No More Pain For This Villain.

Chapter 201  Council

Svarog, who had always shown patience towards such inquiries, was now confronted by a question he couldn't ignore. He listened intently, his fiery gaze focused on the Guardian.

[How dare you-] Geb began to interject, but he was silenced by the stern look Svarog cast upon him.

"Shut up, Geb," Svarog commanded, making it clear that this was a matter of great importance.

Simultaneous sighs of relief escaped from the lips of the other gods, relieved that the interruption was quelled.

Crystalwing continued, "Lord Svarog, I was summoned to the mortal realm by a summoning ritual performed by a mortal."

"Summoned by a mortal? That should be impossible, even for you, Guardian," Svarog responded, addressing him with respect, but also indicating that such events were highly unlikely.

"But it did happen," Crystalwing affirmed, "When I confronted the one who summoned me, I discovered a Soul Tracker on him. Considering the gathering here today, I thought it plausible that one among you may have initiated it. I did not wish to interfere in divine matters, so I allowed the mortal to continue living."

Hera, the goddess of wind, inquired further, "Was this mortal a human, Guardian?"

Crystalwing nodded, remembering the encounter vividly. "Yes, I met him in a dungeon. He was a peculiar human, not filled with fear, but rather surprised by my presence."

The gods exchanged glances and pondered the implications of this revelation. Divine rules dictated that such matters needed to be discussed, and Hera took the responsibility of clarifying her involvement.

"That would be me, I placed it." Hera admitted, acknowledging her role. It was necessary to maintain transparency among the gods.

Crystalwing, ever respectful of divine authority, simply nodded and resumed his seat. He didn't question the gods any further, for he knew his place in the hierarchy of existence.

The revelation raised an air of uncertainty among the gods. Svarog, as their leader, stood up to address the assembly. As he did, a sense of gravity filled the chamber.

"My fellow...Demi-gods," Svarog began, "I appreciate your presence here today."

As Svarog spoke, his voice resonated with divine authority, emphasizing the significance of their gathering. The gods listened intently, recognizing the seriousness of the matter at hand.

Svarog's words carried weight as he continued, "There's an issue that requires our attention. Soul Watchers have been placed on a mortals for a purpose."

Crystalwing's revelation had sparked curiosity and concern among the gods. The room's ethereal atmosphere seemed to intensify as they awaited Svarog's explanation.

Svarog's gaze swept over the assembled gods, his eyes resting on the throne to his right. "Azra is alive."

The declaration was met with a stunned silence. The gods exchanged bewildered glances, processing the implications of this revelation. It was a name that carried a weight of history and power, and its resurgence was a matter of grave concern.

"And that's why I hereby announce for all of you to begin preparations," Svarog declared, his voice firm and resolute. The gods understood the urgency of the situation. It was a call to action that transcended divine boundaries. They would need all the strength and unity they could muster to face the return of Azra, the Demon God, a force that had shaped the very history of their world.

The atmosphere in the divine chamber grew tense as an irritated voice shattered the silence. All eyes turned to the source, and there stood an elderly phoenix adorned in robe-like attire, her expression a mix of disbelief and anger.

"What is the meaning of this?!" she demanded, her tone sharp and defiant. Her outburst was highly unconventional in this hallowed gathering of gods.

"Didn't you kill him last time?!" she yelled, her accusation reverberating through the chamber. It was a question that challenged the very fabric of divine existence, a question that should not have been asked.

Svarog, the leader of the gods, maintained his composure despite the unprecedented interruption. For a brief moment, a frown creased his fiery visage, a rare display of annoyance. However, he swiftly regained his stoic countenance.

"Silence,"As tension mounted in the divine chamber, a chilling, enigmatic voice cut through the air. All eyes were drawn to the source of this command, and their attention was fixated on a small white ball of energy that darted toward the elderly phoenix.

Among the gods, a figure emerged—a young man with long, flowing white hair that contrasted sharply against his alabaster skin. Horns gracefully protruded from his forehead, and his robes billowed around his lithe frame, all of them as white as the purest snow. His eyes, too, were an eerie shade of white.

This was Falkor, the Dragon God. His very presence commanded reverence and instilled fear.

In an instant, he obliterated the elderly phoenix, reducing her to nothingness. The Phoenix Clan members clenched their jaws in silence, their cheeks marked with visible tension. They had witnessed Falkor's swift judgment, a fate dealt by his very hand. Their presence in this gathering was unconventional, but it was a privilege granted solely because of Falkor's involvement.

The divine council continued, its proceedings unfazed by this unsettling development.

Svarog's amused chuckle resonated throughout the chamber, as if he found Falkor's action somewhat entertaining but not entirely disapproving. He then shifted the focus back to the matter at hand.

"It seems we have reached a consensus," he remarked, igniting a spark of hope in the eyes of those present.

"The world is not ready to withstand a second Origin War," Svarog continued, his words carrying a heavy weight. "Therefore, we must be meticulous in selecting our champions. We, the gods, have chosen our heroes, and we gather here today to share this vital decision with you all. Though we are unable to engage directly in this conflict, we urge you to prepare diligently."

The gods' proclamation hung in the air, emphasizing the gravity of the impending battle and the collective effort required to face this dire threat.

Svarog, with a raise of his hand, revealed the chosen heroes: Devon, Amelia, Aron, Venda, Falco, and Adam. Translucent screens projected images and actions of these individuals, offering a glimpse into their lives and endeavors.

"Anghhhhh," Hera's exasperated reaction was evident as she shut down the panel displaying Aron Adiel Velcrow's activities, clearly unimpressed by what she witnessed.

The diverse reactions from the gathered entities ranged from nods of approval to expressions of curiosity and concern. The destiny of these chosen champions now rested in the balance, as the gods and sentient beings contemplated their roles in the upcoming conflict.

Svarog, commanding the attention of all present, declared, "And today, I am about to announce whom I have chosen." With a flick of his hand, the panels displaying the chosen heroes vanished. Erebus, despite being aware of Svarog's choices, couldn't help but be proven to be vastly different from their initial expectations.

08:05

intrigued by how the announcement would unfold.

It had been a considerable amount of time since they had summoned that being from another world, and the outcome had proven to be vastly different from their initial expectations.

The boy they brought into their realm, Ren Hilton, didn't exhibit an exceptional level of intelligence, yet there was a subtle hint that he possessed the potential to be more valuable and significant than they had initially anticipated.

After observing Ren for a while following his arrival in their world, they couldn't deny that he was an intriguing specimen, with a complex web of circumstances entwined around him.

And then, with an unexpected twist, Svarog announced, "It is Fiyra, the next heir of the Phoenix Clan." His proclamation left everyone surrounding him in a state of bewilderment and confusion.

All seven gods standing beside him were perplexed. Wasn't Ren Hilton, the human boy, supposed to be the chosen one?

"Heh?"The small voice came from none other than Fiyra, 100-year-old Phoenix, his appearance slightly diminutive compared to the fiery grandeur of his clan. With crimson feathers that shimmered like molten lava in the sun, he had the regal bearing of his heritage, despite his young age.

His amber eyes bore the wisdom of generations, and his wings were a magnificent display of vibrant red and gold plumage, embodying the spirit of his lineage.

Fiyra stood there, clearly taken aback by the unexpected announcement, his youthful face etched with surprise and uncertainty.

[A/N: Hey!!? What the fuck just happened? What do mean .... Ren!!!! Where's ma boy!!! Where is here????!?! Y-you can't take him,nooo wait that's -ugh what happened??]

[A/N : damn that was very unpredictable,what happened here? Heh?]