From the ether, I felt the tension coil like a serpent around the small hut on Eroden. Four gods stood at the entrance radiant, furious, divine. Scourge stepped out to greet them, wings of broken shadow spreading wide in defiance, alone except for Ellas at his back.
The fallen angel inhaled deeply.
He liked this.
He liked the gods' anger. He liked the mortals' fear. He liked the chance to test the darkness now pulsing through his veins.
He smiled a smile too sharp for any being still called angel.
"So," Scourge said, stepping forward until the gods recoiled on instinct, "you choose to confront me."
The Sky-Father raised his spear. "You threaten our land."
The Wild Huntress drew her bowstring. "Your shadow stains our air."
The River-Soul trembled with cold rage. "Your presence bends our tides."
The Mother of Stone lifted her hammer. "You will not harm this world."
Scourge tilted his head, amused. "How noble."
Ellas emerged from the hut behind him, mortal body trembling from weakness but hatred burning in his gaze. He could barely stand, but he stood behind Scourge anyway, hands clenched in rage, breath ragged.
Scourge lifted one clawed finger.
"You stand before Scourge," he announced, "the first fallen, king of the Below, breaker of light."
He spread his wings, shadow and ember shaking the grass beneath him.
"And I offer you mercy."
The gods stiffened.
"Leave," Scourge said softly. "Or perish and leave your planet without the divine."
The Sky-Father sneered. "We bow to no shadow."
The Huntress raised her bow. "And no creature born of betrayal."
The River-Soul murmured. "Your power is twisted."
The Mother of Stone took one heavy step. "And we will bury it."
They moved.
Before Ellas could even act, before he could even breathe, the gods attacked.
The sky split with thunder. Arrows of flame streaked through the air. Water coiled into spears. Stone shattered into bullets that tore toward Scourge's heart.
Ellas barely had time to gasp.
Scourge didn't move.
For a moment, the world froze my perspective outside of time, allowing me to see what mortals could not.
The gods' attacks touched him.
Touched his shadowfire.
Touched his hatred.
And vanished.
Dissolved.Consumed.Swallowed like sparks into a collapsing star.
Scourge exhaled.
"Pathetic."
He moved once.
Just once.
And the battle ended.
The Sky-Father's chest erupted in a burst of darkness heart extinguished, divine spark smothered. The Huntress fell backwards, eyes wide, arrow frozen mid-flight, her soul ripped clean from her body. The River-Soul's form shattered into water that steamed away under Scourge's shadow. The Mother of Stone cracked down the middle like a hollow statue, her divine essence pulled into Scourge's hand and crushed.
Four gods.
Four deaths.
One heartbeat.
Ellas stumbled backwards, breath catching in his lungs. He hadn't even registered the attack by the time he blinked, the gods lay broken on the ground.
Scourge turned to him, smiling with delight.
"Now," the fallen one whispered, his voice dripping like molten shadow, "are you ready, Ellas?"
He stepped closer, placing a clawed hand on Ellas's trembling shoulder.
"Ready to become a fallen who stands above gods… and mortals… and every creature that breathes in this universe?"
Ellas inhaled sharply.
The ember in his chest pulsed.
The hatred inside him burned brighter.
"Yes," he whispered. "Yes."
Scourge's grin widened.
But the moment hung just long enough for something unexpected to break it.
A mortal, barefoot, frightened, wrapped in roughspun cloth, stepped out from behind a tree at the edge of the clearing.
A child.
Maybe fifteen years old.Shaking.Confused.Alone.
He stared at the dead gods, then at Scourge and Ellas.
"W-what are you?" he whispered.
Scourge lifted his hand.
"Your future."
He touched two fingers to the boy's chest.
Hatred poured into him like boiling water.
The boy screamed not physically, but spiritually collapsing to his knees as Scourge's corruption burrowed deep into his heart. His eyes darkened. His breath turned to steam. His shadow stretched unnaturally long and thin behind him.
When he rose, he was mortal in flesh…
…but no longer mortal in spirit.
Ellas watched with fascination.
Scourge stepped back, admiring the work.
"This world," he murmured, "will give birth to weapons, not worshipers."
But even before the boy finished transforming, I felt the shift ripple across the universe.
Every god.Every pantheon.Every divine realm.Night in her shadowed throne.Time in his spiralled dominion. Dream asleep in nebulae. Destiny in the crossroads of reality.Death in the quiet garden.Even the Elder in its trembling realm.
All felt it.
Something wrong.Something corrupt.Something ancient and hateful taking root.
Every god in existence lifted their head at once.
Every realm trembled.
Every pantheon froze.
Because the universe had just felt something it had never known:
Evil.
Pure, deliberate, growing evil.
And the first true war between creation and the fallen had begun its slow breath.
The scourge and Ellas teleport back to the below