"I am the storm," Zeus' voice boomed across heaven and earth, layered with the weight of divine law. "I am the sky. I am Zeus—King of all gods!"
He raised both arms and gathered the totality of his authority. The lightning of Olympus, the authority of heaven, the dominion over wind and cloud—all converged into a single, blinding sphere above his palms.
Then he released it.
A beam of catastrophic lightning tore downward, not merely splitting the sky but dimming the world itself. Shadows swallowed the horizon. The oceans churned violently, waves rising as if bowing in terror. Mountains groaned under invisible pressure, their peaks cracking as though forced to kneel.
Asgard trembled, its golden towers shaking as the Bifrost flickered erratically. Even Olympus, quaked beneath the recoil of its own king's power.
To stop this attack, Sharky did not move.
The apocalyptic lightning that could darken the world surged toward him like the end of all things, yet he merely lifted one hand.
