China—Huaguo Mountain
Huaguo Mountain lay half-submerged beneath murky waters. Corrupted tides from yesterday's attack lapped against its shores, each wave carrying the stench of decay where life had once flourished.
A figure descended from the sky, wreathed in faint golden light. Where his aura touched the corruption, the dark waters recoiled, parting around him. His feet settled gently upon the water's surface—for a brief moment, clear water appeared beneath him, then the darkness crept back in, hungry and relentless.
He stood balanced on the corrupted sea, extending his senses outward. His expression—normally playful and mischievous—had hardened into something ancient and terrible. The golden light pulsed with each breath as he swept his awareness across every contaminated inch of his sacred mountain.
What he sensed made even his immortal heart clench.
Bodies. Everywhere.
The monkeys—his people, his descendants, his children—floated face-down in the murk. Some had crawled ashore before succumbing, their fingers still clutching poisoned earth. Others hung lifeless in the trees, suspended from branches that had withered black. Their souls had been stripped away, leaving only empty husks behind.
The half-sunken temples dotting the coastline told their own grim story. Ancient stones that had stood for millennia were cracked and weeping dark residue. Prayer wheels had stopped mid-turn, frozen by the death energy that had swept through like a plague wind.
His jaw tightened. His eyes—which had witnessed the birth of mountains and the fall of dynasties—blazed with barely contained fury.
He raised one hand. The golden light around him intensified until it became nearly blinding. With a gesture that seemed almost casual yet carried the weight of divine authority, he willed the water to obey.
The corrupted waters resisted, fighting against his command, then surrendered with a shudder.
They pulled back as if yanked by invisible chains, revealing the true extent of the devastation. Huaguo Mountain's scarred land emerged from beneath the tide, meter by meter. With each stretch of earth exposed, his expression grew darker.
He descended slowly until his feet touched solid ground. Every step brought him past another fallen life. Young monkeys who would never grow old. Elders who had survived centuries, only to die here. Mothers still clutching their young.
The death energy was so thick he could taste it—bitter and wrong. It clung to everything, seeping into the very soil of his sacred mountain. This wasn't just murder.
This was desecration.
He made his way toward the temples, his golden aura flaring brighter with each step, burning away traces of corruption in his immediate path. Inside the first temple, he found statues of Buddha toppled and cracked. Sacred texts reduced to pulp. Offerings left by faithful pilgrims now rotting in pools of dark water.
But it was when he passed through the waterfall—his waterfall, the one that had hidden the entrance to his grotto for countless ages—that the true devastation revealed itself.
The ley line beneath Huaguo Mountain—the mystical artery that had made this place a nexus of power—was contaminated. Dark corruption flowed through it like poison in a vein, spreading outward from a central wound. The energy that should have been clear and vibrant was now sluggish and diseased.
For a moment—just one moment—his control slipped.
The golden aura around him exploded outward in a shockwave that shook the mountain to its foundations. Rocks cracked. The waterfall reversed its flow for a heartbeat before crashing back down. The very air seemed to scream. Behind him, a manifestation of his true form flickered into existence—towering, fierce, unmistakable.
Sun Wukong. The Great Sage Equal to Heaven. His eyes blazing with divine wrath.
Then, with an effort of will that would have shattered lesser beings, he reined himself back in. The light dimmed. The shaking stopped. But his eyes remained cold and sharp as tempered steel.
"Who?" The word was barely a whisper, yet it echoed through the grotto like thunder. "Who dares?"
He knelt beside the contaminated ley line, pressing his hand directly against the corrupted energy. It seared even his immortal flesh, but he didn't flinch. His senses—honed over millennia of battles against gods and demons—began tracing the corruption back to its source.
The trail was faint, deliberately obscured. Whoever had done this had layered multiple magical signatures together, weaving them into a complex web meant to confuse any pursuit. Under normal circumstances, such obfuscation might have worked.
But they had made one fatal miscalculation.
They had underestimated who they were dealing with.
This was Sun Wukong—the one who had stormed the gates of the Celestial Palace, stolen the Peaches of Immortality, fought his way through the underworld itself, and erased his own name from the Book of Death. And now, someone had murdered his people, stolen their souls, and poisoned his sacred home.
He pushed deeper, unraveling each layer with methodical precision. The trail began to solidify—a signature leading into the depths of the sea. The energy felt oceanic. Ancient. Primordial. But wrong. Corrupted. As if someone had taken multiple sources of magic and twisted them together into something unnatural.
Then, buried beneath the layers of obfuscation, he felt it—a thread of energy he recognized.
'Shinto magic.'
Wukong stood slowly, his expression hardening into something cold and predatory. The trace was faint, carefully hidden, but unmistakable once he found it—energy he had encountered before in his long life, now woven into this corrupted tapestry as part of the compounded spell.
Gone was the playful trickster. Gone was the repentant pilgrim who had once guarded Tripitaka on the Journey to the West.
This was the Monkey King—and someone was going to pay.
"I will find you," he said softly, his words carrying the weight of an oath. "Whoever you are... whoever is responsible... I will find you. And you will answer for every life you have taken. Every soul. Every tree. Every stone of my mountain."
He raised his hand toward the depths of the grotto. From far below, something answered his call.
The Ruyi Jingu Bang—the pillar that had once held up the ocean itself—erupted from the darkness, tearing through rock and water as it rose. It fell into his waiting grasp with a sound like thunder, growing from the size of a needle to its full, terrible weight in an instant. The ground beneath his feet cracked from the impact.
HUMMMMM
As the staff struck the floor of the grotto, a resounding divine hum rang out across the mountain—a sound that hadn't been heard in centuries. The very stones seemed to remember their master. The remaining corruption in the immediate area recoiled from the divine weapon's presence.
"And when I do..." A sinister smile crossed his face. "You will beg for mercy I will not grant."
In ancient times, after an apocalyptic event that nearly ended all existence, the pantheons agreed that gods would not directly interfere with the mortal realm—lest they trigger another divine war. For the most part, this agreement held. But there were always exceptions. Some gods descended to walk among their believers in protected sanctuaries. Others—the mad, the untamed—could not be bound by any covenant and hid in the shadows of the mortal realm. And some divine beings simply chose to live quietly among mortals.
Sun Wukong was one such being. He had lived among mortals for years, mingling, laughing, enjoying life. Yesterday, disguised as an ordinary man, he had even helped rescue lives during the flooding.
But this attack—this desecration of his home, the slaughter of his people, the corruption of his sacred mountain—had changed everything.
For the first time in a long, long time, the Monkey King was truly enraged.
Sun Wukong vanished in a burst of golden light, leaving behind only the faint scent of peaches and divine fury—and the certainty that somewhere, someone's reckoning was coming.
The Great Sage Equal to Heaven never forgot a debt.
And this one would be paid in full.
Takama-ga-hara
The divine realm shimmered with celestial light, its ethereal landscapes floating among clouds and starlight. For months, the domain had remained sealed, its space saturated with rich energy flowing from Amaterasu's pavilion at its heart. During this lockdown, the Shinto gods had devoted themselves to training, pushing beyond their former limits.
Without warning, a deafening sound shattered the realm's serenity.
BOOM!
The massive gates of Takama-ga-hara shuddered under tremendous impact. Golden light flared around their edges as ancient wards strained against overwhelming force. The sound reverberated through the divine domain, echoing off pavilions and sacred groves.
Throughout Takama-ga-hara, heads turned toward the disturbance. Lesser kami scattered like startled birds. Guardian spirits rushed to their posts, hands moving to weapons. The very fabric of the realm rippled with tension.
In her great pavilion, Amaterasu's eyes snapped open. The Sun Goddess had been deep in meditation, absorbing the renewed flow of faith energy flooding into the domain from recent events in the mortal realm. This influx had pushed her beyond her previous limits. As she sensed the energy signature battering their gates, her serene expression twisted into a frown.
She knew that presence—that wild, untamed power wrapped in divine fury.
"Sun Wukong," she whispered, rising from her seat. Her radiance intensified, filling the pavilion with brilliant warmth. Around her, attendant spirits bowed low, awaiting orders.
BOOM!
Another impact. Stronger this time. The wards flickered ominously.
Amaterasu's expression hardened. Whatever had brought the Monkey King to their doorstep was no social call. If he breached those gates in his current state, the resulting confrontation could shake the foundations of multiple divine realms. They weren't ready to reveal their newfound power—not yet. But being challenged so directly, her prestige wouldn't allow them to simply ignore it.
"Summon my brother," she commanded, her voice carrying absolute authority. "Send Susanoo and Omoikane to the gates. Now."
The spirits vanished in bursts of light.
Amaterasu moved to the great window overlooking the realm. From here, she could see the distant gates and the golden aura blazing around them. Her expression remained calm, but her hands clenched slightly.
"Of all beings to challenge us now, why him?" she murmured. "Could our involvement have been exposed? But the method that mortal used leaves no discernible traces... What could have driven you to storm our gates with such rage, Great Sage?"
BOOM!
The wards cracked. Fractures of golden light spread across their surface like a spiderweb.
Susanoo stood at the edge of a cliff overlooking the Storm Seas of Takama-ga-hara, his back to the realm's interior. Below, the divine ocean churned with perpetual tempests, waves crashing against rocks that had never known erosion. Lightning danced across dark clouds in mesmerizing patterns.
He had been there for hours, contemplating recent events. The plan had succeeded beyond expectations—a massive harvest of souls, an unprecedented influx of faith energy. Through their secret bargain with the mortal Orm, the Shinto pantheon had gained power they hadn't possessed in centuries.
Susanoo had to admit a grudging respect for the mortal's audacity. To approach gods with such a proposal required either remarkable courage or spectacular foolishness—perhaps both. Many in the pantheon had opposed the deal, viewing it as beneath their dignity. But Amaterasu had seen the bigger picture. She always did.
The Sun Goddess had her reasons, the threats gathering on the horizon, the need to grow stronger before ancient enemies made their moves, and perhaps some lingering gratitude for Orm's earlier service in recovering her mirror's fragment. Whatever her motivations, she had committed the pantheon to this path.
What made this opportunity truly unprecedented was the quality of the harvest. The presence of the Higher Realm being—Orach—had subtly enriched the mortal world itself. Souls had become more potent, more nourishing to divine essence than they had been in millennia. As one who bridged the celestial and underworld realms, Susanoo had felt this change firsthand. Emma-O, judge of Shinto believers' souls, had confirmed it. When they brought their findings to Amaterasu, Susanoo had become the plan's strongest advocate.
The moral weight was considerable—he wouldn't deny that. But if souls had to be sacrificed to gain the strength needed against their true enemies, then so be it. They would bear that burden. Better to act decisively now than wait for the prophesied darkness to consume everything. Better to be prepared when she inevitably broke her chains.
What troubled him now, however, was the scope of the corruption. He had sensed disturbances in Earth's ley lines spreading beyond their agreed-upon targets. The contamination was more widespread than anticipated. Had the mortal exceeded their arrangement? Or was this simply the natural consequence of unleashing such power?
A faint banging sound reverberated through his territory, accompanied by a strangely familiar energy signature. He frowned. Another bang echoed, and a messenger spirit materialized beside him, bowing low.
"Lord Susanoo! The Sun Goddess commands your presence at the gates. An intruder—"
BOOM!
The sound reached even here, making the air vibrate. Susanoo's eyes narrowed. He didn't need to ask. That distinctive energy signature—wild, powerful, and murderous—could belong to only one being.
"I know," Susanoo said, his voice carrying the rumble of distant thunder. "Tell my sister I'm already on my way."
The messenger vanished. Susanoo turned from the cliff, expression grim. Storm clouds gathered around him in response to his rising power. Lightning crackled along his arms as he launched himself skyward, shooting toward the gates like a thunderbolt.
As he flew, his mind raced. Sun Wukong attacking their realm made no sense—unless something catastrophic had occurred. Something terrible enough to overcome the Monkey King's usual irreverent restraint.
'This is too early to expose our strength,' Susanoo thought grimly. 'I need to talk him down before—'
CRACK!
The wards shattered.
Ahead, Susanoo saw the gates burst open, blown apart by a surge of golden energy. Through the smoking ruins strode a figure wreathed in divine light, staff in hand, eyes blazing with fury.
Sun Wukong had arrived, and he looked ready to tear the entire realm apart.
Susanoo accelerated, lightning trailing behind him like a comet's tail. "Great Sage Sun Wukong! What is the meaning of this?" His voice rang out as he descended to block the intruder's path.
He landed directly before Wukong, barring further entry. Thunder rumbled overhead as storm clouds spread across the previously clear sky.
Sun Wukong's cold, blazing eyes fixed on him. "You dare ask the meaning of my arrival? Tell this sage who you are before questioning me." He slammed the butt of his staff down. The space of the domain trembled.
"I am Susanoo-no-Mikoto, storm god of this realm," Susanoo replied evenly, refusing to rise to the provocation. "And you are the Great Sage Sun Wukong. You stand at the threshold of Takama-ga-hara uninvited, bearing hostile intent. Explain yourself."
The Monkey King's golden eyes narrowed. The Ruyi Jingu Bang hummed in his grip, eager for violence. When he spoke, his voice was cold.
"Explain myself?" Wukong's laugh was bitter, edged with frost. "My people lie dead, Storm God. My mountain—my home—corrupted by dark magic that still festers in the stone. And every thread of that corruption leads here, to your gates."
He took a single step forward. The ground fractured beneath his foot, cracks spreading outward in a widening web.
"I traced the corruption back to its source, Susanoo. The magic was masterfully constructed—layers upon layers of different energies, each designed to obscure the one beneath. A lesser being would have been fooled." His eyes blazed with golden light. "But I am the Great Sage Equal to Heaven. I unraveled every knot, stripped away every veil, and at the very core of the attack, woven into its foundation, I found traces of Shinto divine energy."
His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "So tell me, Storm God—which member of your pantheon thought they could strike at the Monkey King and escape judgment?"
Susanoo's expression remained controlled, betraying nothing, but his mind raced beneath the calm exterior. 'He traced it through all those layers? Orm swore the technique was untraceable, buried under enough false signatures to confound even divine senses. If Wukong broke through that... we severely underestimated him.'
Before Susanoo could formulate a response, a new presence descended from above.
"Great Sage Equal to Heaven." The voice was measured, cultured. "Welcome to Takama-ga-hara."
Omoikane materialized between them—the god of wisdom and intelligence, his elderly form dignified in flowing robes that shimmered with subtle divine light. His arrival was deliberate; Amaterasu had sent him for precisely this moment. Susanoo possessed overwhelming power, but lacked the silver tongue needed to navigate a confrontation with someone as cunning as Sun Wukong. Omoikane was different—a master strategist who could deflect suspicion without revealing their involvement or their recently acquired strength.
He offered Wukong a deep, respectful bow. "We have heard legends of your greatness for centuries. I am Omoikane. It is an honor to meet the legendary Monkey King."
"Spare me the formalities." Wukong's eyes narrowed, his instincts went on alert. He recognized a fellow schemer when he saw one—this god was dangerous in ways that had nothing to do with raw power. "State your purpose."
Omoikane's diplomatic smile never faltered, though his eyes flickered with brief acknowledgment of being so quickly read. "Very well, Great Sage. I will speak plainly." He paused, his tone becoming grave. "We felt yesterday's catastrophe. The mortal realm suffered immensely, and we grieve for every soul lost—including your people on Huaguo Mountain."
"However," he continued carefully, "you accuse our entire pantheon based on trace elements of Shinto energy within a multilayered curse. Surely a being of your wisdom recognizes that circumstantial evidence is not proof of guilt? You yourself noted the magic's complexity—multiple energy signatures woven together. Why focus solely on the Shinto traces while disregarding all others?"
His expression became earnest. "I swear on my divine honor—the Shinto pantheon ordered no attack on Huaguo Mountain. We have no quarrel with you, no reason to invite your wrath. More than that, yesterday's disaster struck our shores as well. Our temples burned. Our faithful died. We have been investigating this atrocity alongside—"
"Lies!"
Wukong's aura detonated outward in a shockwave of golden divine energy. The blast carved deep trenches into the stone ground and sent debris hurtling in all directions. His eyes blazed with barely contained fury.
"Do you take me for a fool?" His voice was dangerous, each word resonating with power. "I have walked this earth for millennia. I have mastered cultivation techniques that gods and demons alike fear. I have studied every form of magic, unraveled curses that would break lesser minds. Do you truly believe I cannot distinguish Shinto divine energy from every other signature in existence? That I would mistake your pantheon's essence—as unique as a fingerprint—for something else?"
"I don't doubt what you sensed," Omoikane replied calmly, his composure unshaken. Beside him, Susanoo's power rose in response, storm winds beginning to whip around them.
Omoikane continued, "But I swear on my honor as a god—the Shinto pantheon did not order this attack. If our magic was used, then someone wielded it without our knowledge or consent. We have treasures from the age of gods scattered throughout the mortal realm, artifacts of immense power. Perhaps the culprit found one such relic and turned it against you?" He met Sun Wukong's gaze with unwavering confidence.
"Convenient," Wukong snarled. "You may be right to a degree. But it doesn't change the fact that I found your magic at the heart of the attack. Like it or not, you won't shirk responsibility."
The Ruyi Jingu Bang began to grow, expanding from staff to pillar as thick as a tree trunk. Wukong spun it once, and the resulting wind pressure carved a trench in the ground.
"I came for answers. And I will have them—whether you give them willingly or I tear them from this realm stone by stone."
"Sun Wukong, don't be unreasonable—" Omoikane spoke urgently.
"Omoikane-dono, withdraw." Susanoo's jaw tightened. He could see it in Wukong's eyes—the Monkey King was beyond reason. Grief and rage had consumed his usual cunning. This wouldn't end with words.
Omoikane hesitated, reading the same conclusion in the Storm God's expression, then sighed and retreated to a safe distance.
"You leave me no choice," Susanoo said quietly. Lightning danced along his arms, his eyes glowing electric blue. "I cannot allow you to rampage through our realm. Stand down, Wukong. While you still can."
"Make me."
Sun Wukong's aura flared, golden light erupting around him as divine power surged to the surface. Behind him, the fierce Buddha avatar of his divine nature materialized—a golden specter radiating raw power.
For a moment, neither moved. Two divine beings, each a legend in their own right, faced each other across twenty meters of cracked stone. The air itself seemed to hold its breath.
Then Wukong moved.
He vanished—simply disappeared from sight—and reappeared directly before Susanoo, staff swinging with mountain-shattering force. Susanoo barely raised his arms in defense, lightning crackling into a hasty barrier.
CRASH!
The impact sent Susanoo flying backward, his feet carving twin trenches through the ground as he skidded to a halt. He looked up to see Wukong already closing the distance, the Ruyi Jingu Bang spinning in a deadly arc aimed at his head.
Susanoo thrust his hand forward. "Raikō!"
A massive lightning bolt erupted from his palm, splitting the air with a deafening crack. It streaked toward Wukong's chest—but the Monkey King plucked a hair from his head and blew on it with practiced ease.
Instantly, a clone materialized to intercept the lightning strike. It exploded in a burst of golden light and dissipating energy while the real Wukong closed the remaining distance without breaking stride.
The Ruyi Jingu Bang descended like heaven's judgment.
Susanoo rolled aside at the last instant, the staff cratering the ground where he'd stood a heartbeat before. He came up with the Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi drawn in one fluid motion, the legendary blade gleaming with divine power.
"Kusanagi: Kazagiri!"
He swung the sword in a wide arc, unleashing razor-sharp wind blades that screamed through the air. The Monkey King spun his staff in a defensive whirl, deflecting the cutting winds, but the sheer force drove him back several steps.
"Good!" Wukong's grin was savage, almost feral. "Finally, a real fight!"
He planted the Ruyi Jingu Bang into the ground, using it as a pivot point to launch both feet forward in a devastating double kick. The blow caught Susanoo squarely in the ribs with a sickening crack, sending him crashing through a stone wall in an explosion of rubble. Before the Storm God could recover, Wukong was upon him again, pressing his advantage relentlessly.
The two gods became blurs of motion—staff and sword clashing so rapidly the sound became continuous thunder. Each impact sent shockwaves rippling outward, cracking stone pavilions and splitting clouds overhead. The very ground beneath them fractured and reformed repeatedly under the stress of their divine battle.
The sky above Japan began to change.
Golden light erupted across the heavens, visible even through thick cloud cover. Lightning—brilliant blue-white bolts—carved jagged patterns across the sky. Thunder rolled continuously, shaking windows and triggering car alarms across Tokyo.
People stopped in the streets, staring upward in confusion and growing fear. Phones emerged to record the impossible phenomenon. News helicopters scrambled to launch.
Above Mount Fuji, clouds spiraled into a massive vortex. At its center, flashes of gold and blue battled for dominance. Winds whipped through cities and countryside across the entire nation with unnatural ferocity.
In the Japan Meteorological Agency, alarms blared as instruments went haywire. No weather pattern on record could explain this. Energy readings exceeded their scales. Several monitoring stations simply shut down, unable to process the overwhelming data flooding their systems.
"What is this?" a senior meteorologist whispered, staring at satellite imagery showing the impossible storm formation. "What could possibly cause this?"
Above them, unseen by mortal eyes, two gods fought with legendary fury.
Wukong flipped backward through the air, avoiding a lightning-enhanced sword slash that carved through three stone pillars like paper. He landed in a crouch, breathing hard—not from exhaustion, but sheer exhilaration.
This was what he'd been missing. A real challenge. A real fight.
But then something changed. Something that froze his battle-joy mid-surge.
Susanoo's aura shifted. Storm clouds overhead darkened from gray to pitch black. Lightning turned from blue-white to deep, ominous purple. The air became oppressively heavy as a primordial pressure descended—something that made Wukong's divine senses scream warnings.
Susanoo raised the Kusanagi high, his voice echoing with power drawn from the storm itself.
"Arashi no Kaibutsu."
The Storm God's form began to transform. His body crackled and warped as divine power flooded through him in overwhelming waves. His eyes became pure white, glowing like twin orbs of captured lightning. Around him, the storm condensed and shaped itself into armor of living thunder and howling wind.
The sheer power radiating from Susanoo made the air itself tremble and distort.
Wukong's eyes widened. For the first time in centuries, genuine shock flickered across his face.
This wasn't High God King level anymore. This was something far beyond—something that transcended the boundaries of the God King realm and stepped into the domain of the hidden ones. Into his domain.
'Ascendant,' Wukong's mind raced as understanding dawned. 'He's reached the threshold of Ascendant level. How is this possible? I was supposed to be the last... The last time I surveyed Earth's pantheons, no one—save for those ancient, hidden entities—had surpassed High God King. How did I miss this? When did this happen?'
Susanoo didn't give him time to process. He moved with speed that blurred even Wukong's divine perception. The Kusanagi carved through the air in a perfect vertical slash, the blade's displacement so violent it tore a vacuum in its wake.
Wukong barely got the Ruyi Jingu Bang up in time to block.
CLANG!
The impact sent him flying—actually tumbling backward through the air for hundreds of meters before he managed to right himself mid-flight, using his cloud-stepping technique to stabilize. His arms tingled from the tremendous force, the vibrations traveling through the staff and into his bones. The Ruyi Jingu Bang hummed in his hands, and for the first time in centuries, his grip trembled slightly.
'What happened?' His mind raced as Susanoo closed the distance again with terrifying speed. 'How did he become this strong? The Susanoo I knew was powerful, yes, but this—this is different. This is—'
Lightning crashed around him—not single bolts but entire storms of them, dozens of strikes hitting simultaneously from multiple angles in a coordinated assault. Wukong dodged, weaved, created clones to absorb hits he couldn't avoid. But even his legendary speed and technique were being pressed to their limits.
Susanoo appeared directly above him, sword raised overhead. The blade glowed with condensed storm energy, purple lightning coiling around it like serpents.
"Ama-no-Murakumo!"
The slash descended, and reality itself screamed. Space tore along the blade's edge. Wukong crossed his staff overhead, pouring his considerable power into defense, golden energy erupting like a shield.
The forces met—and the resulting explosion carved a crater three hundred meters wide into Takama-ga-hara's divine landscape. Energy erupted outward in a shockwave that rippled across multiple planes of existence, felt by sensitive beings in distant realms.
When the blinding light faded, Wukong stood at the crater's edge, staff braced against the ground for support, breathing hard. His golden aura flickered—not failing, but strained in ways it hadn't been for ages.
Across from him, Susanoo landed gracefully, storm armor still crackling with residual power. But there was no triumph in his expression—only grim determination and carefully controlled restraint.
"It seems we're evenly matched, Great Sage," Susanoo said, his voice rumbling with contained thunder. "You, who fought the Celestial Host to a standstill. You, who stormed the gates of Heaven itself. Yet here, now, you find yourself on the defensive." He paused deliberately. "I suggest we stop. Continuing this battle will benefit neither of us."
Despite his warrior's blood singing for more combat, Susanoo heeded his sister's earlier words. The bigger picture mattered more than personal satisfaction. He needed to end this confrontation before expending more power—power that would expose the pantheon's true strength to unwanted scrutiny. Now wasn't the right time. But soon—very soon—it would be time to fight to his heart's content.
Wukong straightened slowly, expression unreadable as cold realization settled over him. They were nearly equal in this exchange. True, he'd held back as well, not yet tapping into his deepest reserves or utilizing his full arsenal of techniques.
But to be pushed back like this was no small feat. Even those stronger than him in raw power often struggled to match him in actual combat due to his techniques, experience, and battle instincts honed over millennia. Yet here stood a god who, by all his knowledge and intelligence networks, shouldn't have been capable of this level of power.
"How?" The word came out quiet, almost wondering. "How did you reach this level?"
Susanoo didn't answer immediately. Instead, he raised the Kusanagi, pointing it directly at Wukong in clear challenge and warning.
"Training. Dedication. Necessity," he said simply. "We're both warriors, Great Sage. I never stopped honing my skills. I live by the sword and will one day die by it." His eyes hardened. "Now, I ask you to respect our station and leave. Return to your mountain. Investigate the full truth of what happened. But don't bring your rage to our doorstep again without proof. Because next time, even if I must fall, I promise I'll take something precious of yours with me."
His grip on his sword tightened, his stance ready—making clear he would engage once more if necessary, regardless of the cost.
Omoikane's voice suddenly rang out across the scarred battlefield, cutting through the tension.
"Great Sage, please heed Susanoo-dono's advice. If you continue down this path—if you force us to commit our full might—you'll start a war between pantheons. A divine war that no one wants. The kind that will cause untold death and destruction in the mortal realm."
Omoikane stepped forward, meeting Sun Wukong's fierce gaze with calm, measured wisdom.
"Does your revenge require any blood spilled, or do you seek those truly responsible? Is it worth breaking the covenant that has kept the realms stable for eons? Is it worth the millions upon millions of mortal lives that would be lost in the crossfire when pantheons go to war?"
Wukong stood silent, staff ready, his sharp mind racing through implications despite his rage. War between the Chinese and Shinto pantheons would inevitably draw in allies, enemies, and old grudges stretching back millennia. The Greeks might see it as opportunity. The Norse would likely intervene out of self-interest. Even the Endless might take notice of such disruption. Worse still, the three at the top of the Hindu pantheon might intervene—the very existences who ended the last battle of the gods and would not hesitate to do so again.
And in the chaos of divine war, the mortal world would burn.
His people were dead. His sacred mountain corrupted. But starting a divine war wouldn't bring them back. It would only create more death, more destruction, more innocent souls lost to divine conflict.
The Great Sage had never backed down from a fight in his long existence. But he was no mindless berserker either. He was known not only for his legendary strength and cunning, but for his wisdom as well—wisdom earned through countless battles and their consequences.
Slowly, deliberately, Wukong lowered the Ruyi Jingu Bang.
"This isn't over," he said quietly, eyes still locked on both Susanoo and Omoikane. "I will find who did this. I will uncover the full truth. And when I do—when I have proof of your involvement or complicity—" His voice hardened to steel. "—no covenant, no protocol, no divine law will stop me from taking vengeance."
"When you have proof," Susanoo replied evenly, his power dimming slightly as the storm armor began to dissipate, "come to us. We'll stand with you against whoever is truly responsible."
Wukong's jaw clenched. For a long moment, he simply stared at the Storm God, weighing whether to resume the fight despite all consequences, to tear apart this realm until he found answers.
Then, with a burst of golden light that momentarily outshone the sun itself, Sun Wukong vanished.
Susanoo stood motionless as the storm armor fully faded from his form, divine energy receding back to manageable levels. He lowered the Kusanagi, and for the first time, true exhaustion showed in the slight slump of his shoulders. Around them, Takama-ga-hara began automatically repairing itself, divine magic knitting broken stone and slowly restoring shattered wards.
His expression remained carefully controlled, revealing nothing to potential observers.
"This is deeply troubling, Susanoo-dono," Omoikane said, approaching with a solemn expression. "We still need more time. Amaterasu-sama is close to her breakthrough to the next level. We cannot afford distractions—especially not from unpredictable forces like the Monkey King."
"I know, Omoikane-dono," Susanoo sighed heavily and sheathed his legendary blade with a decisive motion.
Both gods knew three things with absolute certainty.
First, Sun Wukong wouldn't stop his investigation. The Monkey King would hunt whoever attacked his mountain with the relentless, inexorable determination of a force of nature. He was patient when he needed to be, and absolutely ruthless when crossed.
Second, while their collaborator's weapon bore an extraordinarily complex energy signature—a convoluted mix of various magical sources thanks to the combination of ancient treasures comprising it—Wukong had still managed to trace it back to them. The science-magic hybrid weapon should have been untraceable, its design specifically crafted for that purpose. Yet the Monkey King had done what seemed impossible. If he could do it, others with sufficient skill and determination might as well.
And third—the most troubling concern—Susanoo wasn't certain he could stop Wukong if the Monkey King returned with proof and unleashed his full power. Not without revealing the pantheon's true strength and complete transformation. Not when the Great Sage fought without holding back, utilizing the full breadth of his legendary techniques.
"Sister," Susanoo said quietly, knowing Amaterasu could hear through the realm's divine connection to her consciousness, "we may need to accelerate our plans. I hope you can achieve your breakthrough faster than we anticipated. We're running out of time."
Above Takama-ga-hara, the sky slowly cleared, storm clouds dissipating as the echoes of divine battle finally faded into memory.