Within a shattered temple, a warrior lay sprawled on the cold stone floor, his armor broken, limbs twisted, and chest bearing a ghastly fist-shaped indentation. He weakly raised his head, gazing at the fractured sky above the temple's ruins, and sighed in a faint voice:
"My Lord, I have done my best."
Despite his grievous injuries, he remained alive, for his life force had long transcended the limits of mortality. While his current condition rendered him temporarily unable to fight, it was far from fatal. He was not alone; many other temple guardians shared his fate, lying scattered across the temple grounds.
Though their bodies were battered and broken, their spirits were not consumed by shame.
"A man who dares challenge a god... I lasted three moves against him," a warrior leaning against a cracked pillar thought darkly, bitterness and pride mingling within him. "If he defeats the god, enduring even a few moments against him will be a badge of honor, not disgrace."
These men were sworn defenders of their deity—yet also served as entertainment for their divine patron. Over time, hidden resentment had festered in the hearts of some, despite their outward faith. They understood that as long as they remained loyal during critical moments, their minor blasphemies would be overlooked.
"Akmon... I hope you succeed. This land has been drenched in enough blood to satisfy the gods' desires."
At the base of the sacred mountain, another warrior in barely intact armor silently offered his blessings. He, too, had seen through the divine facade.
"May today mark the end of it all."
The once-majestic sacred mountain stood desecrated. Smoke and dust rose from the ruins of various temples scattered across its paths. At the summit, in the grandest temple of all, a black-haired youth stood before an imposing statue.
"So this is what passes for a god in this world? I've made it all the way here, and you still won't show yourself?"
His dark eyes shimmered with indifference as he surveyed his surroundings. There was not a trace of reverence in his gaze—only cold disdain.
"Akmon, you are far too impudent! This sacred mountain is not a place where you can run wild!"
From behind the towering statue, a figure emerged—dressed in ornate ceremonial garb and wearing a golden mask. His eyes, glimmering with divine radiance, locked onto the youth who exuded an aura bordering on the divine.
"Still, you have proven your worth by reaching this place. If you kneel now and confess your sins, I will grant you mercy. I will bestow upon you the title of Supreme Divine Champion, a rank above all others."
The youth's pupils gleamed with a flash of golden light. Within his rapidly beating heart, a mighty presence stirred from slumber. Without a word, he clenched his fist and struck.
Why waste time talking when victory could be seized with a single blow?
The battle began and ended in an instant. The masked priest collapsed at the feet of the god's statue, his golden mask shattered. Behind him, the towering statue groaned as fractures spread across its surface. It crumbled piece by piece, collapsing into ruin.
Akmon waited for a moment, but when no further threats appeared, he lifted his gaze to the sky. In his eyes, the tranquil and radiant heavens reflected the vast expanse of the earth below.
Then, suddenly, he locked eyes with an otherworldly gaze—two immense, majestic eyes that regarded him with cold detachment from the divine realm high above.
The eyes belonged to a deity seated upon a radiant throne within a celestial palace. The god's expression remained stoic even as their earthly stronghold lay in ruins. But when the challenger struck down the high priest, a subtle emotion—a mix of amusement and admiration—flickered across the deity's face.
"Impressive," the god murmured.
BOOM!
Before the words fully escaped the divine lips, a column of golden light shot up from the earth. It blazed like a spear aimed at the sun, as though seeking to pull the celestial body from the sky.
The force of the strike shattered the heavens, exposing the divine realm that only the most devout souls could enter upon death.
To the ordinary people toiling below, this phenomenon was a cause for awe and celebration. But Akmon remained unfazed. He had seen many divine domains before. He had led armies of his followers to lay siege to such realms.
However, this was his first time entering a god's domain while still in a mortal shell. It was a daunting challenge, but he felt no fear.
"A god of war... I wonder how you'll compare to the gods of Erathia. Don't disappoint me," Akmon muttered to himself as he ascended into the sky, stepping effortlessly through the air.
Storm clouds gathered above, lightning crackling through their dark depths. The very world seemed to react to the growing battle spirit emanating from the youth. Thunderous wrath brewed in the heavens, nature itself preparing to unleash judgment.
The god rose from their throne, their face hardening into a mask of seriousness. The mockery that once adorned their features vanished.
"This should be fun," Akmon whispered, his lips curving into a faint smile as he crossed the threshold into the god's domain.
In this sacred realm, isolated from the material world, the influence of the world's laws faded. The storm clouds and lightning halted at the border, unable to penetrate the god's territory.
"I thought you were just a talented mortal, one I might consider recruiting. But it seems I was mistaken," the god's voice echoed through the realm.
"Your only concern now should be how to survive me."
With those words, a spectral image of a titan appeared behind Akmon—armor-clad, wielding a colossal axe. The very ground beneath them began to quake and fracture.
"Defend the master! Slay the intruder!"
Battle cries erupted from all directions. Armored spirits, the god's immortal warriors, surged forth from the skies and earth alike, their eyes burning with unwavering resolve.
"Petty pawns."
Akmon's voice remained calm as a phantom world materialized behind him.
From its shadowy depths, monstrous black-feathered raptors with piercing blue eyes let out bone-chilling screeches. They poured forth like a storm, flooding the skies.
On the ground, ranks of horned, blade-tailed behemoths formed a vast tide of destruction. They charged, trampling the oncoming army of divine spirits.
The god, witnessing the overwhelming surge of primal force, could no longer maintain their composure.
"What... What are you?"
Golden lightning erupted from Akmon's feet, surging skyward like a colossal pillar of light. Thunderous serpents coiled around it, and an aura of terror that could shake gods and demons alike permeated the realm.
"I am Akmon, a Titan of the Wilds!"
Meanwhile, in a distant giant tribe…
"Chieftain, what's going on?"
A pale-skinned giant stormed into the tribal settlement, fury etched across his face as he beheld the wounded and broken warriors around him. Without hesitation, he barged into the stone hall where the tribe's elder resided.
"Jordan, you're back. Come, sit down," the elder greeted him with a kind smile, gesturing to a nearby seat.
"Chieftain, we don't have time for this! Just tell me where the enemy is, and I'll crush them! I'll make them pay for harming our tribe!"
"Jordan, you must learn patience. Not every problem can be solved with brute force."
"Maybe not, but force can sure take care of the ones causing the problems," Jordan shot back without missing a beat.
The elder chuckled softly. "Perhaps. But your strength isn't yet enough for that."
"I may not be strong enough now, but I'll get there. Just wait and see!"
"Very well. But for now, we must discuss the tribe's relocation."
"Relocation? Why?" Jordan's eyes widened in shock.
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