The siege raged on. Flames engulfed the once-proud city of the First Star, its sacred streets now a battlefield of blood and destruction. The gods of the north, west, and south clashed against the lone goddess, their divine power shaking the heavens.
Below, chaos reigned. The invading armies pushed through the broken gates, storming the grand temple where the last line of defenders stood firm.
Among them were Aelius and Marcus, their eyes burning with determination. They had fought through the night, leading their warriors against impossible odds. The temple had been breached, but they refused to retreat.
"Stand your ground!" Aelius roared, his blade cutting through the ranks of the enemy. "Do not falter! Protect the people of the goddess!"
Marcus, his armor stained with the blood of countless foes, raised his spear. "We are her shield! If we fall, we fall as warriors! Hold the line!"
The soldiers, weary yet resolute, tightened their grip on their weapons. They knew death was certain. And yet, they did not surrender.
From the void beyond mortal sight, a figure observed the battlefield. The Architect—the unseen force, the silent watcher of this world—gazed upon the warriors who defied fate itself.
His voice, unheard by any, resonated through the fabric of existence.
"Your bravery amazes me, descendant of Ashel…"
"In the face of annihilation, you do not despair. In the shadow of gods, you do not kneel."
His unseen presence surrounded them, unseen hands reaching into their very souls. And then, he spoke words that only the heavens could hear.
"I bless you and your armies with strength that will overwhelm your enemies."
The moment passed unnoticed by all but those who were chosen.
Aelius and Marcus felt a surge of power course through their veins. Their exhaustion faded, their wounds no longer burdened them. Strength beyond mortal limits filled their bodies, and with it came a newfound clarity—a blessing from a force beyond the gods themselves.
As the enemy surged forward, expecting the defenders to collapse, they were met with something they did not anticipate—unyielding resistance.
Aelius moved like a storm, his sword carving through steel and flesh alike. His movements were impossibly fast, his strikes unstoppable.
Marcus led his warriors in a counterattack, his spear impaling enemy after enemy. The defenders fought like men possessed, their numbers still few, yet their power undeniable.
The invading forces faltered, confusion and fear gripping them.
"What is this?!" a soldier from the west gasped, stepping back. "They should be dead!"
"They're fighting like demons!" another from the north cried.
The commanders of the three nations hesitated. Something unnatural was happening.
But there was no time to question it.
The battle in the sky had reached its peak.
Above, the heavens burned as divine power clashed against divine power.
Zeus hurled another thunderbolt, its golden light streaking toward the First Star. She raised her hand, and the air itself bent, diverting the lightning harmlessly into the clouds.
Odin lunged with Gungnir, aiming for her heart. She twisted effortlessly, dodging the fatal strike, her movements like the flowing of a river.
Ra descended like the sun itself, his divine fire blazing around him. He swung his staff, and for the first time, she blocked with her own hand. The flames seared against her palm, but she did not yield.
The gods fought relentlessly, their battle shaking the sky itself. Yet, despite their combined might, the First Star remained standing.
Hours passed, or perhaps days—time had lost meaning in this war of gods and mortals.
The defenders of the First Star still held the temple, their newfound strength keeping the enemy at bay.
The gods continued their assault, but the First Star endured.
Neither side could claim victory.
The war had become something more than a simple conquest.
It was a battle of faith.
A battle of will.
And none were willing to fall.
The war had reached its peak, but no side had yet fallen. The once-proud city of the First Star lay in ruins, yet its defenders stood unbroken. The three nations, despite their overwhelming numbers, could not crush the will of those who fought for their Mother Goddess.
The gods, too, battled endlessly in the heavens, their powers shaking the world itself. Zeus, Odin, and Ra, the great deities of the west, north, and south, fought as one against the First Star, yet she remained unshaken.
But war is a cruel thing, and even the strongest can begin to falter.
As the battle raged on, the First Star descended from the sky, landing upon the ruined steps of her temple. Her silver gaze swept across the battlefield, and for the first time, she spoke—not only to her people but to all who fought before her.
"You who call yourselves gods," her voice echoed, neither angry nor afraid, but filled with something beyond mortal understanding. "You who were born of faith, who exist because of belief—do you think this world was made for you alone?"
The battlefield fell into silence. Even the soldiers, who had been locked in combat, hesitated at her words.
The gods above did not answer.
She turned to the messengers who had once come in peace but now stood among the invading armies. "Did you not come to my temple to seek truth? Yet when I gave you truth, you rejected it."
Marcus, standing among the defenders, looked up at her in awe. Aelius, still gripping his sword tightly, took a step forward and called out:
"Goddess, why do you not strike them down? With your power, you could end this war!"
She closed her eyes for a brief moment before speaking. "Because war is not ended by force alone, but by understanding."
At last, Odin spoke, his voice heavy with wisdom. "You claim understanding, yet you stand alone. Do you think that your faith is above all others?"
Zeus, his pride unwavering, clenched his fists. "We fight because we are worshipped. We are gods because they believe in us. And as gods, we must prove our might!"
Ra, the ever-burning sun, looked down upon her with an unyielding gaze. "If you will not bow, then we shall make you bow."
The First Star did not move. "Then you have already lost."
The war resumed. This time, the gods themselves descended to the battlefield. Their mere presence shook the land, causing the earth to crack and the sky to darken.
Zeus led the charge, his thunder roaring across the battlefield. Odin raised his spear, calling forth the fury of the north. Ra's golden radiance turned the night into day, his fire consuming all in his path.
The First Star stood at the temple's entrance, unmoving.
But she was not alone.
The blessed warriors of the Architect, Aelius and Marcus among them, surged forward. Their strength, now far beyond mortal limits, allowed them to fight not just against men, but against the divine.
The three armies, once believing themselves invincible, found themselves driven back.
The First War would not end in a single day.
And so, the battle raged on.
The battle raged on, but the tides had shifted.
The defenders of the First Star, once thought to be hopelessly outnumbered, now surged forward with newfound strength. Their wounds healed faster, their bodies no longer succumbed to exhaustion, and their blades struck with a force no mortal should have possessed.
The gods, watching from above, narrowed their eyes.
"Impossible," Zeus muttered as he saw his warriors being pushed back. "How can mortals stand against divine might?"
Odin, ever wise, observed with caution. "They are no longer just mortals. Something—someone—has strengthened them."
Ra, his divine flames flickering, frowned. "This is no ordinary blessing. This is the work of something greater than us."
At the heart of the battlefield, Aelius and Marcus stood before their goddess, blades in hand, unwavering.
Marcus turned his head slightly. "Mother Goddess, you must retreat. You are exhausted."
The First Star shook her head, her voice weak yet firm. "No, I will stand."
Aelius tightened his grip on his sword, his eyes locked onto the gods before them. "Then allow us to stand before you. We shall not let them pass."
The gods descended.
Zeus, clad in lightning. Odin, shrouded in wisdom. Ra, burning with the might of the sun.
Aelius and Marcus did not falter.
The battle between mortals and gods began.
The gods had expected an easy victory, believing themselves invincible. But they had never faced mortals like these.
Aelius's blade clashed against Zeus's thunder, the force shaking the air. Sparks flew as Marcus deflected Odin's spear, the sound of metal against metal ringing through the battlefield. The warriors of the First Star burned with divine strength, pushing back against Ra's flames, refusing to fall.
For the first time, the gods hesitated.
Zeus leaped back, his breath unsteady. "They match us in battle… No, they overwhelm us."
Odin, his wisdom unshaken, nodded. "We must retreat. Something unnatural empowers them."
Ra, his radiance dimming, grimaced. "This war is no longer ours to win."
And so, for the first time, the gods retreated.
The retreat of the gods caused their armies to falter. Seeing their divine patrons withdraw, their morale crumbled. They turned back, dragging their wounded with them, leaving behind the battlefield that had become their grave.
The people of the First Star stood victorious, though their city lay in ruins.
Aelius and Marcus, still standing before their goddess, looked out over the battlefield.
"We have won today," Marcus muttered, exhaustion catching up to him.
Aelius, still gripping his sword, exhaled. "But they will return."
The First Star gazed at the night sky, her strength drained. "And we shall be ready."
For now, the First War had ended.
But this was only the beginning.