A young boy knelt in the dirt.
Sweat rolled down his brow and fell into the soil as his fists struck the earth again and again. He pressed seeds into the ground with practiced care, covering them by hand, then rose just long enough to haul a bucket of water from the well. He poured it carefully along the rows, wiped his hands on his trousers, and moved forward.
Again.
And again.
He cleared stones from the soil. Repaired a broken fence post. Turned the dry earth with a worn hoe before returning to planting. The sun climbed higher. Hours passed. He never stopped.
The boy straightened when he heard a voice behind him.
He turned and saw his brother standing at the edge of the field, a ball tucked under his arm, grin wide and carefree.
"Apeiron," Ren said. "You're still working the fields? I left hours ago. You should've come with me. All the other kids were there. We caught this massive fish at the lake."
Apeiron wiped his brow and went back to planting.
"We don't have time for fun, brother. You know that. Winter's coming, and the crops are already drying out. We need food. Father's too sick to work, and Mother…" He paused, pressing another seed into the soil. "Mother isn't strong enough to do this anymore."
He stood, carrying another bucket toward the next row.
"She works extra jobs in town just to keep us fed. Cleaning, sewing, helping wherever she can. When she comes home, she's exhausted. That's why we have to pitch in here. We have to do most of the farm work."
Ren frowned and stepped closer.
"You work too hard. Mom said it's okay if we only work a couple hours, then we're free. Remember, we're still kids."
He tossed the ball.
"Have fun for once."
The ball struck Apeiron in the head. He stumbled and fell into the dirt.
For a moment, Ren froze.
Then Apeiron laughed.
He stood up, brushed himself off, and hurled the ball back. The two collided, wrestling in the soil, laughter echoing across the fields. Dust rose as they rolled, shoving and laughing like nothing in the world could touch them.
Suddenly, they stopped.
"Boys."
Their mother's voice cut through the air.
They both looked up.
"Mom," they said together. "We're just playing.
Thaleia crossed her arms, trying and failing to hide her smile.
"What did I tell you about fighting?" she said. "Look at you both. You'll have to wash again. I just finished cooking dinner. Hurry inside before it gets cold."
They cleaned up and gathered around the table. The whole family sat together, plates warm, candles flickering softly against the walls.
Their father spoke first.
Anaximander's voice was weak, but steady.
"How far did you get today?" he asked. "The seeds, the fruit… the fence near the east field?"
Apeiron opened his mouth.
"I did a lot, Father"
Before he could finish, Ren gently kicked his leg under the table and shook his head.
Apeiron paused.
Then he nodded.
He said. "We cleared the stones, fixed the fence post, watered the rows, and planted what we could before the sun dropped. At this pace, we should have enough to make it through winter."
Anaximander lowered his eyes.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I hate that the work falls on you. Ever since the sickness, I can't lift, can't walk the fields like I used to… We prayed to Asclepius, again and again. For healing. For relief. But for some reason, the gods would not answer."
His words broke into a cough.
Thaleia rose at once, placing a hand on his back, steady and familiar.
"It's alright," she said softly. "They're strong. And we're managing. The gods have given us these children, and the breath we still draw. That is not nothing. Our prayers will be answered, even if not in the way we expect."
Anaximander swallowed and nodded, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I never wanted this life for you," he said. "Yet you carry it without complaint."
The room fell silent for a moment.
Then the candle flickered, and the family continued eating together.
Later, they played board games, shared stories, and forgot the weight of the world for a little while.
That night, Apeiron and Ren lay in their shared room.
Ren rolled over.
"Hey," he said quietly. "Thanks for covering for me back there. And… thanks for doing all the yard work. Seriously."
Apeiron smiled in the dark.
"It's nothing," he said. "As long as you're all happy, I'm happy."
They drifted to sleep.
Then the screaming began.
Apeiron was the first to wake.
Heat slammed into him. Smoke filled the room, burning his lungs. Orange light flickered violently across the walls. He rushed to the window and tore it open.
The farm was on fire.
Fields burned. Fences collapsed. The sky itself seemed alive as warriors descended from above some flying, others mounted on thunderous beasts. Fire and lightning rained down in uncontrolled arcs, tearing through homes and earth alike.
Gods.
Apeiron spun and grabbed Ren, shaking him awake.
"Ren wake up. Now."
Before they could move, the door burst open.
Anaximander stood there, coughing, his face pale. Thaleia was slung over his shoulders, unconscious, her skin gray with smoke.
"Come on," Anaximander said urgently. "We're under attack. The village everything's being overrun."
The boys rushed to his side as they fled into the burning night.
As they ran, Apeiron struggled to keep pace beside his father and brother.
"What's happening?" he demanded. "Who would dare attack us? This land is protected by Zeus, Father"
His words caught when he saw it.
Anaximander was struggling to run, his face strained, sweat and ash streaking his skin.
"You're too sick to be moving like this," Apeiron said, panic rising in his voice. "Let me carry Mother."
Anaximander shook his head, teeth clenched through the pain.
"It must be gods from another territory," he said. "I don't know. We don't have time to understand it. We have to reach the ship. I'll worry about my pain later."
He glanced down at Thaleia, unconscious against his shoulder.
"She breathed in too much smoke," he said quietly. "It knocked her out."
As they kept running, her body shifted slightly.
A rough cough escaped her lips.
Ash spilled from her mouth as she gasped for air, chest rising sharply. Her fingers twitched, gripping weakly at Anaximander's shoulder.
"She's" Anaximander said, relief flickering through his voice. "She's waking up."
Thaleia coughed again, struggling to breathe, eyes fluttering as she fought to clear her lungs.
Then the ground trembled.
They stopped.
The ground split apart as something massive struck the earth beside them.
A giant stands where the land has split open.
He has a shape, massive and unmistakable, his body towering above the broken ground as stone cracks beneath his weight. Broad shoulders wrapped in battle-worn armor, etched and scarred from countless wars, rise beneath a heavy cloak torn by lightning and flame. A thick beard frames his face, dark and coarse, streaked with ash and blood, his eyes burning with a constant, simmering fury that never dims.
Red lightning crawled across his frame, not falling from the sky, but tearing outward from him, arcing along his armor and fists as the earth itself was reacting to his presence. The air grew heavier the closer one stood to him, charged not just with power, but with anger that demanded release.
This is Modi.
Not a symbol of wrath.
Not an idea.
A god whose presence generated rage.
Where Modi stood, anger ignited. Fear sharpened into violence. Resolve twisted into hatred. Even the land seemed to resist him, splitting and cracking as if it could no longer contain the pressure of his will. His power was not subtle, and it was not patient. It pressed outward relentlessly, daring anything nearby to either rise in fury or be crushed beneath it.
He smiled, slow and confident, teeth bared beneath his beard.
"Where do you think you're going?" he asked.
His voice rolled across the battlefield like thunder trapped inside stone, shaking the air itself as the red lightning around him flared brighter, answering his amusement with hunger.
"Odin has claimed this world as his territory," he said. "Your god violated the treaty. War has been declared."
He laughed, and the sound rippled through the ground.
"All will belong to Odin now," he continued. "Especially the women."
His gaze slid downward.
"And especially her."
Anaximander moved instantly, stepping in front of his family, his body rigid with defiance.
"Stay away from us."
Behind him, Thaleia stirred. She slipped from his shoulder and forced herself upright, coughing hard as smoke spilled from her lungs. Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused and afraid.
"Anaximander…?" she whispered, panic threading her voice.
The giant laughed again deeper this time, the earth trembling with it.
"My patience is thin," he said. "I'll end this quickly."
Lightning gathered in his hand.
Then the ground exploded.
A golden staff slammed into his side with a thunderous impact, hurling him backward. Another presence descended between them, the air growing heavy and sharp.
Deimos stands there.
He arrives in fire and storm, the sky tearing open as thunder rolls outward from his descent. Flames and lightning follow him, but they are not the source of his presence. Energy radiates from his body in a way that has nothing to do with heat or light, a pressure that settles into the air and does not fade. The ground trembles beneath him, the planet itself shuddering as though it recognizes what has stepped onto its surface. Wherever he exists, terror takes hold, not as emotion or suggestion, but as a force that asserts itself directly into reality.
He is tall and solid, his build compact and disciplined rather than monstrous. Short, spiked hair crowns his head, cut in a stark military style, and his skin is marked with dense tattoos of war, conquest, and death, etched so deeply they seem carved rather than inked. Gold and black armor plates his frame, angular and severe, designed for function rather than display, its surface worn smooth by conflict rather than ornament.
This is Deimos.
Not a symbol.
Not an idea.
He is the force of terror itself, stabilized into form.
"You will not take this land," Deimos says, his voice steady and final. "This world is not yours. Leave. Now."
Wrath and terror collided.
Red lightning and gold tore through the sky as the two forces clashed, the land screaming beneath their battle.
Anaximander did not look back.
He pulled his family close and turned, his voice cutting through the chaos.
"Now," he said. "Run."
They fled through choking smoke and open flame, over ground that split and collapsed beneath their feet, the roar of distant battle shaking the air with every step. Ash clung to their skin as the night burned around them, the world they knew tearing itself apart behind them.
Then they saw it.
The ship stood at the edge of the clearing old, rusted, scarred by years of neglect and survival, yet upright.
They rushed inside.
Thaleia moved first, forcing calm into her movements as she secured the boys into their seats. Her hands trembled despite her voice, which remained steady and warm.
"It's going to be alright," she said. "We're flying to the capital of our universe. To Olympus. They'll protect us there."
Ren's fingers tightened around the armrests, his eyes darting to the walls, the doors, the flickering lights.
"Mom," he whispered, "I'm scared."
Apeiron swallowed, his chest tight, and nodded.
"So am I," he admitted.
Anaximander slid into the pilot's seat, hands flying across the controls.
"Don't be afraid," he said, forcing strength into his voice. "We just need to get out of here. The capital will protect us. They must already be aware of the invasion. Deimos wouldn't have appeared otherwise."
The ship began to hum as systems powered on.
Then the door exploded inward.
Warriors poured through the smoke bearded figures clad in armor, axes crackling with thunder, flames licking along their blades.
Anaximander moved.
He stepped forward before the boys could scream. There were no weapons and no energy involved, only motion driven by timing and intent. He struck first, precise and brutal, a fist snapping into a jaw, fingers digging into pressure points, a palm crashing into a nerve cluster with practiced accuracy. Each blow landed exactly where it needed to, and the warriors went down hard, bodies collapsing under broken balance, seized muscles, and disrupted nerves as the damage took immediate effect.
He moved faster than sight.
Then his strength faltered.
Anaximander dropped to one knee, coughing violently.
Thaleia rushed to him, helping him stand.
"Be careful!" the boys shouted together.
"You're still sick!"
Ren stared, eyes wide.
"Father… how did you do that?"
Ren's voice shook. "I couldn't even see you move."
Anaximander managed a faint smile.
"It's an old martial art," he said. "Something I learned long ago. My brother taught me, back before all of this." He coughed, then steadied himself.
"It's called Mu no Ken."
"The Empty Fist."
He pulled himself upright and turned back to the controls, fingers moving with practiced familiarity despite the pain weighing on him.
"That's why we have to leave now," he said, forcing steadiness into his voice. "My brother lives near Olympus. He can take us in. He'll protect you."
This was not the first war between Zeus and Oden, and Anaximander knew it. The memory of the first conflict flickered through his mind, a reminder of how quickly worlds could burn and how little warning mercy ever gave.
He glanced back at the boys, his expression firm even as his strength faltered.
"We just have to reach Olympus."
The ship lifted off.
Anaximander and Thaleia remained unstrapped, steering manually as the vessel shook violently.
The boys pressed their faces to the window.
Below them, gods still battled.
Deimos and Modi clashed again and again, their blows splitting land and sky alike.
Then it happened.
A strike meant for the battlefield tore through the ship.
Metal screamed.
A massive hole ripped open the hull.
The force nearly tore Anaximander and Thaleia from the controls as the ship bucked violently. They clung to the frame, fingers digging into metal while the wind screamed through the breach.
Anaximander turned his head toward the boys, shouting over the roar.
"Listen to me!" he shouted over the tearing wind. "The ship won't stop. No matter what happens, it will keep going to Olympus. There are already soldiers on the way, they know a battle is happening, and they'll find you when you arrive."
He locked eyes with them, forcing every word through the chaos.
"When you reach Olympus, tell them your last name. Say it clearly. They'll know who you are. My brother will come for you, and he will protect you. He's the strongest person I know."
Thaleia reached for them, sobbing as the ship shook around her.
"We love you," she cried.
Anaximander's voice broke, but he did not look away.
"We love you," he said. "Both of you. Live."
Their hands slipped.
Thaleia reached for the boys, tears streaming down her face as the storm tore at her grip.
"Live," she begged.
Their fingers slipped.
Anaximander caught Thaleia just as the force ripped them free. Without hesitation, he wrapped his body around hers, turning his back to the storm and shielding her with what strength he had left as they were torn from the ship and swallowed by the burning sky below.
Apeiron screamed.
Ren screamed.
Then the world fractured into noise and light and went silent.
Inside the ship, alarms erupted all at once.
A cold, emotionless voice filled the cabin.
"Emergency protocols activated."
"Hull breach detected."
"Structural integrity compromised."
Red lights strobed across the walls as the ship shuddered violently.
Apeiron dragged in a breath that burned his lungs.
Panels sealed themselves with thunderous force.
"Deploying containment shields."
Metal screamed as barriers snapped into place, closing the rupture just as another bolt of lightning struck the hull. The impact threw Apeiron against his restraints but this time, the shields held.
The shaking slowed.
The alarms lowered to a dull, persistent hum.
Apeiron wiped his eyes and turned, his chest tight with a sudden, terrible thought.
"Ren…?"
The seat beside him was empty.
Where his brother had been, there was only a jagged hole in the hull, edges scorched black. Lightning crackled faintly through it, fading as the shields completed their cycle.
"Hull integrity restored."
"Life-support stabilized."
Apeiron couldn't breathe.
The ship's engines roared to full power as it surged upward, tearing free of the atmosphere. Fire gave way to darkness. Noise gave way to silence.
Stars filled the viewport.
The world he had known vanished behind them.
Apeiron sat alone, restraints still locked around his body, tears streaming down his face as the ship carried him farther and farther away from everything he had lost.
And in that vast, soundless space, something inside him gave way.
Something emptied.