Chapter 6: The Throne of a Fallen God

The great doors to the ruined palace creaked open, the echoes of their movement reverberating through the darkened halls. Dust swirled in the stagnant air, carrying the scent of decay and forgotten power. Rael stepped forward, his golden eyes cutting through the dimness like twin beacons.

Behind him, Selene walked with quiet amusement, her violet gaze flickering between the fallen remnants of the war god's once-proud domain. The defeated champions knelt outside, their broken forms watching as their conqueror made his way to their throne.

The throne room was vast, its ceiling partially collapsed, allowing streaks of pale light to filter through the cracks. The stone pillars lining the chamber bore deep scars from past battles, their divine inscriptions long since faded. At the center of it all stood a massive obsidian throne, its jagged edges and worn carvings speaking of a god who once ruled but had long since perished.

Selene hummed. "Not the most comfortable-looking seat."

Rael ignored her, stepping up the broken steps toward the throne. With every movement, the very air seemed to react to his presence, a whisper of resistance—of rejection.

This throne did not recognize him.

Rael smirked. Then I will make it.

He reached out, placing a single hand on the throne's surface. Instantly, a surge of energy erupted from it, tendrils of divine force lashing out like a wounded beast. A last remnant of the fallen god's will, refusing to be claimed.

The golden markings across Rael's skin flared, meeting the force head-on. The throne's power attempted to overwhelm him, to consume him.

But Rael did not yield.

His fingers tightened against the obsidian surface, his own divine energy surging forth. The throne's resistance wavered, its essence clashing against his own, trying to reject him as its master. The air grew heavy, oppressive, as the final remnants of the fallen war god's will made one last desperate attempt to resist.

Selene leaned against a nearby pillar, watching lazily. "Ah, a throne with personality. How charming."

Rael narrowed his eyes, his will pressing harder. The throne shuddered beneath his grip, its rejection turning into something else—submission.

Then, with a final surge, the throne broke.

Not physically, but spiritually.

The resistance vanished in an instant, the remnants of the war god's essence bowing to the inevitable. A golden pulse spread outward from the throne, rushing through the entire palace, reclaiming it. Where there had once been faded carvings, now golden inscriptions returned. The broken pillars hummed with renewed power, and the air shifted—the throne room no longer a relic of the past but a domain reborn.

Selene whistled softly. "Well, you certainly made an entrance."

Rael lowered himself into the throne, the obsidian surface molding to his form, no longer resisting him. He leaned back slightly, one hand resting on the armrest as his golden gaze swept across the chamber. This was only the beginning.

Outside the throne room, the freed gods who had followed him from the abyss waited. Some looked upon the throne with reverence, others with wariness. The warrior goddess entered the chamber, bowing her head slightly. "It is done," she reported. "The remaining defenders have sworn their allegiance. Those who refused…" She did not finish the sentence, but the meaning was clear.

Rael gave a slight nod. "Good."

Selene stretched her arms above her head. "So, what now, oh mighty conqueror? Do we sit here and wait for the Supreme Pantheon to send their next set of lapdogs?"

Rael chuckled. "No. We move forward."

He turned his gaze to the freed gods who had followed him from the abyss. "This world was abandoned by its previous rulers. Their thrones stand empty, waiting to be claimed. We do not wait for the Supreme Pantheon to make their move." His voice hardened. "We take everything before they realize what's happening."

The gathered gods stiffened, anticipation stirring in their forms. For so long, they had been trapped, reduced to nothing. Now, they stood before a ruler who did not fear the Pantheon.

Selene grinned. "Ambitious."

Rael smirked. "Necessary."

Before another word could be spoken, a heavy presence pressed down on the room, like the weight of a mountain. The golden glow that had filled the throne room flickered for a brief moment.

Rael's gaze sharpened. Something had arrived.

Selene tilted her head. "Now that's interesting."

The very walls of the palace trembled as an unseen force pressed against them. And then, from the shadows at the far end of the throne room, a figure emerged.

A woman—tall, imposing, her presence exuding a power that was neither fully divine nor mortal. Her piercing, silver eyes locked onto Rael, filled with something unreadable. Her form was wreathed in ethereal armor, her long black hair flowing behind her like a shadow given form.

She stopped just before the steps leading to the throne and gazed at him in silence.

Then, she knelt.

The gathered gods stirred, whispers rippling through them. Selene arched an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.

The woman spoke, her voice smooth yet laced with something ancient. "You have taken the first throne." She lifted her gaze slightly, a sharp glint in her silver eyes. "Now, take the rest."

Rael leaned forward slightly, his smirk returning. So be it.