and more around Set, engulfing what is left of his figure.
The Chaos grew bigger and bigger and the God Bolt struggled to push forward.
Knowing that it is useless for now, Vincent recalls it to his side with a flick of his wrist.
Set's Chaos takes a form as its size grows exponentially, his scream of anguish and wrath continuing its tremors.
The dark purple color of Chaos soon shifts into dark red as an upper body of a human with four arms manifests.
The upper arms hold a flail while the lower set is free.
Vincent grimaces as the Chaos forms a head with a curved snout, an animal that he is not familiar with, donning long pointed ears which are seemingly pierced by earrings.
"DIE! MONGREL!"
Set bellows, bringing down the chaotic flail with speed unfitting of his current size.
"I guess, we must pull this off. What is left of you is not enough for him, right?" Vincent asks Reginleif, having painted his eardrums back.
Before the valkyrie can answer, Vincent grabs the God Bolt before letting it carry him to a safer distance.
He watches as the ground twist, distort, and turn into blackness that is soon filled in once more after the flail struck.
"Not enough for Set, but enough for our second option," Reginleif answers with a solemn expression.
"Then this will be our last effort!" Vincent smiles sadly, but his tone remains passionate.
"I guess it is," Reginleif giggles at the man's tone.
...
"London," Vincent sighs, slumping on a wooden bench, a bouquet of flowers falling to the pavement. "What a cruel place you are to me," he whispers as he picks up the flowers.
'Pft! Like you stood a chance!'
'You'll die alone! You'll never find love!'
'All those efforts? What a waste?'
'Waste! Like you!'
Vincent growls at the voices inside his head.
"Do you see satisfaction when kicking a man when he is down?" He asks, his eyes darting around to see if anyone would hear him.
'A man? You barely qualify as such!'
'A man is someone capable of things that no one could ever imagine!'
'Are you?! Are you?! No!'
'Not only are you dying alone, you've wasted the time of many!'
'How many more people will suffer just to help you?'
"I do not cause trouble," Vincent scoffs. "I am independent, may I remind you all," he pauses, looking at the flowers. "I've tried my best to survive here in London. I'm making it-"
'No! You're not!'
'Behold! A circus clown!'
'What a freak!'
'People would look at you, talking to yourself amd they'll know you're not normal!'
'Mentally ill!'
'Insane!'
"I believe God would be my judge for that," Vincent scoffs before standing. "I have no time for any of you. I will return to England in a month's time. Things will be better there-"
'You sure there, freak?'
'Awfully confident, are we now?'
'We just love to see your hopes crushed into fine powder!'
'Reduced to nothing!'
"Shut up!" Vincent snaps for a second before gasping.
The man looks around and barely sees people looking at him. The dutchman quickly lowers his head before walking away.
"Great, now people here will think I am insane," he whispers to himself.
'Oh, but you are!'
'Explain us!'
'Face it! You're a freak!'
'You'll die alone!'
"How will I be alone when you are here?" Vincent growls.
'Makes it more painful!'
'We will be the last thing you'll hear!'
"I'm not insane," Vincent mumbles to himself, repeating the words over and over again. "I am not. I am normal, a sane person. God will free me from this torment."
'Ever tried killing yourself?'
'Oh! That might work!'
"Shut up," Vincent snarls before running towards the inn he is staying in. "I've had enough insikts for the day. Both from all of you and the people here in London."
'Oh, it will never end!'
'You think England will save you?'
'Hah! Fool! Clown!'
"Shut up!"
Vincent snarls, the people of the inn looking at him with strange gazes.
"I-I.... apologies," Vincent dips his head before walking to his room with a saddened expression.
...
Vincent walks down the streets of England, his expression, solemn.
The gray clouds above him did not help, and the trickling droplets from the sky assures him that his day would not get any better.
"No job, incomplete studies, what am I doing with my life? Why am I... not feeling any satisfaction?" Vincent asks himself, his eyes staring at his hands.
What he sees is are two twisted brown colors, mixing with some gray for the cement and some green for the grass to his right.
"Can't even see properly," Vincent sighs.
'Have you ever tried... giving up?'
'It is worth the try!'
'Probably the most worth you'll ever get in your entire pitiful life!'
Hearing the voices again, Vincent sighs, closing his eyes as they started watering.
'Aww! The quote on quote man is crying?'
'Super manly!'
"Shut up," Vincent scoffs, wiping the tears that started forming. "It's the rain," he says as an excuse, steeling himself and stopping the sobs within his chest.
'Sure! Liar!'
'Pft! You'll have no money at this rate!'
'You will starve! You will be homeless!'
'And who else will you bother?'
'Who will you beg to help you?'
'Who?'
'Who?'
'Who?!'
"I don't know!" Vincent shouts.
Suddenly, the sound of barking dogs filled Vincent's ears. The man looks around and sees some distorted figures on the other side of the road.
Without saying anything, Vincent started walking away in a quicker pace. The sound of barking becoming less audible as their distance grew.
"You listen here! I am in control! Not any of you! Only me! This is my body, my life, my control!" Vincent growls as the pouring rain started growing heavier.
'Sure! Fool yourself once more!'
'Believe in lies!'
'You know you will fail again!'
'What is next?'
'Will you get someone killed?'
'Ohhh! What if you get Theo killed-'
"Don't bring him into this!" Vincent shouts, the rain drowning the sound. "Whatever you do, I won't break! Whatever you try will fail! That is final!"
With that, Vincent tried his best to drown the voices, finding solace under the heavy rain.
...
'You are nothing!'
'Pitiful efforts!'
'Why not try just killing yourself?'
'Pft, you will never succeed!'
'Leave! They are worthless! Worthless like you!'
'Even dirt would amount more than you will ever be!'
Vincent sits in front of small hut. It has been quite some time working as a preacher for the coalmine.
He has seen the people suffer. He has seen good men, women, and children suffer from poverty.
Yet, they smiled in front of him.
The thought of their smiles through the harshness of the world brings tranquility within him.
Enough to keep the insanity at bay.
'We know you can hear us!'
'Don't pretend!'
'You will soon die! Miserably!'
'Don't smile like you see them!'
'Maybe we should haunt your family next!'
"You are most certainly not doing that," Vincent sighs, his eyes watching as childrem chase one another through the gravel.
They smile brighter than any days Vincent has ever seen.
His vision, its twisted, spiralling, but he is certain that their smiles are there.
He never forgets a smile through his distorted sense of sight.
'Such terrible little things.'
'You should burn them! Free them from the vile nature of this world!'
"Even in the most hopeless situations, even if the world is nothing but a vile place, there will always be beauty within it. Beauty will persevere and will outlast the pain and sufferings," Vincent smiled, leaning on the post of his hut. "Who am I to remove those who make the world more beautiful? I always see the beauty through pain, and I'm not changing just because of some voices inside my head. Not now."
'Soon, you will!'
'You will die! You will die with the same hope gone!'
'We can't wait to see it happen!'
'Oh! The fun! The entertainment!'
At this, Vincent chuckles.
"We shall see."
...
Vincent held his paintbrush, but his hand just shook. It hovered above the canvas but a painting never formed.
"It's fascinating how Anton makes this look easy," he sighs, leaning back on his chair and placing his palette and brush on a nearby table. "Is it because I can't see properly? My distorted vision? No, I've adpated to this cursed illness."
'You have no hope!'
'Why try? You are already aware that this is a lost cause.'
'You are not made for this.'
'Only those with talents are qualified to be artists!'
'You lack the talent! You lack everything!'
'Unlike Anton, you possess no great skill!'
'If it not for Anton, you wouldn't even be here!'
'Without Anton, you're worth nothing!'
"Oh? Last time I checked, I was very much self-taught," Vincent chuckles, leaning back on his chair.
"Self-taught. Fitting for someone subpar."
Vincent flinches, whipping his head to the right as he caught something moving in the corner of the room, just outside of his peripheral vision.
"Oh? What's wrong? Startled?"
"Who's there?!" Vincent shouts, standing up and eyeing every nook and corner of the room. "Show yourselves!"
"What do you mean? Show ourselves? Have you tried looking in the mirror?"
Hearing this, Vincent stumbles to find a hanging mirror. The man is panicking, his breaths are quicker, shorter than what is considered normal.
The sound of his own heartbeat bangs within his skull.
His ears rang with what felt like the intensity enough to shatter glass.
With his distorted vision, he stumbles forward and lands on the floor with a thud.
"Come on, Vincent! Don't you want to see us?!"
The dutchman's breathing pattern became eratic as the voices became louder.
"Do it!"
"Stand up!"
"The mirror is there!"
"Awww! Our little painter is having an episode!"
"Ain't that cute?!"
"Hah! What if you die with a heart attack?!"
"Ohh! The joy!"
Vincent stands up, running to a drawer before leaning forward and facing the mirror.
It was only him.
It is what he hoped for.
Yet, he was wrong.
"Curses!" Vincent screams in terror, his throat producing a guttaral scream as he whips his body around to face the dozens of distorted figures behind him.
They were not there.
He did not dare look at the mirror again as he slumped down to the wooden floor.
"They're not real," he repeats over and over again. "They can't hurt you. They are inside your head. They are only voices! They are not real! No! No! They are not!"
The man's chest rose up and dropped down in quick succession, hyperventilating as he held his head with both hands. The grip he has on his hair pulled them apart as he started hearing footsteps in the same room.
"They are not real! J-just stay in my head! Stay in it like you always all do!" Vincent closes his eyes, the sound of laughter coming to life. "Help! Someone!"
The man hears his things getting thrown around, the sound of his canvas hitting the floor, the shattering of glass, the sound of metal dragging across the wooden planks.
All sounds flooded him, and yet the voices were louder.
"Look, Vincent!"
"Don't you want to see us?!"
"It's been so long!"
"Your friends are waiting!"
"Open your eyes!"
"Open them!"
"Open them or we'll gouge them out for good!"
"Do it!"
The voices felt real.
Vincent wished they had not.
Then, he felt two hands grab his shoulders, shaking him.
"Vincent! Snap out of it! Cousin!" The voice of his cousin, Anton, rang louder than any of the voices. "What is happening to you?! I heard screaming!"
"Are there anyone here except the two of us?!" Vincent asks, his eyes remaining closed. "Please tell me there are no one here other than us!"
"Vincent! Open your eyes, please! We're alone here! Calm down!" Anton shouts, caressing Vincent's back in an attempt to calm him down.
Vincent's breathing pattern started returning to normal after a few seconds of calming himself.
"There, there, it's okay, Vincent," Anton's soothing voice helps the man. "You're fine."
"Okay... okay..." Vincent says, out of breath from the whole experience. "Thank you, Anton," he says, opening his eyes.
"You're welcome, Vincent!"
It was not Anton.
No, it was Anton.
Anton's eyeless figure smiled widely, his cheeks slashed and his jaw hanging loose, his tongue flicking wildly as it licked Vincent's face.
Vincent lets out a scream for another time as the voices started hammering into him once more.
After two hours, Anton returned to check on Vincent, only to find Vincent in a room with a shattered mirror. Vincent, laying down on the floor, his heart weak, his eyes red from crying and the room wreaking the scent of urine.
...
The fight is raging and Set just transformed into a massive upper body of Chaos.
Safe to say, humanity is at the edge of their seats.
"Come on, you've got this, Vincent!" A man anxiously cheers for humanity's fighter, his feet tapping on the stone floor, his nails bitten and shortened. "Don't lose hope!"
Beside him, a man in old royal clothing sits with a frown, a spear in hand.
Then, the royalty looks at the man.
"May I ask, who is humanity's champion?" The royalty asks the anxious man beside him. "You're clothes, they are similar to his'. Perhaps you know of him?"
The anxious man looks at the royalty with a sad smile.
"That man right there?" He points at Vincent's zooming form. "That man is Vincent van Gogh. He is a painter and he is the best painter I have ever known in my entire life and existence."
Hearing this, the royalty frowns.
"If he is not a warrior, why is he fighting?"
"Don't say that he is not a warrior," the anxious man growls, fists clenched and eyes glaring at the royalty who grips his spear tighter. "That man is the bravest, the strongest man I have known! Yes, he doesn't know any sort of martial arts, but him being unable to fight? Not being a warrior? You have no idea what he went through!" The man now stands up, shouting at the one beside him.
The royalty releases his grip from his spear before closing his eyes, taking a deep breath before regarding the offended man with a much calmer expression.
"Pardon my poor choice of words. I asked about his origins but I immediately followed with a rather disrespectful one," he sighs before looking at the fight below them. "May I still know what his upbringing is though?"
Hearing this, the shouting man sits down, exhaling the breath he held in anticipation of an attack.
"Well, for starters, he suffered from a mental illness," the man says, the words leaving a bitter taste in his tongue. "His illness? It caused him to slowly lose his mind. He would hear voices, he would see what the normal eyes cannot. He was marked as an insane person, someone who is not in the right state of mind."
The man pauses, looking at the royalty before continuing.
"That sent him into a downward spiral. He became depressed, extremely saddened and almost unable to hold on. Guess what? He held on for as long as he could, before the voices got the better of him."
"What... what did he do? What did this Vincent fellow do?" The royalty asks, his eyes staring at the painter.
"He shot himself through the chest."
The royalty is now confused at the words used.
"Shot? What is a shot?"
"A weapon was used to penetrate his chest using explosives and projectiles," the man grips his pants. "I was called when he arrived at the place he is staying in. I... We tried our best to get him to recover but it was not enough. Two days later, he died."
Catching on, the royalty glances at the man beside him.
"I see," he nods before sighing. "I've been in a similar situation before. This... depression you mentioned. I believe I've felt it before I inevitably die."
"I was a king, the first king of our land, and I had this student. He was nothing but a shepherd, taking care of animals, but he slew the giant of Philistines, married my daughter, and became well known."
"I was saddened and fearful that he might dethrone me. I tried killing him, but I was unsuccessful. Did he ever seek out revenge? He did not. He showed me that he can kill me anytime, but did not. He spared me over and over again."
Then, the royalty closes his eyes, his mouth forming a thin line as he exhales.
"Then, hopelessness filled me when the Philistines and my people fought in Mount Gilboa. I took my own life to avoid capture and torture. I didn't dare fight back. I felt despair. I felt like..."
Then, the man beside him finishes his sentence.
"You felt like you're nothing?" The man asks with a solemn expression.
Hearing this, the royalty exhales deeply before nodding.
"Yes, I felt like I amount to nothing."
"I know the feeling. I felt it as well when Vincent died," the man smiles sadly.
The royalty then looks at the man.
"You tell me that you were there. May I ask you to share who this man is to you?"
"Oh, of course," the man watches as Vincent attempts to pierce the giant in front with the God Bolt. "I am Theo van Gogh, Vincent van Gogh's younger brother."
Hearing this, the royalty stands up and offers his hand to Theo.
"A pleasure to be in the presence of the brethren of humanity's hope."
"Likewise," Theo smiles, shaking the royalty's hand. "Now, that you know who I am. The outburst earlier might make a lot more sense now."
"It does," the royalty nods.
"Now, may I know who you might be?" Theo asks.
"You'll know," the royalty smiles before gripping his spear.
Then, he slams its blunt end onto the stone floor.
"My army! Stand in attention!"
Theo, out of pure shock, fell out of his seat when a large chunk of people from the back rose from their seats. All of them are holding spears, bows, or swords.
"The man fighting has suffered so much and yet he still chose to fight for us!" The royalty shouts. "Unlike us, he is fighting! Unlike us! Unlike me! Unlike me who never found his will to push forward! Are we letting him lose hope by not hearing those who he is fighting for cheer?!"
""No, my king!""
The royalty grits his teeth before slamming his spear to the ground, his eyes burning with resolve for the very first time in a long while.
"ISRAELITES! ROAR!"
The royalty points at Vincent's fighting figure using his spear.
"OUR CHEER IS OUR ONLY CONTRIBUTION! ROAR, MY ARMY! ROAR UNTIL YOUR VOICE IS NO MORE!"
""YES! KING SAUL!""
At that, King Saul and his Israelites began chanting, reviving humanity's fervor.
Seeing this, Theo gave a goofy grin as he stood up. He grips the railing in front of him and leans forward.
Then, he shouts his support at the top of his lungs.
"YOU CAN DO THIS, VINCENT! YOUR YOUNGER BROTHER BELIEVES! WE ALL DO!"
...
"You can do this!" Vincent growls, gripping the corners of his wooden table. "You shall not break!" He shouts at himself.
"Really? Keep lying to yourself!"
"This is exactly why you failed with Paul! You brought him down!"
"I did not!" Vincent snarls, slamming his fist onto the wooden table. "Paul, we argued because of our beliefs! Besides, he wanted to lead the group WE created! I've just about had it with being held down! It's OUR effort! Not only his'!"
"Do you really think your efforts amount to something?!"
"Fool! Paul was the one carrying all the weight!"
"Like it isn't bad enough to be stuck with you in this Yellow House!"
"He is suffering because of you!"
"Shut up!" Vincent shouts, slamming both fists onto the table. "I have given my all to support what we have created! My time! My efforts! MYSELF-"
"And it's not even enough."
"You are never going to be enough."
"Better men have tried before you."
"They all failed."
"What makes you think you're any different?"
"State your reasons!"
"SPILL IT ALL!"
"COME ON!"
"SAY IT!"
"OH, THAT'S RIGHT!"
"You're not remotely special."
"You cannot change your fate."
"You'll die as a pathetic man."
The voices, they are flooding Vincent's mind, making him vomit onto the table, his head threatening to split due tpo the aching sensation.
"Shut up..." Vincent whispers as he whipes his mouth.
The man then goes to the bathroom, fetching a towel and wiping his mouth once more before wiping the vomit on the table.
"Pathetic."
"Worthless."
"How does it feel?"
"How does it feel to be destined to fail?"
"Fun, isn't it?"
"Entertaining."
"Shut up..." Vincent growls, wiping the table thoroughly.
"Is it amazing?"
"Knowing that you won't have a legacy?"
"Knowing that no matter what you do, you won't accomplish anything?"
"Oh, he'll accomplish something!"
"Something that doesn't help anyone!"
"He'll be a burden!"
"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" Vincent slams his palms onto his ears, an attempt to stop them.
A futile attempt.
"Burden!"
"Burden!"
"Burden!"
"Worthless!"
"Useless!"
"Talentless!"
"Dead weight!"
"SHUT UP!" Vincent threw the towel in the bathroom.
His figure falls forward but his arms grabbed the doorframe just in time, stopping his fall.
"You're a problem to anyone!"
"Bad news!"
"Don't you ever wonder what people feel about you?"
"They hate you!"
"They resent you!"
"You are a burden to them!"
"You bring nothing but trouble!"
"STOP! MAKE IT STOP!" Vincent screams, tears streaming down his cheeks as he forces his body to enter the bathroom.
He looks at the mirror.
No one was there, but only him.
And yet the voices will never leave him alone.
"Die!"
"Useless!"
"Burden!"
"Useless!"
"Die!"
"Burden!"
"Good for nothing!"
"USELESS!"
"USELESS!"
"USELESS!"
Vincent closes his eyes, his body hitting the wall near the door just to support himself while his hands grip his head.
"ALL OF THIS?!"
"ALL YOUR FAULT!"
"ALL YOUR FAULT!"
"ALL YOUR FAULT!"
"ALL YOUR FAULT!"
"ALL YOUR FAULT!"
"ALL YOUR FAULT!"
"ALL!"
"YOUR!"
"FAULT-"
"SILENCE!" Vincent roars, his hands jolting forward and grabbing something.
The razor felt so right in his hands.
Thus, he brought it up to his head.
With one fell swoop, part of his left ear drops to the floor.
He never felt the pain.
No, he was relieved by it.
Silence followed as blood trickles down his face.
He looks at himself in the mirror.
Laughter followed, but it was not the same voices that laughed.
No, it was Vincent.
...
"Oh~ Painting in the middle of the wheatfield? What will this accomplish?"
"Bah! You already know!"
"Hmm, nothing," Vincent hums, placing his canvas on the ground, propped up by his wooden stand.
Then, he brings forward a satchel.
"I give up," Vincent chuckles.
His eyes seemed to have adapted a gray shade. His body? Wrinkling and shaking, seemingly ready to topple over if a gust of wind dares to pass by.
"This is what you wanted, right?" Vincent asks, laughing, but his dampening eyes betrayed his gesture. "This is all you ever wanted? Tell me, does this make you happy?"
From his satchel, he pulls out a handgun.
"You're right," Vincent huffs, dropping the satchel onto the ground. "I amount to nothing. My life was worthless. Talentless. Meaningless. A burden to my friends. A burden to my family. A burden to... Theo," the name leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. "Oh, my younger brother. He's going to be disappointed, but this is for the last time."
Vincent looks at the figure beside his canvas.
A man of peculiar clothing, he must say. Black cloak and fabric that covers most of his body? Vincent knows that this man is not from any place he has been. His green hair is another unique touch.
"Does this perhaps, bring you satisfaction?" Vincent asks, chuckling as he presses the gun right at his chest. "I can see you smiling, my distorted vision be damned."
"Hehe~ This has been an entertaining ride, to say at most. Too bad that you're expiring now~!" The figure seemed to pout. "I'll just have to find someone else to haunt~!"
"Well, best of luck to them," Vincent shrugs, his eyes the most hollow that they have been. "And may you burn in Hell."
With a click, the gunshot echoes throughout the field, startling the animals nearby.
"W-well, I'll be d-damned," Vincent coughs out blood, dropping the gun onto the ground. "One shot was n-not enough? H-hah... I only afforded o-one..." He laughs before looking at his satchel.
Without wasting any time, he brings out his palette and brush before filling the wooden tool with different colors of paint.
When he finally faced the canvas, the figure was no more.
The voices are no more.
Humming to himself, he dips the brush into the paint.
"Perhaps... One more..." He forces out.
Thus, the man paints his last piece, the sounds of crows echoing from the skies above.
...
"I can't paint yet! He's too fast!" Vincent snarls, gripping the God Bolt as his life literally depended on it.
Set's massive flail slammed and destroyed anything it touched.
Even the air.
Every swing left a black streak, Chaos eating away even space itself.
"I fear that one touch, and we'll be gone, Miss Reginleif!" Vincent gasps as the flail barely misses them. "Wait! I'll try this!"
The dutchman wills the God Bolt, sending himself flying up above Valhalla, away from Set's range.
Or so he thought.
"Vincent! Dodge!" Reginleif warns, her tone panicking.
A beam of Chaos almost engulfs Vincent, the God Bolt being the only thing keeping him alive.
"WHY DON'T YOU JUST DIE?!"
Set roared to the sky, shooting dozens of chaotic beams that erased the sky momentarily, leaving Vincent at the top.
"I already have!" Vincent growls, but it falls on no one's ears. "Trust me, it was slow!"
The God Bolt carries him here and there. The lightning bolt is being willed to flash into various places in quick succession, but it was all useless in front of Set.
Chaos reigns supreme and it is everywhere all at once.
"Ah, screw it," Vincent drops to the arena and lets go of the God Bolt. "A distraction should suffice..."
With that order, the lightning bolt crackles towards Set who swung his flail in interference.
Then, the God Bolt splits into different lighting bolts.
They all swarmed Set, striking him at every angle as the thunderous impacts shook Valhalla.
Set was pushed here and there as the strikes of lightning bombarded him, eliciting a growl from the Egyptian god.
"ANNOYING LITTLE SHIT! BEGONE!"
Chaos spikes up in volume around Set, swallowing the God Bolt entirely and erasing the copy in an instant.
The flail swings down towards Vincent.
The painter merely laughs as color explodes into life.
"BRING FORTH LIFE! MISS REGINLEIF! OUR FINAL CREATION!" Vincent laughs, his arms spread wide as paint of different colors surge out of the painting his just finished.
And thus, a fist struck the chaotic flail.
...
"This is madness," the Jade Emperor says with a hint of respect in his tone. "To be able to create a copy of anything? Cleanse, blood of the hydra, Jupiter's God Bolt, and now, this?"
"Oh my," Amaterasu regards the scene with a small laugh. "It seems like the fight is in its climax now. I just hope this goes well."
"I... H-how is this possible?!" Horus asks none, gripping the railings which cracked it. "C-can Set even best him out of all people?!"
"Tsk, he survived my God Bolt, albeit used by a mortal. He should be fine since this is an imperfect copy," Jupiter grumbles, displeased that his signature weapon has been copied and used.
"Wow, the disrespect here is so... fucking apparent, hehe~!" Zeus giggles but his expression is darker. "I'm going to kill him if he survives this shit..."
...
The dust dispersed and Heimdall was barely able to announce an update.
"I c-c-can't believe t-t-this!" Heimdall shrieks, gripping his Gjallarhorn with enough force to crack it. "L-ladies and gentlemen! V-Vincent van Gogh has p-painted the head o-of the c-council of d-deities!"
A towering figure stood before the enormous form of Set, his muscles swelling with veins threatening to rupture as they pulse.
"Let's do this!" Vincent laughs, pointing at Set's head.
Without wasting time, his creation rushed at Set with a perverted giggle.
"FUCKING DIE!"
Set roars as his flail is brought down, followed by a wave of Chaos.
Then, Heimdall announces once more, his voice cracking as the fight rages on once more.
"E-Everyone! Vincent v-van Gogh h-has summoned Lord Z-Zeus!"
{•===To Be Continued===•}
Yo! How are you lots doing? I fucking love Set and Vincent van Gogh as characters. Also, OG Amaterasu has been revealed... Fuck! She ain't like what I did! I guess mine will be vastly different!
What do y'all think of the chapter? Comments fuel my soul to write!
Question though, if y'all have to create the roster for humanity, who will you include in the roster of 13 humans?