Beginning Of Multiverse Saga-Chapter 550: War Of God 1

Back within Hera’s private chamber, the atmosphere was no longer one of quiet concern—it had hardened into resolve.

Soft golden light bathed the room, yet beneath that radiance lay tension as sharp as drawn steel.

Hera stood before the gathered goddesses, her posture regal, her expression firm and unyielding.

"Zeus will move soon," she said calmly, though the gravity in her tone was unmistakable. "Ares has already begun gathering monsters. We cannot leave Sharky unprotected."

A faint ripple passed through the chamber.

Athena stepped forward first, silver eyes steady and analytical. "Then we should bring him here," she said. "To Olympus. Within our domain, our strength is at its peak. If conflict erupts, we control the battlefield."

Artemis gave a sharp nod, her fingers tightening around her bow. "If Ares dares approach, I will pierce his heart before he takes three steps."

Aphrodite flicked her golden hair lightly, though her gaze remained serious beneath the gesture. "He should remain close to us," she said softly. "Where our influence can shield him."

Persephone’s fists clenched at her sides, shadows swirling faintly around her ankles. Her voice was quiet but resolute. "I will not allow him to stand alone."

Demeter drew her daughter close for a moment, maternal warmth radiating from her form. "No god or monster will touch Sharky while we exist," she said firmly.

Hestia bowed her head slightly, a calm flame igniting in her palm. "I will prepare the sacred fire," she promised. "Under its blessing, no harm will reach him."

The chamber grew brighter.

Hera raised her hand.

A golden wave of divine authority spread outward, filling every corner of the room and sealing their shared intent.

"Then it is settled," Hera declared. "We will bring Sharky to Olympus and hide him within our protection. No man... no god... no monster... will take him from us."

One by one, the goddesses nodded. There was no hesitation.

---

On the blood-red plains of the War Sanctuary, the ground was stained with the memory of countless battles. Crimson torches burned fiercely along the perimeter, their flames whipping in the heavy air. In the center of the vast expanse stood Ares, slowly drawing a whetstone across the blade of his spear. Each scrape produced a harsh metallic hiss, like a beast baring its teeth.

Before him, his monstrous army stood assembled.

Spartoi War-Spirits lined the front ranks, skeletal forms rigid and silent. Behind them loomed bronze Automata, furnace cores blazing within their chests. Nightmare beasts prowled restlessly between Cyclopean Hounds and Gorgon-blooded soldiers. The air vibrated with suppressed violence.

A thunderclap split the sky.

Lightning descended in a blinding column, striking the earth directly before Ares. The shockwave sent dust and red sparks spiraling outward. When the light faded, Zeus stood there, tall and imposing, his eyes glowing white with contained fury, thunder rolling faintly in his breath.

Ares immediately dropped to one knee.

"You called, Father?" he said, his voice respectful but burning with anticipation.

Zeus regarded him with a calm so cold it felt unnatural. The storm in his gaze did not rage wildly—it condensed.

"Hermes has confirmed it," Zeus said.

Ares lifted his head slightly, confusion flickering across his face.

Zeus stepped forward, lightning dancing along the length of his arm.

"Hera betrayed me," he said, his voice lowering into something darker than night. "The goddesses have chosen him. They have sided with an outsider over Olympus."

Ares’s fists tightened instantly.

"Sharky Valor," he spat.

Zeus raised his lightning bolt, its brilliance illuminating the blood-soaked plains.

"Go," Zeus commanded. "Gather your armies." His voice echoed across the sanctuary.

"Destroy Asgard. Let Odin and his realm burn."

The skies trembled faintly. "Let the heavens remember who rules them."

Ares’s lips curled into a vicious grin. The humiliation, the fury, the desire for vengeance—all found direction at once.

"As you command, Father of Gods."

He rose and gave a sharp, piercing whistle.

In response, thousands of monsters roared in unison, their combined cry shaking the War Sanctuary to its foundations.

Ares lifted his spear high, war-aura exploding outward like a crimson storm.

"Sharky Valor... Asgard..."

His eyes burned with bloodlust.

"This is war."

---

After issuing his command to Ares, Zeus did not lower his arm.

Instead, he raised it once more toward the heavens.

The sky above Olympus darkened instantly.

Thunder rolled across the divine mountain, not in chaos—but in authority. A vast wave of stormlight expanded outward from the throne room, spreading across every temple, every terrace, every sacred grove.

Every god and goddess felt it.

A decree.

The voice of Zeus echoed across Olympus, magnified by thunder and divine will.

"No Olympian shall interfere."

His words carried the weight of law itself.

"No child of Titan blood. No demigod. No goddess. No servant."

Lightning flared violently around his form.

"Only Ares shall act."

The air trembled.

"And whoever disobeys my command... shall be stripped of their divinity."

The final words struck like a verdict. Silence fell over the entire mountain.

Within Hera’s chamber, the golden glow faltered slightly as the decree settled upon them like invisible chains. The goddesses felt it immediately—a binding force woven into Olympus itself. Their divine authority was not removed, but restrained. Any open interference would be rebellion against the throne.

Hera’s fingers curled into tight fists, nails biting into her palm. Fury blazed behind her composed expression, yet she said nothing.

Athena lowered her gaze, teeth pressing lightly against her lip as she calculated outcomes and consequences.

Artemis’s bow trembled faintly in her grip, anger flashing through her silver eyes like moonlight cutting through darkness.

Persephone’s shadows writhed at her feet, restless but contained.

Demeter closed her eyes briefly, sorrow and worry mingling in her breath.

Aphrodite’s heart pounded painfully in her chest. They all wanted to move. To protect him. To stand at his side. But Zeus’s decree bound them.

---

The sky above Asgard rippled violently as the Bifrost split open in a streak of fractured light.

A lone Asgardian scout stumbled through the shimmering breach and crashed onto the polished floor of the throne hall. His armor was cracked, blood staining his golden cuirass, breath ragged from relentless flight.

He forced himself onto one knee before the throne.

"All-Father..." he gasped, voice hoarse but urgent. "The War God Ares of Olympus... marches toward Asgard with countless monsters."

A heavy silence fell over the hall.

Then murmurs erupted like distant thunder.

Odin rose slowly from his throne.

His single eye sharpened, no longer calm and contemplative, but cold and cutting like forged steel.

"So," he said evenly, "the son of Zeus seeks battle with us."

He stepped forward, the weight of ages carried effortlessly in his stride.

"Very well."

Odin raised Gungnir.

The ancient spear blazed with golden runes, crackling with primordial power. Lightning arced along its shaft, and the very pillars of the hall seemed to hum in response.

"Sound the horns," Odin commanded, his voice rolling across the chamber like a war drum.

"Prepare the shields."

"Ready the Einherjar."

His authority carried no hesitation.

Outside, massive war-horns began to sound, their deep resonance echoing across the floating city. Warriors rushed into formation, shields locking into defensive walls. The Einherjar emerged from their halls of eternal training, armor gleaming, eyes fierce with anticipation.

Asgard roared as one.

The city of gold was preparing for war.

Yet amid the rising fervor, Odin’s gaze shifted slightly upward.

A faint smile curved Odin’s lips.

Then the sky above Asgard split open once more.

A vast portal blossomed in the heavens, spiraling with radiant mana and collapsing starlight. Golden and azure currents intertwined, bending the clouds aside as the energy stabilized into a brilliant gateway.

From within that swirling brilliance, a figure stepped forward.

Sharky.

His eyes were sharp, unwavering. His aura burned fiercely, not wild, but controlled—like a storm that had chosen its direction.

Sif moved instantly.

She crossed the distance in seconds and grasped his arm tightly, relief and determination shining in her gaze. Astrid clung to his shoulder, small hands gripping his armor as if anchoring herself to him.

Hela appeared beside him, her dark aura coiling protectively around their family, shadows twisting like silent guardians at her feet.

Odin’s voice carried across the city.

"Sharky Valor... Ares seeks war."

Sharky gave a single nod.

"Ares wants war," he replied calmly. "Then he will have war."

He stepped forward and took his place beside Odin, their presences aligning like twin pillars of divine authority.

Sif held his arm firmly. Astrid pressed her cheek against his chest, drawing strength from his steady heartbeat.

Across the golden terraces, the warriors of Valhalla lowered their heads in respect. They had witnessed his power before. They knew what stood among them.

Odin lifted Gungnir once more.

"Then we fight together."

Sharky’s aura ignited fully.

It did not flare outward recklessly—it expanded with crushing density, like a cosmic storm descending upon the battlefield.

His voice lowered, dangerous and unyielding. "This time... I will not show mercy."

The ground beneath Asgard trembled.

The air thickened. Light bent. Even the Bifrost’s distant glow dimmed as if instinctively retreating from what was coming.

On the horizon, crimson war-clouds rolled forward, devouring the sky.

Storm gates tore themselves wide, jagged arcs of lightning stitching the sky into a bleeding scar. From within those thunderous rifts, a colossal army poured down upon the plains before Asgard.

Minotaurs with fists wreathed in flame marched in heavy ranks, their hooves cracking stone with every step.

Drakons circled overhead, blood-dark scales glistening as they exhaled smoke thick as ash.

Shadow-entities akin to the Keres drifted like funeral veils, their hollow eyes fixed upon the golden city.

Gigantic war-beasts lumbered forward, their hides carved with glowing Olympian runes, each symbol pulsing with destructive intent.

And behind them came countless monstrosities—creatures born not from nature, but from Ares’s rage itself.

The army advanced in flawless formation, every step landing in unison, every roar timed like the beat of a war drum. There was no chaos, no reckless frenzy—only discipline carved from slaughter and honed by centuries of conquest. This was not a mob of monsters. This was an army forged for annihilation.

And at its forefront stood Ares.

This was not the warplate he wore in petty skirmishes or divine disputes. The armor upon his body now gleamed with a blinding crimson radiance, layered in divine inscriptions that pulsed like living veins of lightning. Zeus’s enchantments coiled around him in violent spirals, feeding his aura with storm-born fury. Each step he took scorched the earth beneath his boots, as though even the battlefield feared to bear his weight.

In his grasp rested the Godslayer Spear.

It was no ordinary divine weapon, but a relic born from Olympus’s deepest thunder. Forged by Zeus himself, its shaft was etched with storm-runes that glowed like imprisoned lightning. The spearhead shimmered with a cruel, silver-blue edge, crackling with condensed wrath—power designed to pierce divine flesh and collapse even the mightiest enchanted barriers.

Ares raised it slowly, deliberately, allowing the heavens to witness its authority.

Then he brought it down.

BOOM.

The spear struck the earth with apocalyptic force. The impact did not merely crack stone; it detonated across the plains like a falling star. Shockwaves tore outward in concentric rings, splitting the ground, uprooting trees, and sending tremors racing toward Asgard’s golden walls.

Even Odin’s single eye narrowed slightly.

Ares stepped forward, red aura blazing like a second sun. His voice thundered across the battlefield.

"ASAFASTER PEOPLE OF ASGARD!

TODAY YOU PAY FOR THE DEATH OF MY SON!"

Behind him, the army roared as one. A tide of bloodlust and war intent crashed against Asgard’s gates.

Within the city walls, Odin tightened his grip on Gungnir, ancient power crackling along the golden spear.

Sif drew her blade, jaw set with unshakable resolve.

Hela’s hair darkened into black-blue strands of fury, necrotic energy curling around her like a living storm.

Sharky’s aura drops into a cold, controlled fury.