Ogou Feray vs Drakhol and Veliag

The battlefield above Bassoun burned red.

The wind carried smoke and ash, twisted by firestorms and the roars of gods. As rifts tore open the heavens and Beast Gods rained ruin on the world below, one god stood at the center of the storm—his blade glowing red, his body sheathed in steam and metal.

Ogou Feray, god of war, steel, and flame—forger of warriors, breaker of tyrants.

His eyes were sharp. His stance calm. And before him descended two monstrosities:

Drakhol, the Burning Mane — a lion-shaped inferno crowned with horns of sunfire, his mane a curtain of molten gold, every breath a wildfire.

Veliag, the Iron-Hide Hunger — a titanic beast with armored skin like rusted iron, fists like falling mountains, and hunger etched in every strike.

Ogou grinned and cracked his knuckles.

"Two of you? Good. I was starting to get bored."

The Clash of Gods

Drakhol struck first—a comet of flame, claws and mane lashing toward Ogou with the fury of a dying sun. Ogou blocked with a shield forged from pure will, fire licking across his frame.

Before he could retaliate, Veliag charged—each footstep shattering sky-stone. His punch slammed into Ogou, sending him crashing through floating ruins.

Blood shimmered on Ogou's lip. He spat it out, wiped his mouth, and laughed.

"You hit like a hungry child. Now it's my turn."

Ogou Unleashed

He summoned his Seven Faces of War—seven fighting stances taught to mortals, now returned in divine form.

The Spear of Dawn: a forward assault that split the flames of Drakhol.

The Shield of Sons: a defensive dance that caught Veliag's charge mid-motion.

The Hammer of Resistance: a counterblow that shattered one of Veliag's armored tusks.

Drakhol howled and cast down flame like rain. Ogou split the fire with his blade, stepping through it unharmed. With a roar, he leapt, blade drawn high, and drove it into Drakhol's back—sending the Burning Mane spiraling downward in flame.

Iron Breaks

Veliag tackled him midair. They crashed into a floating continent, shattering it in half. Ogou grappled with the monster—iron fist against godly grip.

Then Ogou whispered, "You think you're the only one made of iron?"

His body glowed red-hot, his skin transforming into living steel, forged in the soul of every blacksmith, every soldier, every broken weapon reborn.

With a roar, he broke Veliag's jaw in three strikes, cracked open the armor of his chest, and then drove both blades into the beast's core.

Veliag bellowed—and fell.

Final Stand

Drakhol, scorched and wounded, returned in desperation, charging like a falling meteor.

Ogou didn't move.

He held out his hand—and summoned a war spear formed from every battlefield across time.

One throw.

One god.

One strike.

The spear tore through Drakhol's heart, pinning him in place as his flames guttered and died.

The Aftermath

Ogou stood alone in the smoke, bloodied but unbowed.

"Next," he growled, breathing heavy, eyes already searching the horizon.

And across the heavens, the other gods paused—for they had heard war's roar.

And Ogou Feray, clad in iron and fire, had not fallen.