Theodore Robertson and his younger brother, Mateo, stood side by side in the desolate landscape of their abandoned planet. The ashes from their last battle still clung to them, remnants of their journey across demon realms. Both brothers bore the silent rage of loss—a fury directed at the gods who had wronged them. Their mother's final words, "Don't believe in gods," echoed in their minds like a mantra, strengthening their resolve. The gods had exiled them, stripped them of the world they knew, and taken everything they held dear. But it had only made them more dangerous.
Theodore tightened his grip on the twin swords strapped to his back. One, the Sword of Destruction, was a gift from Artorius, the powerful demon spirit whose essence shared Theodore's body. The other, a weapon with the ability to slay gods, he had found deep in the heart of their abandoned world. The blade shimmered with a cruel, cold gleam. Beside him, Mateo clenched his godly trident and the Sword of Extinction gifted by Lucius, his own demonic ally. Their next target was a powerful realm ruled by an ancient elf king named Poneros.
"I don't trust the calm," Mateo muttered, his eyes narrowing at the horizon. They had been traveling through the void between worlds, and the journey was eerily silent.
Theodore smirked. "Don't worry, brother. Our peace will end soon enough."
As if on cue, a portal of shimmering energy opened before them, leading to the fabled land of the elves. Theodore and Mateo shared a glance, then stepped through, weapons in hand and hearts set on vengeance.
The Elven world was a realm of untamed beauty, with dense forests, towering emerald trees, and rivers of silver that sparkled beneath a crimson sky. Yet, beneath the beauty, there was an air of ancient menace—a quiet threat lurking in every shadow.
Their entrance had not gone unnoticed. A group of elf soldiers, their bodies adorned in silver armor and their bows drawn, emerged from the forest like ghosts. Their leader, a stern-faced elf with emerald eyes, raised his hand, signaling the others to stop.
"You do not belong here," the elf said, his voice carrying the weight of centuries. "The king has forbidden trespassers."
Theodore's lips curled into a snarl. "Then it's time your king learns that his decrees mean nothing to us."
Before the elf could respond, Theodore's body began to shift, his skin turning into molten lava, his eyes blazing like fire. The soldiers stepped back, their courage faltering as the air around Theodore grew hot and heavy. He raised his Sword of Destruction, its dark metal gleaming with a hunger for carnage.
Mateo moved beside him, his trident already summoning streams of water that coiled like serpents around his feet, ready to strike. His expression was steely, his eyes cold.
The elven soldiers were quick, but the Robertson brothers were relentless. Theodore swung his black sword in a deadly arc, the blade slicing through the elven defenses with ease. Mateo followed, his trident lashing out and piercing armor as if it were paper, the water he commanded surging forward like waves in a storm. Within moments, the elven soldiers lay scattered, defeated, their lifeblood seeping into the silver rivers.
"We're here for the king," Theodore growled as he wiped his blade clean, his eyes darkening with a vengeful fire. "Poneros. We're coming for him."
They moved forward, deeper into the elven kingdom. The trees grew taller, and the air grew dense with magic. Every step seemed to lead them closer to the heart of the realm, where the energy pulsed strongest. It wasn't long before they arrived at the gates of the Elven Citadel, a towering structure of white stone and shimmering crystals. Standing in their way was Poneros himself.
The elf king was a sight to behold. Clad in silver and gold, with a crown of black iron resting upon his head, Poneros radiated an aura of power that made the very air hum. His piercing eyes, as green as the deepest forest, sized up the intruders with disdain. In one hand, he held a staff, its top adorned with a crystal that pulsed with raw energy.
"You are bold to step foot in my kingdom," Poneros said, his voice resonating with authority. "And foolish to challenge me."
Theodore laughed, a harsh, mocking sound that echoed through the citadel grounds. "We've come to collect a debt, Poneros. The gods may have abandoned us, but we carry the wrath of demons."
Poneros raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Demons? They are nothing compared to the might of an elf king."
With a swift movement, Poneros raised his staff, and a blinding light shot forth, aimed directly at Theodore and Mateo. The brothers dodged, the blast grazing the ground behind them and leaving a smoldering crater.
Mateo didn't hesitate. He thrust his trident forward, calling upon a wave of water that surged toward Poneros, crashing down with the force of a tsunami. But the elf king held his ground, raising a hand to summon a barrier that parted the water with ease. His power, it seemed, was indeed a match for gods.
"You'll have to try harder," Poneros taunted, his voice laced with arrogance.
Theodore growled, the molten heat within him flaring. He transformed into his lava form, his skin flowing like liquid fire as he charged, his Sword of Destruction raised high. He brought the blade down with enough force to shatter stone, but Poneros deflected the blow with his staff, their weapons clashing in a burst of energy.
The two locked eyes, a silent challenge exchanged between them.
Poneros grinned, pushing Theodore back with a force that sent him skidding across the ground. Mateo saw his brother's plight and lunged forward, his Sword of Extinction aimed directly at Poneros's heart. But Poneros was swift, sidestepping the strike and retaliating with a blast of raw energy that sent Mateo sprawling.
"Is this all the so-called vessels of demons have to offer?" Poneros sneered, his voice thick with contempt.
Mateo struggled to his feet, blood trickling down his brow. He glanced at Theodore, who was breathing heavily, his lava form flickering as he fought to maintain control. Poneros's power was immense—nearly as powerful as that of Zeus and Poseidon combined.
But the Robertson brothers had come too far to back down now.
"We're not done yet," Theodore said through gritted teeth. He raised both swords, the Sword of Destruction in one hand, and his god-killing blade in the other. He unleashed a surge of energy, the two powers intertwining as he charged Poneros once more.
Mateo joined him, summoning a torrent of water that rose like a serpent behind him, ready to strike.
Poneros roared, summoning a whirlwind of light that clashed with their combined assault. The explosion shook the earth, trees uprooting and stones scattering. For a moment, everything was consumed by light and darkness, a chaotic symphony of clashing powers.
When the dust settled, Theodore was on his knees, breathing heavily. His vision blurred, his strength waning. He looked over at Mateo, who lay sprawled on the ground, his chest rising and falling slowly, blood seeping into the earth. Poneros stood above them, triumphant.
But as he raised his staff to deliver the final blow, something within Theodore snapped. The words of his mother, her final plea, rang out once more in his mind.
"Don't believe in gods."
With a final surge of strength, Theodore gripped his god-killing blade and swung upward, the blade slicing through Poneros's staff and piercing his chest. Poneros's eyes widened, a look of shock and fear crossing his face as the blade drained the life from him, consuming his power.
Mateo, with the last of his strength, thrust his trident into Poneros's side, solidifying their victory. The elf king's scream echoed through the land as he crumbled, defeated, his form dissipating into ashes.
Theodore staggered to his feet, his body trembling from exhaustion. He looked down at the ashes of Poneros, a faint smile of satisfaction playing on his lips.
"One more down," he muttered, reaching out to help Mateo to his feet.
They stood together, battered and bruised, but alive. Another step closer to vengeance.
As they left the elf kingdom behind, Theodore felt a strange calm settle over him. The gods had abandoned them, but he would make sure they knew the wrath of the abandoned.