The air at the summit of Olympus became solid, a mass of ozone and expectation. Zeus, the once King of the Gods, stood alone. Around him, the massacre was absolute: Hippolyta's Amazons and the mutant warriors of Atlantis tore through the marble praetorian guard as if it were paper.
"END THIS, FATHER!" Eron roared, his voice overpowering the sound of metal slicing through divine flesh.
In a final act of desperation, Zeus summoned every spark of energy from every temple, every prayer, and every lightning bolt that had ever existed in the cosmos. The Master Bolt in his hand expanded, becoming a contained supernova, a light so white it threatened to erase reality itself.
"If I fall, this world will burn with me!" Zeus bellowed, unleashing his final strike.
Eron did not dodge. He advanced into the explosion. The Strength of Hercules kept his bones intact; the ring's magnetism bent the light around his body; and Pride made him immune to the fear of death. He tore through the electrical storm like an antimatter projectile.
With a sharp crack that echoed into the underworld, Eron's fist pierced Zeus's chest.
Time seemed to stop. Eron felt his father's heart beat one last time against his knuckles. With a brutal motion, he closed his hand and ripped out the Primordial Spark—the source of all thunder. The Master Bolt, now ownerless, withered in Zeus's lifeless hand, transforming into a staff of pure energy that Eron absorbed directly into his veins.
Zeus's body turned to ash, disintegrating into stardust carried away by the mountain wind. Olympus fell into instant silence. The age of the old myths had ended.
Eron remained standing, his chest rising and falling, wrapped in an aura of black, blue, and golden lightning. He was now the Absolute God.
Diana walked over the bodies of the fallen gods, her armor stained with golden ichor, and stopped before him. Her eyes shone with wild devotion. Eron grabbed her by the back of the neck, pulling her close over Zeus's empty throne.
Under the gaze of Hippolyta and the victorious Amazons, Eron sealed his conquest with a passionate, possessive kiss upon Diana, while Zeus's energy still crackled between their lips.
"The throne is cold, Diana," Eron whispered against her mouth, his voice carrying an authority no god had ever possessed. "Let's warm it with the blood of anyone who dares to look at the stars and not see my name written in them."