Godstealer-Chapter 36: The Scar Beneath the Mask.
Chapter 36 - The Scar Beneath the Mask.
The Divine Hall shimmered under the weight of power. A vast chamber where only the mightiest of gods dared tread, its long obsidian table glowed faintly with sigils that changed with the moods of those seated. Today, the air was stiff with deliberation. At the far end, beneath a floating mural of stars and moons, sat Norttle—bound in divine chains, yet watching with unblinking, storm-colored eyes.
"A decision must be made," spoke one of the star-faced gods. "Which moon shall we feed to Norttle this cycle?"
"He devoured the Blistering Moon last time," said another. "He's still digesting the Time Fragments."
"He should get the Hollow Moon this time," offered one goddess, crossing her legs, golden orbs for eyes flickering. "It's empty, easier to burn."
Then came the voice.
"I say... give him the Blooming Moon."
All heads turned toward Zephiron.
He sat coolly, composed, his grey robes slightly disheveled like always—but today, something else clung to him. His hand rested gently on the table, and his eyes... soft.
One of the generals at the table, Solem, arched an eyebrow. "The Blooming Moon? You? Zephiron, you've never liked creatures—especially not ones that can devour concepts."
Zephiron shrugged. "Maybe I've changed. Maybe I've come to appreciate the fragile... adorable chaos of such beasts."
There was a beat. An unnatural pause.
Solem said nothing. But something crawled slowly from his ear—a tiny bee-like creature, invisible to all but himself. It buzzed, whispering in tongues not meant for mortals.
"Left eye."
Solem's gaze sharpened.
"Zephiron..." Solem said slowly, eyes narrowing. "You never had a scar on your left eye. It was your right."
The room froze.
Zerathis, posing as Zephiron, didn't speak immediately. His mind raced. Of all the details... He tried to smile. "Oh, really? Guess even gods misremember."
But Solem was already standing.
Meeting adjourned.
---
Divine Cafeteria – A Few Hours Later
Zerathis moved like a breeze, keeping his expression calm, his stolen form composed. He held a cup of golden nectar when Solem entered, casual, but his presence cracked the marble beneath his feet with each step.
"Zephiron," he said with a grin that didn't reach his eyes. "Care for a chat?"
Zerathis spun slowly. "Sure, always nice to bond with the boys."
Solem leaned close. "What happened to your brother? The one only you and I knew about?"
Zerathis blinked.
He paused.
There was no answer in the memories he stole.
"Wasn't he... oh gods, what was his name again..." he stalled.
Solem's eyes dimmed. "Gotcha."
In the blink of an eye, Solem surged forward, arm wreathed in divine law, and drove his fist through Zerathis' chest. A burst of cosmic flame erupted from the wound. Zerathis stumbled back, coughing, laughing.
"Took y'all long enough."
The illusion faltered.
His body shimmered, shifting from Zephiron to his true form: Zerathis, god of gravity, silver hair falling over one eye, scars lit like constellations.
"Zerathis," Solem said coldly, "you've got five seconds to explain."
"I don't explain to sheep," Zerathis grinned, leaping onto the ceiling with impossible grace.
Guards burst into the room. One fired a radiant spear of light. Zerathis tilted his head—just barely—and it passed, then curved back, incinerating the shooter in a flash of white fire.
"Cool trick," Zerathis said. "Those rays only burn when they hit something. What a shame."
"My turn."
The entire room lifted.
No—everything lifted.
The concept of gravity twisted. Tables, chairs, even thoughts floated.
Gasps echoed. Gods clutched at their chests.
"No air..." a goddess wheezed.
Zerathis hovered, eyes glowing violet. "Let's see you breathe now, Order-boy—"
But Solem stood untouched. Calm.
Zerathis blinked.
"You're not choking," he said.
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Solem cracked his neck. "I am the new god of law and order. And I decreed: 'I shall not need air.'"
Zerathis grimaced. "Cheater."
"Guards," Solem said. "Seize him."
Zerathis chuckled, still levitating. His wound had already sealed. But there was tension now. This wasn't a clean escape anymore.
He closed his eyes and sent a pulse of thought through the void.
"Oh, boy? You're gonna need to show up."
---
Meanwhile...
Dante blinked. "Did... did he just call for backup?"
The Trickster appeared in a puff of yellow-blue light, arms stretched, scarf fluttering.
"Ohhh baby," he grinned. "Party time."
