The silence that settled over the Hall of Pantheons after Svarog's words was not merely the absence of sound, but a heavy and tense state of reality itself, like the air before a catastrophic storm, when even gods who had witnessed the fall of empires, the birth of oceans, the extinction of entire races, and the shattering of continents suddenly began to feel a strange and uncomfortable premonition that the world was beginning to change in ways they could no longer fully control, and that feeling slowly spread through the hall like a cold shadow.
Far beneath their thrones, within the endless labyrinth of the World Tree's roots, flowed the power that connected all pantheons, all worlds, all realities, and even the dimensions that mortals had never heard of, and that power, which usually moved calmly and majestically like a river of eternity, was now stirring restlessly, like a living organism that had suddenly begun to feel pain.
The first to break the silence was Zeus.
The King of Olympus slowly rose from his marble throne, and as he did so the air around him crackled with quiet sparks of divine energy, for dominion over the sky and lightning had always been his right, and even here, in a place where other immortal rulers of pantheons gathered, his presence felt enormous, heavy, and dangerous.
"So…" he said slowly, looking at Thor, his voice echoing through the vast hall as though the clouds themselves were listening to his words.
"A mortal has wounded a god."
His gaze swept across the chamber.
"And that same mortal has already killed Perun."
The name of the Slavic thunder god rolled through the hall like the echo of ancient thunder, and for a brief moment the Slavic gods remained silent.
Morana stared ahead with cold eyes in which there was neither anger nor grief, only the calm inevitability of death that had seen thousands of gods and kings fall.
Dazhbog slightly lowered his head, like the sun dipping toward the horizon.
And Veles… smiled.
"Yes," he said quietly, his voice dark like night swamps.
"Our brother has fallen."
His fingers slowly slid across the armrest of his throne.
"And now a mortal carries his power."
Zeus tilted his head.
"This cannot continue."
He raised his hand, and lightning flickered quietly between his fingers.
"If mortals begin killing gods…"
His eyes ignited with stormlight.
"The pantheons will lose their dominion."
Then another voice echoed through the hall.
Old.
Calm.
And dangerous.
"Or the world will change."
All eyes turned.
Odin.
The ruler of Asgard remained seated, unmoving, yet his single eye observed every god in the hall at once, as though he were not merely watching the present moment, but the future that had yet to unfold.
"You speak as if that would be a good thing," Zeus said coldly.
Odin's lips curved into the faintest smile.
"I speak as if it is inevitable."
Thor, who still stood at the center of the chamber, crossed his arms over his chest, his towering figure resembling a mountain rising within a storm.
The wound in his shoulder had already begun to close, for divine blood rarely left scars for long, but even that regeneration could not hide the simple fact that the wound had existed at all.
And every god present had seen it.
"I nearly killed him," Thor said, his heavy voice rolling through the hall like distant thunder over an ocean.
"But he escaped."
He paused briefly.
"With wings."
Morana whispered softly.
"The blood of Zmey."
At those words even several gods felt a ripple of unease.
Because the name Zmey was older than most pantheons.
Those dragons had existed long before the gods had divided the world into heavens and underworlds.
Ra leaned forward slightly on his throne of golden light.
"That means…" he said slowly, "that the mortal possesses a power older than the gods."
Zeus answered sharply.
"No one possesses power older than the gods."
And then Svarog spoke.
"Are you certain?"
Every gaze turned toward him again.
His eyes burned with quiet forge-fire.
"Some things existed long before pantheons."
Veles chuckled softly.
"Such as dragons."
He tilted his head.
"Or perhaps… the Void."
At that word several gods stiffened.
The name no one wished to say aloud.
Nyxaroth.
Thor lifted his hammer and rested it upon his shoulder.
"If that mortal continues…"
His voice turned colder.
"He will become a problem for everyone."
Zeus responded immediately.
"Then we must kill him."
Lightning flared brighter along his arm.
"Now."
Silence returned to the hall.
Then Odin slowly shook his head.
"No."
Zeus turned sharply toward him.
"What?"
"If we kill him now," Odin said, slowly rising from his throne, "we will never discover what he might become."
"He is a mortal!"
"For now."
Those words hung in the air like an arrow that had not yet fallen.
Morana spoke quietly.
"You think he could become a god?"
Odin looked at her.
"I think he could become something else."
Veles' smile widened.
"I like the sound of that."
Zeus slammed his fist against his throne.
Thunder rolled across the hall.
"This is madness."
"He has already killed one god."
"And wounded another."
His voice grew darker.
"If we allow this to continue…"
"The pantheons will begin to fall."
Then Svarog spoke quietly.
"Perhaps… some should."
The hall froze again.
Even Thor turned his head toward him.
"You speak dangerous words, smith."
Svarog did not answer.
But deep within…
he felt pride.
Because the blades now carried by Drakar were not merely weapons.
They were a trial.
A trial for the gods.
And for the world.
And then suddenly the air within the hall trembled.
Not from lightning.
Not from magic.
But from something else.
Darkness.
It appeared between the roots of the World Tree like a crack within reality itself.
The gods felt it instantly.
Ra rose.
Zeus lifted his hand.
Odin tilted his head.
And from within the darkness came a quiet voice.
"Please… continue."
It was soft.
Calm.
Yet it carried immeasurable depth.
"I enjoy this conversation."
The shadow within the crack shifted.
"When gods begin to fear…"
The voice chuckled softly.
"The game becomes far more interesting."
Nyxaroth.
Even the gods fell silent.
And somewhere far away, in the world of mortals, Drakar lay unconscious, unaware that the council of gods was now speaking of him.
But one thing had become clear.
For the first time in thousands of years…
the immortals had begun to worry.
Because a mortal…
might change the fate of the pantheons.