Chapter 12

Medusa’s gaze sharpened as it locked onto Nyx.

“Nyx, why are you and Nythren here?”

Her voice remained calm, but there was an unmistakable edge beneath it.

Nyx, the Primordial Goddess of the Night, simply smiled—that timeless, knowing smile, one laced with amusement and wisdom forged over centuries.

Nythren sighed dramatically. “I told you she’d figure it out, Mother.”

Nyx ignored him.

“The real question, Medusa, is why wouldn’t we be here?”

Raezel took a step forward, his golden eyes unwavering.

“That is not an answer,” he said, his tone firm. “You arrived just after we stepped into Velmor, and just before my mother granted its blessing. That is no coincidence.”

Nyx’s smile remained, unreadable.

“No,” she admitted smoothly. “It is not.”

The room tensed. Even Ares, who had been trying to recover from the mental and emotional trauma caused by these two lunatic brothers, leaned in, suddenly more attentive.

Nyx lifted a hand, and with the subtlest motion, the shadows in the hall shifted—twisting, bending—as though reality itself wavered in her presence.

“Do you truly believe,” she said lightly, “that I would allow Nythren to walk into a battlefield without reason?”

Nythren smirked. “Wait, are you saying you actually care?”

Nyx pinched his cheek.

“Don’t get cocky, child.”

Nythren swatted her hand away, muttering, “Unbelievable.”

But Raezel wasn’t distracted by their antics. His golden gaze bore into Nyx.

“You’re here because of something else.”

For the first time, Nyx’s amusement dimmed. The weight of her presence seemed heavier, her gaze shifting toward Medusa.

“Medusa,” she said, her voice quieter now, “the moment you stepped into Velmor—the exact moment something changed.”

The air in the room grew thicker.

A pause.

It was slight—so slight that none but the most perceptive would notice—but Medusa did react. A single flicker in her expression, a nearly imperceptible shift in her gaze.

Whatever Nyx was hinting at—she felt it too.

Nythren folded his arms. “So, you felt it too.”

Ares frowned. “Felt what?”

Raezel exhaled slowly. The weight of Nyx’s words pressed down on him, but it wasn’t just her words. It was something else. Something wrong.

The air around him felt heavier now, almost… thicker.

His heartbeat quickened.

The walls of the hall, solid and unmoving, suddenly felt too still. The torches flickered, their flames stretching unnaturally high for a brief moment before settling back down.

And then—Raezel realized.

It was not just the room that had changed. It was the world itself.

Something had awakened.

His breath caught in his throat. His fingers twitched at his sides.

“What did we awaken?”

Nyx’s eyes darkened.

“Something old,” she murmured. “Something that was never meant to wake.”

The weight of her words pressed into the room, sending an eerie silence through the air.

Ares finally lost it.

“Okay, ENOUGH!” He threw his hands in the air, eyes wild with frustration. “First, I nearly died. Then, these two maniacs tried to convince Medusa to join a battle. Now you’re telling me there’s something waking up?! CAN I PLEASE GET A MOMENT TO PROCESS?!”

Nyx tilted her head.

“No.”

Ares groaned and collapsed onto the floor.

Meanwhile, Medusa exhaled slowly. “So. What awakened this time?”

Nyx didn’t answer immediately.

Raezel’s breath hitched. A slow, creeping unease curled in his stomach, his fingers flexing at his sides. The weight of something ancient pressed against his senses, and for the first time in a long while…

He wasn’t sure if even Medusa could stop it.

Then, Nyx exhaled, her gaze drifting toward the ceiling, as if peering beyond time itself.

"A force that predates Olympus," she murmured. "A force that even the Titans feared."

Nythren’s smirk faltered. "Mother… that sounds suspiciously bad."

Ares sat up abruptly. His voice was sharp, bordering on hysteria. "Predates Olympus?! That’s not possible! The Titans ruled before us, and before them, there was only Chaos!"

Nyx met his gaze, calm. Unshaken. "Precisely."

A single beat of silence stretched, heavier than stone.

Even Medusa—the Gorgon who had once stood against gods and kings—tightened her fingers slightly. A near-invisible shift, but for those who knew her, it was enough.

She spoke, her voice quieter than before. "You mean…"

Nyx nodded. "Yes. Something from the age of Chaos stirs."

Ares immediately sprang to his feet. "WELL, WE’RE DEAD. I KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN. I KNEW FOLLOWING THESE LUNATICS WAS A TERRIBLE IDEA!"

Reaga snorted. "I love how you're only realizing this now."

Ares whirled on him. "YOU'RE NOT HELPING!"

Reazel ignored them. His golden eyes sharpened, locked onto his mother. "Do you know what it is?"

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Medusa didn’t answer immediately. She stood very still.

Then, finally—"No."

Nyx stepped forward. The torches flickered and dimmed, as if the very concept of light was withdrawing in her presence.

"The moment you placed your blessing upon Velmor," she said, "a ripple echoed through existence. Something that had been sleeping for millennia… awoke. I felt it." Her gaze darkened. "And I was not the only one."

Ares groaned, rubbing his temples aggressively. "Oh, wonderful. More divine horrors. What’s next? The Primordial Darkness itself? Some forgotten entity that eats gods for breakfast?"

Nyx smirked. "Perhaps."

Ares went completely pale.

Nythren, meanwhile, seemed thoroughly unbothered. "So what? We deal with it. I’m the creation of darkness itself, Reazel is the son of Medusa. Between the two of them, what could possibly—"

The ground beneath them trembled violently.

Not like an earthquake. No.

Something deeper. Something wrong.

The air itself distorted—as if reality had just been punched.

And then—

A sound.

A sound that did not belong to this world.

It wasn’t a roar. It wasn’t a scream. It was something else entirely—an absence of sound so vast it left an echo of emptiness in its wake.

The warriors of Velmor—still standing outside with their newfound blessing—dropped to their knees. Clutching their heads. Gasping.

And then, the sky tore open.

A single, jagged black rift split across the heavens, a wound in reality itself.

From it—a voice.

Ancient. Formless. Vast.

"WHO… DARES… DISTURB ME?"

Nythren sighed. "Well, there goes my peaceful afternoon."

Ares, meanwhile?

Screamed internally.

Nyx stood still, her presence making the torches flicker unnaturally, as if even fire itself feared what was about to be spoken.

She folded her arms and said, "What is the most powerful creation?"

Nythren smirked. "The Creation of Darkness itself, Me and The Son Medusa, My Brother Reazel."

Ares immediately choked. "Are you two insane? No, it’s the “Reality” itself! And for the love of Olympus, can you both stop acting like you’re the pinnacle of power? There are forces beyond you!"

Reaga leaned against the wall, bored. "I don’t believe that."

Ares pointed dramatically. "THAT ATTITUDE RIGHT THERE IS WHY WE’RE ALWAYS IN TROUBLE!"

Reazel raised an eyebrow. "Then tell us, God of War—what is more powerful?"

Ares exhaled, his usual arrogance completely gone. "Barmigia."

The air around them froze.

Even Medusa, unshaken by gods, flinched.

Nyx closed her eyes. "Even I dare not speak its name lightly."

The room felt heavier. The mere mention of that name seemed to warp reality itself.

Reaga frowned. "Why? What is it?"

Ares looked at him, and for the first time, there was no anger, no rivalry—just fear.

"A living storm," he said, his voice almost a whisper. "It isn't just a calamity. It destroys… reality itself. The gods, the titans, even the primordial beings—we all fear it. Because when Barmigia moves, even existence itself trembles."

Raphael’s eyes narrowed. "You mean… nothing can stop it?"

Nyx spoke, her voice grim. "No. Because it doesn’t just consume… it erases. It is not destruction. It is the end."

Nythren scoffed, but his usual cocky tone wasn’t there. "So, you’re telling me this thing destroys reality itself? That’s ridiculous."

Ares glared at him. "Then don’t believe it. But if you ever see the sky crack open, if you ever hear the sound of the storm without wind—run. Because when Barmigia comes… there is no after."

A deep silence followed.

Then, as if responding to the words, a distant rumble shook the earth.

Ares immediately turned pale.

"No. No, no, no, NO! THAT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN!"

The walls of the hall trembled. The warriors of Velmor outside felt an unnatural chill crawl up their spines, now looking to the sky—horrified.

Because above them, the clouds had begun to twist.

Not like a normal storm. No thunder, no lightning. Just an unnatural, silent churning.

Like reality itself was being pulled apart.

Nyx opened her eyes, her pupils glowing like dying stars.

"It’s coming."

Nythren crossed his arms. "Oh, fantastic. We awakened something that destroys reality itself. Ares, I take back everything I said—you were actually right for once."

Ares wasn’t listening. He already accepts its fate.

Nyx stood still, her presence making the torches flicker unnaturally, as if even fire itself feared what was about to be spoken.

She folded her arms and spoke, her voice carrying the weight of something ancient.

"What is the most powerful creation?"

Nythren smirked. "The creation of darkness itself—me. And the son of Medusa, my brother, Reazel."

Ares immediately choked on air. "Are you two insane?! No, it’s reality itself! And for the love of Olympus, can you both stop acting like you’re the pinnacle of power?! There are forces beyond you!"

Reaga leaned against the wall, unimpressed. "I don’t believe that."

Ares pointed dramatically, his eye twitching. "THAT ATTITUDE RIGHT THERE IS WHY WE’RE ALWAYS IN TROUBLE!"

Reazel raised an eyebrow. "Then tell us, God of War—what is more powerful?"

Ares exhaled, his usual arrogance gone. His voice lowered.

"Barmigia."

The air changed.

The temperature dropped. A silence too heavy, too unnatural, fell over the room.

Even Medusa, unshaken by gods, tensed—just slightly. Her serpents shifted, their hissing quieter now. Nyx closed her eyes.

When she finally spoke, her voice was softer, but more dangerous.

"Even I dare not speak its name lightly."

The walls felt smaller. The room itself, a structure built to withstand gods, felt… fragile.

Reaga frowned. "Why? What is it?"

Ares looked at him, and for the first time, there was no arrogance. No defiance. Just fear.

His voice was almost a whisper. "A living storm."

Reaga’s smirk faded.

Ares continued, his tone hollow. "It isn't just a calamity. It doesn’t destroy lands or cities. It doesn’t bring ruin like fire or flood."

His golden eyes darkened.

"It erases reality itself."

The silence deepened.

Nyx’s voice carried across the still air. "It is not destruction. It is the end."

Reazel’s golden eyes sharpened. "You mean… nothing can stop it?"

Nyx did not answer immediately.

Then—"No."

Nythren scoffed, but there was no confidence in it. "So, you’re telling me this thing erases reality itself? That’s ridiculous."

Ares’ hands curled into fists. His breathing was too shallow. His pulse too fast.

"Then don’t believe it." His voice trembled, just slightly. "But if you ever see the sky crack open… if you ever hear the sound of the storm without wind—"

He looked up, his expression a mixture of wrath and terror.

"Run."

The torches flickered. The shadows stretched.

"Because when Barmigia comes… there is no after."

A deep silence followed.

And then—

A sound.

Not thunder. Not wind.

Something else. Something wrong.

A low, distant hum vibrated through the walls. A soundless noise, like the universe itself was exhaling.

Ares immediately turned pale.

"No. No, no, no, NO! THAT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN!"

The earth trembled.

Far beyond the castle, the warriors of Velmor felt an unnatural chill crawl up their spines.

They looked up.

And froze.

Because above them—

The sky was breaking.

Not like a storm. Not like anything natural.

No thunder. No lightning.

Just an unnatural, silent churning.

Like something was pulling reality apart.

Nyx opened her eyes.

Her pupils glowed like dying stars.

"It’s coming."

Nythren crossed his arms. "Oh, fantastic. We awakened something that destroys reality itself. Ares, I take back everything I said—you were actually right for once."

Ares wasn’t listening. He had already accepted his fate.