Chapter 7: The Gods Strike Back
> "If he is the new god, then we are the old blood. Rusted. Fragile. Forgotten. We must remind the world why they once feared the sky."
— Veritas, God of Law and Memory
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Aetherion in Ruin
The realm of the gods was never meant to feel fear.
Yet now… it tastes it.
The Thronium, once the most stable axis of divine reality, groans beneath the weight of silence. Thrones built from eternity crack.
The Seat of Thornsoul is empty — and rotting.
Where his presence once existed, there is now only a festering hole. It screams when looked upon. The throne bleeds.
And the others?
They no longer sit.
They pace.
They argue.
They mourn.
Because Thornsoul was not supposed to die.
And he was certainly not supposed to be eaten.
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The Gods Assemble
Eleven remain of the original Twelve.
And now, they gather again — not in majesty, but in fear.
The Sky-Father's mouths remain shut — all thousand of them.
Veritas, the Law-God, his form flickering, speaks first:
> "We are no longer rulers. We are quarry."
> "He has created myth through blasphemy."
> "He is being worshipped in screams."
The Hollow Mother clutches her stomach. Her womb-spawned moon trembles, giving birth to stillborn prayers.
> "The mortal plane no longer looks to us."
> "They look beneath their skin."
The Lady of Nails, eyes bleeding ash, kneels in silence.
Even Dios Tyrant — the God-King, Devourer of Stars, Conqueror of Suns — sits still.
Unmoving.
Breathing.
Remembering.
> "He's not a rebellion," Dios says.
"He's a correction."
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The Divine War Council
They review what they know:
Nero has consumed the god Thornsoul.
He possesses multiple organ-artefacts from the sealed Vaults.
He has created a living religion that feeds him, evolves him.
Faithrot is spreading, weakening temples and prophets.
Mortals now believe in him — and belief equals power.
Worse:
> He learns.
> He mutates.
> He infects faith.
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The Law of Divine Contact
Normally, divine law forbids gods from mass-descending to the mortal world — a safety woven into the fabric of reality to prevent cataclysmic overlap between realms.
But Veritas speaks the unspeakable:
> "I revoke the Law."
Lightning shreds the skies of Aetherion.
The other gods flinch.
> "The Law was made to protect us."
> "Now it protects him."
Dios Tyrant rises.
He draws his sword — a black beam of compressed will, heavier than galaxies.
> "Let it be known."
> "The Seal of War is broken."
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[WORLD EVENT: CELESTIAL RECKONING]
> The Divine Council has revoked the Law of Separation.
Full Pantheon Access to the mortal plane is now authorized.
Eleven true gods are now preparing for direct war.
Consequences:
• Mortal realm stability at risk.
• Planar boundaries deteriorating.
• Reality nodes may fracture.
> New objective issued to all remaining gods:
EXTERMINATE THE GOD-EATER.
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The God Who Volunteers First
The gods look among themselves.
Who will descend next?
Who will challenge the eater of divinity?
Silence answers.
Until a voice rises — wet, layered, singing through bone.
The Lady of Nails stands.
Her body wrapped in parchment flesh.
Her mouth stitched shut — she speaks only through wounds.
Her eyes made from thorned rosaries.
Her touch induces scripture-bleed — writing that bursts from the skin of her victims.
She tears open her palm.
Scripture crawls from it, alive.
It spells:
> "I will go."
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Her Purpose
Unlike Thornsoul, she is not wrathful.
She is not loud.
She is ritual.
Precision.
She intends not to fight Nero.
But to seal him — in a sarcophagus of living commandments.
A soul-cage, bound by law, language, and agony.
She begins preparation.
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Forging of Divine Weaponry
The gods know they cannot use their old relics. Nero has eaten one of them.
Instead, they forge something new:
The Wordlance – A spear made from compressed theology. Tip forged from the last unspoken law of creation.
The Mirrorblood Mantle – A cloak that reflects only lies. Designed to shield minds from Nero's voice.
The Halo-Tomb – A binding cage built from the screams of dying planets. Can trap anything with a soul.
The Lady of Nails takes all three.
She descends.
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Meanwhile: Nero Prepares
In the deepest floor of the Vault, Nero senses it:
> Another god is coming.
But this one feels different.
Not brute. Not pain.
Something calculated.
He stands before a new altar, fashioned from the spinal columns of 66 priests.
Carves words into the bone.
> "Let her come."
He rips open his chest again — tendrils emerging.
A new heart forms inside him.
Not his.
Not stolen.
But cult-grown.
A divine organ born from belief, not theft.
It beats with a rhythm that echoes through planes.
> Ba-dum. Ba-dum.
> A god's heart made by mortal myth.
> He smiles.
> "Let's see if she can bleed."
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Final Scene: The Descent
Across the mortal realm, the sky darkens.
The stars form an eye.
From that eye, a thread descends — stitched from prayer and commandment.
The Lady of Nails rides it downward, floating in a cocoon of liturgy and razors.
Everywhere she passes, holy books burst into flame.
Nuns scream.
Children claw at their faces, crying "He is watching us!"
She lands at the edge of the Vault of Living Flesh.
Where Nero waits.
Where the next divine duel will begin.
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