Benecto stood, armed with his spear, in the grand council theater. As it was an urgent summons from the King of the Gods, Nabis, only himself and his sister, Florita, had managed to arrive in time.

Watching over the three of them, and the entire theater, was the Mother Goddess, Aggard. She had isolated herself away from them these past few centuries, focusing upon the Enemies which huddled within the confines of those Cursed Lands, which his followers often called the Isles of Dunkeltal.

But as long as that loving gaze looked down upon them, Benecto knew everything would be alright.

Nabis was sitting on his throne, which showed off all his achievements. All of which proclaimed himself worthy of being their king. No few of Nabis’ achievements came about before his parents had been born, including his most famous of defeating The Devourer.

Even in Nabis’ advanced age, he retained his power, and was second in strength only to Benecto himself. Though he was stronger, Benecto knew he was not fit to rule the divine realm. So he acted as Nabis’ spear.

The rouge deity which had been running around the Isles of Dunkeltal, after the fall of Rynstowe, continued to refuse to pay their respect to King Nabis. Today was the first time that they had managed to forcibly summon them.

Despite the urgent forcible summoning, that rogue deity was still not coming, as was his duty when called by King Nabis.

Finally, the deity deigned to make an appearance. Not that there was much to look at. They were short, young looking, scruffy, and had no sense of divine power about them. They were even wearing clothes that the lower masses wore.

But what could Benecto do?

At least he, himself, wore the pure white flowing robes which showed that they had power. Also, he proudly proclaimed his strength by allowing his divinity to show.

Benecto watched as his sister, Florita, got annoyed at the time he spent standing, instead of kneeling to King Nabis. The next thing he knew, his sister was lying on the ground with an axe on her throat.

His whole body trembled in anger. Not only did that fool not bow down to King Nabis, they laid a hand on his sister, King Nabis’ Herald, and drew arms in front of King Nabis. He, and only he, was allowed to carry arms in the King’s presence.

Not giving the fool any warning, Benecto charged towards them as they continued to hold that wretched blade against his sister’s throat. The spear was aimed right at him, and would easily kill them.

The choice of killing a divine being was never made easily, but this fool had made at least two mistakes which called for his death.

His spear was right on target: until the spear felt slightly wrong.

That face which appeared in front of him—youthful; unclean, with a touch of stubble; and utterly dispassionate—scared him.

Pain flared from the side of his skull and all over his body.

He laid next to the glossy grey wall which separated the unclean Area of Trial away from the divine seats where the deities and their divine followers sat. At least his spear was still in his hand, so he could strike at that fool. Not that he was sure that he would ever land a blow against them. Especially as a shield appeared out of nowhere.

Just in that short moment, he realised he was no longer the most powerful god. Even so, an ambush could still bring one of them down. So he laid there waiting for an opportunity to strike.

King Nabis had now got involved.

But that fool still would not let go of his foolish pride in front of the King. He really deserved to die.

Then he felt that fool summon a deity. Only King Nabis had that power, and that right. Yet this god did just that. A common looking wretch wearing a simple dress, came in response to the summons. They were short, and had fair skin with freckles. But that fair skin was in direct contrast to the fiery red hair which framed her plain face.

Like the fool, this deity gave off no divine power.

At first he felt that meant she was weak, but he realised that if that fool was weak, then Benecto would not be laying next to the barrier separating divine from the worldly.

Both of them transformed into weapon carrying armoured warriors.

He did his best not to mock them mentally. But they looked so much like worldly warriors, it was hard.

That was, until they started the dance of combat.

His sister, Florita, was widely accepted as the most graceful of the goddess. Benecto knew that even though she looked plain, this new plain looking interloper was far more graceful.

It was easy to see so in the way she moved.

Each move flowed from one to another, her fiery red hair twisted and twirled, forming a visage of a fiery halo around her head.

The way she moved was beautiful, and Benecto felt himself falling in love with her.

In watching her beautiful graceful movements, he came to understand that despite the beauty in her movements, they were all too deadly.

So how was it that fool could stand up against them?

Benecto looked and watched.

He was a brute.

And this brute was forcefully dictating the flow of combat. Not with beautiful, graceful moves. No. With moves that seemed rigid.

Stil there was something within Benecto which was ill at ease with his thoughtless feelings. So he watched the fool. By now, the two of them were fighting at a level far higher than he had ever gone and thought possible.

In fighting at their advanced level, he saw divine sparks and divine strengthening appear and disappear throughout their body. From those moments, he realised he had vastly underestimated just how powerful these two were. Those two were extraordinarily powerful in their divinity.

Following closely with those moments of divine strengthening, Benecto realised that there was beauty in the brutalness of that fool’s combat.

A scary brutalness which allowed him to control the flow of combat using the bare minimum of strength. Finally he comprehended, deep down, just how lucky he was that this god had not used his full strength against him, or his sister.

Suddenly, the combat ended.

Benecto could not understand what happened, but the god was pinning the goddess down, and his axe touched her head in what could only be called a gentle kiss.

It was clear that they two loved each other.

As I watched from my position against the wall, the god dethroned Our King, Nabis. He then sat on the throne. A wave of divine power, mixed in with mana, surged over me.

My sister used her presence as a herald to call all the divine spirits, using words I thought I would never hear, as I believed them to belonging to a myth: ‘Here this, all denizens of our divine realm, our foreseen Warrior King has arrived. He has claimed his throne. All Hail our Destroyer.’

It was indeed his throne.

No longer was it gleaming white showing all deeds of King, no more, Nabis. Now it was a deathly black with two stark white keys. Those crossed keys foretold the end of days and they adorned the back of his throne.

He no longer appeared a fool, sitting in that throne in his armour. His partner stood by his side, acting as his guard, like I once had for Nebis. No, the two of them were no longer weak beings.

Those two stood rightly, atop the entire pantheon of divine deities.

And as to agree with us, the statue of Aggard twisted itself into a statue of the two of them, standing side by side, in mid-fight. There was a fierce, wild look on their face as they faced down their foes.

Those fierce looks on the statue filled me with dread. There was little I could do, but accept that he would indeed destroy all that which I had once held dear.

So all I could do was to give up any resistance and proclaim out aloud, alongside all my fellow deities and divine beings: ‘All Hail our Destroyer.’