The transition from the cold dungeon to the blinding white light of the Celestial Parliament was jarring. The air was thick with the scent of purification incense and the smug satisfaction of the assembled deities. They dragged him by the chains, the metal scraping against the polished diamond floor, the sound a shrill protest in the vast hall.
He was forced onto his knees in the center of the amphitheater, surrounded by thousands of faces—minor deities, ancient spirits, and the towering figures of the Pantheon. Zephyros, the Sky God, sat on the highest throne, radiating oppressive, tyrannical order, his eyes twin bolts of judgment.
A hush fell over them ,the air was heavy with anticipation.
"Seokga, former First God of the Lesser Order, son of Faeyn. You stand accused of the gravest crime: the defilement of a divine daughter, and the casting of forbidden spells to achieve your vile ends," Zephyros's voice boomed, the sound vibrating in Seokga's chest, rattling the ancestral chains.
Lyra stepped forward, dressed in robes of shimmering white silk, her hair unbound, her eyes wide and tear-filled. She was the perfect picture of violated innocence, a masterpiece of celestial theater.
"Look at the fiend! Look at his eyes, how they burn with unholy lust!" Lyra wailed, clutching her robes dramatically.
"He—he pinned me down! He used dark energy, mother, father! He whispered filth into my ear! He promised me forbidden power if I simply—simply submitted to his vile nature! I fought him, but he was too strong! He is a monster! A relic of old chaos!" She dissolved into theatrical sobs, leaning into the comforting, golden arm of Aurelia, who glared at Seokga with pure venom.
A wave of righteous outrage rippled through the assembled gods.
"A monster, indeed! He has always been too arrogant for his station! His bloodline too contaminated!" Tharos, the War God, roared, his massive hand resting on the hilt of his execution blade, a weapon of pure obsidian.
"He was warned! His Eclipse Sigil always promised corruption! This is the fate of those who dabble in both light and dark! He has polluted the celestial waters!" Nymera, the Moon Goddess, purred from her silver throne, her eyes glinting with malicious satisfaction.
Seokga lifted his head, the chains rattling a defiant rhythm. He met Lyra's eyes, holding the gaze of the betrayer. She flinched, but quickly resumed her performance.
"Did I whisper filth, Lyra? Or did I whisper the truth? Did you not beg for the filth? Did you not ask me to go deeper, faster, harder? Did you not say my power tasted better than any divine wine?" Seokga's voice was clear, carrying across the vast space, cutting through the manufactured drama like a shard of glass.
Lyra gasped, her face twisting in a moment of genuine, uncontrolled fury, momentarily dropping the facade of innocence.
"Lies! He lies to save his wretched skin! He is a seducer!"
"Silence, criminal!" Zephyros thundered, slamming his fist onto the armrest.
"The evidence is overwhelming. The ancestral chains confirm the dark energies used to subdue the victim. The crime is clear. Seokga, you have defied the divine order, you have polluted the lineage, and you have committed sacrilege against the very purity of the Celestial Realm."
The judgment was swift.
"We, the Pantheon, sentence Seokga to immediate severance from the Celestial Realm. His essence shall be scattered, his body purified by the blade of judgment, and his memory erased from the annals of the gods! Let this be a warning to any who seek to challenge the established order!"
A cheer erupted, a deafening cacophony of approval. The gods roared their satisfaction, stomping their feet on the diamond floor. Seokga watched his three sisters, standing near the vacant seat where Faeyn had been, collapse into heartbroken sobs, their faces pale with terror.
"You hear that, Seokga? They cheer your end! They celebrate your downfall!" Tharos sneered, walking down the steps, dragging the heavy, obsidian execution blade. The edge hissed against the diamond floor.
Seokga did not flinch. He let the noise wash over him, a cold, hard smile spreading across his face.
"Cheer now, little gods. Feast on this fleeting moment of victory," he said, his voice low, yet carrying the weight of a dying star.
Tharos stopped directly in front of him, the shadow of the massive blade falling across Seokga's face.
"You have nothing left, Seokga. No power, no future. Say your prayers," Tharos mocked, raising the massive blade high above his head. The air crackled with the sheer force of the divine executioner.
Seokga threw his head back, and a sound erupted from his throat—not a plea, not a sob, but a sharp, arrogant, ringing laugh, fueled by the last vestiges of his divine pride.
"HA-HA-HA-HA-HAAAAA!"
The laughter echoed, silencing the cheers instantly. The gods looked shocked, their victory momentarily marred by his defiance.
"Prayers? I pray for nothing. I curse everything. You think you win today? You think this ends me? You think a lie and a cheap blade can erase the First God's lineage?" He spat a glob of golden ichor—the remnant of his pure divine blood—onto the polished floor, directly at Tharos's feet.
"Beware ye gods! Be witnesses, O Earth! I, Seokga the First, will wreak my revenge upon all of you! You will beg for the sweet mercy of this blade when I return! You will burn! And I will watch you weep! The Eclipse will rise again!"
The blade descended, a whistling, cold rush of air, faster than thought. Seokga watched the world tilt, the towering figure of Tharos blurring, the blinding white light of the Parliament dissolving into a terrifying, accelerated rush of color.
SNNNNIKKK.
The world dissolved into blinding, agonizing white light, followed by absolute, crushing blackness. The sound of the crowd, the cold of the chains, the taste of ozone—all evaporated into nothingness.
And He was gone.