Mount Dikti — Battlefield Below the Gods
The Titans came like a storm that didn't wait for permission.
From the horizon, they surged—massive, towering, crackling with raw power. Coeus with his star-forged armor gleaming like a shattered nebula. Iapetus dragging a greatblade longer than most trees. Hyperion burning like a living sun. Crius breathing clouds of frost that snapped the ground into frozen plains beneath his steps.
And Cronus… walking like time itself obeyed him.
The sky didn't just go dark—it folded, like the world was trying to hide from what was coming.
Zeus stood still. Lightning ran across his blade, curling around his forearm like a living serpent. The moment the Titans crossed the last ridge, he raised Keraunos.
No signal. No trumpet.
Just the storm answering his call.
And then—
The clash.
Poseidon struck first, slamming Triena into the ground. A tidal shockwave burst from the mountainside, ripping trees from the earth and sending a wall of sea-force crashing into the frontlines of the Titan army. Creatures of chaos went flying—slammed into rocks, tossed off cliffs, dissolved by the pressure alone.
Iapetus charged through it, roaring. His blade cleaved the water in half, and he threw it into the sky like a wall. It froze midair, and then shattered—raining glass-like shards of sea down across both sides.
Demeter swung Gaios once, and vines erupted like spears, snapping up from the soil. They wrapped around Titan beasts, squeezing with divine force. Some screamed. Some just exploded in bursts of pollen and blood.
Hera sprinted forward, Nemeia in hand. The spear glowed with a venomous light, and with every thrust, it sent out pulses of corrupting energy that turned Titan foot soldiers against each other. Brothers stabbed brothers. Eyes rolled white. They dropped in chaos.
Hestia hovered, hands glowing, Pyralithos pulsing like a second heart in her chest. With every pulse, golden fire swept across the battlefield—not burning flesh, but burning fear. Her allies stood straighter. Wounds closed. Screams stopped. She was the flame they leaned into.
Hades descended like smoke through the ranks—his body flickering with deathlight. He slipped behind Crius, whispered something in his ear, and stabbed him through the back with a blade of cold soulsteel. Crius howled, spinning, but Hades was already gone—mist, shadows, a blink of pressure and hate.
And then—
Zeus moved.
One blink, he was still.
The next—
He was above the battlefield.
Keraunos lit up.
[Skill Activated: Heaven Splitter]
He dropped the blade.
A bolt of lightning the size of a mountain tore through the clouds and slammed into the Titans' second line. The ground exploded. Bodies vaporized. The sky itself cracked and bled white.
Cronus lifted his sickle and pointed it toward the heavens. The bolt struck him—
And stopped.
Time slowed.
The lightning unraveled like silk, and Cronus stepped through it untouched. Behind him, his army roared.
"You think that's power?" he growled.
He slashed with his sickle.
Reality bent. A wave of age washed forward, and every tree in its path shriveled into ash. Even gods had to dive aside. Hera gritted her teeth as she blocked it with Nemeia—the blast still burned her hair gray at the edges.
The Kouretes charged. They danced in unison, spinning, flipping, blades singing through air and flesh. They carved down Titan after Titan—not with brute force, but speed, precision, rhythm. Their dance was war, and their enemies were simply out of tune.
Hyperion rose, flames billowing from his body like a sun losing control. He reached for the sky and pulled it downward. Fire rained in spirals. Whole rows of demi-gods burned screaming.
Poseidon hurled Triena.
The trident pierced the storm and struck Hyperion's chest with a blast of white-blue power that turned the air to steam. Hyperion roared, stumbled, dropped to one knee—but he wasn't done.
He looked up, grinning, skin melting off but flames licking stronger underneath.
"You'll have to do more than that, water god."
Poseidon caught his weapon and grinned right back.
"I plan to."
Elsewhere, Demeter faced off against Perses—a younger Titan, wild and jagged, wielding a war-scythe made of obsidian teeth. He swung it, and rot exploded in a radius around him. Demeter struck Gaios into the ground—and grass bloomed beneath her. Flowers opened with blood-red petals. From them came screams and seedling soldiers, clawing at Perses's legs.
They dragged him down screaming.
In the center of it all, Zeus clashed with Cronus.
Father vs son.
Lightning vs Time.
Keraunos crackled and pulsed with divine speed. Every swing bent the sky. But Cronus was faster in a way that didn't make sense. One moment, he was there—then suddenly, he'd already dodged. Already struck. Already countered.
They didn't speak.
They didn't need to.
This wasn't about who ruled.
This was about who the world would belong to.
Zeus swung—Cronus stepped inside the blow, slashed, and reversed time for just a moment. Blood sprayed from Zeus's side.
But Zeus grinned.
"You should've aimed higher."
He snapped his fingers.
Thunder detonated inside Cronus's ears.
[Skill Activated: Skylord's Will]
The sky itself answered.
Winds howled. Lightning came down not in bolts—but in walls. Cronus was buried under a dome of stormlight so bright it blinded even the gods.
Silence.
Then—Cronus rose, skin cracked, cloak in tatters.
He was laughing.
"I made you strong," he said. "But not strong enough."
Zeus lowered Keraunos.
"We'll see."
And then the battlefield ignited again—Titans screaming, gods roaring, blades clashing, the storm swallowing the sky as Olympus and Othrys collided with no mercy, no second chances.
This was not a battle.
It was history breaking.
And the gods were writing the new page in blood.