Earth
Year: 19095 /12/29
Present Time.
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"Welcome, Gods and Goddesses," bellowed a voice over the vista enveloping over 500 teens aged between 18–24 years into its fold.
"It is indeed a great pleasure to have all of you here so early this morning. I am Shango, God of Fire and Thunder, and with me here is Izanami, wife of Izanagi."
In front of them was Shango, god of fire and thunder, in all the suavity of an overdose. He was a figure of immense muscular build, corded with muscle full of raw power and autocracy.
His skin was a deep, rich blackness that seemed to glow from deep inside with a faint light, as if somehow inside, embers of the Fire showed.
His eyes flared up like orange-red life, shining, burning like running lava.
Shango's hair was of string, thicket, and charcoal that seemed to set off tiny crackles and pops of energy from every wriggling tendril.
Streaked with bright red like lightning in a tempest sky. He had armor that once appeared to have been tested in battle.
It was forged with flames in the strongest metals, its surface crisscrossed with lightning bolts. At his throat, he wore a necklace of smoldering beads, one for every bruised storm.
In one hand, he held a huge double-headed axe, from whose blades light seemed to shine, as if they had just been jerked out of a forge; in the other, there leaped from time to time arcs of lightning.
The electricity felt like almost a wall of sound about him. Under his feet, there was just a slight tremor of the ground, as if the earth knew he was master of the elements.
His powerful, deep voice carried both authority and a promise of ruin or defense.
Before him stood the goddess Izanami, an antique beauty strong yet cradling in quiet.
Her long hair, near black as night, flowed off behind her to create a silken waterfall from which the tresses seemed they might gleam like starlight.
Two well-oiled midnight windows, radiating outward from the very depths, secreted life-knowledge, death-knowledge, and all that was past away.
Her skin was nearly translucent, a sharp contrast to the darkness of her hair and garments.
She wore a kimono; highly embroidered in brilliant reds and whites, cherry blossoms twisted over skeletal branches.
This represented her contradiction: A creator but also a destroyer. The very fibers the material was composed of seemed to swerve with the breath of life and change; echoing the pattern of birth, decay, and rebirth.
She was holding a fragile fan, its face expensively adorned with the story of origin and afterlife.
Deliberately, everything in her motion was full of grace, as if from that time, and now, she was the serene eternity and the time flowing by.
It was known but somewhat alien; homey, though a bit scary kind of, just like death itself, taking the soul through the beauty and horror of life towards the dark night of death.
The environment fell silent as everyone gazed upon the Gods they never thought they could meet. Some were shivering, while others composed themselves to remain presentable before the Gods. Some even had their jaws dropped as they stared.
"Yet not all of you are here," Shango spoke angrily.
Just then, a boy with silver long hair and two colored eyes appeared. His right eye swirled with red and white, echoing thunder and fire, while his left eye glowed with intense flame-like orange and red.
Shango noticed the boy, who bore a resemblance to someone he knew. "I have not even begun, and you are already asking questions, young boy," Shango's voice reverberated, but the boy remained composed and unafraid.
"Go ahead," Shango urged him to speak.
"I am very honored. I was about to suggest that if not all of us are present, you should continue with your words. When they arrive, we can brief them on what you have said," the boy with two colored eyes suggested.
Shango smiled and grinned. "A good suggestion, yet again a selfish one. But it's their fault for arriving late."
"Whose son are you, young boy?" he asked.
"I'm the son of Thor Odinson, the God of Thunder. My name is Phyrrhos."
"Thor's son? Does that mean Thor has two sons?" Shango thought to himself.
"Okay, Phyrrhos, you spoke well. Let's continue. You all will pass the message to them when they arrive…"
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Meanwhile, in a thirty-story building, the voices of an angry woman echoed through the halls.
"Shut up, Aphrodite, let me speak… It was an arranged wedding between the two of us and…"
"And you took it as an opportunity to cheat on me after our wedding night, you whore. Luckily, I found out yesterday, and her son is the same age as your son," Aphrodite, a stunningly beautiful goddess with flowing pink hair, interjected.
Aphrodite radiated a commanding and enchanting presence, her long, wavy pink hair glistening like rose petals in the sunlight.
Her deep blue eyes shimmered with a blend of anger and sorrow, mirroring her emotions.
Her flawless skin glowed with a divine light, draped in a flowing gown embellished with roses and doves, symbols of love and desire.
Despite her typically serene demeanor,
Aphrodite's expression now bore a hardened fury, her red lips pressed tightly together.
Her voice, sharp and venomous, sliced through the air like a blade. The normally gentle goddess had transformed into a force of wrath, her beauty amplifying the strength of her words.
"I didn't even know she was pregnant with my son, and she seduced me," Thor said, attempting to justify his actions.
Aphrodite couldn't contain her laughter at the sight of the mighty Thor, Son of Odin, being seduced. "Oh, spare me those lies, that's humiliating," she snapped, her eyes flashing dangerously.
"Can you please keep quiet, woman? I'll inform Asterion that he has a younger brother," Thor muttered under his breath.
"Look at you, unable to sense your own son's presence. He's been behind those doors the whole time," she barked at Thor, her hand itching to punch him.
"Asterion, my dear, start preparing your things. I'll join you shortly. You should leave immediately," her commanding tone shook the 19-year-old boy, who was of a huge build.
"Of course, mother," the voice replied softly before fading away into the distance.
"You can't sense your son's presence because he hasn't fully awakened yet," Aphrodite explained calmly.
"No, he's just weak. If he were stronger, he would have awakened his powers long ago," Thor retorted, his frustration evident.
Aphrodite let out a weary sigh as she gazed at the man she had married and then thought of the son she had brought into the world.
"He's simply a late bloomer. His powers will manifest in due time. Trust me, Thor, you will regret underestimating him," she said with a hint of anger before turning away without a backward glance. Making her way to the parking slot, she finally laid eyes on her son.
Get into the car, let's go, Asterion," his mother's voice urged him. He complied, and Aphrodite joined him as well. The driver started the engine and began to drive.
"Mother, you should relax and take a deep breath," Asterion said, smiling at his mother, even though his face remained expressionless.
He was born that way, but he made an effort to ensure his mother wasn't upset or hurt. At the moment, he couldn't see any tears in her eyes, and she was smiling at him, trying not to break down.
His mother was truly a great Goddess, and he valued her more than anything in the world.
"Asterion, my dear, please don't worry about me. Just focus on getting yourself ready as you are running late for the assembly," Aphrodite said with a smile, gently tousling her son's long white-silver hair.
"But mother, you can always cry on my chest if you need to," Asterion offered.
"Enough of that," his mother chuckled. "You are about to discover your true power, and I have full faith in you. So, ignore any negative comments from others, my child."
Her sincere words resonated with him, and he could do nothing but nod in agreement.
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Some of you humans will be reincarnated as an old God who was once dead. Now that all of you are ready, I will leave Izanami to continue," Shango's voice thundered as he addressed the gods and humans before him.
"Prepare yourselves, as it is almost time to depart for the academy. Those who pass the rank test will be allowed in, while the others will be sent back to where they came from," Izanami stated, her voice alternating between cold and warm.
Suddenly, a towering 19-year-old boy with silver hair entered the scene. His right eye was purple, while his left eye blazed red like a volcano.
His muscular physique made him stand out, exuding a mix of thunderous energy and captivating charm, despite his expressionless face.
You're late, Asterion," Shango's voice reached his ear, and everyone turned to look at him.
"Isn't that Thor's son?" someone asked.
"Yes, it is him. Then who is Phyrrhos?" another voice inquired.
Shango, who knew Thor well, understood the situation and a smile crept onto his face.
"Another drama indeed. What have you gotten yourself into, Thor?" he thought to himself, but he was not pleased that the boy before him was late.
"Those of you who are late can make friends and ask them a lot of questions, as I can't repeat what Shango said," Izanami said, eliciting a collective sigh from everyone.
"Now, all of you step into the circle and get yourselves ready. You are about to enter the Gods' academy," she continued with fire in her eyes.
Everyone prepared themselves diligently for the challenges that awaited them at the prestigious Gods Academy.
This institution was no laughing matter, as it was where they honed their abilities to control their powers and embarked on numerous missions to test their skills.
For some, attending the academy was a dream come true, a chance to showcase their talents and rise to fame.
For others, it was a daunting prospect, knowing that their reputation could either soar or plummet based on their performance.
It was crucial for everyone to give their all and take their responsibilities seriously, as there was no room for self-satisfaction in such a competitive environment.
This is where the prophecy is fulfilled, marking the beginning or the end. The first phase of the prophecy has occurred, the meeting of light and dark. Light can turn to dark, and dark can turn to light.
The fate of the world and the impending wars rested in the hands of children, some of whom were unfit and unprepared, yet destiny had its way. Or one could say that one can shape their own destiny.