Chapter 119 — The Shattered Pantheon

The battlefield was no longer earth, sky, or sea. It was a crucible—raw chaos, forged by gods and defied by one soul who should not exist.

The Avatars circled Kael, their immortal forms cracked but unbroken. Sigils burned across the void, each one pulsing with the will of their masters. Together, they were the Pantheon’s final decree—reality’s last guardians.

Kael lifted his blade. Shadows coiled along its edge like serpents hungering for divinity. His voice, ragged but unyielding, carried through the maelstrom:
“You call yourselves gods. Then fall as gods.”

The Avatar of Flame struck first, a sun’s core compressed into a single spear. Kael met it head-on. The clash birthed a nova that should have ended everything—yet when the light dimmed, it was the Avatar who staggered, its burning chest cleaved open.

The Avatar of Stone rose behind Kael, molding itself into a colossus of mountains. With a roar, Kael’s dominion burst outward, shattering the giant’s form into a rain of broken peaks.

The Avatar of Storm tried to bind him once more—but this time, Kael seized the chains, reversed them, and ripped the Avatar apart, its thunder swallowed by silence.

One by one, divinity cracked.
One by one, eternity bled.

Aria’s voice rang across the battlefield:
“Kael—don’t lose yourself! You’re tearing the world apart!”

But Kael’s shadow had already fused with the void, his dominion feeding not on gods, but on the idea of godhood itself. The Avatars trembled—not out of pain, but fear. For the first time in creation, they understood:

This was no man.
This was the end of their Pantheon.

Kael stepped forward. His blade rose once more, cutting not into flesh, but into belief.

And with that strike—the Pantheon shattered.