When Gods Break

The blow had driven Mephisto to his knees.

Just one.

And yet the silence that followed was heavier than thunder.

The air itself strained under the weight of disbelief.

Mephisto's hand trembled as he planted the base of his scythe into the stone, cracks webbing out beneath it like veins carved in brittle porcelain. One black-gloved hand lifted to his mouth—blood. Dark, ichor-like, divine.

His head slowly rose, eyes no longer calm.

"Y—You filthy INSECT…"

His voice cracked like stone under too much pressure.

"How DARE you… an inferior demon… make me kneel?"

Asmodeus didn't answer.

He stepped forward, slow, controlled. The red glow of his axe spread into the fractured walls around them, black flames hissing with every breath he took. There was no arrogance in his movement.

Only judgment.

Mephisto's lips peeled back, baring teeth not human. His aura pulsed once—and the throne room changed.