The Tribunal swung.
Zeus crossed both arms and caught the blade.
His body locked.
The black lightning around him screamed.
The edge pressed deeper, not through flesh, but through meaning. Zeus felt old names peeling off him. Old victories. Old griefs. Pieces of himself trying to come loose under the pressure.
The Tribunal leaned in.
"You are not enough."
Zeus looked up through blood and black light and saw it then.
The old mistake.
The old arrogance.
He had still been fighting like a god.
A strong one, yes. A changed one, yes. But still like a being trying to wield chaos.
That wasn't it.
That had never been it.
He closed his eyes.
Deep inside, below the storm, below the king, below the father and the son and the husband and all the stories built on his name, he found that darkness again.
Not distant.
Right there.
Waiting.
Chaos spoke without words.
Now do you understand?
Zeus answered the same way.
Yes.
The sword drove deeper.
