Valhalla Arena
End of the First Day
God's Barracks
Far above the recently decimated arena of Round Seven, Set made his way down from his office. He could feel a migraine growing on his temples; a common symptom of his recent discussions with Brünhilde and Zeus.
Marduk barely won that fight. He thought. That Human, Tadakatsu Honda, did something I never thought possible. He pulled his tablet out of his pocket and tapped on the screen, bringing up the Ragnarök App. He tapped on the Game Master button on the top right, then the score button on the list.
X Philippus Von Hohenheim VS Dionysus O
X Arash VS Indra O
O Samson VS Baldr X
O Johannes Lichtenauer VS Futsunushi X
X Saint Germain VS Nuada O
O Vlad Dracul Tepes VS Prometheus X
X Tadakatsu Honda VS Marduk O
But that does not matter. Humanity is still behind, and Hephaestus shall continue the momentum started by Storytelling. His tablet vibrated, and a message appeared. He tapped it.
Hey, Asshat. We're waiting in the Conference Room. Hurry up.
Set glared listlessly at the screen. I may regret this, but I owe it to them…and I need a Thirteenth Fighter. Hopefully, they all showed. Set slid the tablet back in his pocket and descended a flight of stairs. At the bottom, he stopped at a pair of heavy wood double doors. Voices could be heard from the other side, bickering. They started without me…this will not end well. He pushed against both doors and opened them. In front of him, in the center of the room, was a large round table. Thirteen chairs lined it, with three covered by black shawls. In eight of the other chairs sat Gods and Goddesses, the voices' source. All of them went quiet and looked toward him. "Welcome, everyone," Set said. He walked in, calmly strolling to the closest open chair and taking a seat. "I appreciate you all taking the time to meet with me on such short notice."
"Not every day the 'Game Master' of Ragnarök invites us from our humble abodes," Spoke a young-looking God two seats to Set's left. He wore a yellow vest and gray pants that cuffed his shins, revealing blue scales that ended in three clawed toes on each foot, his bare chest, and his blue-scaled arms and claws. On his wrist were sleek cyan bracers, each embedded with a single green gem. His face was deceptively human, with tanned skin and wavy black hair covered by an orange bandana, save for his finned ears, large horns piercing out of his bandana, and his reptilian blue eyes.
Ryujin
Dragon God of the Seas, Rain, and Lightning
(Shinto Pantheon)
"To what do we owe this honor?" Ryujin asked, mockingly.
"Sarcasm, a lesser's substitute for wit," Set said, eyeing him listlessly. "Still suits you." Ryujin glared at him, but leaned back in his seat.
"Before we get too far off this topic, why are we here?" Spoke an older God with graying, black hair and a well-trimmed moustache and goatee. He wore a fading green shirt tucked into black, cropped pants held in place by a red belt and khaki rope. His gloves matched his belt, and his sandals were a pale tan. He locked his green eyes on Set's cyan ones. "I don't imagine this is just for pleasantries." He looked across the table, eyeing a dark-skinned Goddess with immaculate dreads and silver eyes wearing a pale lavender, long-sleeved coat and matching trousers and shoes. She met his eyes briefly and showed an amused grin.
Lu Ban
God of Carpentry and the Forest
(Chinese Pantheon)
Oya
Goddess of Storms, Graveyards, and Death
(Yoruba Pantheon)
"Not that it's bad to see familiar and friendly faces," Lu added.
"I second that," Oya spoke. "But I admit I wish it were under better circumstances." She turned to Set. "Is this about Ragnarök?"
Set nodded. "On point as always. Yes, it is." He scanned the room, taking in Ryujin, Lu Ban, a short God in all white with a face akin to porcelain and solid cyan eyes, a Goddess in a brown, sleeveless jacket held in place by a belt over a gray shirt and pair of pants with horse ears sprouting through short, brown hair and red eyes. She smiled menacingly as he briefly met her eyes. Set could hear heavy tapping on the stone floor beneath where she sat.
Pakkanen
Spirit of Winter
(?)
Epona
Goddess of Horses, Fertility, and Death
(Celtic Pantheon)
"Hey, Set," She whispered.
Set sighed and looked to his right, seeing three Gods sitting next to each other. One was tall, muscular, and dark-skinned with white, cropped hair and a magnificent moustache. He wore canary yellow robes that hung off his left shoulder over cropped gunpowder gray pants, and it was held in place by a thin brown belt. On his right arm was a bronze pauldron and bracer, and both hands were wrapped in olive-colored wraps. His brown eyes held an expression of exhausted irritation. To his left was another, younger God with a dark, olive complexion. He had one silver and one gold eye, swept back black hair, and wore a decorative black chest plate and a hip-wrap that was blue and gray on the right, and white and orange on the left. His hands and feet were both wrapped in dark yellow cloth.
Parashurama
Sixth Avatar of the Dashavatara
(Hindu Pantheon)
Hunahpu
God of Duality
(Mayan Pantheon)
Last, and next to Hunahpu, sat a monstrous God with blue fur covering his entire body, except for his red face. He had long, muscular arms ending with sharp claws, lion's paws for feet, and a lion's tail. He wore a pair of khaki pants under a matching hip-wrap, and matching khaki fur covered his shoulders and the area around his neck. On his right bicep was piece of gray rope and a leather belt hung across his chest. His large, yellow eyes scanned the room as he adjusted the crown on his head.
Barong
Dancing Spirit God of Protection
(Balinese Pantheon)
"I summoned you all here because of the Roster," Set said. "Initially, at the Council to announce it, I received a great deal of pushback from many of the Pantheons and their Chief Gods for not including them."
"That's to be expected," Hunahpu said, plopping his feet on the table. "After Winchester, a few Pantheons are hurting after losing their spot in the pecking order. Only natural they'd act to what could be seen as a slight to their damaged prides." Parashurama glared at him, but Hunahpu didn't notice.
"Speaking on their behalf?"
"Nah. Never was involved, so it doesn't matter to me…much."
"I digress. When I made the announcement, I showed that I had only filled twelve spots. There is still a matter of the thirteenth." All of them looked his way. Now I have your interest. He thought. "You see, despite his carefree persona may suggest, Zeus has a tighter grasp of Pantheon relations than most give him credit for."
"He needs to act like it," Parashurama said.
"Quite. Because of that, I had to play along and fill the Roster with Gods from the Greek, Norse, Hindu, and Shinto."
"Yet you added Nuada, Lugh, and Marduk," Epona spoke, eyeing him and smiling. "Plus, you threw Gabriel in the mix. An Angel, let alone one of the Sancti? How'd you pull that off?"
"Business etiquette and deals. Moving on, I managed to convince Zeus to leave the thirteenth slot open. Which brings us to today…and you all." Set leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table, making a finger steeple. "You eight, amongst the Gods, have more skin in this game than the others."
"Why?" Barong asked, his voice gruff and worn.
"Each of you gave something to Humanity. Taught them your passions and trades, and watched them squander, dilute, or destroy them. I know within each of you is a burning," Set's aura exploded out of his body. "hatred for them." The aura vanished. "I respect all of you and admire the charity in your hearts that you once held for them. And so, I offer the thirteenth slot to you all."
"All of us? How?"
"Simple. I cannot put all of you on the Roster, but I do not see why you all cannot come to an agreement on who should take it. You, the Instructors, may choose how it is done."
The eight glanced at one another. A few glares and smiles were shared, as if a silent conversation between them was underway, and Set was not allowed in. All eight then slowly turned to Set.
"Set," Oya said. "You better not be messing with us."
"I gain nothing from any attempt to mock or deceive. If I have to resort to those, I have already lost control and your goodwill."
Oya nodded. "I admit then, I really don't want anyone else to take that spot but me."
"Same," Lu Ban added.
"I think we are all in agreement there," Barong chimed in. "I fancy you all, but I don't intend to let you have this."
"So, that is your final word?" Set asked.
"What else would it be?" Parashurama spoke, his tone sharp. "Why offer us the choice if you have a plan?"
Set smiled under his mask, but tried not to let it show in his eyes. "The plan was a contingency in case this stalemate did occur." Set tapped his right index finger on the table. A small spot lit up under his finger, and a small circle at the center of the table sank. A light shone up and projected a blurry image as the room darkened. The image came into focus: a bracket starting with eight branches connecting into four, then two, and ending at one. "Behold, everyone: Apocalypse."
"You sly dog," Epona whispered.
"Much like how Ragnarök, in the Valhalla Accords, affords Humanity a chance to fight for its survival, Apocalypse was intended as a means to settle disputes…between Gods. Back in the old days, Pantheons would choose a champion to represent them in such events. I believe that last one happened after Zeus defeated Kronos and sought to establish himself as the leader of the Gods."
"And won," Barong added.
"Indeed. You eight will fight in another Apocalypse, and the winner gets the thirteenth slot. How does that sound?" A deluge of auras of different feels, sizes, and colors smashed into Set. Perfect. He thought. He tapped the table again, and the numbers one through eight flashed in front of him. He tapped it again, and the numbers scattered, bouncing off the table's rim as if in a game of pinball. And…. Set raised his index finger one more time. Now. Set quickly tapped the table one more time. The numbers stopped and raced towards the Gods they were closest to. Each of the eight stared down at the number in front of them, their eyes all widening. Epona smiled, Lu Ban sighed, and Parashurama shook his head.
Round One:
Match One
1) Ryujin
VS
2) Barong
Match Two
3) Epona
VS
4) Hunahpu
Match Three
5) Lu Ban
VS
6) Parashurama
Match Four
7) Pakkanen
VS
8) Oya
"Congratulations, everyone," Set said, standing. "Ryujin. Barong. Be ready in an hour. I have an errand I need to run." He turned away from the table and walked back through the double doors, closing them slowly behind him.
Silence hung over the room as the eight Gods exchanged glances. Amidst the silence, Ryujin clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. "For Heaven's sake, are we all really doing this? Do any of you actually believe that Asshat?" He asked.
"Technically, he has the right to pull this off," Oya answered. "Knowing Zeus, there's no way he didn't sign off on this. The problem is, what does this mean for our Pantheons? None of us is a Chief God, or was ever in the running."
"Like a give a damn about that," Epona said, fidgeting in her seat.
"Of course you wouldn't," Hunahpu spoke. "You still got Nuada, and Lugh's not too far behind him."
"Nuada's old and stubborn. Honestly, wouldn't have minded if he croaked earlier."
"Excuse me?" Oya hissed.
Parashurama bolted up out of his chair, making it slide back. "Enough of this. I do not give a damn if Zeus approved it," He said, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I do not give a damn about your desires. None of you realized that charlatan intends to make a mockery of us. Asking us to take part in this godforsaken farce of a tournament, dangling the right to divine retribution against Humanity like it's some prize at a damn festival booth. And you." Out of thin air, a massive axe appeared in front of Parashurama. He grabbed it with his right hand as it fell and pointed it across the table. "Pakkanen. Do not think for a minute that you being here absolves you of your involvement at Winchester. I should do Oya the favor of killing you here."
"As much as I would appreciate that, no need to act on my account," Oya spoke.
Pakkanen's eyes homed in on Parashurama. "Useless prattling," Pakkanen answered in a monotone tenor, almost robotic.
"What?" Parashurama's aura flowed out of his body.
"The rules and laws of the Gods hold no sway over me. Never have or will." He rose out of his chair. "Remember that. Others haven't." Pakkanen walked away from the table and headed towards the entrance, his back turned to the table. "Don't be like them." He pulled open the doors and departed.
Ryujin whistled. "Well, that guy's a nut," He said.
"He is, but there's a reason he's not in the Circles," Barong spoke, rising. "However, he's right. We're wasting time worrying about Set and him." He briefly closed his eyes. "Despite their personalities, both possess consistent rhythms. For now, we should let them be." He looked over to Parashurama. "But if they act out, we know who will take action first." Parashurama met his gaze, and his stare softened a little. Barong then turned his attention to Ryujin. "Now then, you and I are first, Ocean King. We need to hurry and prepare."
Ryujin's aura flooded onto the floor. "I'm going to drown you, old man."
Barong smiled and departed. Shortly after him, Ryujin left, followed by the others, except for Lu Ban and Oya. "It's about to get rough again, isn't it?" Lu asked.
"Maybe…after losing Shango back then, things haven't been the same," She answered. "Oludumare came back to keep an eye on things, but there are a few still fighting for the position. More politically than violently…for now."
"Why not you? You were Shango's wife."
"Pffft. Ha! You and I both know I've no desire to rule. I just want stability back, that's all."
Lu Ban nodded. "After losing Yu Huang, the Chinese Pantheon is managing under Laozi with support from Erlang Shen and Zhurong, but he's not a powerhouse. Were it not for the Accords, there's no doubt we would be invaded and subjugated."
Oya massaged her right temple with her hand. "Guess that means it's more than just the position on the line."
"Yeah…I guess so."
Mimir Hall
One Hour Later
Mimir Hall, only a few dozen kilometers away from Valhalla Arena, is a sight well-known within the Heavens. It was here at this illustrious fortress that the Valhalla Accords were first drafted. What many do not know is that the accords went through over fourteen different revisions. Why? The Supreme and Chief Gods who gathered there could not agree on how to divide the Heavens amongst the Pantheons. Many wanted more than their people needed, either out of greed or ego. And how was this solved? The only way Gods know how to solve any problem before the Accords.
Pure. Unrestrained. Violence.
Mimir Hall, despite its namesake, became the battleground for the strongest and most violent Gods of that era, the first Apocalypse. Bone broke, blood poured, and flesh was torn. At the end of that monstrous slugfest, only one God stood tall: the Godfather Of The Cosmos, Zeus. Through his victory, the Heavens were divided nearly equally among the Gods, and the Accords were signed, preventing the Gods from ever fighting each other again for any reason whatsoever. Peace came to the Heavens, and Mimir Hall became the judicial facility and library it is today. On display in the entrance hall, within a glass case, now sits that original version of the accords. On the front page, legible despite all the dried blood, are the signatures of every Chief and Supreme God who took part in that brutal event. If any God were asked if there would ever be another Apocalypse, they'd laugh and say it would never happen…but that they'd win.
On this day, in this Hall, at the end of Ragnarök's first day, the unthinkable has occurred. Deep below the courtrooms and library, a small cadre of select Gods from various Pantheons made their way into a large room. Some of them never dared enter it again, as memories of that day flooded back. Below them were bleachers, eight levels each forming rings of stone benches, descending and encircling a massive arena barely smaller than the ring in Valhalla Arena. A platform sat in the arena's center, surrounded by water, and was connected to the arena's walls by two bridges that connected to two entrances.
Above the bleachers, a dozen Box seats lined the arena's perimeter and were full of various Chief Gods and their retinues. In one Box Seat, Set sat next to a dark-skinned God in white robes with a pale-blue trim that seemed to change color slightly when light shone on it. His wild gray hair was done into dreadlocks that hung off his shoulders and back, while his beard and moustache were large, but neatly trimmed. Occasionally, his brown eyes would shift from the arena to the Yoruba Box, then to Set, and then back to the Arena.
Oludumare
Chief God of the Yoruba Pantheon
God of the Sky and Creation
"Seeing something catch your eye?" Set asked. "Not like you to be antsy."
"Just excited to see what happens. Not every day we have an Apocalypse," Oludumare answered without looking at Set. "I remember when I was here…that takes me back…"
"Yes, last I recall, you were one of the four remaining Chief Gods alongside Zeus, Perun, and Devendra."
"Ha! That was a fun day, right?"
Set eyed him with a sly look. "Yes. Watching over thirty Gods beat each other senseless in a pit was…fun."
Oludumare stifled a laugh. "Killjoy."
"Says the fight nut." Set snorted a little. "Anyways, thank you for joining me. I half-thought you would be with your people."
"They're my people, but I don't want anything to do with them. They're grown up enough not to need me around anymore. Me poking my nose into their business feels off."
"Yet you came back."
"I did. Not by choice, mind you. Oya and Ogun reached out after Shango perished. I don't have a successor picked out yet, but I also don't think that's my call anymore." He turned to Set. "But don't think for a second Eshu's getting it. That guy's a nut!"
Set covered his eyes with his left hand and stifled another laugh. "That he is." Set hung his head. Olu, I—"
"Save it. If you think I'm here to guilt-trip you, then that helmet is too tight, Old Man. Shango made his choices, and his people suffered the consequences of them." Set raised his head and looked at Oludumare. "And remember: Oya's here not as his wife, but to fight for her people."
"I am well aware. I wish she had come with us back then. It would have made a world of difference." Suddenly, the room went dark. Set pulled out his tablet and checked the screen. "It's time."
"Ladies and Gentlemen!" A young woman's voice roared out. "Welcome to MIMIR HALL!" The audience roared in the darkness. A single spotlight turned on and shone on the center of the arena. In the light's center stood a young, blonde woman in a long, black off-the-shoulder gown. Her hair was done up in large pig tails to show her pointed ears, and her right eye was covered by an eyepatch. In her left hand was an ornate microphone shaped like a sousaphone.
Jarl
Number One Disciple of Heimdall
(Norse Pantheon)
"I am your announcer for this event, and am proud to present the first Apocalypse in over seven million years!" She roared. "To kick things off, I'll explain the format!
Each Round will be a one-on-one slugfest! No one else can interfere!
Fighters win only if their opponent concedes, falls unconscious, or dies!
The tournament will happen over two days, with Round One tonight and Rounds Two and Three tomorrow!
No substitutions!
Now let's get this party STAAAAAAAAAARTEEEED!" The spotlight expanded and revealed the whole arena again, while the bleachers and box seats remained dark.
Jarl waved her right hand to the right. "Fighting out of the North Gate!" The door began opening, and the water around the arena began to whirl.
"From the Ocean's deepest trenches to its highest reaching waves, none can escape his grasp!
Sails set high in all directions, he travelled every sea throughout the Cosmos and brought their rampaging forces to heel under the might of the Valhalla Accords! The ocean knows no peace without his strength!
And now…he comes to deliver the Ocean's Wrath not just on Humanity, but even the Gods who dare stand in the way of his mighty waves!"
The water spun faster and faster. White foam formed on the surface as something under the churning water swam with the current.
"For he is the Deep Sea Dominator!
The Dragon King!
Subjugator and Admiral of the Deep Sea Dragon Navy!"
The roaring current shot up in the air, forming into a serpentine silhouette as it arched over the arena. It crashed straight just a few meters from Jarl, sending water all over the arena and drenching her. Asshole! I'm trying to introduce you! At the point of impact, Ryujin was kneeling, smirking.
"RYUUUUUUJIIIIIIIN!"
The hall erupted with cheers.
"Show-off…" Amaterasu said, sitting in her box seat with Tsukuyomi and Izanagi. Ryujin stood and looked around the audience until he eyed her. He shot her a sly grin and a seething glare before turning away.
"Upstart little—" Tsukuyomi said, sitting to her left and opposite their father.
"Quit wasting your energy, Tsuku. Guys like him enjoy getting under people's skin." She leaned back in her chair as he father observed her. "Nothing pisses him off more than knowing he's still a small fish in the big ocean."
Tsukuyomi pursed his lips and nodded. "U…Understood."
Back down in the arena, Jarl aimed her free hand to the left. "Fighting out of the South Gate!" The door slowly opened, and music began to play from the South Gate's entrance. I got your favorite, Barong! Enjoy it! To the many in the audience ignorant of its sound, it sounded pretty. few in the audience who recognized the beat and sound, they knew…it was power.
In his heart beats the rhythm of the universe! Every step and sway! Every tap, twirl, and twist! All are his and all are sublime!
Through his eons of constant battle with the Primordial Beast Rangda, he formed the ultimate technique of perfect movement! Dance!
On the battlefield! Off the battlefield! He moves and fights like no other, and no other can ever hope to match his grace, speed, and strength!
The Gong Ageng, Reyong, and Ceng-ceng are his muscles! The Gangsa are his bones, fangs, and claws! The Kendang is his heart! The Rhythm…HIS SOUL!
He is here now to set the rhythm right! Make the flow of the cosmos fall in step once more to the beat of Creation!"
A tall, lanky figure bouncing softly to the beat of the music slowly walked through the gate. His head bounced up and down like a metronome in perfect sync with the music. His footsteps were in perfect sync with the rhythm of the Kendang playing out of sight.
"The Dancing King of Spirits!
The Living Gamelan Gong Kebyar!
The Eternal Protector against Rangda!
BAAAAAAAAAAROOOOOOOOONG!"
The audience roared and jumped with Barong's arrival. Set and Oludumare watched on, their heads bouncing slightly with the beat.
Still scary-strong as always, Barong. Oludumare thought as he recalled staring Barong down in the pit all those years ago. Or should we call you, 'The First Apocalypse's Fifth Place?'
The music began to fade as Barong made his way over to Jarl and Ryujin. As he stopped just a few meters across from the Sea God, the music vanished, but Barong still kept softly bouncing to the rhythm.
"They're going to play your funeral procession at the end of this fight, Barong. No offense meant, but I gotta win."
"Mm-hmmm," Barong responded, still keeping tempo.
Ryujin leered at him. Don't think I don't know who you really are. He thought. I gotta beat you fast if I want to win…in one piece.
"Fighters, are you ready?!" Jarl yelled. Ryujin nodded, and the jewels on his bracers began to glow. Barong gave a quick thumbs-up before dropping his hand. Jarl stepped back a few meters as a platform descended from above. It landed behind her and jumped up on it and floated away. "Round 1: Match 1! BEGIN!"
"You're not getting a chance!" Ryujin roared. He jumped back several meters, stretched out his arms, and raised them high. Two towers of water shot out of the surrounding pool, molded into two dragons, and descended towards Barong. "Now drown!"
Barong looked up at the attack and sighed. "Still off-beat," He said.