In history, the celestials once launched a purge against the supreme theological council. But when the other side brought out symbols and statues of the sun god—Mondo just so happened to be on the purging squad at the time—he vividly remembered the look on the celestial commander’s face the moment he saw the open gates. If not for the need to maintain composure in front of a god—even a statue—it was likely the council would’ve been obliterated on the spot.

After that incident, the council quietly withdrew most of the factions it had infiltrated—at least on the surface. The only ones left behind were those truly foolish few who had been thoroughly brainwashed by the council’s long-standing propaganda, utterly convinced that it was a legitimate god-ordained organization with ancient ties. There was no helping them.

Recently, with the return of the sun god, the celestials launched another round of cleansing. But due to its remote location, Skyfall Star remained one of the few stubborn holdouts still clinging on.

And now, by the most ironic of chances, they had run headlong into the returning war god.

After hearing Mondr’s report, Hexin simply raised a brow. Isn’t this the war god’s favourite type—the cockroach that just won’t die? Excellent. Let’s make arrangements.

And so, he did.

Hexin directly asked for the headquarters address of the supreme theological council, then summoned the long-MIA system back online in his mind and cordially inquired about the condition of the body it had been managing.

System: […does the host have any physiological needs?]

Hexin: …what the hell are you saying?

“I’ve got a script,” Hexin said. “Have the proxy memorize it.”

The system looked at the so-called “script” — a single line that only noted the timing, location, and characters. Not a single piece of dialogue. The system’s logic deemed it insufficient to qualify as a script and simply tossed it over to the proxy.

The proxy came online, took one look, and nodded. “Understood.”

System: […what exactly did you understand?]

The proxy smiled with the signature warmth of the sun god. “The sun god and the war god are bosom ♂ friends ♀.”

System: Did you just sneak in some weird symbols?!

Upon receiving the proxy’s “got it” message, Hexin smiled faintly, turned to the others, and said, “I’ll be back shortly.”

The primal beasts clearly knew where he was going. All of them immediately got up, tails wagging. “We’re going too!”

Hexin hadn’t planned to bring them. “Aren’t you all injured?”

The beasts: “That’s why we need to go… to replenish fo—mmf.”

Dique stomped on the nearest beast’s foot and, facing Hexin’s subtle gaze, blinked his round black eyes and declared, loud and proud, “We’re going to back you up. A supreme god making an entrance has to have proper presence!”

Hexin considered for a moment. With him there, what could go wrong? He nodded. Then he turned his head slightly toward the void, as if asking someone, “Will bringing this many be a problem?”

And from the void, the golden-eyed god who watched the land from above laughed. “For your request—there’s nothing inconvenient about it.”

A golden light flashed across the world. Other than Hexin, no one truly knew what had happened. Even though the sun god, out of regard for a friend, had allowed this pack of beasts to briefly visit his city, he absolutely would not permit any non-friend to lay eyes on it.

So, none of the beasts realized they’d stepped foot into the legendary city. None of them knew that a supreme god other than the war god had, for the sake of friendship, briefly allowed them entry.

They just felt a great dizziness, the world washed in blinding white light.

And when their vision cleared—

They found themselves in a new place.

The headquarters of the supreme theological council was vast and open, centred around a towering white castle. Floating buildings of all shapes and sizes orbited it, solemn as loyal guards. The ground was paved with milky stone, engraved with intricate golden sigils that resembled ancient magical arrays. For a moment, even in this age of interstellar technology, it felt like they had stepped back into the radiant splendour of a long-lost holy city.

Hexin lifted his head, gaze calmly sweeping the scene. The architecture was oddly familiar—here and there were faint traces of god-realm design. Even the gate standing before him…

Ah. Wasn’t this a near-exact replica of the doors to the divine council? What had he done back then?

The spear-wielding god smiled slightly—and kicked the heavy, ornate door clean off its hinges.

“Boom—!”

The intricately carved gates crashed down, promptly stomped underfoot by a pair of tall boots. What followed was a surge of claws, hooves, and other definitively non-human limbs. Each stomp left behind craters.

---

“B-bad news! We’re under attack! No idea how the enemy slipped past planetary surveillance—by the time we noticed, he was already at our gates!”

“Could it be a god-marked with spatial powers? That’d be tricky…”

“What’s there to panic for? The headquarters is protected by thirty-three layers of divine doors—each one blessed by real divine power during the god era! Even a god-marked wouldn’t…”

The voice trailed off.

Because the person had just looked up—and saw the wreckage of all thirty-three doors.

One, two, three… all the way to thirty-three. Shattered. Crumbled. Like dominos laid flat.

The divine blessings they had counted on never activated. In fact, they were so silent it was as if they weren’t just dead, but cowering.

If anyone attuned to divine resonance had been present, they might have caught whispers lingering in the shattered doors—

“Oh sht oh sht oh sh*t, the slaughter god is back!! He’s here to rebel again!!!”

Every spiritually aware door on this earth knew the reputation of the one who had arrived. This was someone who had dared to kick open even the most sacred gate in existence. Tearing through them was like tearing paper.

Hexin, sensing the watching eyes, turned and casually smiled at the nearest security camera. Then, with a flick of his spear, shattered it.

Behind him came the frustrated bellows of the primal beasts. The gates here were too narrow, and the pack that had come to “back him up” (read: scout snacks) was getting stuck around the third door. As they began demolishing the archway to force their way through, Hexin finally spoke up and told them to stand by.

Not that they listened.

He threw a look at Mondo that clearly meant: Keep them in line.

Then, with a silver spear and a breeze at his back, he stepped alone into the heart of enemy territory.

---

A stampede of footsteps echoed. Armoured guards streamed from every corridor.

Hexin glanced lazily at them and decided to grace them with a word. “Who’s in charge here?”

No one answered.

He overheard someone whispering into a headset: “Target is armed with a strange melee weapon… Yes, yes… That weapon might not be as primitive as it looks. Possibly has hidden mechanisms… The attacks seem to originate not from the weapon but—”

Even though the man was whispering, there was no hiding from the war god’s senses.

Hexin calmly took it all in, then smiled, “And what’s wrong with melee weapons? You looking down on them?”

The silver spear in his hand began to hum. “Even supreme gods wouldn’t dare speak like that to my spear.”

The man—shocked that he could hear him—froze. Then, as he processed the words, his expression shifted to pure disbelief.

That look didn’t get a chance to fade. In the next instant, his world flipped upside down.

…What—what just happened!?

By the time the pain caught up, he was already on the floor, howling in agony. And he wasn’t alone. The corridor was suddenly filled with collapsed bodies.

They had come upon a lone man.

And now that man was still the only one standing.

“Damn it, how is this possible?! Taken out in an instant—?!”

“He didn’t even use his weapon! We couldn’t see a thing! When did such a powerful god-marked emerge in the interstellar system? Why haven’t we heard of him?!”

As if reading the furious disbelief twisting across the man’s face, Hexin lazily bent down and picked up the weapon he’d dropped. “Anyone who dies by my spear should at least be remembered in history. I gave it some thought—someone like you? Not worth the effort.”

Without sparing the man a second glance as his heart nearly gave out, Hexin toyed with the object in his hand—a gun quite similar to the old Earth models—and casually pulled the trigger.

A silver-white beam blasted forward, punching through every obstacle in its path, tearing a perfect hole through the castle walls and firing straight into the sky. It exploded into a bloom of dazzling sparks.

Hexin blinked. “Wow.”

The man, watching this unfold, thought grimly: That thing doesn’t even have a stabilizing glove—just the recoil would shatter a normal man’s hand.

And then, before he could finish the thought, Hexin casually tossed the weapon aside.

“Weak,” he said.

So much for expecting some groundbreaking tech inspired by real gods. That was underwhelming.

The man finally couldn’t take it anymore—he vomited a mouthful of blood and passed out cold. He now looked exactly like the rest of the bodies strewn across the floor.

Hexin strode deeper into the complex. The farther he went, the more he realized this core building was blatantly modelled after the divine council hall. The real one had once hovered above the central district of the god realm, only used when the gods gathered for important discussions. For modern mortals to reconstruct something like it based on scraps of historical documents—well, even if the replica was ten thousand leagues from the real thing, it was still impressive.

Another wave of nuisances appeared. This time, Hexin didn’t waste a single word—he knocked them all down instantly.

A few individuals—cleaners? staff?—rushed in during the chaos, crying as they caught a painting dislodged from the wall.

“This is a divine-era masterpiece—how dare you desecrate it?! It depicts a god! This is blasphemy—you’ll be cursed!!”

Meanwhile, someone else tried to sneak off with another painting, muttering “this one’s worth a fortune,” only to be caught mid-heist by another guard. The resulting in-fighting became a soap opera, and Hexin couldn’t help but watch with mild amusement as he mulched the latest batch of attackers.

As he continued clearing the halls, Hexin found it increasingly difficult to differentiate the so-called strongest units sent after him. Was this latest wave stronger than the last? Maybe? Probably? Honestly, as a maxed-out war god with full gear, he couldn’t really tell the difference between level-one cannon fodder and level-three cannon fodder. And that was just sad.

He sighed. Not even the fun of “progressive difficulty” remained. A tragedy, truly.

The only vaguely useful metric was the increasingly panicked transmissions coming through their comms—none of which they realized he could hear perfectly:

“Heavy artillery squad down! Can’t get back up!”

“Alpha strike team assassination failed! Target unscathed!”

“Units one through seventeen—no response. Presumed eliminated.”

“Unit tw—static—severe casualties—requesting backup—crackle—!”

Hexin: Wow. Just bad news across the board.

“But why! These were our strongest teams! Elite psychic operatives who could level an imperial star system with full power! Who is this man?! Where did he come from, and why haven’t we heard of him?!”

That final screech came from a comm still on the ground. Hexin crushed it with one boot.

He wandered calmly across the bloodstained floor, through sobbing and gasps and groans. Only he moved like he were strolling through a garden.

Then he paused. Something caught his eye. He stooped, extending a hand.

A fallen guard watched in terror. That black-gloved hand, with its flawlessly shaped fingers and glowing pale wrist—it was beautiful. No hand of a god could be more exquisite. But the power it held chilled him to the bone.

The man turned his head, eyes darting, and saw the ruin around him. This once grand hall was now a wreck. Nothing remained of its former glory.

But ironically, this wasn’t even Hexin’s doing.

Hexin glanced at the first man’s expression and briefly reflected—maybe he should have at least let them do a move or two. Give them a moment in the spotlight before booting them off stage. Most of this wreckage? Caused by their own panicked flailing.

As the man shut his eyes and waited for death, he realized—nothing happened.

He cracked one eye open and saw Hexin had reached past him… to pick up a fallen flower.

There in the rubble, the war god admired the vivid red bloom in his hand. Then, with a faint smile, he returned it to the shattered vase and turned away, striding off.

—

Meanwhile, the beasts outside had already shot down a field’s worth of drones.

They were drones because after the people here realized their attacks couldn’t even scratch the beasts, they holed up and refused to come out.

Mondo was so bored counting drones he almost fell asleep. When he turned around, he saw Dique had led the earth-type beasts into tearing up the pristine white courtyard tiles—one pit after another.

Surprisingly, they were quite tidy.

The digging was instinctual, born of earth-beasts’ nature. But by accident or fate, Dique had actually uncovered something deeper. “Hey,” he grunted, “there’s stuff down here.”

Mondo flapped over—and found a classic sci-fi-style secret lab.

So this theological council wasn’t so squeaky clean after all.

Inside the cavernous lab, massive glass vats of murky green liquid held floating figures—some humanoid, some monstrous. Threads of blood wove through the solution. Even a glimpse of this grotesque display of mutilated bodies made any observer’s skin crawl. The faint power these beings emitted…

It was almost like… false gods?

Dique lounged in the pit, letting one of the drones pelt him like it was scratching an itch. “So what now?”

Before Mondo could answer, a bored and moldy-feeling Tide Si leapt into the lab.

“Why are we even talking about this?”

Seconds later, a massive river burst forth as the sea-beast king summoned it. The roaring flood swept through the lab like a tidal wave, thrashing it from top to bottom. The resulting geyser shot into the sky, visible from miles away.

Brothers, we’ve got action over here too!