Overwhelming Power

To call the arrival of this new being shocking would be an understatement.

He came down shooting from the skies with the force of a star, striking the ground with such force the planet nearly broke in two. Everyone had been left unable to do anything but try and stand on their own two feet as best as possible. The violent shaking and powerful winds rushed across, tearing the landscape of the planet apart so powerful it threatened even them, Gods.

In an instant, a single moment, Apollo, one of the most recognised and powerful Gods of Olympus had been taken out. Rolling across the ground limply, the fires of the sun still burning brightly, melting the earth beneath him as he sunk, never once awakening.

The brutish figure of Hercules came next, but much like Apollo, he did not last long. A single swipe of a tail, thin but powerful in shape, swung out with such force that the air around them displaced, the ground cracking as Hercules was flung back. His body carved the ground up, a deep trench forming till he came to a stop.

Much like Apollo, he did not move following this strike.

The arrows of Artemis came, but they were flung back with a mighty flap of those large, scaley wings. Arrows imbued with divine power, blocked by a gust of wind, flung back to their owner with such force that the mountain she had positioned herself on, came crumbling down.

After that, the other Olympians rushed this new figure who had taken out three of their compatriots in a matter of moments upon his arrival. Ares led the charge, flanked by Athena and Poseidon, Hippolyta bringing up the rear as the Amazonians went to collect the defeated Gods, Perrikus recalling the Dark Gods, unsure of whether this figure could be trusted despite his proclamations.

But he did not retreat.

He could not say why, could not describe this feeling, this pressure that weighed down upon him. It was like his feet were rooted to the ground, his body frozen by some unseen force that left him unable to do anything but watch the fruitless endeavours of the Olympians.

The figure, toyed with them, not ending them instantly as he did with the other Olympians.

Instead, he took his time, smiling and laughing madly as he did.

He stood still, Ares' axe swung down upon his shoulder, aiming to cut him in two. Athena came around, sword thrusting up, a precise and perfect strike aimed to come underneath the ribs and pierce the heart and lungs, ensuring an instant death. Poseidon meanwhile came from the other side, trident thrusting towards the midsection, aiming for the intensities, using the hooks on the ends to tear them apart and rip them out. All the while Hippolyta came down from the sky, hands clasped above her head and with godly strength, brought them down in a hammer strike right upon his head.

Perfect teamwork, each veteran of war and in the case of two, God of that very thing. No words had been shared, no time to plan, just seamlessly moving in unison in such a way that everyone knew that no one would have been able to come from such a strike unscathed.

The planet certainly did not.

Having already been badly damaged by the figure's arrival and dispatching of Apollo, the force of these four striking the figure only worsened the damage. They could feel the shaking, that at this point, did not stop, the constant rumbling beneath their feet as the planet began to destabilise.

They were all running out of time until this planet exploded.

Yet no one could move, all watching with baited breaths as to see what had happened in the smoke. When it parted though, the figure remained standing, smiling widely as the four rested against him, their blows having not pierced his skin or moved him an inch. He hadn't even made an attempt to move or block them, just trusting in his scaley skin to block the blows as if having known that they wouldn't be able to hurt him.

Then he said those words, those three words.

"Is that it?" They were mocking and taunting and the Olympians whose pride had been shattered in a single moment answered in kind.

All four unleashed a barrage of blows that Perrikus knew even the Skyfather, Zeus would have not been able to come out from unscathed. Yet, the figure just stood there, taking it all, his loud, booming laugh clearly heard over the explosive sound of their blows striking against his body.

The figure had said nothing when he finally made a move.

Poseidon had come rushing in, trident thrusting forwards with such speed that hundreds of blows rained down in a second. Except, the first thrust was caught in midair, the figure roughly pulling him forwards and slamming his head into Poseidons.

The God of Seas fell back with a grunt, dazed and stunned as his nose and jaw broke.

Athena was next, the more skilful of them all and able to avoid being caught by a few blows. But when Ares came in from behind, attempting to catch the figure between the two of them, it became the undoing of them both. The tail that had been wrapped around the figure's waist almost appeared like a belt.

A belt that unfurled rapidly, spinning round and striking both across the face, throwing them back, in a similar fashion to Hercules. Poseidon had been the only of the three to be able to take a blow, but the follow-up strike of a crushing blow, a punch to the sternum didn't even throw him back.

Poseidon folded over the arm that struck him, and then slowly dropped to the ground below.

All that remained then was Queen Hippolyta.

But she was not as strong as the others, there was little she could do to him when others had failed. Yet for the first time, Perrikus saw something reflected in the eyes of the Queen of Amazonians, fear. It took him a moment to realise that the fear she felt, was the same feeling that gripped him as he looked at the floating figure in the sky.

"Dark Gods!" The figure called. "Let us take to the skies where the Majestor awaits you."

As the figure said this, he landed on the ground before Hippolyta. "The Majestor would also like to see you, Queen Hippolyta. He has something to offer you, something that the Olympian Gods denied you time and time again. But one that the Majestor shall not deny you, all you need do is surrender."

Hippolyta looked to the Dark Gods, to the downed Olympians and to the Amazonians that had looked upon everything with equal fear and shock as her. "Ah, I see, brave of you." The figure noted. "You cannot surrender before your Amazonian sisters, then I shall make this simple."

As Hippolyta fell forwards, eyes glazed over, none could tell what had happened or how. But the figure caught her, throwing her over one shoulder as he walked towards the Dark Gods. Each of them watched him warily, unsure of whether he could be trusted or what he intended to do.

Frowning, the figure sighed. "This is why I hate these types of missions, the fighting fun, but dealing with you lot isn't." He then looked at them, jerking his thumb up to the sky. "We've got to leave the planet before it explodes and the Majestor is waiting. Let's go." The change from polite and almost altruistic language to a coarse and informal one was shocking, but it served the purpose of breaking them out of their stupor.

"What of the Olympians?" Perrikus wondered.

"Leave them." The figure replied. "Zeus will come to collect them before the planet is destroyed, he's just too scared to come and get them right away. Besides, taking them prisoner would rob me of my fun too soon."