They all nodded.
Because if it was THEY—
If even only three of those void-sucking, reality-chewing, logic-ignoring freaks managed to squeeze into Earth?
It'd be game over in three days. Tops.
Not because Earth was weak—though, let's be honest, it kinda was—but because THEY didn't play fair. THEY didn't invade. THEY descended. And when THEY descended? It won't be just three. It would hundreds. Thousands. All dropping at once like divine nukes set to annihilate a Prime World in literal minutes.
And the Olympians? They didn't know what the fuck they were dealing with.
They thought THEY were some ancient gods, some cosmic consultants for when shit hit the fan. But nah. THEY were extinction incarnate. THEY didn't fix worlds. THEY ended them. Efficiently.
El turned, stepped toward her brother, and pulled him in again—this time tighter, like she was holding onto the last good thing before the universe decided to self-destruct.
