Prologue
January 31st, 2030, 9:00 a.m., West Coast of the United States.The day foretold by both the oldest of men and the maddest of prophets had finally arrived. Thick clouds blanketed the skies, streaked with strange lights that formed bizarre patterns, while forces that had slumbered for eons began to awaken. Those cities that had once been capitals of the world trembled with an energy both unfathomable and oddly familiar.
Yet, in four different corners of the world, the pieces had already begun to move weeks earlier...
Oregon.The city of Portland carried on with its routine, ignoring the oddity of the weather. People were starting their workday, the streets were still nearly empty, and schools were just beginning their first day of classes.
In the heart of the city, the sky began to warp—a cyclone of clouds spinning toward the horizon, glowing with a violet light as it covered the city. Temperatures dropped sharply, and planes flying overhead abruptly changed course as a precaution.
Hawthorne Private High School was a red-brick building with large windows. In one of its classrooms, daylight began to fade, replaced by an oppressive shadow filtering in through the glass. The students, seated at scattered desks, stared out with growing concern.
“What the hell is that?” one of the students asked. “A freaking hurricane?”
The teacher, visibly anxious, paced from one side of the room to the other, trying to reach the principal; the situation was far too strange.
“In Oregon?” a voice replied from the center of the classroom. “Don’t be stupid.”
Kai West was seated at his desk, idly scribbling on a piece of paper, his attention completely elsewhere. Resting on one arm, he drew symbols that resembled pieces of talismans, filled with characters the other students didn’t really recognize. He looked different from how they usually saw him—his long hair messy, no trace of his usual coats, and none of the signs of discomfort he typically wore.
He glanced at the window without much thought and tucked the paper into his shirt. Then, calmly, he walked out of the classroom. By the time the students noticed, Kai had already stepped through the front doors and was gazing up at the sky with curiosity and... anticipation?
Far from Portland, nestled in a remote mountain among the British Isles, stood a small town that looked as if it had been left behind in the Middle Ages. A considerable number of soldiers were preparing inside the castle—polishing swords, loading rifles, and entrusting their souls to whatever might be willing to aid them. The same spectacle in the sky was unfolding there.
“Why the hell do I have to wait here?” asked a man for whom the word large was an understatement—his limbs were as long as grown men, and his muscles would put a gorilla to shame.
“Because you promised to stick to the plan, ‘King of Humanity,’” replied a man in his forties standing beside him, dressed in clothing that looked like it came from a costume shop.
Before them, standing atop the castle walls, Noah watched the scene with irritation. His ring glowed with a golden light as he held his unsheathed sword pointed toward the ground.
He then turned toward the castle interior. His wife was trying to calm their children, but what bothered him was realizing that his daughter was nowhere to be found.
He could only hope that those he had forced himself to work with were ready.
The winds caused by another vortex battered Mexico City, dragging cars across the streets as icy waters flooded the ground. Street stalls were sent flying through the air, buildings swayed dangerously, and people who had only just arrived at work struggled to stay upright. And yet, the great statue of the Angel remained unshaken.
From one of the nearby shops, a man walked out calmly, holding a freshly bought bottle of tequila. Upon seeing the warped sky, his expression—already bored and indifferent—only deepened. With a simple wave of his hand, the wind ceased instantly.
The light grew more intense as energy poured from the vortices.
From the cracks in the sky descended what looked like crystal fragments, fading as they fell through the air.
Giants with a single eye, their skin like cracked stone, dropped from the heavens. Their landings smashed through buildings as if they were made of paper. People, frozen in place and unable to comprehend what was happening, could only look upward.
And then—silence.
Only the echo of footsteps remained. Tiny lights, like stars, began to appear in the sky. They moved in perfect formation, without haste or emotion: an infinite army of soldiers descended like angels.
In Athens, Greece, one light fell faster than the rest. Anyone familiar with the old stories would have recognized it instantly.
Hercules struck the ground, surrounded by a golden aura. His orange mane—largely covered by the head of a dead lion—floated with energy. He looked up and, with an irritated snap of his tongue, shouted for everyone present to run.
Oslo, Giza, Varanasi, Beijing, Ise, Tara, Athens, and Mexico City—each witnessed the same spectacle.
Figures rose that needed no introduction. Even though humanity had never seen them before, they recognized them with instinctive terror. They were not angels, nor demons. Not saviors, nor executioners.
They were something older, simpler, and far more terrifying: gods.
The names once whispered in forgotten temples, the legends once told as bedtime stories… had returned.
The world seemed to twist and warp, and an unfamiliar sensation overcame all who witnessed the scene. It was as if the very fabric of the universe couldn’t withstand such presences.
A world divided by eras and civilizations now faced a single power falling from the sky. Cities burned, survivors fled without direction, and prayers died in people’s throats before they could be spoken.
The Second Divine War had begun, and humanity had abandoned all hope.
