Prologue – Ashes of the Divine
The Celestial Realm stood still.
No thunder. No whispers. Just silence.
The kind of silence that comes after a scream.
After a crime.
On the marble floor of the Garden of Illusions lay the broken body of Lyra Kane, her once-bright eyes glazed with death. Her wrists still bore the golden bruises of resistance. She hadn't died in battle.
She'd died begging for justice.
And beside her, slumped over the cooling corpse of a minor god, stood her brother—Max Kane.
Bloodied. Shaking. Unmoving.
Theon, the god of illusions, had laughed before he died.
He hadn't laughed after Max drove a thread of liquid steel through his eye.
They came for Max less than five minutes later.
Athena descended first, her armor humming with divine law.
Thor followed, wreathed in stormlight and fury.
Ares didn't say a word. His blade was already drawn.
Max didn't move.
His armor, forged from summoned metal, hissed and reformed over his body like a second skin. He turned slowly, placing a kiss on Lyra's cold forehead. Then he faced them.
"I gave you time," he said, voice like iron dragged over stone. "You did nothing."
"Step down," Athena ordered. "You will be judged in the court of Olympus."
"No," Ares growled. "He'll answer to me first."
Thor lunged. The air detonated.
Mjölnir came down with the weight of a mountain. Max raised a shield from the floor, folding iron molecules into a dome inches thick. The impact cracked it—but it held.
Athena flanked him from the right, her spear thrusting in elegant arcs. Max summoned twin daggers from his ribs and parried. Sparks danced with every clash.
Ares slammed into his side like a battering ram, knocking Max through a pillar. Blood sprayed across the garden walls.
Max rose slowly, teeth clenched.
He extended his hand—and the earth beneath them exploded into a field of spinning blades.
Athena dodged. Thor flew. Ares took three gashes to the chest.
But they were gods.
And Max, even with power in his blood, was still flesh.
He fell after thirty-seven seconds of fury.
Chained in celestial bronze, he was dragged through the clouds toward judgment.
---The Celestial Court----
The Tribunal floated in a void above time.
Three hundred gods gathered—Greek, Norse, Egyptian. Some bored. Some amused. A few disgusted.
Max knelt in the center, beaten, his cloak torn and dark with his sister's blood.
Zeus sat atop the central throne, lightning coiled around his wrists like vipers.
To his right stood Athena, face unreadable.
To his left, Ra, glowing with solar disdain.
The voice of judgment echoed.
"A mortal has slain a god."
Max didn't flinch.
"I killed a rapist."
"A god," Athena corrected.
"Who murdered my sister. Who I begged you to punish."
The court fell silent.
"You broke divine law," Zeus said coldly. "Do you believe yourself above judgment?"
Max lifted his head.
"I don't believe I'm above it. I believe you're beneath it."
A ripple of voices stirred.
Zeus raised a hand.
"The gods are always right."
And something in Max Kane—snapped.
His voice shook—not from fear, but fury held too long.
"You call yourselves divine. You judge humanity from thrones built on corpses. You gave me power, called me the first—your chosen."
"And when you were needed, you turned away."
"She begged. I begged. You let her die."
A few gods looked away.
He stood, slow and shaking. Chains clattered around his wrists.
"If justice only exists for those without power," Max said, eyes blazing, "then your divinity is a lie."
"You are not gods."
"You're cowards."
The first god died mid-laugh.
A single shard of metal pierced his eye, clean through to the back of his skull. He collapsed sideways, dead before the court could gasp.
Max ripped the chains from his wrists—melted them midair—and hurled them like spears. One tore through the chest of a goddess of wind. Another pierced the ribs of a god of echoes, pinning him to the wall.
Panic erupted.
Gods scattered. Shields shimmered. Spells ignited.
Max was already moving.
A blade grew from his palm, curved and serrated. He severed a throat in one motion, and turned it into a projectile to impale another.
Steel burst from the floor, forming wolves that tore through a trio of deities before they could speak.
A wave of gods charged him. He dropped low, summoned a spinning ring of razor wire, and erased everything within ten feet.
Fifteen gods.
Slain in under a minute.
Each one died differently.
Each one died personally.
Max Kane didn't just kill them.
He punished them.
A sixteenth god raised his weapon.
Max raised his hand.
A shadow fell over the court.
Zeus's Master Bolt fell like divine judgment.
There was no scream.
Only light.
And silence.
When the smoke cleared, Max Kane was gone.
Only a crater remained—burning and silent.
Zeus turned to the stunned assembly.
"From this moment forward… any god who interferes with the mortal realm shall be executed."
The court emptied slowly. No one spoke. No one dared.
But deep beneath the surface of reality, in the cracks between worlds…
Max Kane's soul did not rest.
Not yet.
And in time, his name would return—through blood, through fire, through legacy.