The chains moved like living things.
Seraph ducked, rolled, came up slashing. Steel met Silence with a sound that hurt to hear—not loud, but *wrong*. Like reality itself flinching.
Mia didn't fight like a soldier. She fought like someone drowning. Desperate. All emotion and no discipline. Chains whipping from every angle. Blades manifesting mid-strike. Silence shaping itself into whatever her grief demanded.
"He was MINE!" Mia screamed. A chain caught Seraph's shoulder. Drew blood. "We were happy! We had PLANS!"
Seraph gritted her teeth. Ignored the pain. Pressed forward.
"People change," she said. Voice clipped. Military. "He changed. You didn't."
"I LOVED HIM!"
"Love isn't ownership."
Mia's face twisted. "What would YOU know about love? You're a Church dog. You're COLD. You don't feel anything!"
Seraph's jaw tightened.
Then she moved.
Faster than before. Smoother. Like something inside her had unlocked and she hadn't noticed until this exact moment.
She wasn't just blocking anymore. She was *dominating*.
Her blades cut through Silence constructs like they were smoke. Her footwork was perfect. Her strikes landed exactly where she wanted them. And when Mia tried to overwhelm her with a storm of chains—
Seraph shattered them all.
Light exploded from her swords. Gold. Warm. *Divine*.
The warmth in her chest—that golden thread she'd felt when Ilias came back—*roared* to life. Not just warmth now. Fire. Purpose. Protection made manifest.
Mia staggered back. Eyes wide. "What—how are you—"
"I don't know." Seraph stared at her own hands. Felt power humming beneath her skin. Ayọlá's blessing. The goddess's gift. Not hers by birth, but hers by love. "But it doesn't matter."
She advanced.
Mia tried to run. Too slow.
Seraph's blade pressed against her throat. Not breaking skin. Just... there.
"You lost," Seraph said quietly. "Not because I'm stronger. Because you're fighting for the wrong reasons."
Mia's eyes filled with tears. "He's all I have."
"No. He's all you're *holding onto*." Seraph lowered her blade. "Let go. Find something else. Someone else. But stop this."
For a moment, Mia just stood there. Broken. Shaking.
Then she vanished into Silence. Fled.
Seraph watched her go. Didn't pursue.
She looked at her hands again. Felt the warmth fading. Returning to normal. But not gone. Never gone. Just... waiting.
*What was that?*
Somewhere in the spirit realm, a goddess smiled.
"Well done, warrior," Ayọlá whispered. "Now protect what you love."
---
Across the city, war began.
Not with fanfare. Not with speeches.
Just... movement.
Reverb's fingers flew across his console. Screens flickered. Code cascaded. And one by one, Church communication towers went dark.
"Phase one," he whispered into comms. His helmet displayed focused determination (>:D). "You're blind now. Enjoy."
In the industrial district, Iron Crescent hit supply depots. Rhea led the charge—fast, brutal, efficient. They breached walls, seized weapons, burned what they couldn't carry.
Kemi moved like liquid death beside her. Twin blades finding gaps in armor. Jax's mohawk was blood-splattered as he fired resonance bursts. Mora's sound manipulation turned enemy formations into chaos.
Guards tried to respond. Found themselves outflanked. Outgunned. Overwhelmed.
Tzark and his volcanic brothers moved like a wall of fire. Four aliens radiating heat so intense the air shimmered. Stone melted where they walked.
Vess and his six-armed sister fought in perfect synchronization. Sign language flowing between them faster than thought. Eight blades moving as one.
Kaela and the other shapeshifters became ghosts. Guard uniforms one moment. Shadows the next. Officers the moment after. Opening doors. Slitting throats. Vanishing.
"Secure the armory!" Kemi's voice cut through the chaos. "Mora, collapse that corridor! Jax, cover left!"
They moved like professionals. Because they were.
Crimson Jacks stormed guard stations. Violet Tongues severed transport routes. Rusted Saints seized weapons caches.
The Morrows rose.
And the Church—blind, scattered, unprepared—scrambled to respond.
---
Kojo and Rhea stood before the Thraxx family estate.
It rose like a fortress. Stone walls. Iron gates. Guards patrolling battlements. Sanctifiers standing sentry—two of them, eight meters tall, reality bending around their forms.
Behind them, Iron Crescent's heavy assault team assembled. Tzark and his brothers. Vess and his sister. Three dozen fighters who'd survived the Morrows long enough to become legends.
"That's a lot of firepower," Rhea said.
"We've got more." Kojo flexed his hands. The gauntlets hummed. Eager. Hungry. "Ready?"
"Always."
They charged.
The fight was chaos from the start.
Guards poured out. Rage-Tuned soldiers who fought with volcanic fury. The Thraxx family's specialty. Lava constructs. Superheated air. Armor that burned to touch.
Kojo met them head-on.
His gauntlets blazed gold. Each punch crumpled armor. Each impact sent shockwaves through stone. He was a battering ram. A landslide. Unstoppable.
Rhea fought beside him. Precise where he was overwhelming. Lethal where he was brutal. They'd done this before. Knew each other's rhythms. Moved like one organism with two bodies.
Tzark and his brothers became a volcanic wave. Molten fists punching through walls. Heat so intense it made metal run like water.
Vess and his sister carved through formations with surgical precision. Eight arms. Eight weapons. Perfect coordination.
They pushed deeper. Through courtyards. Up stairs. Breaking everything in their path.
Behind them, Iron Crescent followed. Securing ground. Clearing rooms. Kemi directing traffic like a conductor leading an orchestra of violence.
They were winning.
Then the Sanctifiers moved.
Reality *screamed*.
One of them raised a hand. Resonance cannons charged. The air itself began to warp—
Kojo threw himself forward. Gauntlets met cannon blast. Gold light against white annihilation.
For a moment, he held it.
Then the second Sanctifier fired.
The world went white.
When the light cleared, Kojo was on his knees. Armor cracked. Blood running from his nose. But alive.
Rhea was already moving. Shouting orders. Coordinating fire. Trying to draw the Sanctifiers' attention—
The crack of a sniper rifle cut through the chaos.
Rhea's head snapped back.
Blood sprayed.
She dropped.
Kojo turned. Saw her fall. Saw the blood. Saw her body hit the ground and not move.
Saw everything that mattered crumple like paper.
"No."
The word came out small. Broken.
He crawled toward her. Hands shaking. Gauntlets scraping stone. "Rhea. Rhea, get up. Get up. Please—"
She didn't move.
Blood pooled beneath her head. Too much blood. Her eyes were closed. Her chest wasn't moving.
She was gone.
Kemi screamed. "RHEA!"
She tried to reach her boss. Tzark held her back. "It's not safe—"
"LET ME GO!"
But Kojo was already there. On his knees beside Rhea. Hands hovering over her. Not touching. Afraid if he touched her, it would make it real.
"No no no no—" His voice cracked. "Not you. Not you. Anyone but you."
Something inside Kojo shattered.
Not cracked. Not broke.
*Shattered*.
---
In the spirit realm, Ogun stood.
He'd been sitting. Watching. Entertained.
Now he stood.
"There it is," he murmured.
The air in his domain shifted.
Someone else was here.
Ogun turned slowly. His forge—a realm of cooling iron and eternal battlefields—was *his*. No one entered without permission.
She stepped through the boundary like she had every right.
Beautiful. Fierce. Radiant with protective fury. One of Orun-Fela's wives—though which one, Ogun didn't bother to remember. The freedom god had many.
She shouldn't be here.
"You." Ogun's voice dropped. Not loud. Didn't need to be. The domain itself trembled. "Who gave you permission to enter my realm?"
The goddess stopped. Met his eyes without flinching. "I came to observe."
"Observe?" Ogun's eyes blazed molten gold. "You have NO rights here. This is MY domain. You want to watch gods work? You ask FIRST."
The realm pulsed. Threat. The very air became weight.
She didn't retreat. But she inclined her head. Slightly. Acknowledgment without submission.
"I meant no offense, Lord Ogun." Her voice was respectful. Careful. "My husband values freedom. I came to witness whether your claiming preserves it... or destroys it."
"I don't answer to you. Or him."
"No." She held his gaze. "You don't. But I answer to my husband. And he would want to know what becomes of the boy he chose."
Silence stretched between them.
Then Ogun laughed. Short. Sharp. Like hammer on anvil.
"You've got spine. I'll give you that." He turned back to watch the mortal realm. "Fine. Watch. But you stay in the VIEWING realm. You don't touch. You don't interfere. You don't breathe in their direction without my say-so. Clear?"
"Clear."
"And if you cross that boundary—" His voice became something ancient. Primal. The voice that existed before civilization. "—I don't care whose wife you are. You're dead. Even Orun-Fela won't save you from that."
Her expression didn't change. But her frequency—the divine resonance that made her *her*—flickered. Just once.
Fear.
Good. She should be afraid.
"I understand, Lord Ogun." She stepped back. Positioned herself at the edge of the viewing realm. Exactly on the boundary. Not one step further. "I'm here only to observe. Nothing more."
Ogun watched her for a long moment. Then nodded. Once.
"Your husband's lucky," he said. Almost amused now. "Most gods marry pretty things. He married warriors."
She smiled faintly. "He knows what matters."
They turned their attention back to the mortal realm. To Kojo. To the transformation unfolding below.
And in the world of flesh and blood, Kojo's scream tore through the city.
---
The sound wasn't human.
It was rage and grief and denial all compressed into one frequency that made windows crack and stone split and people three blocks away cover their ears.
Kojo's body convulsed.
The gauntlets *exploded* with light. Not gold. Not anymore. Molten. Blinding. Divine.
They didn't just glow. They *grew*.
Metal spread up his arms. Over his shoulders. Across his chest. Liquid gold and black iron fusing with flesh until he wasn't wearing the gauntlets anymore—he *was* them.
His eyes burned molten gold.
His skin crackled with heat.
His voice—when he spoke—was doubled. Layered. Human and divine tangled together.
**"YOU. KILLED. HER."**
The Sanctifiers turned toward him.
Too slow.
Kojo moved.
No. Not Kojo anymore.
Something else. Something bigger. Something that wore his face but carried a god's fury.
He hit the first Sanctifier like a meteor.
The eight-meter war machine didn't just break. It *detonated*. Ivory steel shredding. Reality warping around the impact. The shockwave flattened buildings.
Iron Crescent scattered. Kemi grabbed Rhea's body, dragged her behind cover. "FALL BACK! EVERYONE FALL BACK!"
The second Sanctifier raised its cannon.
Kojo caught the blast with one hand. Absorbed it. Redirected it.
The beam punched through the Sanctifier's chest. Through the wall behind it. Through three more buildings. Kept going until it carved a canyon through the district.
He didn't stop.
Thraxx family soldiers tried to regroup. Tried to coordinate.
He walked through them like they were paper.
Every punch killed. Every step left craters. The ground itself trembled beneath his weight.
He wasn't fighting anymore. He was *erasing*.
Buildings collapsed from shockwaves alone. Stone liquefied where he touched it. The air itself burned.
And across the city, everyone felt it.
Ilias stopped mid-swing. Staff humming with borrowed resonance. "That's... Kojo?"
Beside him, Seraph looked toward the industrial district. Saw the shockwaves. Felt the tremors. Saw buildings collapse in the distance. "What is he *doing*?"
Torrin tilted his head. Listening. "He's transcending. Or breaking. Maybe both."
Taren gripped his cane. "That boy just lost everything. Now he's taking it out on the world."
Reverb's screens flickered wildly. His helmet displayed shock (!?!). "Seismic activity just spiked. Whatever's happening over there—" He paused. Stared at the readings. "—it's god-level. Like, *literally* god-level."
Mira, coordinating field hospitals several blocks away, felt the tremor. Supplies rattled. People stumbled.
"What was that?" someone asked.
Mira looked toward the industrial district. Saw golden light bleeding across the sky.
"That's my brother," she whispered. "And he's not holding back anymore."
---
Deep in the Cult's hideout, Maestro Quiet felt the shockwave.
The Entity stirred. Interested.
**"The War God's avatar awakens. Good. Let him burn the city. Let him clear the way for us."**
"Will he be a problem?" Maestro Quiet asked.
**"Only if he survives."** The Entity's presence pulsed. Amused. Patient. **"And grief this fresh? This raw? Most mortals don't survive it. They burn out. Consume themselves. Become cautionary tales."**
"And if he doesn't?"
**"Then he becomes interesting."**
---
In the spirit realm, Ogun smiled.
"Yes."
He raised one hand. Pointed toward the mortal world.
And *spoke*.
His voice carried across dimensions. Through frequencies mortals couldn't hear. But Kojo—burning, breaking, becoming—heard it perfectly.
**"YOU ARE MY HAND. CARRY MY WAR."**
The words hit like hammers.
Kojo's body convulsed again. More power flooded in. Too much. Overwhelming. He should've burned out. Should've died.
But he didn't.
Because Ogun held him together. Forged him. Tempered him in divine fire.
The gauntlets—his arms now—solidified. Became permanent. He looked down at himself and saw gold and black metal where skin used to be. Saw his reflection in broken glass and barely recognized the face staring back.
Half-man. Half-god.
**Avatar of War.**
The title settled on him like a crown. Heavy. Permanent. Undeniable.
He turned toward the Thraxx estate. What remained of it.
And finished what he started.
---
When the dust settled, nothing remained.
No soldiers. No Sanctifiers. No walls.
Just rubble. Ash. And silence.
Kojo stood at the center of it. Chest heaving. Power fading slightly. The metal receded—still covering his arms to the shoulders, but no longer consuming his entire body.
He swayed. Legs shaking. The rage draining out of him like water through cracks.
And remembered.
"Rhea."
He stumbled back toward where she'd fallen. Found Kemi kneeling beside her. The woman who never cried was crying now.
"She's gone," Kemi whispered. "Kojo, she's—"
Rhea gasped.
Her eyes flew open. Confused. Disoriented. Alive.
Kemi jerked back. "What—"
"What happened?" Rhea tried to sit up. Winced. Touched her head. Blood, but not much. "Why is everyone—"
Kojo dropped to his knees. "You... you died. I saw—"
"Grazed." She felt the wound. Shallow. A furrow across her scalp. "Bullet grazed my skull. Knocked me out." She looked at him. Really looked. "Kojo. Your arms."
He looked down. Saw the gold and black metal. Permanent now. Fused with flesh from fingertips to shoulders.
"I thought you were dead," he whispered.
"I'm not." She reached up. Touched his face. Felt the heat radiating from him. "But you... what did you *do*?"
"I don't know." His voice cracked. "I just... I couldn't lose you. Not again. Not ever. And then—"
He couldn't finish.
Rhea pulled him close. He collapsed against her. This giant man—this demigod, this avatar of war—shaking like a child.
"I'm here," she whispered. "I'm alive. We're both alive."
Kemi stood slowly. Staring at Kojo's transformed arms. At the destruction around them. At the crater where the Thraxx estate used to be.
"Boss," she said quietly. "We need to move. More Church forces are coming."
Rhea nodded. Tried to stand. Swayed.
Kojo caught her. Lifted her easily. His new strength making her weight nothing.
Around them, Iron Crescent assembled. Battered. Bleeding. But alive.
They'd felt it. The power. The transformation. The moment their leader's partner became something more.
**Avatar of War.**
The title hung in the air like smoke.
Tzark's volcanic skin flickered with respect. "The War God claims his own."
Vess's eight arms folded in a gesture of acknowledgment. "We follow."
Kaela shifted to a deep, respectful gold. "Always."
Kojo pulled back slightly. Looked at Rhea. "When this is over—"
"I know." She smiled. Tired. Relieved. "Me too."
He kissed her.
Not desperate. Not frantic. Just... real. A promise between two people who'd almost lost each other.
When they broke apart, the city was burning.
But they were alive.
And the war had only just begun.
Kemi wiped her eyes. "Alright. We've got work to do. Boss, can you walk?"
"Yeah." Rhea stood. Still shaky. "I'm good."
"No you're not," Kojo said. "I'm carrying you."
"Kojo—"
"Not negotiable."
He lifted her into his arms. She didn't protest. Just rested her head against his chest and let him carry her.
Iron Crescent moved out. Securing the district. Salvaging weapons. Preparing for the next phase.
Behind them, the Thraxx estate burned.
And across the city, everyone who'd felt that power wondered:
What had they just unleashed?