[M] The Throne of Gods: Divinity's Requiem - IC
This is Rated M for violence, blood, gore, language, nudity, sexual content, and contradiction of religious beliefs that might be considered blasphemy outside of creative context
The Throne of Gods: Divinity's Requiem
Prologue: Tyranny and Freedom
Even past twilight, Metropolis sprawled like a gleaming jewel across the industrial landscape of Mechanus, its architecture a blend of angular designs and smooth curves that seemed to defy gravity. Towering spires pierced the sky, their surfaces reflecting the vibrant hues of neon lights that pulsed rhythmically, illuminating the streets below. Automated vehicles glided silently along magnetic highways, while drones flitted overhead, monitoring the city's pulse with mechanical precision. The air hummed with the sounds of machinery and the distant chatter of its orderly inhabitants, each engaged in the harmonious dance of a society built on perfect logic. Yet, beneath this polished surface lay a web of secrets and shadows, where the ambitions of gods and mortals intertwined in a delicate balance of power.
Four deities cloaked in the essence of their twisted domains moved through the midnight streets like wraiths. They were not gods of virtue but harbingers of destruction—gathered by Diz's rebellion to eliminate Harku, the Duke of Freedom.
Marid, the Goddess of Madness, giggled softly, her mind a chaotic swirl of visions and voices that even she couldn’t quite understand. Her messy hair shimmered with unsettling colors as if reflecting the fractured state of her soul. "Shhh... listen. Can you hear them? The whispers of the machines. They sing... they scream..." Marid muttered with an unnerving smile, her eyes wide with an ecstatic madness.
Phyraxis, the God of Whispers, moved silently, his presence barely noticeable. His form seemed to flicker in and out of existence, always in the corner of one’s eye but never fully seen. He was the shadow in the dark, the whisper in the ear, the dread that followed even the bravest souls. His voice slithered through the air like poison.
"They know nothing of what’s to come," Phyraxis said, his voice barely audible, yet the words cut through the quiet like a razor. "Their beloved Harku... his arrogance blinds him. He will never see us coming."
The cold and calculating Aris, the Goddess of Tyranny, led the group of assassins. Her every step exuded authority, and the Horseman's eyes burned with the lust for power. She wore gleaming black armor that reflected the dim light of the streets, a fitting symbol of the iron fist with which she intended to crush all resistance. To her, this was not just an assassination—it was the first step toward conquest, the beginning of a new era under her rule - Diz be damned.
“We are not here to toy with this city. We are here to end him,” the Goddess of Tyranny spoke in a commanding tone, her eyes narrowing as the grand towers of Metropolis loomed above them.
Azazel, the God of Corruption, brought up the rear. His skin was marked with dark veins, his crimson eyes glinting with malice. Every step he took left small pools of blood in his wake, which shimmered and moved as if alive.
Azazel smiled darkly. "When we’re done with him, we’ll be one step closer to completing the revolution, and the White City will be next."
The group navigated past Metropolis's defenses with ease. The homunculi guards posed no challenge, and automated sentries were mere obstacles in their path. At last, they stood before the Monarch’s citadel, its sleek surface glimmered beneath the starlit sky, a fortress of power waiting to be breached.
“This is it,” Aris whispered. “Once Harku is dead, Metropolis… Mechanus will be ours.”
As they approached the citadel’s entrance, the massive doors slid open silently, as if welcoming them into the heart of their enemy. They exchanged wary glances but pressed onward, encouraged by the meticulous planning that had brought them to this moment.
The citadel halls were eerily silent, an expanse of polished marble and glowing lights. There were no guards, no defenses, just a vast corridor stretching into the depths of Harku’s domain. Phyraxis melted into the shadows, scouting ahead while the others moved cautiously, a palpable tension in the air. Something felt wrong—too easy.
Aris blinked, barely registering the blur of darkness that whipped past her. In a heartbeat, Phyraxis was torn from the shadows and hurled across the room. He hit the opposite wall with a brutal, bone-crushing force, the impact echoing through the chamber. What remained of him was an unrecognizable smear of blood and mangled limbs, splattered grotesquely like a twisted, circular painting on the wall.
“You dare enter my domain?” A calm yet resonant voice echoed through the citadel.
The Monarch descended a spiral stairway, his long raven-black hair cascading around his shoulders, contrasting against the deep blue of his flowing robes. These robes, elegantly draping over his lean form, revealed his chiseled chest. The red bead at his forehead glowed ominously, accentuating the fierce intelligence in his piercing sapphire eyes. He reached the ground floor, hovering and arms folded behind his back. "I know why you're here," Harku started. "You think you can kill me in my city? In my Metropolis?"
"Naughty, naughty Duke," Marid’s crazed laughter echoed as she unleashed her madness, trying to twist the Duke's mind. But instead of the Monarch faltering, her laughter was abruptly cut off. Harku clenched his fist, his telekinetic grip freezing her in place, raising two fingers and lifting her midair. Marid’s eyes widened with panic as her mouth was sealed shut, silencing her chaotic influence.
"You think your madness can topple my rule?" Harku’s voice was cold, unyielding. As Marid struggled, her powers turned inward, madness festering without release. Her body began to convulse violently, skin bubbling and contorting as the unstable energy swelled within her. In a final moment of horror, Marid’s body erupted from the inside, a grotesque explosion of blood and flesh painting the walls and floors, consumed by the very madness she sought to wield.
Harku floated forward but a sudden force halted his movement. He glanced down to find black-iron chains snaking around his wrists and coiling around his torso. In his distraction from Marid, the Goddess of Tyranny managed to bind him. Aris stood at the opposite end, grinning with wicked delight, pulling the chains tighter.
“The plan worked, Azazel!" she crowed, eyes gleaming. "The two were perfect bait!” She tugged harder, the chains digging into his skin. "His hands are bound, he can’t use his powers! Finish him—now!"
Azazel seized the opportunity with an evil smile, tearing off his crimson robe to reveal his upper torso, etched with thousands of ritualistic cuts. Blood poured from the wounds, coalescing in midair to form razor-sharp spears. But that wasn’t enough—his outstretched hands reached toward the lifeless bodies of Phyraxis and Marid. Their remaining blood twisted and solidified into even more deadly spears. A barrage of death from three directions. With a guttural snarl, he unleashed them all at once.
Aris’s triumphant shout echoed through the battlefield as the spears closed in on Harku from every direction. For a brief moment, it seemed Azazel’s strike had worked. But then, with horrifying calm, the spears froze—just an inch from Harku’s motionless form. His sapphire eyes bore into them, unbothered, as the spears began to liquefy and swirl together into a pulsating orb. “And you thought you baited me?" Harku’s cold voice sounded offended. “Who do you think planted the rumors of that weakness?”
At that moment, Aris understood—Harku had orchestrated everything. The years of whispered rumors, their carefully constructed plan, several meetings with Diz to gather the best of the best for this assassination—all had been part of the Duke's long con to lure them here, to this fatal moment. Panic surged through her as the obsidian chains slipped off Harku’s body, releasing him entirely.
The blood orb hovered for a moment, then suddenly dissolved into a fine mist. Azazel barely had time to register the shift before the mist surged toward him, seeping into his skin. His eyes went wide with terror as the blood within him began to twist, taking on a life of its own. In an instant, sharp shards of solidified blood erupted from his chest and back, ripping through his flesh and organs, skewering him from the inside out. He choked, a last gurgling gasp escaping his lips as another spike erupted from his open mouth, and he fell lifelessly forward.
Only Tyranny remained, her face pale. She was suddenly entrapped in Harku’s telekinetic grip, the weight of his power pressing down on her, a realization dawning that her plan failed miserably, along with her ambitions of multiversal conquest.
Harku hovered closer, his blue eyes narrowing in cold scrutiny. "You will tell me everything you know," he said, his voice calm yet menacing.
Aris’s face flushed with rage. “You bastard! You think I’ll tell you anything?” she spat, defiance burning in her eyes. But before she could react, an excruciating pressure wrapped around her left arm—the black-iron chain tightening until it yanked her limb clean off. Blood sprayed across the pristine ground, and Aris let out a scream that tore through the air, agony crashing over her in brutal waves.
"You seem to be confusing me with my Noble brother," Harku remarked dryly, his expression cold and unchanging. "There is no mercy here, and you will answer." Another chain slithered around her right leg like a snake tightening its grip, preparing for the kill.
Aris gasped, pain surging through her body, but she bit down hard, refusing to break so quickly. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. But as the chain pulled, slowly twisting, her muscles tore, and the crack of her bones echoed through the chamber. Her breaths became shallow, and the flames of defiance in her eyes dimmed.
"Tell me," Harku’s voice cut through the haze of pain, cold and implacable. "Or we continue."
Her body trembled, the agony gnawing at her resolve. She tried to muster her rage, but it slipped from her grasp like water through her fingers. "I—I don’t know anything..." she lied, her voice weak, wavering. The chain twisted harder, her bones fracturing, and the searing pain shattered her final defenses. Tears of frustration and defeat blurred her vision. "Wait! Please..." Her voice cracked, turning to desperate pleading. "Diz... he's seeking the Titans and Demons. I—I don’t know why, but please... no more..." Harku’s gaze remained as cold as ice, unrelenting. The chain around her leg coiled tighter, twisting her muscles, and crushing her bones. She screamed, her voice raw with despair. "The child! The child of the Apocalypse... he’s crucial to Diz’s plan. That's all I know, I swear! I swear!"
Harku’s expression hardened, his cold blue eyes piercing into her soul as if weighing the truth of her words. "Diz’s rebellion and Baldramort’s bastard child..." he muttered angrily. His grip on the chains loosened, but only slightly. "You were never going to succeed."
Without another word, the Duke of Freedom clenched his fist. Instantly, Aris's body twisted violently inward, folding under the immense pressure of his telekinetic power. Her armor crumpled like paper, bones snapping with sickening cracks as her limbs were wrenched apart. A final, choked scream escaped her lips before she imploded in an explosion of blackened Aether. Shards of her armor clattered to the floor, the only remnants of the once-mighty celestial.
The first Horseman of the Apocalypse, fell.
Harku stood motionless amidst the carnage. Blood dripped from the walls, staining the pristine floor beneath his feet, but he remained untouched, his robes immaculate. His expression remained impassive, eyes gleaming with the same calm, calculating resolve. "I will be ready for you, Diz," Harku whispered to the empty hall. "You will not take my Throne."
With a flick of his hand, the traces of violence vanished, the citadel restored to its pristine state. He turned and strode deeper into his domain, already preparing for the storm that would soon follow.
The rebellion had begun, but Harku would not fall so easily.
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