The High God Descends

The forge went silent after the last automaton fell.

I sat there, crown still glowing faintly on my head, the divine energy inside me pulsing like a second heartbeat. Alectra stood across from me, her voidblades sheathed, but her eyes locked on the stairway above.

"We don't have much time," she said, her voice tight.

"I just vaporized a small army," I muttered, trying to stand. "How much more could they throw at us?"

Her head turned slowly. "You just declared yourself a god in the one place the real gods never wanted you to exist. They heard that scream."

I looked up the stairwell.

A presence was descending.

Not footsteps.

Just gravity.

The air grew heavier with every second. The stone walls began to sweat. The lava beneath the glass flickered in fear. Even the ancient runes pulsing across the walls dimmed, as if hiding.

I gripped my sword. "Who is it?"

Alectra didn't answer.

She kneeled.

For the first time since I'd met her, the unshakable shadow-witch—my so-called mentor—kneeled.

Then he arrived.

A figure descended from the red-lit stairs. Slowly. Calmly.

His robes shimmered with starlight. His skin glowed like molten gold, his eyes white and empty, as if they'd seen everything the universe had to offer and gotten bored. He had no weapons—he was the weapon. Divine essence rolled off him like heat from a supernova.

His mere presence made the divine crown on my head tremble.

Alectra whispered, "High God Auron. The Conclave's sword and judge."

I'd heard the name in whispers.

The first to kill a sky titan. The god who split the sea of dimensions. The hammer of order.

And now he was staring straight at me.

"So…" His voice was calm. But each word echoed inside my bones. "The bastard child finally wears his parents' mistake."

I didn't move.

"You knew?" I asked. "Who I was?"

He stepped closer. "We all did. The moment your mother hid her womb in mortal shadow. We smelled the prophecy. And we swore to kill it the moment it bloomed."

His gaze dropped to the sword in my hand.

"That weapon. That crown. Both forged from sins. If left unchecked… you'll tear the balance apart."

I squared my shoulders. "Then you came to stop me?"

"No," Auron said, smiling thinly. "I came to erase you."

The forge exploded.

Not from fire—but pressure.

I jumped back as the ground cracked in every direction. Lava burst from under the glass. Alectra vanished, reappearing high above on a ledge. The walls folded inward like paper.

Auron raised one hand.

A beam of pure light, thin as a thread, fired from his palm.

I slashed my sword.

The two forces collided mid-air—then detonated.

The shockwave turned the glass beneath me to dust. I flew backward, smashed into a pillar, and rolled, coughing blood. My ribs were cracked. Maybe worse.

He didn't wait.

He appeared above me, fist drawn back.

I raised my sword just in time—BOOM!

His punch met the blade. The entire mountain rumbled. My arms screamed. Sparks flew. I flew again—this time across the entire chamber. A stone column exploded behind me as I crashed.

Before I could breathe, he was on me again.

Another punch. This time I dodged.

Barely.

The crater he left in the wall was big enough to park a warship.

I slashed back, aiming for his side.

He caught my blade between two fingers.

"Still young," he muttered.

Then he twisted—and my sword cracked.

I screamed and kicked off the ground, flipping backward. My blade hummed, healing itself mid-air, the crown on my head glowing hotter.

Then I felt it.

Something inside me cracked open.

Not power.

Rage.

I stepped forward—and vanished.

Not teleportation. Not magic.

Speed.

Raw, divine speed.

I reappeared behind him, slashing.

He blocked, but not with ease.

Our blades clashed again. I spun, ducked under a light whip he conjured, and slashed upward, scoring a hit along his shoulder.

Golden blood hit the ground and boiled.

Auron stepped back. His smile faded.

"You're accelerating."

I didn't answer. I charged again.

We clashed in the air, mid-forge, blades and fists and energy exploding around us like gods playing war.

Every time he struck me, bones shattered.

Every time I struck him, he bled light.

But I was losing.

My vision blurred.

My breathing grew sharp.

The divine energy in me was too much—like trying to hold fire in a paper bag.

Then I heard her.

Alectra's voice in my mind.

"He's a high god. You can't outfight him. But you can outthink him."

I looked around mid-battle.

The throne.

The lava ducts.

The pressure chambers along the forge walls.

Then I had it.

I threw my sword at him.

He caught it—easily.

"Foolish—"

He didn't finish.

I snapped my fingers.

The blade erupted in divine light—triggering a chain reaction with the core of the forge.

The lava ducts exploded upward.

Flames and molten metal engulfed the entire ceiling.

He roared in rage—distracted.

That's when I struck.

I leapt, crown flaring, and slammed a bare fist into his chest—channeling everything inside me.

Not just power.

My will.

My rage.

The truth that I didn't care about prophecy or titles or fate.

I just didn't want to be erased.

The blast launched him into the core of the forge.

He disappeared in the firestorm.

Silence followed.

I collapsed.

Everything went dark.

---

When I woke up, Alectra was standing over me. We were outside the mountain. The snow was falling again, slowly.

"He's gone?" I asked.

"No," she said. "Wounded. Humiliated. But not dead."

"Then he'll come back."

She nodded.

"And next time, he won't come alone."

I looked at my hand. My fingers were still glowing faintly. The crown sat heavy on my head, but it didn't hurt anymore.

"I need to get stronger," I whispered.

"No," she corrected. "You need to become more than a god."