NOVPUBThe Grand Celestial Hall stood like a temple crafted by the stars themselves, a vast expanse of gleaming cosmic marble, carved with constellations that moved like living maps. Towering pillars, taller than mountains, stretched toward a ceiling shrouded in mist. Light glowed not from torches or chandeliers but from the radiant auras of the divine beings within.
A gathering of gods.
Beings of every form filled the circular chamber. Some hovered in the air, others stood draped in shimmering robes, and a few pulsed like galaxies compressed into humanoid shapes. Dragons with wings of aurora light glided beside celestial creatures with heads of flame. At the center, on a throne-like dais floating above, stood Spencer, the god of jealousy.
He was lean and broad-shouldered, his humanoid body wrapped in a flowing cloak woven from an unknown material . His greyish skin gleamed like molten steel, but his face drew every eye. His mouth curled into a sharp grin, revealing jagged, interlocking teeth. A thick, obsidian-scaled tail coiled behind him like a slithering serpent.
When Spencer raised his hand, silence swept through the crowd like a spell.
"Brothers and sisters," he declared, his voice booming not with magic but with raw divine power. "The balance has shifted once more."
He let the silence hang.
"You all know it," he went on. "You feel it. You ache with it. The weight of it presses on you like invisible chains. War has come again."
A wave of energy rippled through the hall. Some gods clenched their fists. Others flared with light or shadow. A small god, shaped like a crystalline deer, wept openly, its tears falling as stars.
Spencer's tail uncoiled slightly as he paced the platform. "The Protoss," he said sharply, "have begun their hunt. Not for us, not yet. But for him. Their leader. The one who led them in the last purge… the First Slayer. The strongest of them all."
Murmurs spread through the assembly. The name went unspoken, but every god felt its weight, a primal fear of the one who had slain
a lot of Ancient Ones.
"The Protoss are no longer the scattered rabble they were," Spencer said. "They move as one now. Coordinated and united. We've lost three gods these past few days"
Gasps echoed. A crack of thunder rang out from an angry thunder god which looked like some sort of humanoid bird.
"I saw it myself," Spencer added. "The death of Arumel, goddess of mercy. A single blade. A single touch. She didn't even have time to scream. She was killed by the Asura King."
He let the horror settle before leaning forward. "And they come faster now. More of them. Not just the Protoss… God Slayers, born of mortals, forged in hatred and fear. Hundreds of them. It feels like something is empowering them."
"But we are gods," growled a deep-voiced elder, his form like a mountain wreathed in flame. "This has happened before. We crushed them. We will do it again."
Spencer's laugh was low and cutting. "Will we? Did we crush them, Elder Myrn? Or did we scatter them and tell ourselves tales to sleep soundly?"
The hall darkened as Spencer's aura flared—a greenish haze that warped the air like a mirage. "Too many of you hide in your domains, believing immortality equals safety. You forget that for us, survival has always been war, not peace."
Another voice cut through, feminine. "Then what would you have us do, Spencer? Throw ourselves upon their blades before they come for us?"
It was Callia, goddess of frost. Her silver armor gleamed like ice under starlight, her arms folded.
"I say we meet them before they come," Spencer replied. "We take the fight to the mortal plane. We find their leader before they do. We cut off the source of their unity."
"And risk our own deaths?" said a lanky god with long fingers and robes like spiderwebs. "They kill us once, we return weaker. Thrice, and we fade to nothing. How many of us can afford that?"
Spencer sneered. "And how many can afford to wait? We lose more each day. With every god that falls, the balance tips further."
He paused, letting his words sink in, then spoke softer, with greater intensity. "If we do not act, we die. Slowly. One by one."
A deep rumble came from the back, and the crowd of divine beings parted. A titan emerged, draped in a long silver chain.
"I have lived three cosmic cycles," the titan said. "I have seen two great wars. And I say Spencer is right."
Spencer gave a single nod, letting the titan continue.
"They come for us. That is certain. So let us choose how we face our end—or better, how we survive. Not cowering in fear, but united."
"Then unite us," said a younger goddess, her hair like strands of living ink. "Give us a command."
Spencer turned, his gaze sweeping the hall. "Very well," he said. "I will give you a hunt."
He raised an arm. Green magic shimmered above his palm, forming an image, a mortal man, his face shadowed, walking through a ruin. His eyes glowed red, and strange runes lined his arms while several familiars flew behind him.
"This mortal," Spencer said. "He killed four gods at the same time. Alone. We believe he is tied to the Protoss."
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"He is your target. Alive if possible. Dead if necessary. Bring him to me."
"And what if he's their leader?" Callia asked. "If he's the one they're waiting for?"
Spencer's grin showed every jagged tooth. "Then we kill him before they ever know."
Silence fell for a moment.
Then, slowly, gods began to nod. One by one. Some summoned weapons, others clenched fists or flared their auras.
"Go to your domains," Spencer said. "Call your champions. Awaken your seers. Set your traps. Begin the hunt. The time for comfort is over. We must defy the fate the universe has written for us."
He raised both arms.
"Let them learn, once more, why we are called gods."
A chorus of roars, howls, and ethereal cries echoed through the Grand Celestial Hall.
And so, the gods prepared for war.
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