"With all these changes happening simultaneously," Nicolas said, his voice carrying across the white-stone chamber, "we've weathered the chaos by forming the council here in North America."
The other members nodded solemnly.
"We've been sending advisors to meet with every chosen we can locate—recruiting them for the perils ahead."
Leo leaned forward slightly, speaking next. "We don't know the true purpose of the trials. The gods won't explain. Every time we ask, they give the same vague answer: 'The purpose will reveal itself at the intended time.'"
Cyra picked up the thread. "With so many people awakening to power at once, the world needs a settling period. Time to adjust. To learn. We're trying to protect the people… while building strength."
Nicolas's expression remained cold and composed. "And I'm sure you've already sensed the truth—this isn't a game of equals. Not all chosen were blessed the same. Power reflects the god behind it. Right now, everyone is still learning. Even us."
Jennifer nodded, amethyst eyes glinting as she looked at Mike.
"That's why we asked about the length of your trial," she said. "The more powerful gods seem to allow longer trials. It gives their chosen more time to grow before returning."
She offered a soft, almost admiring smile.
"Fifteen days… that's the longest we've seen. By nearly ten days. According to our records, you started your trial on the very first day the awakenings began."
Leo added, "Some people didn't receive trials until day ten. Some lasted only hours. For comparison—Aether's trial was five days long and spanned five hundred years."
He gestured to Nicolas.
"That alone makes him stronger than anyone else on the council."
Nicolas inclined his head. "Even so, I didn't leave my trial a perfected being. I have to rebuild that power from almost scratch. What I gained in spirit, I am still learning to manifest in flesh again. The advantage is… the learning and progress comes faster now."
"Gods have built their power over eons," Cyra said gently. "It'll take years for us to grow these gifts. That's why the council must act now—before the war erupts."
Pete stood, his voice grave. "The angels and demons will drag humanity into their conflict. This is the start of something apocalyptic—and it will not spare the innocent."
Jennifer added, "Demons have been spilling across the veil. Skirmishes between pantheons are escalating. Humans will be forced to choose—who they serve, what they believe."
Nicolas's voice darkened.
"This is the apocalypse for mortals. A war of faith. Of gods. Some humans will become sacrifices. Others—slaves. A few, if they're useful, might be allowed to cling to their old lives."
He looked directly at Mike.
"But that world is gone."
Lisa rose beside him, kind but firm. "So tell us, Michael. What will you do with the power you've received? Will you use it to protect your home?"
Mike sat still for a long moment.
His thoughts spiraled—from the council, to the statue, to Bahamut's silence… and then to Kelsey.
His fists clenched.
When he spoke, his voice was low—gravel pressed into steel.
"I'll kill and dominate anyone… anything… that tries to take from me."
His draconic eyes burned brighter—nearly pure red now.
"I will bow to no one. I will grow stronger through battle. That's what I learned in the trial."
He looked up.
"And I'll start with the angels."
The room fell silent.
Every god-chosen present felt the weight of that promise.
Wait for me, Kelsey.
I'm coming.
Lisa's voice pulled him from the storm inside his mind.
"We can bring your parents here," she offered gently. "Woden has already located them. They're safe."
Mike blinked. The fire faded slightly from his eyes.
"…Thank you," he said, quieter this time. "Please keep them safe. But I'm… not ready to face them yet."
Lisa gave a small, understanding nod.
"Do not become weak."
Bahamut's growl thundered again inside Mike's skull.
"You must get stronger. Destroy all who claim to stand above you. We are the absolute."
"Where do I start?" Mike asked, rising from his seat. "You said the angels were at the military base?"
Leo responded evenly, "We've tracked multiple skirmishes between demons and minor angels in Washington, D.C."
Mike nodded once. "Then that's where I'll begin."
Without another word, he turned and walked away from the table, heading toward the temple doors.
"Wait!" Hunter called out, stepping forward.
Nicolas raised a hand, eyes distant, unreadable. "Let him go," he said. "He'll return."
Hunter hesitated, then grunted. "I'll drive him. D.C. is several hours north."
He took off after Mike.
Outside the temple, Mike stepped into the sunlight, jaw clenched, eyes forward. The road stretched ahead—empty, open.
Behind him, Hunter's boots crunched on the stone.
"Mike! What the hell, man—you planning to walk there?"
Mike didn't stop.
Hunter caught up beside him, shaking his head. "Get your ass in the truck. I'll die of old age before you get there walking."
Mike glanced over, then walked toward the old pickup without a word.
Hunter opened the door, muttering, "Jesus… what did they say in there?"
Mike climbed into the passenger seat, eyes fixed on the horizon.
As the engine rumbled to life and the truck rolled onto the road, a low voice growled in the back of Mike's mind—satisfied, hungry.
"It's time to hunt feathered bats."
Dark. Almost... amused.
Mike smiled without warmth.
"Let's begin."