The storm had raged for three days over Olympus. Dark clouds coiled around the marble peaks, blotting out the sun. The very air trembled, not with thunder, but with something older—an anticipation that stretched across the cosmos.
The Olympians stood in assembly. Their temples groaned under the weight of what was coming. Athena's hand never left her spear. Poseidon's trident hummed with oceanic fury, though even the sea god shifted uneasily. Apollo stared at the sky, his golden eyes dimmed.
Only Zeus held his ground at the center, spear of storms in hand, lightning bleeding from his knuckles. Cronus stood behind him, silent, his jaw set.
Then it came.
A sound not of this world—a fracture that split the heavens themselves. The stars above quivered, then screamed, light bending as though some colossal hand had seized the cosmos and wrenched it apart.
"By the Fates…" Artemis whispered.
They all felt it. The prison of Uranus—the first sky, the endless vault that had been locked away since the dawn of Titan rule—was breaking.
Cracks spiderwebbed across the firmament. From them spilled light not like Zeus's lightning, nor Helios's sun, but something more primal. Silver fire cascaded, brighter than galaxies, burning yet beautiful.
The Olympians fell silent as the very dome of the universe shattered.
And then, from the void, he stepped.
⸻
The Rebirth of the Sky
Uranus did not fall—he descended. His body was sculpted from starlight, vast and radiant, though with every step it seemed to shrink, to fold in upon itself, until he walked the marble halls of Olympus like a man. His skin was pale, shimmering faintly, as if stars still burned beneath it. His eyes were bottomless voids filled with constellations. His hair cascaded in silver waves, reaching the floor.
The ground shook beneath him, but not with force—with reverence.
Cronus dropped to one knee instantly, shame pressing him to the floor. The gods, though proud, could not keep their eyes steady on him. Even Zeus lowered his spear, his thunder dimming as the weight of his father's father washed over him.
Uranus looked at them, and his voice was a sound beyond sound, layered with thunder and whisper alike.
"Children. Grandchildren. For too long, you ruled in my absence, thinking yourselves kings of eternity. But eternity was always mine."
He raised a hand. The clouds split, stars reshaping into patterns unseen for millennia. The constellations shifted at his whim. The Olympians gasped as they realized—the sky itself was bending to greet him.
Zeus forced himself to speak, though his voice trembled. "Father of the sky… you have returned."
Uranus's gaze fell on him, cold but not unkind. "I was never gone, boy. Merely bound. Shackled by fear and blood. But the chains of heaven cannot hold forever. Not when something older than even I stirs."
The gods exchanged glances. The whispers Megumi had warned of, the entity rising—it was all true.
Cronus lifted his head, his voice rough. "We brought you forth because we fear what comes. The Fallen King awakens."
Uranus's lips curved into something between a smile and a grimace. "Yes. And his vessel walks among you even now."
The air thickened. Even without a name, every god thought of the same figure—the Fallen King of mortals, Megumi Valentine.
Uranus turned his gaze eastward. His form shimmered, shrinking further, until he stood no taller than a man, clothed in a robe of starlight, hair silver against the wind. His eyes, still galaxies, burned with purpose.
"I will judge the vessel myself."
And in a breath of wind, he was gone.
⸻
Mount Oryx – The Meeting of Sky and King
Megumi sat on the cliff's edge, the same place Ava had found him so many nights before. Below, the forests of Oryx swayed in the night wind, the moon spilling silver across the land.
But tonight, the stars felt wrong. They shifted unnaturally, constellations bending like eyes watching him.
Then the air split open, and he appeared.
Uranus's feet touched the stone as though it bowed to him. The world hushed. No wind, no insect, no sound dared intrude.
Megumi rose to his feet slowly, his instincts screaming to draw his blade, though his hand refused to move. The sheer presence of this being pressed against him like the weight of a thousand storms.
The figure smiled faintly. "So this is the child who shook Olympus. The mortal who stood against gods and titans. You carry yourself well."
Megumi narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"
The figure stepped forward, his robe glimmering with starlight. He extended a hand.
"Uranus. The Sky. The father of all who sit on thrones above. And you… are my curiosity."
Megumi didn't take the hand. His jaw clenched. "Why are you here?"
Uranus chuckled softly, though even his laughter bent the air. "Because you've stirred something that should have remained asleep. The Fallen King of old is not a myth. He is not a whisper. He is hunger, wrath, the first rebellion that ever was. And he is using you as his door."
The words struck like hammers. Megumi staggered back, breath caught in his chest. He had feared it, but hearing it from this god's mouth tore away the last hope it wasn't true.
Uranus's eyes softened, galaxies swirling within them. "You have walked through pain. You have lost, bled, burned. Your rage carved the path that led him here. Do you understand now? You are not just a king, Megumi Valentine. You are a vessel."
Megumi's fists tightened. His voice cracked with fury. "Then tell me how to stop it. Tell me how to rip him out before he takes me."
Uranus studied him for a long moment, then began to walk slowly along the cliff, hands clasped behind his back. He looked like a teacher inspecting a student, his power veiled yet undeniable.
"To stop him is to stop yourself. He is stitched into your soul, woven through every drop of blood the Styx cursed into your veins. If he rises, it will be through you. If he falls, it may also be through you. That is why I am here."
Megumi followed, anger and dread clashing in his chest. "Then what? You'll kill me before he wakes?"
Uranus stopped and turned, his expression unreadable. "Perhaps. Or perhaps I will teach you how to wield what he is before he wields you. The question is… can you carry such a burden without breaking?"
Megumi's breath came hard. The night pressed down on him, the stars above rearranging themselves into shapes he couldn't recognize. His blade at his side trembled, not from his hand, but from the aura of the god before him.
For a long moment, neither spoke. The silence was heavy, filled with the weight of futures yet unwritten.
Finally, Uranus extended his hand once more, patient, commanding, inevitable.
"Walk with me, child of earth and vengeance. Your story is not yet yours alone."
Megumi stared at the hand. His pulse thundered in his ears. He didn't trust this god, didn't trust any of them. But something deep within him knew—this was no ordinary meeting. This was the beginning of a reckoning.
Slowly, reluctantly, he reached out.
Their hands touched.
The stars above flared, brighter than they had in a thousand years.