What makes a god a god?
Some say it lies in his power to create—and to undo.
Others argue a god is the only being whose will cannot be influenced.
But I say a god is only as powerful as the faith placed in him.
Was I one?
No.
I was an anomaly.
A glitch in the universe.
Before I could react, a spear tore through the air toward my face.
My jaw tightened. My feet sank into the ground.
A slab of concrete ripped free and rose in front of me, stopping the spear mid-flight.
I barely had time to breathe.
A sudden whoosh cut past my side.
A hand caught my collar and drove me into the earth.
The ground exploded.
Buildings collapsed in a violent wave.
The world fractured beneath the impact.
Lightning struck.
Everything went white.
I opened my eyes to a white room—smooth walls, seamless edges.
A simulation.
A single question echoed in my mind.
Do you wish to continue with Ragnarok?
"Proceed," I said coldly.
Reality folded.
I reappeared behind the man who had slammed me into the ground.
Another stood at a distance, his blade gleaming in silence.
Beneath my feet, the ground screamed.
The sky was wrong—too still, like it was afraid to move.
Somewhere deep below, the planet's heart stuttered.
Once… then again.
They would later call this moment Ragnarok.
I simply called it necessary.
The world needed heroes.
So they made gods.
And when gods were no longer obedient,
they called us monsters.