Far away from Othrys, near the banks of an ancient river, many a Oceanid, Nymph, spirits, and creatures played in the perfect weather of the Golden Age.
Their lives spent in leisure, wanting for nothing and fearing nothing.
Even the so-called Mortals, the Golden Race, were untainted by toil, grief, or old age.
Mother Earth provided them with food the moment they required it. The Nymphs and Oceanids provided them with water whenever they chose. And modesty was something that they had no thoughts of, for such a concept did not exist for the mortals yet.
Death came to them as if they were falling asleep.
A blessed race in an equally blessed land, just like with most of the ancient lands.
Yet, calamity befell this beautiful place all of a sudden.
It began with a rumble in the distance, as if the Mountains themselves were awakening from their slumber.
The noise startled the animals and lesser creatures, forcing them to perk up alertly and stare around for any threats to come.
Similarly, the Nymphs, Spirits, and Oceanids stood up from whatever posture they had been in until then. Their hearts beating uneasily as their minds came to the uneasy thought of what had been transpiring in the recent days in lands far off.
Unfortunately for them, this thought would turn out to be the truth.
The first and last sight some of them saw was the flash of divine might. Power so potent in its concept that their very eyes burned out on a conceptual level, followed by their very life force igniting, killing them where they stood.
The flash of divinity so potent that the picturisque banks of the ancient river instantly turned to a state of utter ruin, as if it were a landscape torn straight from the depths of Tartarus itself.
The handful of those that survived the initial massacre were the ones to finally witness he who was responsible for such loss of life.
His form solidifying from a wild, sinister fire. His armor cast from the cold light of the Adamantine. His emotionless eyes holding great knowledge yet held no hint of pity for what he had wrought with his arrival.
Such was Perses, The Titan of Destruction. Son of Crius and Eurybia. He who is said to have no equal in both wisdom and destruction.
His every movement making the world around him burn under his concept of Destruction. One defined by conquest, dominance, and burning.
Under the weight of his Destruction, everything must surrender and burn to ashes. Such is his domain.
As the Titan stared at his surroundings, sure that he was exactly where he was supposed to be, he sneered a bit and manipulated the veil between realms, the power that his young, traitorous daughter had taken to calling 'The Mist'.
'The foolish girl has forgotten who it was that trained her in the arts of the world'
With subtle manipulations, he managed to create a projection in the air, allowing him to communicate with his king. Just like when the King had communicated with him in the morning to issue his orders.
"My King."
"Nephew. What news?"
"The place that you told me to check is perfect, exactly as you said it would be. It is close to Olympus yet is completely unguarded. I can corner those brats from behind while the others fight them from the front."
"I see. Do you like it?"
Perses felt confused at those words.
"Uncle?"
"Just tell me. Do you like the scenery?"
Perses was not one to appreciate scenery, mainly because he reveled in destruction more than nature.
Looking at the burning land around him and the sparse living Nymphs and Oceanids huddled together some distance away, his face sported a twisted, lustful smile.
"I love it."
"...I see. In that case. Enjoy it to your heart's content."
"After all. This is the last thing you will ever see of this world. Father."
Those words instantly brought the Titan out of his indulgent thoughts as his head snapped back to the projection, only to catch sight of the fading image of his daughter's disgusted and gleeful look on the other side.
At the same time, the scenery around him changed as well.
Gone were the corpses and ashes of the various creatures he had slain with his arrival. Gone were the terrified, huddled together Oceanids and Nymphs that he was planning to enjoy later on. All fading away like the dust in the wind.
All that remained was a young god staring at him with a cold look in his inky black eyes.
Instantly, Perses understood that this was a trap from the very beginning.
The orders given to him were not from his Uncle, the King. It was his deceitful daughter, Hecate, who tricked him as such. She lured him out here to face this young god.
There was simply no one else in the world aside from his daughter who could create such realm illusions that they could even fool the Earth and the Sky.
'But that bitch miscalculated.'
The titan sneered at the god.
'She thinks a single god is enough to face me? Then she has truly lost her mind. That, or they are desperate.'
'Either way, this is a good thing. I bring back this brat's head to Uncle, and I might get some really good rewards for the service.'
With those thoughts, Perses chuckled and flexed his power, manifesting his coal-black Adamantine armor and blade.
"That foolish daughter of mine has truly doomed you, little Olympian. Today, I will earn great favor from the king by presenting your head to him."
"....Tell me, Perses. What is Destruction to you?"
Perses felt confused at that meaningless question.
Still, he could answer the last question of a doomed immortal. It was the least bit of courtesy he could give before sending him to Tartarus for eternity.
So, with a grin, Perses spread his hands wide, gesturing to the still burning earth all around him.
"Is it not obvious? Little Olympian? This is Destruction."
The young god shook his head, making his long mane of black hair dance in the wind. His golden armor reflecting the burning flames around them.
Only now did Perses notice the anomaly.
His flames of destruction burned all. Nothing living, dead, material, or immaterial was immune to its blaze.
So, why was this youngling standing at the very center of this field of his flames completely unaffected?
"I do not mean these flames, Perses, son of Crius. I mean, what is the concept behind your Destruction?"
Once again, confusion clouded the Titan's mind, and he took a combat stance.
Then, with a lunge so fast that no being but a Titan or God could trace, he arrived in front of the young god. His lance burning with the flames of destruction.
"Why ask such stupid questions? Destruction is destruction."
With that, Perses plunged his lance straight through the feeble armor of the young god and burned him alive with his flames of destruction.
...At least, that is what was supposed to happen according to his thoughts.
Unfortunately, reality proved different.
The moment his lance hit the armor, it was destroyed instantly.
There was no explosion, no show of force, no shockwave or physical strain.
One moment, it was still held within his palm. The next moment, it was simply gone, not even dust remaining behind. As if there was now a void in reality where his lance was supposed to be.
The young god sighed and subtly changed his stance. His power swelling with each word.
"I see. I guess I expected too much of the so-called 'Wisest of all Titans'."
His hair and eyes changing to a chilling purple in an instant.
There was no shockwave, no shouting, no peep or whisper of the change.
One moment, the god still felt like an average Olympian. Strong, but still manageable for a first-generation Titan or the extremely strong ones from the second generation.
Then, the next moment, his presence swelled to such an extent that Perses could not even feel the beginning or the end of his presence.
"I thought, as a fellow wielder of Destruction, you would have insights into the power you wield, and that maybe I could ask you to join our cause. Make you see the monster that Kronos is. If only so I could spare Hecate the heartache of watching her father die."
"But it is clear to me that she was right. Neither your mentality nor your knowledge is worthy enough for such a chance."
Finally, the young god unleashed his full might.
And the world went silent.
The fires of Destruction faded. The earth beneath their feet faded. The skies above them faded. Everything faded from the Titan's view.
There was only Destruction.
The absence of everything. The necessary erasure of all that exists.
For before Creation, there is Destruction.
Perses, the Titan of Destruction, lost his life not because he was weaker than Brolios, the son of Rhea, but because his own interpretation of Destruction was inferior to Brolios's Destruction.
A fact that the world itself acknowledged.
From the space that the Titan once occupied before his death, Primal Power rushed into the young god's body, bolstering his divine essence and authority over the world. A concept that had just lost its wielder and personification, regained a new one in the form of the young Olympian.
And so, Brolios Asterion truly became the final, indisputable God of Destruction.
And with the birth of a new God, this world stuck in a flux, solidified just a bit more.
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