Every moon in the universe turned crimson red.
People trembled. Everyone had heard that impossible scream. The sun refused to rise, halted by the order of the primordial.
"We have angered the gods," they whispered. "They are coming for the demons… and the rest of the demihumans."
That was what they believed.
But none of them knew the truth: they were the aggressors of this tale.
Not even the king who had started it all.
No one could imagine the disparity that was about to crush them.
Tsukuyomi entered the atmosphere of the planet. He hovered above it, looking down with disgust. With a slight movement of his hand, meteors materialized out of the void and rained onto the land at random.
Knowing humans could not reach him at that altitude, he descended toward the kingdom where they had judged and executed the innocent.
Tsukuyomi, the strongest god, descended in the sky: a towering man with vast wings shimmering like a night sky filled with living stars.
The palace guards, unaware of who he was, attacked with everything they had.
As he approached the outer walls, his aura leaked out.
The structure crumbled instantly.
The pressure was suffocating. No mortal could remain conscious, much less alive.
He saw the casualties and let out a small laugh.
He flashed a smile toward a soldier crushed against a cracked wall.
"Ah. My bad. I keep forgetting to suppress my aura."
Those who survived for even a moment went mad from fear, screaming and crawling away.
Walking through the palace was effortless. No one dared look at him. Among non human races, the size and nature of one's wings reflected their power. His wings were vast and cosmic, a shifting mirror of galaxies and stars. Even a fool knew he was the last being they would ever want to anger.
The guard stationed at the throne room door tried his hardest to uphold honor for his king. But no mortal could withstand Tsukuyomi.
Without Tsukuyomi even touching it, the throne room door exploded inward and shattered.
Inside stood the king and his retainers, arrogant to the very end.
"Who are you, beast?" the king spat. "I am the king of this country."
One retainer stepped forward, parroting his master's bravado.
In an instant, Tsukuyomi's three meter katana appeared in his hand. Forged in ancient volcanic cores older than life itself, wrapped in black flame and black lightning, the blade cleaved the retainer's head cleanly from his body. The corpse ignited in black fire that consumed everything.
Tsukuyomi pointed the blade at the king.
A cold smirk curved his lips.
"Guess who I am."