The sky darkened, torn apart by roaring black clouds swirling over shattered mountains. Thunder rumbled like the growls of ancient beasts, and lightning carved jagged scars across the heavens.
Standing like a god of ruin, Cronos, King of the Titans, glared down at Tom, his monstrous body wrapped in chains of ancient power, his breath a storm in itself.
Cronos's massive, rotting hand gripped a colossal, rusted scythe, a weapon so large and ancient that it seemed to cut reality itself as he swung it.
With a roar that shook the world, Cronos lifted his scythe high, its edge dripping with the remains of fallen gods. His voice thundered through the ruined land like an earthquake:
"DIE, MORTAL!"
The scythe descended with blinding speed, the very air howling around its blade. The ground beneath Tom cracked and shattered, enormous slabs of stone lifting into the air from the sheer pressure.
But Tom, calm as a silent storm, darted sideways, dodging with a motion so smooth it seemed he danced between life and death itself. The scythe smashed into the earth where he had just stood, exploding the ground into a towering eruption of dust, rock, and fire.
Without giving Tom a second to recover, Cronos's other hand, thick as a mountain, lunged toward him.
CRASH!
Fingers like ancient stone pillars closed around Tom, gripping him in a deadly prison. Bones creaked. Muscles strained. Tom gritted his teeth as the titan's strength bore down on him.
Cronos raised him high into the air like a rag doll.
His colossal mouth opened wide, revealing endless rows of shattered teeth. His breath was a hurricane of rot and ancient death.
"You will die, mortal!" Cronos growled, his voice trembling with both rage and hunger.
And with a sickening, monstrous laugh, he threw Tom into his mouth and swallowed him whole.
For a moment, silence fell over the battlefield.
Cronos beat his chest, roaring in triumph. Mountains crumbled. Rivers boiled. Lightning flared madly across the sky.
Victory was his.
Or so he thought.
Suddenly — a low rumble emanated from within Cronos's stomach. His victorious laughter turned into confusion, then pain. His titanic face twisted in agony. He grabbed his stomach, his legs staggering under him.
His bellow of pain ripped through the world:
"WHAT… WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"
Inside the titan's foul body, Tom unleashed his fury. Dark magic, heavier than gravity itself, exploded within him, poisoning the very flesh of Cronos.
Tom's body pulsed with an infernal, horrifying power.
Gathering every ounce of his strength, he channeled his wrath into a single devastating spell. A spell meant not just to kill — but to utterly destroy.
In the next heartbeat—
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!
An earth-shattering explosion tore through Cronos's stomach.
Chunks of flesh the size of cities were hurled into the sky.
Blood, dark and endless, cascaded like waterfalls from the gaping wound.
Intestines, massive and smoking, spilled from the tear, wrapping mountains like grotesque vines.
The world seemed to stop for a moment as Cronos, the eternal titan, screamed louder than any being had screamed before.
From the smoking, bloody abyss of Cronos's gut, Tom emerged — a dark figure soaked in titan's blood, steam rising from his body like a demon from the pits of hell.
He landed gracefully atop a shattered mountain, his black cloak fluttering like the wings of a fallen angel.
The ground beneath his boots sizzled and cracked from the sheer intensity of his magic.
Cronos staggered, clutching his bleeding side. His body, once invincible, now trembled with death.
Yet, even in agony, he roared with blind fury.
Gathering the last of his immense strength, Cronos raised his gigantic scythe once more. The blade caught what little light remained in the sky, casting a shadow of death upon the broken earth.
He hurled his final, desperate attack at Tom — a blow strong enough to shatter continents.
The wind screamed as the blade descended, faster than a falling star.
Tom didn't move.
Instead, he simply raised his hand — fingers open, commanding the very laws of reality.
FLASH!
In an instant, Cronos's entire body froze — locked in the air by Tom's dark magic.
The titan's eyes widened, burning with disbelief and terror. His muscles bulged, trying to resist, but it was useless.
The King of Titans was powerless.
Tom's other hand rose slowly, like a judge delivering a final sentence.
With a silent command, he seized control of Cronos's own scythe.
The ancient weapon twisted unnaturally in midair, its blade reversing direction.
A dark, cruel smile flickered at the edge of Tom's lips.
Then—
SLASH!
The scythe shot forward, faster than sound, slicing through Cronos from his center legs up through his gut, his heart, his throat, and splitting his skull in two.
The titan's howl of agony shattered the clouds.
Blood sprayed into the sky like a volcanic eruption. His bones snapped like twigs. His titanic body collapsed backward, falling in slow motion, crashing into the mountains, destroying everything in his path.
CRAAAAAASSHHHHH!!!
The shockwave knocked down mountains, dried up rivers, and scorched the skies.
Cronos, the immortal, the King of the Titans, was dead.
The world fell eerily silent.
Tom stood alone, victorious, atop the ruins of gods and legends. His eyes were twin furnaces of dark, endless power. The staff in his hand still burned with the wrath of a thousand battles.
The wind whispered his name in awe and terror.
But even as he took a breath, the ground beneath him rumbled.
The mountains groaned.
The sea boiled.
Tom turned his blood-red eyes toward the horizon.
And there — rising from the broken, bleeding earth — came a being even greater than Cronos.
A woman taller than the tallest mountain, her body made of living stone and earth, her hair flowing river of grass, her voice the groan of the planet itself.
It was Gaia —
The Mother of All Titans.
Her monstrous eyes, filled with infinite rage and sadness, locked onto Tom.
A heavy silence loomed over the shattered plains, broken only by the distant rumble of thunder as Gaia—Mother of the Titans—descended like a towering storm. Her presence warped the very nature around her. Trees bent unnaturally, stones floated in defiance of gravity, and the earth beneath her feet cracked like a fragile shell. She stared at Tom with eyes brimming with ancient power and unyielding hatred.
Gaia's voice echoed with the depth of millennia. "You dare to destroy my children? You dare to taint this sacred land with the blood of gods?"
Tom stood at the center of the battlefield, his clothes torn, body bruised from the battle with Cronos. Yet his stance remained proud, his dark eyes never wavering. Medusa clung gently to his neck in her miniature snake form, her tiny body trembling.
"I do more than dare," Tom replied, his tone chillingly calm. "I end your lineage. One by one."
Gaia snarled, and the earth quaked. "Arrogant mortal! My existence predates time itself! I am nature, the mother of life, the soul of this world!"
Tom smirked, tilting his head. "Then it's fitting that I end the world with your death."
Gaia stepped forward, and the sky turned a deep, sickly green. "Do you think your toys, your spells, and your staff can stand against the primeval force of creation? You are a parasite clinging to borrowed power!"
Tom chuckled darkly. "You mistake borrowed for conquered. Everything I wield, I took. By force." He raised his hand, summoning his staff.
Before the battle could begin, Gaia paused, her tone now twisted with curiosity. "Tell me, why? Why slaughter gods, raze realms, and burn history? Are you hungry for power? Or just another boy crying for vengeance?"
Tom's expression darkened. "You murdered my people. The divine stood by as my father bled. The heavens watched and did nothing. I am not seeking vengeance—I am balance. A blade across the throat of hypocrisy."
Gaia laughed, cruel and booming. "A child throwing tantrums in the sand. Pathetic."
"I've killed gods stronger than you," Tom replied with steel in his voice. "I made Cronos beg for death. And you, Gaia—you'll scream louder."
The ground exploded beneath him. Gaia raised her arms, and from the sky rained boulders the size of mountains. Earthquakes rippled outward as cracks split the battlefield. Stone serpents slithered from the soil, their fangs dripping magma.
Tom dodged with grace, yet even he struggled to keep pace. "Persistent woman."
He called his staff to his hand. "Wisdom Wisitum!"
Dark, twisted energy erupted from the staff, crackling with purple lightning and shadows. He hurled it forward—it shattered through boulders, carving a path through Gaia's assault. But she smiled and sidestepped it, laughing at his poor aim.
"You missed, boy."
Tom pointed behind her. "Did I?"
A blinding streak of light. The staff, now flying in from the rear, pierced straight through Gaia's chest, leaving a gaping, sizzling hole.
She gasped, coughing golden ichor. "You… bastard! You truly have no respect for the divine… nor for women!"
Tom walked forward slowly, eyes narrowed. "I respect one woman."
Medusa, still in her small form, whispered from his shoulder, "Tom…"
Tom raised his hand. Two massive, glowing daggers appeared—enchanted and cruel. He launched them with chains, stabbing one into Gaia's head and the other through her open chest. "And she is the only one I love."
With a brutal motion, Tom pulled the chains. Gaia's body twisted grotesquely as her head was ripped downward into her own chest cavity. Her body shuddered violently, collapsing in a geyser of blood, dirt, and energy. Gaia, the eternal Earth Mother, was no more.
A deadly silence followed. Then—
Medusa shifted to her full woman form, tears brimming in her glowing eyes. She stepped closer to Tom, her voice soft but trembling. "You really… only love me?"
Tom's lips curled into a slight grin. "You doubted that?"
She looked away, flustered. "I… I mean, you could've had others. Made anyone your slave. Your queen. And yet—"
"I don't want anyone else," Tom said, voice deep and honest. "You're enough, Medusa. You're not my slave. You're my other half."
Her cheeks flushed red, and she turned away, muttering. "I-It's not like I'm happy you said that or anything."
Tom leaned in, teasing. "You're totally blushing."
"I'm not!"
"You are."
"I hate you."
"You love me."
Medusa groaned, then quickly wrapped herself around him again, coiling under his cloak. "Shut up and protect me."
He laughed, brushing her cheek with his finger. "Always."
Suddenly, a massive thunderbolt struck the battlefield, splitting the sky in two. A storm of raw power descended.
From the light emerged Zeus.
Without warning, Zeus struck Tom with a divine punch, sending him flying into a jagged cliff face. The impact split the rock and echoed like the roar of a thousand storms.
Tom rose slowly, wiping blood from his lips, eyes narrowing as Medusa coiled around him in fear. "Another one?"
Hermes landed beside Zeus, smirking. "Looks like someone's finally angry, big guy."
Tom tilted his head, scoffing. "And here I thought thunder was just nature's fart."
Medusa groaned. "Tom, please not now…"
Tom stepped forward, cracking his neck. "Fine. Let's see what you've got, Zeus."
The skies above Olympus roared with tension. Dark clouds swirled, lightning flashed wildly, and the realm of the gods trembled with impending doom. The scent of blood still hung in the air from the previous confrontation, but Tom stood unfazed, his eyes gleaming with unholy power.
Suddenly, a blur cut through the air—Hermes.
With the speed of light itself, Hermes launched toward Tom, his fists a whirlwind of divine fury. Each strike carried the momentum of lightning, faster than mortal eyes could follow. But Tom's cold gaze tracked every movement. With eerie calmness, he tilted his head, dodging Hermes's strikes one after another, the air slicing apart as punches missed by inches.
Then came Tom's counter.
One blow—precise, ruthless, and devastating—slammed into Hermes's chest. Time seemed to stop. Tom's fist pierced through divine flesh, bones snapping like twigs, and blood erupted from Hermes's mouth. Tom's hand emerged from Hermes's back, stained crimson, clutching something pulsing and wet. Hermes's heart. The god of speed gasped, eyes wide with disbelief, but Tom gave no mercy.
With a cold grin, Tom clenched his fist. The heart squelched and burst into a red mist.
"Goodbye, messenger," Tom muttered.
Hermes's body exploded in a violent blast of blood and divine energy, painting the marble of Olympus in gore. A loud silence followed—until Zeus roared with fury.
Lightning cracked the heavens as the King of Gods descended, his eyes burning with stormfire.
"YOU DARE!?" Zeus bellowed, thunder shaking the skies.
Tom tilted his head mockingly. "What? I just returned your little errand boy in pieces."
Zeus's face twisted with rage. "I will burn your soul until time forgets you ever existed!"
The sky lit up. Zeus hurled himself forward, fists glowing with lightning. Tom tried to meet him halfway, but Zeus was faster this time. A thunder-infused punch slammed into Tom's chest, sending him crashing into a pillar. Before he could recover, Zeus appeared again and punched Tom repeatedly, thunderclaps echoing with every blow. Tom's cloak tore, his face bloodied.
But he grinned.
Dark mist swirled around him, and with a burst of magic, Tom struck back. His fists crackled with arcane energy, slamming into Zeus with monstrous strength. A shockwave rocked Olympus. Blood leaked from Zeus's mouth, and for the first time in centuries, the king of gods felt pain.
Zeus roared and launched upward into the skies. Lightning coiled around him, turning him into a living storm. He raised both hands, summoning a cataclysmic thunderbolt, but before he could strike—
Two massive, dark wings erupted from Tom's back.
Black feathers rained from the sky, and the ground shook under the force of Tom's dark aura. With a single beat of his wings, he soared into the heavens, his silhouette sharp against the roiling clouds.
Their aerial battle began.
Each clash between them shook Olympus. Zeus unleashed bolt after bolt of celestial lightning, while Tom weaved through them, retaliating with dark spells that bent reality. The skies themselves cried as their battle scorched the heavens. Every collision of their powers lit up the realm like stars colliding.
And then—Tom landed.
He raised his staff high, his eyes glowing a deep violet. He stabbed it into the ground with thunderous force. Dark symbols ignited around him, forming a circle of power. He began chanting an ancient, cursed incantation. His mouth bled from the spell's strength, and the ground cracked under the weight of his power.
The staff pulsed, engulfed in a thick, dark-purple aura. It hummed with the souls of the damned.
Tom roared and hurled the staff at Zeus at the speed of light. Zeus caught it midair, his hand trembling slightly from the raw power it carried. With a snarl, Zeus threw it back—but as Tom moved to dodge, Zeus vanished and reappeared behind him, grabbing the staff mid-flight and plunging it toward Tom's back.
The staff slashed into Tom's shoulder, blood spraying, but Tom spun away, eyes burning.
"Nice trick," he hissed.
The staff vanished from Zeus's grip and reappeared in Tom's hand.
He appeared right in front of Zeus, pressed the tip of the staff to the king's chest, and stabbed.
The staff pierced Zeus's heart. The king of gods gasped and closed his eyes. Silence fell.
But when Zeus opened them again, there was no Tom.
No staff.
Suddenly, the staff burst out of his back. His eyes turned dark purple, veins glowing sickly black. Zeus choked. Blood, thick and unnatural, gushed from his mouth as darkness filled his insides.
"Surprise, motherfucker," Tom whispered in his ear.
Tom lifted Zeus by the throat, spun, and slammed him to the ground with god-slaying force. The mountain cracked. Olympus screamed.
The king of gods twitched… then stopped moving.
Silence.
Olympus trembled. The sky went black. The thrones cracked and crumbled.
And then—everything exploded.
A wave of dark magic erupted from Zeus's corpse. Statues shattered. Temples collapsed. Flames rose. Olympus fell into ruin.
The gods were gone. Their realm—a broken memory.
From the ashes stepped Tom.
Blood dripped from his face. His aura was no longer just dark. It was ancient. Godless. Infinite.
Medusa approached him slowly, her serpentine form melting into her human one. Her eyes, always cold, held something new—curiosity… maybe admiration.
She stood beside him in the chaos, her voice unusually soft. "You… did it."
Tom turned to her, smirking. "Of course I did. Was there ever a doubt?"
She chuckled quietly. "You're mocking me again."
"Only when you act sweet."
They stood in silence, watching the ashes fall like snow.
Tom raised his staff again, stained with divine blood. "Now, only one thing left to do."
Medusa tilted her head. "What is it?"
Tom smiled darkly.
He chanted. The language was older than time, venomous and twisted. He stabbed the staff into the cracked marble.
The world groaned.
A vortex formed above them, black as death. Souls rose from the ruined realm—gods, beasts, mortals. The essence of Olympus, the power of the underworld, even the echoes of Titans—all of it rushed into Tom.
His body shimmered, cracked, and reformed. His skin glowed. His presence darkened. His beauty grew unnatural. His hair flowed like shadowfire, and his eyes became endless voids.
Medusa took a step back. "What the hell…? I can't even sense your power anymore."
Tom turned to her, his voice deep and calm. "You weren't meant to."
Realization dawned in her eyes. "You absorbed… all of it."
Tom nodded and offered her the staff.
"I don't need this anymore. It's yours now."
Medusa hesitated before taking it. "You sure?"
"I'm beyond it," Tom said simply.
She stared at the weapon in her hands, then looked at him. "So how powerful are you now?"
Tom shrugged. "Let's just say… the void bows to me."
Medusa's lips curled into a small smile. "You're terrifying."
"Thanks."
A pause.
"So…" she began, "where are we going next?"
Tom chuckled. "Norse mythology."
Her smile vanished. "No! Not yet! I don't want to see any wars or battles right now!"
Tom raised an eyebrow. "Okay, okay, forgive me. I won't start any battles the moment we arrive."
Medusa pouted. "Good. You're forgiven—this time."
Tom snapped his fingers. A cloak—enchanted, laced with divine magic—wrapped around him.
"Ready?"
Medusa sighed. "Yeah. Just… don't do anything dumb like declaring war again."
He grinned. "No promises."
Another snap.
A portal ripped open behind them, swirling with chaos and light.
"Come," Tom said.
Together, they stepped through the portal… and appeared before the Lake of Nine.
A new realm.