A knock on the door echoed inside the dimly lit office, reverberating off walls lined with ancient scrolls and flickering lanterns. The room held an air of quiet authority, books and artifacts meticulously arranged on polished oak shelves.
Seated behind a grand mahogany desk, a man rested with his eyes closed, fingers lightly touching a crystal globe that shimmered with inner light. The persistent knocking stirred the stillness.
"Enter," he said, his voice calm yet resonant.
The door eased open, and a figure stepped inside. Tall and ethereal, the visitor had eyes like liquid silver and hair cascading in golden waves past his shoulders. Feathered wings, luminescent and delicate, folded gracefully behind him. Clad in robes that seemed woven from starlight, he emanated a soft glow that bathed the room in warmth.
"Forgive the interruption, sir," the angelic being spoke, his voice a gentle harmony. "But Annox has called for an immediate meeting."
The man's eyes snapped open, a sudden tension gripping his features. His heartbeat quickened, a chill creeping down his spine. Rising abruptly, he nearly knocked over the globe, its light flickering in response.
"Annox has summoned us?" he uttered, disbelief tinged with unease. His hands clenched momentarily before he steadied himself. "Very well. Thank you for informing me."
"I will await your return here," his assistant replied, inclining his head respectfully.
With a curt nod, the man reached into a concealed drawer of his desk, extracting a small obsidian device encasing a radiant blue crystal. He placed his palm over it, and the crystal responded with a vibrant glow. Threads of light spiraled upward, enveloping him.
In the blink of an eye, he found himself seated in a vast, shadowed hall. Ten imposing thrones formed a circle, each occupied by a figure cloaked in darkness. Though their visages were hidden, the aura of divine power was unmistakable—the other Gods presiding over their respective universes.
A luminous presence materialized at the center. The being was neither male nor female, its flawless azure skin emitting a gentle glow. Long ebony hair framed a face partially concealed, adding an air of mystery. Dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit, it stood with an elegance that commanded attention. Above its head hovered a glowing halo, casting a soft light that danced across the assembled deities.
"Thank you all for coming," the figure spoke, its voice resonating like a chorus of distant stars. "I apologize for the abrupt summons, but we face a matter of utmost significance. Without further delay, I shall convey the news."
A pause hung in the air, the anticipation palpable.
"The Absolute Being has decreed that the multitude of universes has become unsustainable. A decision has been made to preserve only four. The rest are to be destroyed."
A heavy silence settled over the hall as the gravity of the proclamation sank in. The gods exchanged glances, shadows shifting in the faint light. Unspoken questions and concerns rippled through the ether, yet no one broke the silence.
Then, one of the gods leaned forward.
"And what if we decide to fight back?" he asked.
Annox arched an eyebrow, a sinister smile creeping across its flawless face. It began to stride toward the speaker, each step releasing wisps of black smoke that coiled around its feet.
"Fight back?" Annox's voice was a velvet whisper laced with contempt. "And how do you suppose you'll manage that, considering how weak you are?"
The god tried to hold his ground, but the oppressive aura radiating from Annox pressed down like a crushing weight. His legs buckled; he fell to his knees.
Annox chuckled. "You can't even remain standing under mere pressure. Utterly useless."
For the first time, Annox withdrew its hands from its pockets. They were enormous, resembling the claws of a beast, sharp and gleaming. Its blue skin began to glow softly as a tiny universe spun into existence above its palm.
The kneeling god's eyes widened. "Please, no—"
Before he could finish, Annox opened its mouth, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth that glinted like obsidian blades. With a swift motion, it tossed the miniature universe into its mouth and swallowed.
In the same heartbeat, the god vanished. Nothing remained where he had knelt.
An eerie stillness enveloped the room. None of the remaining gods moved a muscle. Fear hung thick in the air; they had never witnessed such absolute annihilation—a god and his entire universe consumed in an instant.
Annox turned away, strolling back to the center of the circle. Its hands slid back into its pockets as if nothing unusual had occurred.
"You all have ten years to prepare," it announced. "We will host a tournament to decide which four universes will remain. Bring your greatest warrior to defend your realm. Rewards await those who prevail."
It paused, letting the weight of its next words settle.
"As for the others—you will cease to exist."
With that, Annox vanished, leaving the gods alone with their dread.
The chamber lingered in heavy silence after Annox vanished. The nine gods stood motionless, each absorbed in their own swirling thoughts. Gradually, they began to disappear, dissolving into flickers of light as they returned to their universes. Soon, only two remained. As the last of the others faded away, the veil of darkness enveloping them lifted.
One resembled a human but he wasn't human. He had short, spiky hair that radiated a gold hue, his body emitted a soft glow that bathed the area around him. Though his angelic wings were folded and hidden, an aura of ethereal light hinted at their presence. The other was a colossal humanoid dragon, scales shimmering with hues of deep crimson and obsidian black. His eyes burned like molten lava, intense and piercing.
The dragon turned his gaze toward the other. "Cyrus, what is your plan?" His voice was a deep rumble, echoing through the vast chamber. "You are the newest among us. Surely you haven't nurtured a being capable of contending with gods who've existed for billions of years."
Cyrus remained seated on his ornate throne, his expression unreadable. Internally, his mind was a tempest. *Why did my father leave me with this struggling universe? Ten years to find a warrior to defend it—how is that even possible when I've been a god for only a thousand years?* A bead of sweat traced a line down his face.
Snapped back to reality by Shun's words, Cyrus met the dragon's fiery gaze. "I appreciate your concern, Shun, but I'll be fine," he replied evenly. "I know my father asked you to watch over me, but perhaps it's best if you focus on your own universe. We'll inevitably face each other in battle."
A moment of silence stretched between them. Shun's eyes softened just a fraction. "Very well," he said, inclining his massive head. "I wish you the best of luck, Cyrus."
With that, Shun's body shimmered and dissolved into particles of light, leaving Cyrus alone in the expansive chamber. He exhaled slowly, the weight of impending challenges pressing upon him.
He rose from his throne, gazing into the void where the other gods had stood moments before. *Ten years isn't much time, but it's all I have.* His thoughts raced, strategizing, searching for solutions.
"Father, you've left me with quite the burden," he murmured. "But I won't let our universe fade without a fight."
Determination hardened within him. Spreading his concealed wings, he felt a surge of power course through his being. There was work to be done, and time was slipping away.
Cyrus withdrew the obsidian device from his pocket, his fingers curling around its smooth surface. A surge of power flowed through him as he channeled energy into the artifact. In an instant, a flash of light enveloped him.
He stood back in his office, the familiar scent of parchment and ink grounding him. Troy, his ever-loyal assistant, glanced up from a stack of documents.
"You're back already?" Troy asked. "Is everything okay?"
Cyrus met his gaze, gravity in his eyes. "Listen carefully, Troy. If we don't cultivate a formidable warrior within ten years, our universe will face obliteration."
Troy's expression faltered. "Sir, what do you mean?"
Without immediate reply, Cyrus sank into his chair, the weight of responsibility pressing upon him. He closed his eyes briefly before speaking. "Don't share this with anyone else. We can't afford widespread panic. I need you to dispatch scouts—find the strongest warriors across the universe. Bring them here for training."
"Yes, sir," Troy acknowledged, though uncertainty flickered across his face. He hesitated at the door. "And what will you do?"
A heavy sigh escaped Cyrus. "I'll delve into my father's belongings. Perhaps he left behind something—anything—that can aid us."
After Troy departed, closing the door softly behind him, Cyrus rose and approached a towering bookshelf that dominated the far wall. Dust coated the spines of countless books, relics of forgotten times. His fingers traced along the books until they paused on a particular red book. Gently pulling it free revealed a hidden fingerprint scanner embedded in the shelf.
He pressed his thumb against the cool surface. A soft beep sounded, and the entire bookshelf trembled. With a groan of ancient mechanisms, it slid aside, unveiling a dark passageway. A rush of stale air greeted him, carrying the faint scent of old parchment and mysteries long concealed.
Lights flickered to life as he stepped forward, illuminating rows upon rows of haphazardly stacked books and scattered papers. The room sprawled before him, a labyrinth of knowledge left in disarray.
Cyrus set to work, sifting through documents, unrolling scrolls, skimming pages filled with cryptic notes and complex diagrams. Hours slipped by unnoticed. Frustration mounted, tightening like a vise around his temples.
"How did you ever find anything in this chaos, old man?" he muttered under his breath. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he wiped it away with a back in his hand.
He sank against a wall, the cold stone pressing into his back. "None of this is useful," he whispered. "Why did you leave me with such a poor universe?"
Anger flared. With a book already in hand, he hurled it across the room. It collided with a distant wall, producing a hollow thud that echoed strangely. Cyrus froze. That didn't sound solid.
Pushing himself up, he made his way toward the spot where the book had struck. He tapped his knuckles against the surface. The hollow resonance confirmed his suspicion—there was a hidden room beyond the wall.
A sly grin spread across his face. "Well, if you're not here to open doors, I'll make my own."
Golden light emanated from his fist as he drew it back. With a decisive strike, he punched through the wall. Debris crumbled away, and dust billowed around him. As it settled, a hidden chamber revealed itself.
Unlike the cluttered expanse he'd just combed through, this room was immaculate. Shelves lined the walls, each item meticulously placed. Soft light bathed the area, reflecting off polished surfaces.
At the center stood a solitary table. Atop it rested a pristine folder, unassuming yet prominent. The words "Project Humans" were emblazoned across the cover in bold lettering.
Cyrus approached cautiously, his footsteps echoing in the stillness. He reached out, fingertips grazing the edge of the folder.
"What were you up to, old man?" he murmured.
He lifted the cover. Inside lay pages of detailed notes, diagrams, and annotations. As he began to read, a spark of intrigue ignited within him. Perhaps, hidden in his father's enigmatic work, lay the key to saving their universe.