The aftermath of the battle left the land scarred, the earth twisted and broken beneath the weight of the conflict. Garen stood amidst the shattered ruins, his chest heaving as the remnants of his power pulsed around him. His body hummed with newfound strength—an energy so potent that the very air seemed to ripple with it. The battle with Vorthen had been the crucible of his ascension, the moment when his powers had transcended anything he had ever known. But despite the overwhelming victory, there was no satisfaction in his heart, only a cold, unwavering resolve.
Vorthen, the God of War, lay before him, groaning in defeat. His massive form was battered and singed, the divine radiance that had once surrounded him now dimmed. The God of War had never faced an opponent who could push him to his limits, let alone defeat him with such raw, untamed power. And yet, before Garen, Vorthen had been nothing more than a fleeting storm, swept away by the rising tide of his strength.
Garen's eyes narrowed as he gazed down at the fallen god, his expression unreadable. "You're nothing more than a pawn in a game that will end soon."
Vorthen's voice was a raspy growl as he slowly pushed himself up from the broken ground. "You've made a grave mistake, Aetherborn. Do you think this will stop the gods? You've just stirred something far darker than you realize."
Garen's response was a chilling smile, one that held no warmth. "The gods' reign is coming to an end, Vorthen. And I'm the one who will end it."
Before the God of War could respond, a ripple of divine energy pulsed through the air—a signal that the gods were already aware of his actions. The sky darkened, and the winds howled as if the very heavens were trembling. Garen had made his move, and now the pantheon would respond.
From the horizon, a figure emerged, glowing with divine light. It was a being of unimaginable power, draped in the robes of the divine—an entity that even Garen could feel. The air around them seemed to freeze in anticipation.
Garen stood tall, his body glowing with the combined power of the Aetherstone and Arcanium, as the divine figure approached. He could feel the weight of its presence pressing down on him, but he did not flinch. His resolve was unshakable.
The figure was tall, draped in celestial armor, the very embodiment of authority and wrath. Its face was concealed beneath a helm of golden light, its aura radiating power and judgment.
"You have broken the balance," the figure's voice thundered, booming across the battlefield like a crack of lightning. "You have ascended, Aetherborn, but at what cost? The cycle must be maintained, or the universe will crumble. You cannot defy the will of the gods."
Garen's eyes narrowed, glowing with intensity as he met the god's gaze. "The cycle is broken. I will break it—along with the gods who enslave this world."
The god's voice rang out once more, but now it held an edge of fury. "Foolish child. You think you have the power to challenge us? To undo the work of millennia? We are the gods. You are nothing."
A surge of divine energy shot from the god's outstretched hand, tearing through the air with the force of a thousand storms. The blast rocketed toward Garen with the speed of light, but he was ready. He raised his hand, the Aetherstone and Arcanium merging within him to form a radiant shield of energy that absorbed the divine blast.
The force of the attack pushed him back, but Garen stood firm, his body crackling with the combined power of the Aetherstone and the Arcanium. The gods had underestimated him. They had underestimated his resolve.
Garen's eyes remained fixed on the divine figure as it prepared for another strike. He had already taken the first step in challenging the gods—and he would not back down.
The divine figure raised its hand again, the air around them growing thick with pressure. Garen could feel the weight of the god's presence pushing against him, but he did not falter.
"You still do not understand," the god said, its voice dripping with disdain. "You have no place in the realm of the gods. You are a mere pawn, and the gods will not allow you to disrupt the cycle."
With a snap of its fingers, the divine figure summoned a wave of energy that surged toward Garen like a tidal wave. But Garen did not flinch. Instead, he stepped forward, drawing on the full might of his newly ascended powers, his body crackling with radiant energy.
"I'm not a pawn," Garen muttered under his breath, the words laced with determination. "I'm the one who will end this game."
The energy surged toward him, but this time, instead of defending, Garen met it head-on, unleashing a torrent of Aetherstone and Arcanium combined in a single, devastating blast.
The two forces collided with an explosion so powerful that the very sky seemed to crack and shatter. The shockwave sent ripples through the fabric of the world itself, as if reality was struggling to hold together.
The god's form flickered and wavered, its divine energy faltering in the wake of Garen's new power. For the first time, the god seemed unsure, its glowing form flickering like a dying flame.
"You... you are more than we thought," the god whispered, its voice filled with something akin to fear.
Garen's eyes glowed brighter as the power of the Arcanium and Aetherstone surged through him, his body humming with energy. "This is just the beginning."