"By Chaos,"
was the only word that muttered from Hyperion's mouth.
He did not understand what was happening before his eyes.
One of his companions—one of the few who could claim to stand nearly equal to him, perhaps slightly lesser, but still one of the greater Titans—Pallas, the Titan of Warcraft, had fallen.
Pallas was strong.
Though younger than Hyperion and his nephew, he had shown remarkable progress and terrifying strength.
Hyperion knew how much of a monster Pallas was on the battlefield, in any fight he entered—especially in his divine form, alongside the other twelve.
And yet…
Seeing him like this—
Seeing a man with a hood on his head, hiding his essence and divine energy even from Hyperion's senses—
Standing there calmly, his arm buried through Pallas's chest—
Hyperion could only stare in complete shock.
In the stranger's hand, the heart of the Titan of Warcraft beat.
Thumb…th-umb…th…
Slowly… it stopped.
And with it, Pallas—one of the Twelve Great Titans—died.
The man behind him smiled faintly before withdrawing his hand from Pallas's chest, letting the Titan's body fall heavily to the ground.
Hyperion could not even process what he had just witnessed.
He did not understand how Pallas had been defeated.
He only knew that Pallas had been trapped inside some strange realm—one that had only begun to collapse because Hyperion himself had forced his divine form through it.
Yet what he saw before him was undeniable.
The Titan of Warcraft was dead.
The stranger stood victorious.
Only one question escaped Hyperion's lips.
"Who are you?"
Complete stillness fell across the battlefield.
Both the rebellion and Pallas's army froze, unable to move, staring at the spectacle before them.
Their commander—one of the Twelve—had been defeated in single combat.
It was an astonishing sight.
None of them could understand it.
None of them could believe it—if they had not seen it with their own eyes.
Some thought it must be an illusion.
But they could feel it.
Pallas's divine essence was crumbling, fading.
If not preserved, he would require a decade—perhaps longer—to recover.
Then, voices erupted.
"Lord Pallas!"
"No—how?!"
"That beast!"
"You bastard!"
"You blind hunter—I'll kill you!"
The soldiers roared in fury and disbelief.
When Hyperion heard the name they shouted—Blind Hunter—realization struck him immediately.
The firstborn.
The son of Kronos.
Aetherion.
Hyperion's eyes sharpened as he finally took the situation seriously.
He remained in his divine form, observing the enemy carefully.
The man stood there calmly… then slowly removed the hood from around his head.
For the first time, Hyperion saw the face of the one who had defeated Pallas.
Gleaming, four-pointed star-like pupils shone in his eyes.
His divine form radiated with starlight, countless stars orbiting around him as if acknowledging him as their sovereign.
Hyperion stood on guard.
Two divine forms faced each other in silence.
Their energies exploded upward into the heavens, lighting the world anew—as if the sun itself had descended closer to the earth, and the sky had lowered in wrath.
The battlefield trembled beneath them.
And the war… had just escalated.
***
Aetherion looked around the space that had once been his realm.
The palace he had created was crumbling, and the outside world slowly came back into view before his eyes.
He looked toward the man who had managed to destroy it and gave a faint smile.
His own presence could no longer be sensed, thanks to the gift he had received from Metis herself.
That gift had been the key to defeating Pallas as quickly as possible.
He knew it would have been impossible to simply capture the man.
There was one simple reason for that: all deities regenerate quickly.
Even if defeated, they could recover and continue fighting.
And Pallas was far worse than most.
He was one of the Twelve Great Titans—one of the strongest beings in existence.
At most, he would have needed a minute to recover enough to fight again, maybe even less.
Sure, Aetherion could have continued bombarding him with attacks, but he knew the attack he had just performed had already served its purpose.
It had burned Pallas badly—even his hair had been burned away, leaving him looking almost comical.
Yet even then, Pallas could have continued fighting.
But Aetherion had already calculated and seen the path to victory.
Using the ability of the Star Domain—the Path of Victory—he had searched through countless possibilities to find the fastest way to end the battle.
And the answer had been simple.
He could not capture Pallas.
He had to kill him.
So he used his devastating attack to force Pallas to focus entirely on defending himself.
While Pallas concentrated on surviving the explosion, Aetherion protected himself with divine energy.
In his Star Divine Form, starlight itself could not harm him.
While the explosion raged, he moved unseen—thanks again to Metis' gift—and appeared silently behind Pallas.
Then he tore the Titan's heart from his chest.
Now he stood there, watched by the armies of both sides.
Pallas' soldiers cursed him in fury.
Aetherion simply listened with quiet amusement.
Their hatred meant nothing to him.
At the same time, he noticed the shocked expressions of his own allies as they stared at the beating heart in his hand—the heart of Pallas, the Titan of Warcraft, one of the Twelve.
But what surprised him the most was the man in the sky.
The one who had destroyed his realm.
Aetherion had been too focused on finishing Pallas to protect the domain properly.
Perhaps he could have stopped the man if he had tried—but he had been too intent on ending the fight.
And now the world was watching.
Pallas lay on the ground, lifeless.
A defeated Titan.
Aetherion stood victorious.
"Well… how are you enjoying the view?"
Aetherion said casually.
The hood already removed from his head and looked at everyone watching him.
Then his gaze lifted toward the man above—the one radiating enormous power, perhaps even above to his own.
The hood slid down and turned back into the familiar scarf around his neck as his divine energy spread outward.
Aetherion stared at the man in the sky.
No one else spoke.
But the man above suddenly smiled coldly.
"Hah… you must be the one, right?"
the man said.
"The firstborn of Kronos."
The man was Hyperion.
"It is I," Aetherion replied calmly. "My name is Aetherion."
He did not care to say more.
"Anyway, our objective has been—"
Before Aetherion could finish speaking, something strange happened.
He was looking at Hyperion.
But suddenly his eyes activated automatically.
A golden thread appeared in his vision.
It pointed directly toward his own head.
Without hesitation and through sheer instinct, Aetherion switched places with one of the surrounding stars.
He teleported away instantly.
At that exact moment, Hyperion appeared where Aetherion had been standing.
It wasn't teleportation.
It was speed.
Speed far faster than light.
A great sword flashed through the air, cutting through the space where Aetherion's head had been moments before.
If Aetherion had not teleported and his eyes ability not activated, his head would already be lying on the ground.
Aetherion's eyes widened.
'What the—'
He couldn't finish the thought.
Hyperion appeared again.
Aetherion teleported again.
But the terrifying part was this—
Hyperion kept up with him.
Every time Aetherion teleported, Hyperion was already there.
It was as if he knew where Aetherion would appear next.
No—
He was simply fast enough to react instantly.
His speed allowed him to keep pace even with Aetherion's teleportation.