The tension on the patio of the Tropical Sunrise Resort was thicker than the basilisk gravy simmering on the flat-top grill.
Leo spun his spatula, catching it flawlessly before tapping it against the hot iron. He plated a perfectly seared, mouth-watering cut of marbled basilisk beef, garnished with diced celestial garlic and a drizzle of soy sauce. He slid the plate across the table to Maya. "Order up. Medium-rare, just how you like it."
Next to him, Kaelithos, the ten-foot-tall God of War, was sweating profusely through his frilly pink apron. His massive hands trembled as he presented a glowing, ethereal steak that literally hummed with the power of a dying star.
"BEHOLD!" Kaelithos boomed, though his voice cracked with culinary anxiety. "THE STEAK OF A THOUSAND SUNS! IT WILL TRANSCEND YOUR TASTEBUDS TO THE ETERNAL—"
He didn't get to finish his sentence.
High above the Ashen Valley, the sky didn't just rip open this time. It turned into a massive, blindingly white, continent-sized magical array. The intricate runes of the High Pantheon locked into place, spinning like the gears of a cosmic clock.
Kaelithos looked up, his pupilless eyes widening in sheer panic. "No! The High Council! They grow impatient! They are casting the Grand Ascension Recall!"
"The what now?" Leo asked, wiping his hands on a towel.
"They are forcefully summoning me back to the Heavens!" Kaelithos shrieked, desperately clutching his cutting board. "And they are targeting your anomalous auras to bring you with me! But the spell is too wide! IT'S GRABBING EVERYTHING!"
Before Maya could even pick up her fork, the world dissolved into blinding, deafening white light.
Smash cut to the High Domain of the Gods.
The Zenith Throne Room was a place of absolute, conceptual perfection. It was an infinite expanse of polished white marble, floating amidst galaxies. Dozens of Supreme Deities—beings of unfathomable power and majestic grace—sat upon towering golden thrones, projecting an aura of absolute serenity.
At the head of the room sat the High Father, a being of pure, radiant light holding the Scepter of Creation.
"The Vanguard is returning," the High Father intoned, his voice echoing with absolute authority. "He brings the mortal anomalies. Prepare yourselves to pass judgment on these—"
KRABOOM.
The absolute serenity of the Zenith Throne Room was violently, permanently shattered.
The teleportation spell hadn't just grabbed Kaelithos and the humans. Because Leo and Maya's auras were so dense, the spell had glitched, treating everything within a five-mile radius as their "personal luggage."
With an earth-shattering crunch, a massive, jagged, coral-pink chunk of the Tropical Sunrise Resort patio violently crashed right into the center of the pristine marble floor.
The dust cleared, revealing a scene of absolute, unapologetic chaos.
Right in the middle of the Heavenly Realm sat a sizzling iron flat-top grill.
Kaelithos, the God of War, was sprawled on his back, his frilly pink apron covered in soot, holding a spatula like a shield.
Vermithrax and Ignis, the two most terrifying dragons in mortal history, were currently wedged awkwardly between two priceless golden pillars, completely frozen in terror.
Demon Lords Malakor and Kaelen, along with Generals Pavan, Karthik, and Aman, were huddled under the patio table in their butler suits. Technically, the holy atmosphere of the room should have vaporized them instantly, but Maya's sheer, overbearing annoyance was acting as a localized dome of protective shade, keeping the demons perfectly safe (though absolutely terrified).
And off to the side, looking completely bewildered, were King Aldric and King Vane. The teleportation magic had literally ripped them out of their underground bunker. They were still covered in mud, holding their iron shovels, staring at the Supreme Deities with their jaws unhinged.
"W-Where are we?!" King Aldric whimpered, dropping his shovel with a loud clank.
Little Elara, sitting safely on her picnic blanket, giggled as Marshmallow the Fenrir pup trotted over to a priceless, glowing heavenly fountain and started drinking from it.
The dozens of Supreme Deities sat on their thrones, completely paralyzed in a state of collective, divine shock. The High Father's Scepter of Creation slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor.
"What... what is the meaning of this?!" the High Father bellowed, his voice trembling as he looked at the pink patio debris ruining his floor. "Kaelithos! Why are you wearing a maid's garment?! Why are there demons in the Zenith Room?! Why is there a dog drinking from the River of Souls?!"
Leo casually stepped off the cracked patio stones onto the heavenly marble. He was still wearing his floral shirt and chef's hat. He looked around the infinite, glowing room, letting out a low whistle.
"Gotta admit," Leo said, leaning on his tongs. "The vaulted ceilings are incredible. Good natural light. But the HOA here seems a little strict."
At the patio table, Maya slowly stood up.
She looked at her plate. The violent teleportation had caused a single, tiny speck of drywall dust to land perfectly on her medium-rare basilisk steak.
The temperature in the Heavenly Realm plummeted. The Supreme Deities, beings who had existed since the dawn of time, suddenly felt a sensation they had never experienced before: a cold sweat.
Maya pulled her Tom Ford sunglasses down. Her eyes locked onto the High Father.
Malakor scrambled out from under the table, holding his hands over his ears. "BRACE YOURSELVES!" the Demon Lord screamed to the Gods. "SHE'S IN VACATION MODE!"
"Excuse me," Maya said. Her voice didn't boom. It didn't echo. It sliced through the divine realm like a perfectly sharpened guillotine. "Who is the manager of this establishment?"
The High Father, a being of omnipotent power, instinctively pointed a trembling finger at himself. "I... I am the High—"
"You ruined my lunch," Maya interrupted, stepping off the patio and walking directly toward the towering throne. "You forcefully relocated my family without our consent. You dragged my butler and my chefs into the sky. And worst of all... you got dust on my steak."
Maya stopped at the base of the golden throne, looking up at the pantheon of terrified gods.
"I'm giving you exactly five minutes to fix my food, send our patio back to the resort, and apologize to my daughter," Maya commanded, crossing her arms. "Or I'm going to start snapping halos."
Leo walked up next to her, offering a warm, friendly smile to the paralyzed deities. He casually cracked his knuckles, the sound echoing like cannon fire in the silent room. "She's not bluffing, guys. I'd start with the apology."