Better at explaining tricks than he is executing them. That is how strong the call of the chair is. Ignore the fact Herc speed-blitzed/figured out Jack's trick before him, please he needs this
Moments prior: Archangel’s Viewing Booth
Ares glanced between his father and Metatron with a confused expression. The latter’s last words leaving him stumped.
“Ehh?! Yahweh was your protégé, Lord Metatron? I thought he was OLDER than you?”
Michael sighed, shaking his head. “A common misconception. I don’t know how it caught on.”
Metatron’s expression suddenly turned wistful, as though recalling the past.
“Oh great… you’ve gone and done it now.” Gabriel groaned. “You got the old man reminiscing about the ‘good old days’ now…”
“Yes…” Metatron muttered. “What I wouldn’t give to be able to see them all together once again.”
“Fufu~” Hermes breathed lightly. “Surely you aren’t referring to THAT incident?”
All of a sudden, Michael and Gabriel bristled dangerously. Both turning to the Greeks with a warning glare.
“Don’t…” Michael snarled, eyes glistening. “Don’t get the old man started on it.”
“Oho? Is the uptight Archistraegos getting emotional?” Zeus crowed. “That must mean whatever side of the story you have… is EXTRA juicy~”
Michael said nothing, instead drawing his sword and igniting it with Heavenly fire. Zeus stood up, his muscles swelling as he loomed over the archangel—
“Enough Michael.” Raphael said, sharing the same wistful expression as Metatron. “Let him speak. I want to remember… No matter how painful it is.”
Metatron frowned. “I apologize for getting carried away, Michael. If you do not wish me to…”
“Tch—Just tell it.” Michael grumbled, sheathing his blade whilst Zeus pouted. “Plus, it’s like Raphael said, if there’s even a chance he’d lose…”
The Archistraegos turned to the battlefield, watching Yahweh and Beowulf continue to trade blows.
The Celestial Scribe nodded. “So be it.”
With a flick of his hand, an astral-like scroll manifested from out of Metatron’s palm, circling around him as ancient Hebrew words began to glow and float off the pages.
“Tell me.” The Celestial Scribe began, “What do you know of… Shamayin?”
“Uh—I…” Ares cleared his throat. For as one of The Twelve Olympians it is only natural he answers!
“Shamayin is the territory of The Abhrahamic Pantheon ruled by Yahweh as its Supreme God!” He cried, looking quite pleased with himself as Metatron nodded.
“Yes.” He said. “Although I know a certain few who would argue over who truly runs the show” Michael scoffed in agreement. “However, not counting the likes of us angels, Yahweh is not just Shamayin’s Supreme God… he is also the ONLY god who resides there.”
“?!”
The scroll disappeared, leaving only the astral words hanging in thin air. They began to swirl around the room, forming blurry images that fuzzed in and out of focus.
Hermes mused. “But that wasn’t always the case, was it?”
“Mhm...” Metatron muttered, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead as he struggled to maintain control. Seeing this, Michael stepped forward, “Allow me, Lord Metatron.” and struck the mass with his sword, taming what Metatron couldn’t.
“Gah…! Thank you… Where was I? Oh yes…”
As the letters floated behind him, The Celestial Scribe took a deep breath and began.
…
Shamayin. In Hebrew it means Heaven or Sky, the dwelling place of God himself… Yet in Valhalla, that is not the case.
Shamayin had neither the prestige of Takamagahara, the strength of Olympus, the presence of Asgard, nor the ancient roots of the Duat. Its sole notability… is its role as Heaven’s premier labour force, with angels of various ranks reporting back to it as their base of operations.
Yet to humans—those alive on earth, and even some in the afterlife? Many believe its ruler: The One True God: Omnipotent, alone, and without equal. But was that always the case?
Nay.
Should one delve further into the records, Shamayin was not always so monoesthetic! It was once the stomping grounds of many evil gods and pantheons!
The astral letters behind Metatron transformed, and his audience beheld an army of shadowy figures appearing in front of the unmistakable silhouette of Yahweh. Of them, four appeared larger and more distinct than the rest with titles manifesting above them.
The Lord of Flies
The God of Sacrifice
The Heavenly Queen
The Philistine God
All four lunged and before their eyes, were instantly struck down by Yahweh whose victory sent another flash of light that banished the rest of the horde!
Defeating these False Gods, Yahweh liberated the realm and established it as his undisputed stronghold. Closing Shamayin off from the rest of Heaven, allowing no other deity to sully it with their presence!
THIS is the story gods and humans alike in Valhalla know and believe: Yahweh’s Expulsion of The False Idols! His bold claim as The One True God! Yet once again… is THAT the truth?!
Nay. Nay! NAY!
That could not be further from the truth.
…
Shamayin: Thousands of Years ago
It all began in a valley, one of many in Shamayin. A lush green field with a fertile river running through it, surrounded by rugged hills which if climbed—revealed the far-reaching sands of the deserts beyond. Under an olive tree, a make-shift fighting ring had been fashioned out of a circle of rocks with two gods sparring vigorously in it, whilst another pair watched beneath the shade.
“You’re not getting away this time!” One of the gods in the ring roared triumphantly as he swung a wobbly haymaker.
The strike went wide as his opponent laughed, easily breezing past his guard and landing a clean jab against his left-side’s brachial plexus.
“Crap!” The first god winced, feeling his arm go numb as he retreated.
The god who had just landed the blow—the larger amongst the two—began to shadow-box in his corner, a clear taunt to his rival.
He had dark skin that was splattered with gold paint, a square jaw, and large bull-like horns. Fashioning an ornate gold shoulderpiece and bracers that matched the color of his eyes, paired with a layered white-and-red skirt tied around his waist.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Moloch
(Ammonite Pantheon)
God of Fire. Later known as The God of Sacrifice
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“Come on, Baal! You didn’t think THAT would hit me did you?” Moloch cackled. “Geez, with moves like that you might as well hand me the win!”
The other god looked up with a confident grin. He wore a horned conical helmet and a tunic that covered the left side of his chest, secured at the shoulder by a pauldron. Beneath it were blue leather-hide pants, their ankles lined with fur. Cloud-like tattoos stretched from his right pectoral down his arm to his fingertips.
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Baal
(Canaanite Pantheon)
Lord of Storms. Later known as The Lord of Flies
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“You think so, Moloch? Kukuku~ And I thought we were friends! You should know that I’ll never back down so easily!”
“Exactly what I want to hear!” Moloch roared, surging forward. Golden flames coated his fist as he threw forth a fiery strike!
“Better get ready for this one! I call it my—LEVITICUS HAMMER!”
“Sounds cool!” Baal said, raising his right arm.
All of a sudden, the tattoos glowed and streaks of lighting flowed down its length and culminated at his open palm, turning it a shade of electric blue as his eyes lit up.
“But I’M electric!”
THUNDER PALM!
A bolt of lighting shot forward, striking Moloch in the chest and knocking him back against the ground. The Ammonite God wheezed, struggling to catch his breath as Baal burst into peals of laughter.
“REF! That’s a foul!” Moloch whined. “We agreed to just our fists and NO powers. Baal being a dirty cheat again!”
“Fufufu~ Really Moloch? Pouting again?”
The referee of the match sat beneath the oak tree leaning against the trunk with an air of regal poise. Two earthen-colored wings were folded neatly behind her back as her golden eyes sparkled with amusement, a tiered horned crown sat on top of ebony hair tied back in a neat bun. Her body, tanned and toned, was wrapped under golden jewelry and flounced robes that exposed just enough of her skin and assets to tantalize the imagination.
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Ishtar
(Mesopotamian Pantheon)
Goddess of Love. Later known as The Heavenly Queen
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Well, yes… I suppose you’re right though.” Ishtar mused with faux thoughtfulness. “Buuuuuuuut! It was pretty funny watching you get thrown on the ground like that, so I’ll give this one to Baal.”
“Aw fuck you too then.” Moloch grumbled as Baal helped him to his feet. “This is the last time I have YOU referee our match, right, Dagan?”
Moloch looked to the last god sitting on the branches of the oak. The tallest, with flowing brown hair that ended in a green ombre. He was dressed in a custom tunic that exposed his tattooed chest, with all manner of aquatic greenery accentuated the attire.
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Dagan
(Philistine Pantheon)
God of Fertility. Later known as The Philistine God
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dagan said nothing, merely shaking his head with fond exasperation. Moloch threw his arms in the air in defeat. “Ugggh! With friends like these, who needs enemies?”
“Come now, friend. Lighten up!” Baal said, grasping Moloch’s shoulders. “I’ll make it up to you later, no need to be so sore about it!”
“Yeah, yeah.” Moloch smirked, brushing him off. “Always with the sweet talk, huh? Lord of Storms.”
“Aw, you two made up?” Ishtar drawled cheekily. “And back to the usual muscle-bound romance already as well? How sweet~”
“ZIP IT, ISHTAR!” Moloch and Baal snapped as the valley was filled with the laughter of the four friends.
…
Moloch, Baal, Ishtar, and Dagan… Though separated by pantheons, they all called Shamayin their home. Never had I met young gods with such attachments and bonds amongst one another—they were practically siblings in everything but blood!—Nor have I ever seen a relationship like the one they had… with him.
…
The sound of fluttering wings filled the valley. Baal was the first to look up, and gestured towards the sky at the approaching figure.
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Metatron
(Abrahamic Pantheon)
Then Head of Valhalla Scientific Research
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Younger with ebony hair rather than gray as it was now, Metatron descended from the sky carrying someone on his back. The angel and his passenger landed softly against the grass, prompting the four gods to exchange grins and make their way over as the young god on Metatron’s back dismounted.
“Now play nice, all of you.” The Celestial Scribe frowned. “He’s still feeling a bit dizzy after everything that’s happened.”
Moloch ignored him, sauntering past and gripping the god by the shoulder before pulling him in close as a familiar head of tousled cloud-like hair—albeit shorter—came into view alongside prismatic white eyes that seemed unfocused at the moment.
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Yahweh
(Abrahamic Pantheon)
God of The Sky. Later known as The One True God
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Guh… Whu–? Oh crap, I must have dozed off whilst flying… where—?” Yahweh lifted his head and was greeted by the thing he feared most—four pairs of eyes glinting mischievously down at him—his heart began to race
‘Ba-dum! Ba-dum! Ba-dum!’
“W-wait, hold on!”
“Soooooo~” Ishtar drawled, leaning down. Those golden eyes of hers made him feel dizzy. “Looks like someone's back from their big important excursion to Valhalla RnD, huh?”
‘Ba-dum! Ba-dum! Ba-dum!’
“Doing big important godly stuff.” Baal nodded sagely. “Probably on track to be a Supreme God too, no doubt. Now wouldn’t THAT be something”
“We’re not worthy!” Moloch cackled.
‘Ba-dum! Ba-dum! Ba-dum!’
Yahweh blushed. Compared to them, he was downright diminutive, his head barely even brushing the tops of their shoulders.
“Aw come on guys! Do we really have to do this now?”
Moloch’s grin widened, and Yahweh gulped. That smile could only mean…
“Yep! We can’t let such an important god go unnoticed now, can we? Now hold still—upsie-dasies!”
“N-no! Don’t you do it! I don’t wanna—!”
But it was too late, Yahweh could only yelp as Moloch lifted him onto his shoulders as the rest of the gods surrounded him and let out a cheer.
“You really love to make yourself useful, don’tcha?” Baal laughed, ruffling his hair. “Yer making the rest of us look bad, y’know! Folks are gonna think Lord Metatron only has ONE student under him—HAHA!”
Yahweh’s blush deepened as Metatron laughed behind them. “It… it really wasn’t anything… We all know you’re the strongest, Baal.”
Ishtar giggled as she gave him a peck on the forehead, instantly sending his heart rate into overdrive.
‘BA-dum! BA-dum! BA-dum!’
“Aww~ Still being so humble? Classic Yahweh. Fufufu~ I like that about you, and that cute little heart fluttering away~”
“Careful now Ishtar.” Metatron chuckled, joining their circle. “The poor lad looks as though he might explode.”
“N-no!” The Sky God retorted. “It’s not like that made me happy or anything!”
“Hmph~ It didn’t?” Ishtar pouted.
“NO! Wait—uh, I meant—”
Baal rolled his eyes. “Geez, Yahweh. Pass the ball if you ain’t gonna play.”
Fortunately for Yahweh’s humility, Dagan’s praise came in the form of a simple fist bump.
“Good job… Strong one”
“...T–thanks, Dagan.”
Moloch grimaced as he set Yahweh down. “Geez, all this chumminess is making my stomach churn! In a good way, of course! Say… what did Yahweh do again?”
Metatron and the other gods sighed.
“You never pay attention, do you?” Ishtar berated.
“Why’d you think he always loses to me?” Baal quipped cheekily.
“HEY!”
Yahweh giggled softly. Before speaking up: “It… it really wasn’t anything special. Lord Metatron just brought me over to the labs for this new experiment they’re working on to take some samples…”
“Really?” Moloch gasped. “Hey pops! Spill the beans, what is it all for?”
Metatron smiled, stroking his beard. “Well I can’t just go around telling you that now, can I?”
“Pleeeeeeeease?”
The Celestial Scribe laughed seeing the five pleading faces. “Oh alright. We needed Yahweh’s samples as the basis for those new creatures the council plans to populate Eden with! We call them humans, and this one… is going to be based on your friend! Meet Project Adam!”
He pulled out a holographic screen, showing off a being that eerily resembled Yahweh, save his blonde hair, paler skin, and more… defined musculature.
“Coooooool!” The four gods marvelled at the sight.
“Yeah…” Yahweh sighed. “You can tell where they decided to be more liberal from the source material”—*Ba-dum! Ba-dum! Ba-dum!’—*His heart beat sped up, warning him of the hands around his waist.
“Not again!”
“BWAHAHAHA! Soon we’ll have a bunch of buff little Yahweh’s running around!” Moloch said, lifting Yahweh above his head like a prize. “We better make sure we don’t lose the original! He’s worth a billion of those ants, right guys?”
Yahweh squirmed helplessly as the rest of his friends cheered in agreement. His cries of embarrassment echoing across the valley as they ignored his pleas of mercy.
“YOU GUUUUYS!!!”
…
He was the weakest of the bunch back then—Yet in a time that valued those with individual strength, all his friends still saw him as… equal.
…
Shamayin Training Grounds
“91… 92… 93…!”
Yahweh’s forehead and arms strained with effort as he slowly lifted a massive boulder above his head, pumping up and down, and back up again. Besides him, Baal vigorously spun his index finger, keeping count as he encouraged him.
“94…! C’mon, Yahweh just six more!”
Yahweh gritted his teeth, sweat pouring down his face as he struggled to lift the rock up again.
“I… I can’t do it!”
“Nuh-uh! Don’t give me that quitter talk—You CAN do it! If you’re gonna stand on my level, I’m not letting you stay a twink forever!”
Yahweh furrowed his brow as he tightened his core and braced.
“Is… is this about Ishtar?”
Baal paused “… No? Ok well… maybe. But still! Come on—ONE MORE! LIFT! LIFT!”
The Sky God groaned, his arms swelling with effort, as his shoulder blades dug into the ground and his legs pushed off against it.
“Here… I… GOOOOOOO!”
All of a sudden, Yahweh let out a huge roar, HURLING the boulder off his chest and far into the air. It flew into the distance, landing into the desert in a cloud of sand.
Baal gazed at it, then looked back, whistling in approval.
“That was some dogma, Yahweh!” He chuckled, standing over the panting Sky God. “I can see why Ishtar likes ya—one of these days you’re gonna give all of us a run for our money!”
Yahweh did not answer, too busy with catching his breath.
“Ah…” Baal chuckled awkwardly. “You still got five more reps to go though, PLUS another four more sets! Better go retrieve it, I believe in ya!”
The Sky God groaned, head slumping against the floor. “So it IS about Ishtar.”
Baal stuck out his tongue. “Bleh—what can I say? Envy’s a bitch.”
…
Even one with a title as vicious as: God of Sacrifice, could not help but possess a fondness for his presence. Mentoring him in times when I could not.
…
Yahweh was in the training grounds again, locked in mock combat with Moloch at a close range. The God of Sacrifice set the tempo, slowly moving Yahweh’s arms as they trained.
“Good… good!” Moloch muttered. “Ah! Remember what I said—protect your center, that’s where everyone's weakest.”
Yahweh frowned. “Is that why Baal always blasts you there with his Thunder Palm?”
“Cheating bastard…” Moloch mumbled under his breath before grinning. “Anyways, I doubt this matters much to you though… Especially since you can do THIS!”
All of a sudden, Moloch pushed Yahweh back and threw a particularly speedy Leviticus Hammer. Yahweh’s eyes widened, and his body moved on its own, his upper back bending unnaturally till it was parallel with the floor and dodging the strike entirely.
“YEAH—THERE WE GO!” Moloch laughed as Yahweh lost his balance and fell on his butt. “Now you got it! Your reaction speed really picked up since last time, huh?”
‘Ba-dum! Ba-dum! Ba-dum!’
“What the heck, Moloch!” Yahweh whined, clutching his chest. “You almost burnt me there! It felt—it felt…”
“Thrilling, right?” Moloch laughed, settling down next to him. “That’s the feeling of IMPROVEMENT!”
“… It felt alright, I guess…”
“Well you better get used to it!” Moloch grinned, hauling him back to his feet. “Your weird body is great for passive defence, but remember what Lord Metatron advised?”
He took a more aggressive stance, prompting Yahweh to tentatively do the same.
“I’m gonna teach you to use it offensively! Prepare yourself, buddy! Cause I believe in you! And you’re about to feel my fist of love!”
Yahweh whimpered.
“Somebody please save me…”
…
Perhaps it was the softer traits of young Yahweh that made all his mightier peers view him so highly even amongst themselves
…
Yahweh lounged underneath the oak tree, the head of an enormous white bull lay between his crossed legs as the beast gave a low grunt of satisfaction.
Ishtar giggled, snuggling up next to Yahweh as she guided his trembling hand to pat the bull’s head.
“I-ish… are you sure?”
“Oh hush, Yahweh.” Ishtar chided, letting go of his arm and allowing him to pet it without assistance. “I’ve never seen it take to someone this fast! You really have a way with animals don’t you? It must be that adorably gentle nature of yours.”
Yahweh felt his face go red as it usually did when he was around the goddess.
“Awww, there he goes again~” Ishtar simpered, pulling Yahweh close as she ran her fingers through his cloudy hair idly. “I never get tired of that face. It’s just so you. Humble, sweet, and thoughtful… Nothing like those two battle nuts.”
The Bull, sensing something—looked up at Yahweh’s tomato face with an unimpressed look.
Come on, man. it’s RIGHT THERE.
“Speaking of which…” Ishtar muttered, drawing his attention to those piercing gold eyes once more as her face became more competitive. “Moloch and Baal tell me you’ve gotten really strong as of late. How about we head down to the grounds later and have ourselves a little spar? Show me just how strong you are~”
Yahweh tensed, remembering what Moloch and Baal told him: Never EVER accept a challenge from Ishtar
“M-maybe next time? I told Lord Metatron I would help him organize his scrolls.”
Ishtar huffed. “Ugh~ Really? Or are you just fibbing again? Oh well… I believe you. But mark my words, one of these days, you’ll have no escape. I ALWAYS get my way~”
“I-in a fight… right?”
Yahweh's heart raced so fast, he might as well have melted seeing Ishtar turn to him with a smirk.
“A fight?” Ishtar mused, kissing him on the cheek. “Hmmm sure, let’s call it that~”
…
Nay… it was PRECISELY his nature that made them acknowledge his strength—whether it existed or not!
…
“Hey… Dagan?”
Yahweh was seated beneath the tree again. This time however, Dagan was the one with him, resting on the branches above.
“Why do you keep calling me, ‘Strong one’?”
Dagan opened one eye. “Because you are strong.” He said simply.
Yahweh winced. “You guys keep saying that… but I’m not.”
“I believe you are.” Dagan yawned. “And I will call you what I deem fit, Strong one.”
“… That word again.” Yahweh muttered softly under his breath. “It just rubs me the wrong way… H-hey Dagan! I… I challenge you! If I win—you better stop using that word! ”
Dagan exhaled, before leaping out of the canopy and landing in front of Yahweh, straightening ominously with an uncharacteristically PUMPED UP grin!
“I admit…” He muttered—‘BA-DUM! BA-DUM! BA-DUM!’—Yahweh’s heart raced like never before! “I did not expect you to say that yet, Yahweh. Moloch and Baal have honed you, but not yet so that you can stand on my level. Yet you still try? That is precisely why… you ARE strong!—So come and show me, JUST HOW STRONG YOU TRULY ARE!!!”
…
That is how Yahweh became known as my greatest protégé, my STAR pupil! I could not have asked for a finer set of students. But then it all went wrong… when I requested him and his friends to do ‘that’. That which I wished I had NEVER asked…
…
Shamayin
The scene returned once again to the valley, it was now evening and time had passed. Metatron and his students sat around a campfire, The Celestial Scribe was deep in thought whilst the five gods chattered nervously amongst themselves.
“Did you hear—?”
“Yeah… that Adam mutilated someone in the courtroom!”
“How is that even possible? Aren’t humans incapable of hurting us?”
“Well yeah. But that lecherous snake wasn’t technically a god now, was he?”
As his friends continued discussing, Yahweh approached Metatron with a concerned look upon his face.
“L-lord Metatron?” He stammered. “What’s going to happen to the humans now?”
Metatron looked up, trying for a kindly look as he beckoned Yahweh to sit beside him.
“Do not fret, my boy.” He said. “Adam and his wife will be fine, I’m sure. They were made to be tough, just like you.”
Yahweh pulled his knees close to his chest. “I don’t feel really tough though…”
The Celestial Scribe sighed, patting the god’s head before gently tilting it upwards. “Look up there. Do you see it? The stars in the endless sky? How they glint so brightly, uncountable even if you tried? Boundless… Boundless like the potential that I see in you and your friends.”
As Yahweh stared, entranced by the beautiful scene, Metatron’s gaze drifted into the distance. His brow furrowed as he considered his words.
“But you are right to be concerned, my boy,” he said bitterly. “Adam possesses great power. He will surely thrive on Earth. But I am not worried about him. It is the other humans.”
He paused.
“They are performing... less than expected. And after Adam’s recent incident, the council may find it prudent to terminate the entire project.”
The other gods fell silent.
“Unless,” Metatron continued, “there is some... divine guidance.”
“Divine guidance?” Moloch asked. “What do you mean by that, pops?”
Metatron looked at each of his students. Their faces were filled with a desire to help, and he could not shake the feeling that he was exploiting it. He was asking them to sacrifice precious time and youth that could have been spent establishing themselves in the Heavenly Realms.
Nevertheless, he revealed his plan.
“Perhaps our mistake was expecting humans to fend for themselves. We made them in our image. We gave them our flaws, yet no power. Nothing to live for beyond survival.”
He looked up towards the skies.
“They need something more. Something to believe in. Something to strive for.”
Metatron turned to his students.
“Hope.”
The word hung in the air.
“If humans are to prove themselves, they must first have the desire to do so. And that is where you five come in.”
He gestured toward them.
“Descend to Earth. Find the humans, guide them, and give them something to believe in. Let them look to the skies and know they are not alone.”
The Celestial Scribe sighed.
“I know it is much to ask of you. But if humans are shaped by desire, then perhaps we, as gods, as their creators, have a duty to inspire it.”
The five gods exchanged uneasy glances, this certainly was a big ask… In theory, it seemed plausible, how hard could it be to wrangle in a few humans and teach them a few tricks? Yet wouldn't their time be better off spent on more meaningful endeavors?
“I dunno.” Baal muttered, playing with the electricity between his fingers. “I mean I’d love to help…”
Ishtar frowned, folding her arms beneath her bust. “Lord Metatron is right, we created them, so we should be responsible in making sure they thrive... I say it’s worth a shot.”
“Yes, I agree, let’s do it.” Baal said quickly.
“*Ahem—*Loser!” Moloch coughed underneath his breath.
Dagan turned to Yahweh. "Well, Strong one?” He said, making the latter flinch. “What shall you do?”
Everyone’s gaze turned towards the god who had been chewing his thumb in contemplation. Yahweh looked up, squeaking slightly at the sudden attention.
“Uh… I… uhm—Well I guess it wouldn’t hurt…”
Yahweh felt something brush against his back as Ishtar gave him a supportive nudge. The Sky God gulped, then nodded.
“Y-yeah! I meant that I’m gonna help! They... Well, I helped make them, didn’t I? So I can’t just leave them behind now! I'll do it, Lord Metatron!”
“Awwwwwww!” Ishtar wrapped her arms around him in a hug so tight Yahweh nearly suffocated. “You’re the best, hun!”
“Hey, don’t forget about us!” Baal and Moloch protested. “Those humans are gonna be bona-fide survivalists once we're through with them!”
Dagan sighed, leaning against the tree. “If the Strong one has decided so, then I shall follow too.”
“YOU CAN COUNT ON US, LORD METATRON!”
Metatron could not hide the smile brimming across his aging face, filled with pride and love for his dear students
“Thank you—” He breathed. “Thank you all. My dear students”
…
Truly I was a fool.
“W-what is this?” Heimdall yelped, shielding himself as the battle raged on. “It seems that Yahweh’s creations are—are turning on each other! And Beowulf is not going to pass up on such an opportunity!”
…
Archangel’s Viewing Booth
“Heh! Typical of that Heimdall.” Gabriel scoffed. “Imagine not even knowing the most basic things! And he calls himself a referee—Pathetic."
“Envy is a sin, Gabriel.” Raphael sighed.
“Tch—! Come on Raph, you know I’d do it a hundred times better!”
Michael rubbed his brow.
“Dammit, there those two go again. I don’t know how he did it… but that human is somehow exploiting Behey and Levey’s weakness!”
“Oho—weakness? That sounds interesting!”
The four angels gave a start as Zeus’ wrinkled old face appeared above the balcony terrace.
“The hell are you doing, old fart! You got a death wish?” Michael yelled.
“Wrath is a sin, Michael.” Raphael repeated.
“So is eavesdropping.” Michael bit back.
Zeus pouted. “I can’t help it, now spill the tea! It’s so boring watching that brat do everything BUT fight himself. I ACHING for some entertainment!”
“Father, I MUST insist you stop leaning over the railing like that!” Ares yelped from above.
Zeus ducked out of frame and seconds later the angels felt a tremor from overhead as cracks began appearing all across the ceiling—
“That blithering old—!” Michael screeched.
The center of the ceiling caved in and Zeus’ muscular form crashed down, followed by Ares landing face-first, then Hermes nimbly on both feet.
“Hmmm… Alright Ares, I concede.” Zeus mused, shrinking back to normal. This is more convenient!”
“G-glad I could help… Father… Ughhhh~”
“Zeus.” Metatron sighed whilst Gabriel and Raphael helpfully wrangled Michael. “As carefree as always. I suppose some things will never change.”
“Well if it isn’t Metatron!” The GFOC grinned, brushing rubble off his toga. “Would you then perhaps be so kind as to catch me up to speed?”
“I suppose.” The Celestial Scribe said.
“The first thing you must understand is that the beasts created by Yahweh’s New Genesis are not soulless drones. They can be ordered about and controlled, yes. But they are still their own sapient, sentient beings. Each time he summons them, Yahweh is not making a copy of The Behemoth or The Leviathan, rather it is the SAME creature persevering every memory and personality from its previous incarnations.”
“So…” Ares muttered. “That means Yahweh can’t just create an army of monsters and overwhelm Beowulf then!”
Metatron nodded.
“Correct, Ares. However, let there be no mistake—even Chief Gods have found themselves overwhelmed by just one of these primordial beasts, two of them would be a massecre… Usually.”
“Hmm. But this weakness Michael spoke of?” Hermes pressed.
“As I said—The Behemoth and Leviathan have fought together under Yahweh’s command in many battles. However… the two of them—Land and Sea—are still apex predators in a confined space! That is the weakness of New Genesis. After years of rivalry, should Yahweh summon more than one beast to do his bidding, it will inevitably end with infighting!”
“But this is still way too soon!” Michael said. “It usually takes a while before they start bickering, not to mention they outright IGNORED Yahweh’s command!”
Metatron mused.
“The answer I believe again, is FEAR.” He said. “Their fear of Beowulf… it has evolved. They no longer see him as a monster of equal power, rather a DANGER not worth dealing with any longer!”
Zeus turned to the arena, his eyes glinting within their sunken sockets.
“Ohohoho! I seeeeee… They’d take it out on each other before risking an attack on that human again! How innnnnnnteresting. But the laws of nature are quite plain, and that is their downfall: Fear is hesitation. Hesitation leads to weakness. And weakness—”
…
Valhalla Arena
“Quarreling at a time like this?” Beowulf breathed, drawing Eotenbana back. “And you two dolts thought you could beat me? Big—MISTAKE!!!!”
IS DEATH!
The Monster Slayer EXPLODED forward, hoisting his sword as he dashed across the arena stage whilst the two monsters writhed violently, trapped by his blazing energy.
“H-he’s pulling it out NOW?!” A Geat cried. “The move King Beowulf used to defeat the Fire Drake!”
Leaping upwards, Beowulf’s silhouette hung, momentarily framed by the light before BURSTING forward in midair!
The Behemoth bellowed, and The Leviathan thrashed. However, it was all for naught as Beowulf swept forward, his form seeming to melt through the titans like a mirage, and in one clean strike—surged through the both of them, tearing through flesh and bone with a mighty explosion!
EOTENBANA: HOWLING BLAZER!
The writhing beast went rigid, their breath ragged as their bodies began to glow and crack. Still engulfed in the flames, they turned vitriol in their eyes as they let out one final silent roar at Beowulf before the both of them simply… disintegrated into the air.
“He… HE REALLY DID IT!!!!” Heimdal hollered. “Beowulf, The Ultimate Monster Slayer… HAS DONE THE IMPOSSIBLE!”
Still in the air, Beowulf laughed, drawing Eotenbana back again as he gazed down. Yahweh was now directly beneath him.
“GYAHAHAHA! Done? I ain’t done yet! Now that the beasties are taken care of, it's time to go after the source! Ready or not, god. Cause. HERE. WE. COME!”
“Behey… Levi…” Yahweh muttered, his head lifting to meet Beowulf’s eyes—‘Ba-dum! Ba-dum! Ba-DUM! BA-DUM! BA-DUM! BA-DUM!’—He gritted his teeth.
“You think it’s over just cause you beat those two?! You have no idea!”
Beowulf laughed.
“Don’t I? This entire time it’s been them doing your dirty work as you cower behind them! Gods inspire, Humans desire? GYAHAHAHA! What a load of dung, don’t make me laugh!”
His entire upper body twisting as he began hurtling back down to earth. The same blazing energy erupted from Beowulf’s blade again, coated his body entirely as he fell from the sky like a fiery comet.
At the same time, Yahweh snapped out of his rut, arms stretching out, fingers curling as he seemed to gather thin air within his palms until they solidified into a visible mass. Just like before, Yahweh then stretched his arm outwards ready to snap his fingers together—“New Genesis…”—However, he paused.
‘BA-DUM! BA-DUM! BA-DUM! BA-DUM!’
D-dammit… I didn’t give a shit about Ragnarok before! I didn’t give a shit about humanity. And I didn’t give a shit about what anyone thought—NOT ANYMORE! But being here… with that guy, all I want is to…
In that split second before impact, Yahweh’s hand twisted inwards—SLAMMING the mass of air in his palm into his chest! The streaks of light that had heralded The Behemoth and Leviathan’s creation now shone through the lines across the God’s body, swallowing him in a blinding flash just as Eotenbana bit down!
The Jewish Aggadot: As Leviathan is the king of fishes, so is he appointed to rule over the birds… His ankles rest on the earth, and his head reaches to the very sky.
Two immense wings burst from Yahweh's back and crossed themselves forward to shield him. Beowulf's blade struck with a jolt, sinking into a surface that was somehow soft yet firm before stopping dead. As the dust settled, the arena saw a pair of colossal, orange-feathered wings sprouting directly from Yahweh's shoulders.
His wings are so huge that unfurled they darken the sun. They protect the earth against the storms of the south; without their aid the earth would not be able to resist the winds blowing thence.
Behind the God, his aura took the shape of a griffon-like bird with a hooked beak and the same blazing wings, spreading them with the majesty of a phoenix, then flexing its talons with the menace of a raptor.
It let out a piercing screech that heralded an eruption of wild gale as its form slowly dissolved into a swirling torrent of light that flowed back into Yahweh’s body.
“Blow him…” The God growled gutturally. “ZIZ!”
Wow, Yahweh really is going into 2ND Gear... GEDDIT?! GEDDIT?! There is no limit to the larp.
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The Ziz: Armament Form
(New Genesis)
The King of Birds
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The arena went silent as Beowulf raised an eyebrow “Well, I’m flattered but… I’ll pass, GYAHAHAHA!”
Behind the feathers, Yahweh furrowed his brow and cringed.
“Fuck. That came out wrong…”
Without missing a beat Yahweh unfurled his wings with a blast of wind that sent Beowulf flying backwards. The One True God ascended into the air with another beat above the arena.
‘Beo, he just—!’
“Don’t worry I saw it, Goll!” Beowulf replied, rushing back in. “Hey, god! Didja forget that I already got the gist of your moves? When you’re in the air… You’re VULNERABLE!"
The warrior jumped, spinning Eotenbana above him with a giant rotating propeller before striking from the side.
Yahweh grunted. “Back then? Yeah. But with this, now it doesn’t matter!”
He extended a wing, the sharp feather tips at the end glinting as Eotenbana’s blade rang against them with a metallic screech, sending sparks flying in all directions.
‘Hngggh!” Goll yelped. ‘Are those really feathers?! They're tough as nails!”
Beowulf didn’t answer his partner. Instead, cocking a leg back and aiming a heavy kick towards Yahweh’s other side.
COMET AXE!
“TOO DAMN OBVIOUS!” Yahweh roared, biting back with a swing of his other wing, dislodging three feathers that whistled forward, burrowing into Beowulf’s leg.
SHAMAYIN RAIN!
“GYAH!” the warrior winced. He’s… become a bit more proactive! “GYAHAHAHA!”
Disengaging from the bind, Beowulf leapt back to the ground, wincing as his injured leg touched the earth. He skidded across the ruined terrain, swinging Eotenbana as he prepared to unleash Thunderous Splitter.
“I told you once, human…” Yahweh growled. As his wings suddenly closed around him like a cocoon. All of a sudden, the strong gusts gathered into a pillar that enveloped the God before exploding outwards!
Beowulf gritted his teeth. The once wild and aimless winds had now concentrated and shifted into a unified current toward his right?
The very next beat, Yahweh’s form seem to move so fast he vanished for a second—
“Wait, where the hell did that guy go?!” Brunhilde yelled.
—-he reappeared, now right beside Beowulf as he unfurled his wings and BATTED the hero out of the way with a single beat!
“With these, my weaknesses from before are all but nullified!” Yahweh declared as Beowulf slammed against the wall.
“I AM. KING OF THE SKIES!”
…
Archangel’s Viewing Booth
“Armament Form?!” Michael spluttered, leaning over the railings. “I haven’t seen that slacker use that application of New Genesis since…” l
“Armament Form? What’s that?” Ares questioned.
“It's when he finally decides to get off his lazy ass and start DOING something again. YEAH!” Gabriel interrupted with a whoop.
Raphael sighed. “Yahweh’s New Genesis creates beasts to do his bidding. But he can also take attributes of these creatures and merge them into his own body!”
“And thus, rivalry and infighting amongst constructs is negated.” Hermes concluded.
Metatron nodded. “Correct. Though the strength is not on par with the actual thing, it certainly has its benefits… It's been a while since I’ve seen that boy deem fit to utilize it again.”
Zeus cackled, clapping his hands.
“Well whatever it is, that brat’s finally making this fight interesting! It is to be expected, after all… He was once your most promising prodigy, wasn’t he… Metatron?”
The Celestial Scribe’s face darkened.
“Not in the way you are thinking of, Zeus.”
…
Valhalla Arena
Dislodging himself from the crater in the wall, Beowulf didn’t waste another second, charging forward with a huge swing!
Not to be outdone, Yahweh tucked in his wings, his now-aerodynamic body curved like a bullet and weaved through the strike with ease!
Feeling the wind currents changed, curving downwards in a dip, Beowulf followed suit. Shifting his stance alongside his blade—just in time for Yahweh to extend a wing with the flick of his palm, its sharp feathers striking the giant edge of Eotenbana’s blade with a screech as their heels tore into the ground.
“Heh, no longer hiding, huh? But you’re still only being—REACTIVE!” Beowulf rumbled as he overpowered the clash and aimed a counterattack from below.
Yahweh rose, somersaulting in mid-air as the winds gathered and flew out like a sharpened edge from the tips of his wing.
The two attacks met, sending out shockwaves that rippled through the air around them. Beowulf moved back, twitching slightly.
‘Beo, what’s wrong?’ Goll cried.
“Wounds acting up!” Beowulf chuckled, maneuvering Eotenbana and parrying the second wave. “Ain’t gonna lie to you, partner… this is a problem.”
‘Huh? What do you mean?” The Valkyrie asked. “We can just cut him down like before!’
“GYAHA! You think so, huh? Well therein lies the rub, Goll… As long as he’s got those wings, I don’t think we can hit him any more.”
“?!”
“Here, I’ll show ya…”
Beowulf spun Eotenbana, destroying the last few incoming wind-strikes instantly. He then drew it back, lowered himself into the familiar stance of—
“THUNDEROUS. SPLITTER!!!”
The slash tore through the arena towards Yahweh. Once again, the sheer blast covered the entire width of the battlefield, impossible to dodge even if one were to move to the side or up… However…
“Humans… You never listen.”
Closing his wings around himself again, Yahweh drew in the winds before directing the current upwards, LAUNCHING himself high, higher than even the height of The Thunderous Splitter!
To avoid the unavoidable move once more, he would not lower himself like before. He would instead soar—Futher! Higher! Faster! Far beyond its reach!
“YOU’RE BENEATH ME!”
Beowulf’s attack sailed right past, just shy of Yahweh’s toes as it EXPLODED against the ground in a devastating shower. Right on cue the God’s wings curled, his form more aerodynamic as he and the wind currents blasted downwards like a bullet, flanking Beowulf‘s left side!
SHAMAYIN DRILL!
Beowulf saw it coming but there was only enough time to shield his head with his left arm—freshly wounded from the Leviathan’s fangs— and stood firm as the radiale of Yahweh’s wings dug into his muscles like a fist. Spinning, PIERCING it till his bandages tore off, and wounds, old and new, opened. But even then, Beowulf still stood!
Beneath his wings, Yahweh gritted his teeth. Even with the powers of Ziz, he simply could not match Beowulf in a contest of pure physical strength!
His rotations grinding to a halt, Yahweh spun around, kicking off Beowulf’s bloodied forearm in a massive gust—sending a second one straight into the underside of his jaws!
The warrior’s skull rang from the impact as a torrent of blood escaped his lips, but still he remained unfazed! His eyes focused and honed in as he swung—Beowulf made a giant swipe with Eotenbana—nearly catching Yahweh off guard had the currents not sent him skidding against the ground at the last moment.
…
Spectator Stands
“That God…” Breca yelled. “He managed to DODGE B-beowulf’s unavoidable attack?!”
Wiglaf growled. “If I had to guess… he’s drawing in the winds and changing the currents as he pleases with those wings, carrying himself to new heights and speeds that simply weren’t possible beforehand to reach the few blind spots Eotenbana has! Ironic… a simplistic counter plan for the simplistic nature of Beo’s attacks!”
…
Valhalla Arena
Landing down, Yahweh felt his heart pounding in his chest as adrenaline coursed through his veins.
On the other side, Beowulf lowered his ruined left arm, blood spilled from the smoking hole in his flesh and watered the ground… yet the warrior still refused to betray a single ounce of pain!
‘Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.”
“Not again…” Yahweh muttered, clutching his chest. The God rose, his spread wings were as unpredictable as the wild currents that battered them both, just where would he strike from next?
I’ve been going about this the wrong way, lowering myself to fisticuffs… When was the last time I used this? Years? Centuries? Eons? “Fufu…FUHAHAHAHAHA!” I can’t believe this… Haven’t so many other gods not been pushed to their limits by these so-called humans? Gods Inspire. Humans Desire, that is the truth—
‘And yet also… a lie.’
“Yeah. Yeaaaah… YEAH!” All of a sudden Yahweh kicked off against the ground—splintering the unstable concrete into chunks—as his wings kicking backwards on their hinges before blasting forward and sending the winds SLAMMING into Beowulf, catching him off-guard as his massive bulk was lifted into the air like a paperclip!
“If other gods had to sink this low for humans, so what if I do it too?!” Yahweh howled as he followed. “Behey, Levey, Ziz! They may have tainted their talons with that human’s blood, but my own fists remained unsullied! I bear… NO SHAME. I chase… NOTHING! I am still… THE ONE TRUE GOD! IT IS NOT—MY FAUUUUULT”
…
Humanity’s VIP Booth
Brunhilde chewed her thumb, watching her chosen sail into the sky.
“Dammit! DAMMIT! Come on, Beowulf… Goll! DO SOMETHING!”
“Haha! Geez Hilde! Getting real riled up now, ain’tcha?”
The Eldest Valkyrie turned and was greeted by a tall muscular man in a navy blue tank top, orange robes, and rose-tinted glasses. His blonde hair was tied back into a big bun, and his sharp canines chewed on a lollipop
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Buddha
(India)
The Honored One
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Brunhilde grunted, slightly annoyed. “Lord Buddha. I didn’t expect you of all people to make a trip here.”
Buddha smirked, pointing down at Yahweh. “Had to check it out for myself. That guy down there? I don’t know anyone with bigger puberty issues than him. Speaking of which—those wings of his—real annoying, aren’t they?”
The Valkyrie twitched, dropping all formalities. “That little punk…” She snarled, wracking her head. “I DIDN'T THINK IT’D BE SO LITERAL! Whaddya mean, just one beat is strong enough to tame the wildest winds and hasten him to wherever he wishes?! What kind of bullshit is that?! ARGGGGGGGGGGGGH!!!!”
Buddha burst into laughter. “Fuahahaha! It takes one to know one, Brun-chan~ Your puberty is second only to his—”
The Honoured One paused, a bead of sweat rolling down his cheek as Brunhilde’s head twisted around with a murderous glare.
“Ehehe…Then again.” He sighed, folding his arms. “It’s your baby sister fighting, so I get it.”
Brunhilde exhaled. There was an awkward silence between them before she spoke.
“Can you see it? With those eyes of yours?”
Lowering his glasses, Buddha’s eyes glowed with the pattern of a chakra. From his point of view, a volatile orb glowed on the chest of Yahweh’s silhouette, moving just before the God did.
“Yep. I can see his soul moving just fine…” He answered, pushing his glasses into place. “But knowing what your opponent is gonna do is just half of it. How fast you can react, or if you can do anything at all? Now that’s a whole other matter.”
Brunhilde's grip on the railings tightened.
“Don’t worry. If anyone can do it… I believe it’s those two.”
…
Valhalla Arena
‘Uh, Beoooo?’ Goll yelped. ‘Not to rush you or anything. But we’re really high up now!’
“Hm? Oh yeah that’s true.” Beowulf mused.
His unnatural nonchalance gave Goll pause. ‘Ok. So what's the plan now?’
Beowulf grinned. “Don’t got one! GYAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
‘... EHHHHHHHHHHHH?!’
In spite of their king’s predicament, Hearing his familiar laughter made the Geats laugh alongside him.
“AHAHAHA! That Beowulf, same as usual! Spitting in the face of danger!”
“As long as he’s still standing strong, there ain’t nothing that can get me down!”
As he followed into the air, Yahweh gritted his teeth. The beat of his wings suddenly turned rhythmic like the palpitations of a beating heart.
‘Ba-dum! Ba-dum! Ba-DUM! BA-DUM! BA-DUM! BA-DUM!’
“Those humans.” He muttered. “They don’t hear what I hear… But I know, they soon shall see what I see–”
‘BA-DOOOOM!’
The final beat echoed with chilling finality, and the arena fell silent.
Yahweh shot an arm forward and a swirling gust followed his command, catching Beowulf just before he started to descend and hurling him further into the sky.
“You. Faith. IT IS WORTHLESS! And I shall break it, BRICK BY BRICK! MEA CULPA: REVELATION STORM!”
His arms flung open. Two towering pillars of wind rose on either side, howling and spinning as they slowly began to move, converging at the center...
And there was no escape.
…
“Worthless eh?... Hey, GOLL!” Beowulf bellowed.
‘Oh thank goodness, you nearly had me there for a second!’ Goll cried, manifesting in her astral form beside him. ‘What’s the plan?’
The warrior closed his eyes… then grinned. “Ain’t got one! Sometimes you just have to admit you’re licked. You’re all on your own now, Goll!
Goll stiffened, her eyes shifting through disbelief, indignation then anger.
‘Y-you’re just giving up?!’ She yelled incredulously.
Beowulf shrugged. “You tell me, partner.”
The Valkyrie fumed. ‘Don’t call me that if you’re gonna act that way! You… This is pathetic! This isn’t the Beo I know! I-if you aren’t going to think of something… I WILL! Because I WILL help save humanity!’
“Is that so?” Beowulf chuckled. “That I’d LOVE to see. GYAHAHAHAHA!”
Goll’s eyes darted urgently from side to side, searching for something… ANYTHING that could help them. But all she saw was the unforgiving blue sky above, and the looming god below.
…
Like a madman, Yahweh chanted over and over again. His eyes spinning wildly as soared past Beowulf into the sky.
“Gods Inspire. Humans Desire. Gods Inspire. Humans Desire!”
‘And if faith is a flaw, what does that make us? My better half?’
“Gods Inspire. Humans Desire. Gods Inspire. Humans Desire! GODS. INSPIRE. HUMANS. DESIRE!!!”
‘But of course, a failure.’
Yahweh stiffened… then became eerily calm.
Slamming his palms together, he forced the two columns into each other, merging them—one raging tornado that spun so violently it resembled an inferno—with Beowulf still trapped. Any sound made was silenced by the vacuum as it brought him higher until both fighters now hovered, eye-to-eye, prismatic white glaring into the green.
“Yessss… You’re finally seeing it my way.” The God muttered, his left arm glided smoothly over his right, then rose vertically above his head, his hand forming into a point. The tornado slowly condensed, till Beowulf was trapped in a thin pointed funnel of gale
“Heroes. Legends. No matter how great you are, you still fall. And when you do, those who cower in your shadow, they will learn the cruel hopelessness of the sky. They will realize… You are only human. What will they do then, Warrior?”
With a sharp spin of his fist, the funnel suddenly phased above Beowulf. Time seemed to stand still for a second as the warrior hovered hundreds of feet above the ground with nothing to keep him in the air and an arrow of violent gale positioned above him.
Taking a gulp of fresh air, Beowulf’s lips trembled… then formed into a smirk.
“Gee, I dunno.” He said raspily. “Ain’t it God’s who are supposed to inspire?”
Yahweh’s eyes twitched, and then he snapped his fingers.
“They are reduced… to SHAMBLES.”
Gravity took hold and Beowulf plummeted. Humanity could only watch in horror, some even averting their eyes, as their champion fell, down, down, down before smashing against the floor with an ear-splitting ‘CRAAAAAAAAAAASH!’
Mankind could only choke back sobs, as they saw their reliable champion lying there in a humungous crater, battered, beaten, and bruised. His bloodied chest heaved as he let out a ragged gasp.
But his ordeal was far from over.
“And now… SHAMAYIN BUSTER!”
Amidst the harsh glint of the sky, Beowulf beheld through squinted eyes, the funnel of condensed wind that was previously his prison, still floating in the sky. Before the warrior could muster even a grunt, the arrow shot down like a missile.
“Gyaha—That ain’t good…”
‘BOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!’
As it struck Beowulf head-on, the trapped winds it held were expelled, exploding outwards across the arena.
Gods and humans alike were thrown back against their seats, shielding their eyes as the harsh gales tore anything that wasn’t nailed down into the air.
The warrior himself let out an unearthly howl as he took on the full brunt of the attack, the winds tearing at him as he could not even move or thrash. At last they relented—disappating—and his head fell back against the ground with a soft thud.
Descending from the sky, Yahweh hovered above the fallen hero like the angel of death.
“... Unbelievable.” He muttered, hearing the sound of shallow breathing “After all that, he’s still breathing?”
…
Spectator Stands
“Dammit! No. NONONONO!” Unferth howled. “I–I refuse to believe this! The Great Beowulf couldn’t have been defeated so easily! He will—!”
“OI. GOD!” Hygelac roared, clenching his fist. “My dear nephew… he’s made of much sterner stuff than the likes of you! DON’T YOU DARE LOOK DOWN ON HIM! For he shall—!”
“They’re right!” A Roman Gladiator yelled. “It isn’t over till it's over—!”
“Beowulf-sama!” A Samurai called. “I know you can—!”
“Dammit!” Breca cursed. “If you go out like this I’d never forgive you—!”
I of all people shouldn’t do this… Wiglaf sighed. But I can’t help it… “BEOWULFFFFF! CAN’T YOU HEAR THEM?! We’re all calling for you to—”
“GET BACK UP ON YOUR FEEEEEEEEET!”
“W-what a touching moment!” Heimdall sobbed. “Even in their darkest moments, humanity still rallies behind their fallen hero! B-but… can Beowulf even hope to make a comeback after that?!”
Yahweh gritted his teeth. “Still so delusional. Piling on their stupid faith, forcing it on that damn idiot… and look where it got him!”
But then…
“Y-YEAH! D-did you all see that?!”
A new voice echoed from the other side of the stands, the side of the gods.
“Yahweh… that was some serious stuff!” A bull-headed god gushed. “I take back everything bad I ever said about you!”
“When he puts in the work, that guy’s really no joke!” Another one chimed. “Did you hear, he was once an up and rising star in all of Heaven!”
“Really? Incredible… simply incredible!” A goddess squealed. “I never knew he held such power, that title of One True God… it kinda suits him, no?”
“BWAHAHAHA! I guess we should have never doubted you… ‘GOD’!”
All of a sudden laughter and praise flooded the air as god after god cheered for their Yahweh. However…
“Shut up. Shut up. SHUT UP!”
“?!”
“I don’t want it…” Yahweh muttered. “This is wrong… You guys—you guys aren’t supposed to be cheering for a screw-up like me. STOP IT RIGHT NOW!”
As the crowd murmured in confusion, a familiar laugh wheezed from within the crater below.
“Gya—Gyaha—Gyahahaha…”
Yahweh tensed, gazing down in fury. Beowulf's eyes had fluttered open and he was laughing.
“Gyahaha—-GYAHAHAHAHAHA!”
“And just what the hell…” Yahweh breathed. “ARE YOU LAUGHING ABOUT?!”
Beowulf weakly wiped away a tear, flashing a toothy grin.
“Oh it's nothing—KOFF!—Just that… I get it now! All that rambling going on and on about faith—Ghk!—Let me guess, god. You—Gah!—you don’t believe in yourself… not even a single lick of faith, don’tcha? GYAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
At this, Yahweh’s fist clenched and the entire arena fell to silence.
The darkness that shrouded across his face, the indescribable fury boiling deep within fierier than the pits of hell. In that moment, the thing that loomed above Beowulf looked less like God… and more like the devil himself.
Art from Toadgashi on Twitter: https://x.com/Toadgashi?lang=en
"Adam I gotta borrow your moment... Yeah they're jumping my ass so bad rn. I am SO cooked."
“Did you see that?!” Heimdall howled. “Humanity’s Greatest Monster Slayer, Beowulf… has just thrown both The Behemoth and The Leviathan into a battered heap! Is this guy truly even human?!”
As he drew back his left arm, Beowulf winced, knees buckling as he inspected the damage. Two large, bloody holes had been gored into his forearm where The Leviathan teeth had bitten him..
‘Oh no… t-that doesn’t look great.’ Goll’s voice gulped.
“Bah! Don’t worry about it.” Beowulf smiled albeit tightly. Ripping off pieces of his skirt, he tied one strip above tightly to form a torque, before wrapping the wound itself with the rest.
“See? Good as new! GYAHAHAHA! And now—“ Reaching out he retrieved his fallen blade. “Eotenbana’s back by our side as well!”
‘Ahaha—Honestly… I can see why big sis Hilde called you an idiot.”
…
Spectator’s Stands
Barely any Geats held their composure. The clamorous melody of sword pounding against shields was heard as some even began breaking out drinks, dancing and singing of their king’s inevitable victory.
Amongst their kinsmen, only Wiglaf and Breca showed restraint.
“Can’t blame them for celebrating…” Breca sighed. “But the battle ain’t over so easily, even for Beo!”
“Whaddya worried about, Breca?!” An intoxicated Geat cheered, clapping him on the shoulder.
“Hic~That’s OUR Beowulf! Peerless in power! Monster of a man who slew the Fire Drake! The Warrior of the century… that will NEVER be surpassed! That is the man we’ve put all our faith in… Urrrrp~!”
“Yeah, yeah.” Breca wafted his nose. “I think you’ve had a pint too many, you drunk sod!”
Wiglaf meanwhile, was silent.
‘Heh… ‘never be surpassed, warrior of the century… Faith’. Sigh—I guess for all your effort, even a hero like you just can’t help these things, huh Beo? People need something to believe in after all, and with everything that’s happened—
Why wouldn’t it be you?
…
5th Century, Southern Sweden (Known then as Geatland)
A boy’s cries echoed across the rocky coast, cutting through the howling winds, and crashing waves that battered against the cliffs.
Villagers young, and old gathered on the shore, surrounding a boy drenched in seawater, his skin puffy and hair stiff from the salty spray.
“Get a grip of yourself, lad!” The oldest amongst them, a gaunt warrior dressed in purple robes, chastised.
“Daring to swim in the sea under these conditions—You are lucky to even be alive, Breca!”
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Breca
(Sweden)
16 years old
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Breca glared back. “I—I’m not crying because I was scared, you old geezer!—BONK!—OWch!!!”
The elder scoffed, removing his staff from Breca’s head.
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Hygelac
(Sweden)
King of the Geats, Uncle of Beowulf
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“Oaf. There is no shame in fear, or admitting your limits.”
Breca chest heaved up and down, his vision turning misty again.
“…I already told you, old fart. I wasn't crying because I was scared! It’s because… it’s BECAUSE!”
…
‘Breca! You get outta here! Forget about me and just swim!’
‘What? No way I’m leaving you, idiot! They're going to have my hide if I leave you to die!’
‘Gyaha! Die? What weakling do you take me for? Besides I can see your limbs shivering from all that swimming, you ain’t much use here now! So just focus on getting back… and leave this ugly bastard—TO ME!’
Before Breca could retort, a large wave smashed into him as the tide dragged him towards the shore.
The last thing he saw was his friend waist deep in the sea, facing down the looming shadows above him.
‘BEOWULFFFF!’
…
“Spit it out, boy!”
“IT’S BECAUSE I WASN’T ALONE! B-Beowulf was racing me… and then—and then we were attacked! He stayed behind to fend the monster off so I could escape!”
The bristling crowd went rigid. Their faces pale.
“What…?” Hygelac spluttered, grabbing Breca by the shoulders and shaking him.
“WHAT DID YOU SAY?! Are you telling me that my nephew is alone at sea, facing the horrors of the deep… AND YOU—JUST LEFT HIM THERE?!”
Breca lowered his head in shame.
“I… I’m sorry.”
“You fool…” Hygelac shoved Breca roughly onto the sand as he turned to face his subjects.
“Prepare the boats! We must find and rescue Beowulf at once!—Have faith, and hope that the poor boy…”
He bit his lips, contemplating the worst. One young boy, barely an adolescent. How could he hope to survive the monster-infested waters which grown men dared not tread?
“Did you not hear me?” Hygelac roared. “What’s the matter with you lot? Stop dawdling around!”
One villager lifted his hand, pointing behind his head and towards the surf.
Another boy, around Breca’s age, rose from the waters. Despite his youth, his muscular body was riddled with fresh wounds, whilst his calloused hands gripped onto a bouquet of slimy red tentacles that led down behind him into the waves, attached to an enormous Kraken!
“Whew, that was close!” He laughed, setting the dead cephalopod down into the sand. “Little beastie nearly got me there, but in the end I nailed his ass! We’re going to be eating gooood tonight, guys!”
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Beowulf
(Sweden)
16 years old
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“… Hey don’t just leave me hanging! Why so quiet?”
Beowulf looked up just in time for the entire village to pounce on him, laughing with relief.
“YOU’RE ALIVE!”
“Gyaha! Of course I’m alive!” Beowulf grinned, finding Breca in the huddle. “I told you that I’d handle it myself, didn’t I? You better not have told them I was in danger, ya wuss!”
“Pfft—me? No way—I believe in you, Beo!” Breca muttered, lying through his teeth. “Still… just happy to see you made it back in one piece.”
“Heh—You bet I did! Listen well, as sure as the sun will rise and set, Beowulf will NEVER let his kinsmen down! Not in a million years! GYAHAHAHA—OWch! What was that for?!”
“What was that for?” Hygelac fumed, swinging his staff. “That was for being reckless, you imbecile! I thank the gods, you two survived— SO I MAY NOW SEND YOU TO THEM MYSELF!”
“Huuuuuh? No way! You can’t do that!”
“I can and I will! Just watch these old bones go!”
“Just run Beo!” Breca yelped, already halfway across the sand. “Forget sea monsters, Old Hygelac is the real deal!”
“YOU TWO GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOOOOOW!”
…
Though the saga's many years later would tell of Breca as the undisputed winner of their match. He, and all the Geats knew the truth. That day on the beach was not the victory of Breca—
But the beginnings of the legend of Beowulf.
…
4 years later: Hygelac’s throne room
“I FORBID you from doing such a thing!” Hygelac roared.
“But my lord!” Beowulf, now twenty years old, retorted.
“Are the Danes not our closest allies? Your old friend, King Hrogthar has called for our aid, and as your strongest thegn, I beg you allow me to answer!”
Hygelac rubbed his temples in frustration.
“Nephew… do you understand the extent of the Dane’s plight? It is not a bear, wolf nor any mortal beast, but the JOTUN Grendel who ravages the halls of Heorot! To go against such a monster… it is suicide!”
Beowulf growled, eyes full of defiance as he drew his blade.
“What has the sands of time done, to make the once mighty King whom I respected cower like this? The Danes sent a plea, and in our honour, the Geats shall answer! Fear not for my safety, my lord. I only ask you to lend me fourteen men whom I will bring back victorious—for Beowulf will NEVER let his kinsmen down!”
The king glanced at the other thegns present in his court. The older ones looked at Beowulf with caution and scandalized expressions. Whilst the younger ones stared in awe, their eyes burning with desire.
Hygelac sighed. He was getting too old for this.
“Stubborn like your old man.” He conceded. “Only the gods could hope to stop you. Very well! You may go, I only pray for your safe return.”
Beowulf nodded solemnly, sheathing his sword.
“I promise I’ll be back, uncle. I’ll bring them all back.”
…
And so with a party fifteen men strong, Beowulf began his voyage across the sea to the land of the Danes. Upon their arrival at Heorot, they were greeted by King Hrogthar and his court, who welcomed the young warriors with relief and anticipation.
However… not everyone was thrilled with the arrival of Beowulf.
…
Heorot: Hall of Hrogthar, King of Danes
“I cannot express my gratitude enough, Beowulf.”
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Hrogthar
(Denmark)
King of the Danes
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In light of their arrival, the Danes had thrown a grand feast in honor of the brave Geats from across the sea.
Piles of food and drinks were served between long tables as men and maiden socialised, their ails temporarily forgotten. Beowulf sat next to Hrogthar himself. The King of the Danes was thin, eyes sunken with age and wrinkled lips framed by a graying beard. He looked a man who had long been victim to both the ravages of time and stress.
“I had built these halls for the merriment and joy of my subjects.” Hrogthar continued. “Yet that accursed Jotun ravages it every night, claiming the lives of my men till only fear remains. Some claim he’s a descendant of Cain himself! I beg you… rescue us from this nightmare!”
Beowulf laughed, tearing into a chunk of meat..
“GYAHAHA! Worry not, King Hrogthar!” He boasted. “To me, that Jotun is no more than an animal, and I have yet to meet a beastie I couldn’t tame!”
Around him, Beowulf’s fellow Geats raised their drinks, cheering loudly in their leader’s agreement. Hrogthar couldn’t help but laugh, the tension in his heart easing. However, another Dane merely scoffed:
“HA! Is that so?” He spat with impunity. “Tell me, Beowulf. Are you not the same Beowulf who lost that swimming contest to your friend, Breca the Bronding? I warn you, Grendel calls the dark moors his home, so I wonder—how will those pretty boasts of yours fare then? Do you fancy yourself some kind of god?”
Heads turned to a portly middle age man with a sour expression under his ginger beard
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Unferth
(Denmark)
Thegn of Hrogthar
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Hrogthar frowned, “Unferth…” he started.
The crowds stirred as the room grew tense, they could all feel something exciting was afoot.
Despite the slight, Beowulf himself merely grinned and spread his arms.
“Indeed I am! A most unfortunate stain on my reputation—I still remember the race as though it were yesterday. Breca and I had kept pace for five days straight, swimming against the battering currents of the ocean tide. I’d have overtaken him of course, but right at the end a kraken dragged me under the waves, and I was forced to slay nine of the fiends before I could complete the race. Look, you can still see the scars now!”
Beowulf shifted the sleeve of his chainmail, revealing the faded scars on his arms.
His captive audience marveled, accepting his impressive boast as the warrior grinned, a taunting glint in his eyes.
“I’m afraid, Unferth my good fellow, that I have heard no such tales of a great sea-fight like that about you from my end. Only particularly nasty rumors told, about how you killed your own kin. Perhaps that is why you have not yet handled Grendel yourself? GYAHAHAHA!”
The room erupted into jeering laughter whilst Unferth blushed, failing to make himself look inconspicuous in his seat.
Beowulf rose from his seat, holding his cup high.
“But know that Beowulf shall make good on his words! I hear tell that this beast fights bare-handed with no armor? Then it would only be honourable for me to face my foe on equal terms!”
The crowd howled their approval, slamming their feet against the floor as they beheld Beowulf’s confidence. For the first time in years, the darkness of the night could not penetrate the atmosphere of celebration in Heorot.
…
Far off in the distance, a grisly figure waded waist-deep through the moors towards the rowdy hall. It paused, eyes twitching violently as the noise penetrated its eardrums.
“Man… make. Claaaaaatrunnng! Man… HURT, Grendel!”
It sank on all fours, loping quickly across the fog whilst letting out a guttural snarl.
…
With the evening's celebrations wrapped up, Hrogthar and his Danes had retreated from Heorot, leaving the Geatish Warriors to make their camp within the halls.
“You guys can leave with them as well, you know.” Beowulf rumbled, almost completely in the nude save a piece of loincloth.
The Geat closest to him shook his head.
“Nay, we chose to accompany you here. We shall not so simply leave you in the moment of peril!”
“Agreed!” Another one shouted. “As long as you are here, there is nothing to fear—other than the might of Beowulf himself!”
“Well said, Hondscio!” His fellow Geats roared in agreement. But with the initial excitement fading and the dead of the night creeping through, rest became difficult for even the bravest warrior, each passing moment feeling like an eternity as they waited with bated breath…
At that moment the large double doors of Heorot’s entrance were THROWN off their hinges! A deep moan rang through every man’s ears as an imposing figure stood in the archway, framed by the pale moonlight.
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Grendel
Bane of Heorot
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Grendel was nearly ten feet tall, a lean muscular giant with wet shaggy black hair covering his canine-like muzzle. A row of webbed fins lined his back while his body, once blue, was now so stained with the dried blood of Danish warriors torn apart with his thin razor claws it had discolored into a murky brown.
Before any of the Geats could even spring to their feet, Grendel charged, claws outstretched as he went for the nearest man. Unfortunately for the Jotun—that man happened to be Beowulf.
“BAM!” went the warrior’s fist as it connected right into Grendel’s calloused palm. Beowulf gritted his teeth, his heels tearing into the wooden floorboards as he exerted all his might to force the Jotun to a halt.
“A-amazing!” Hondscio and other Geats roared from the sidelines. “Beowulf’s strength—it alone is capable of stopping the vile beast in its tracks!”
Grendel narrowed his eyes, this was something new. He snarled, closing his palm around Beowulf’s fist, nails digging into the hero’s flesh and holding it fast as his other arm rose to cut him down.
“GYAHAHA! I don’t think so!” Beowulf bellowed, ducking as Grendel’s talons raked through the air above him.
The Jotun snorted, surprised. Swinging his arm back around, Grendel attempted a backhand. However, Beowulf weaved right out of the way, forcing his arm along and creating an opening to which he surged forward, landing a blow right under Grendel’s ribs!
The monster howled in pain, his grip loosening on Beowulf’s fist as he staggered backwards
“Not so tough if your prey ain’t asleep, are ya?”
Before Grendel could register those words, the feeling of Beowulf’s entire weight pulled both man and monster onto the ground as the warrior lunged forward and seized him in an armlock.
With the Jotun disoriented, Beowulf grabbed Grendel by the back and lifted him, thrashing, into the air before crashing back down. Every timber of Heorot shook as if about to splinter apart whilst the two continued to brawl.
Beowulf rained down a flurry of punches, striking Grendel numerous times. The Jotun retaliated, raking his claws across the warrior’s chest and arms like a desperate cat.
“How can we help?!” a warrior cried, entranced by the frenzy.
Hondscio gritted his teeth, his own sword trembling in his grasp. Even though every bone in his body yelled at him to fight, the Geat’s legs refused to move!
“Only one man is capable of matching such savagery.” He cried. “What can mere mortals like us hope to do? But worry not… I know that Beowulf will surely succeed!”
Finding an opening, Beowulf’s arm shot forward, grabbing Grendel by the neck and pinning him down. He drew his other fist menacingly above his head, readying to deal a decisive strike!
Seeing the looming shadow fall over him, Grendel reacted instinctively. Quick as lightning, his lean legs bent—before kicking forward and catching Beowulf in the chest with his foot.
With a leg-toss, the Jotun flipped Beowulf over his head, launching the hero right into a brazier bowl with a “CRASH!”
In that moment, Grendel leapt to his feat, panting.
“Hwa… art… THOU?”
Rising from the wreckage, smoke covering his body like a demon from hell, Beowulf slammed his fist against his palm and answered:
“So you speak, do ya beastie? GYAHAHAHA! I am Ripper... Tearer... Slasher... Gouger. I am the Teeth in the Darkness, the Talons in the Night. Mine is Strength... and Lust... and Power! I AM BEOWULF!!!!”
Grendel roared back, a mixture of anger and trepidation. He scanned the room, eyes settling on Hondscio as his deformed lips split into a leer, and before anyone knew it—Grendel charged.
Hondscio was far too stunned to move his sword, and by the time he realized what would happen, the Jotun’s claws had already closed around his chest and legs. Then there was a sickening twist followed by a bloody pull, and the figure that was once Hondscio was now two. His agonizing screams silenced when Grendel bit down on his neck—
The other warriors froze, horrified by their comrades’ gruesome end as they watched Grendel chew up what remained. His eyes seemed to glow red and his muscles were swelling with bloodlust.
“H-Hondscio…”
Standing like an ominous presence, Beowulf fists trembled with rage—
‘You guys can leave with them as well, you know.’
‘Nay, we chose to accompany you here. We shall not so simply leave you in the moment of peril!’
‘As long as you are here, there is nothing to fear!’
“I… I’ll…” A dark fury clouded the warrior’s face like an executioner’s hood as he began to move—
‘I promise I’ll be back, uncle. I’ll bring them ALL back.’
His head rose, tears running down his cheeks as he let out a dreadful noise:
“I’LL MURDER YOU!!!!!!!”
Feeling the vengeful fury emanating from Beowulf, Grendel turned, trembling.
“H-HWAET… art… thou?!”
Fate was ironic, in a few short beats the tables had turned and it was now Grendel who felt his body refuse to comply as his perception struggled to comprehend what came next.
First Beowulf’s body shifted, disappearing from view… followed by a sharp pain tightened around an arm slick with Hondscio’s blood as the Jotun felt his ligaments beginning to rip—then a scream so hellish that even the far away Danes in their beds sat up in terror, rang out.
Beowulf had wrenched the monster’s arm away from his body with a pull!
“AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
Grendel knew he had a death wound. Crashing through Heorot’s walls, he slunk back to his lair, screaming all the way as a trail of blood was left in his wake.
Back in the hall, Beowulf held the grisly arm above his head, his face hard as a cliffside, and victory bittersweet.
For a moment, his men did not know how to react. Should they cheer? Cry? They gazed up at him, waiting for an answer.
“Hold… HOLD YOUR HEADS UP HIGH MEN!” Beowulf roared, lifting his own head as they were bathed in light shining through the broken doors.
“WE ARE VICTORIOUS!!!”
…
Come morning, Hrogthar and his Danes were greeted by the victorious Geats, and yet another celebration was thrown in their honor.
But the merriment did not last, shadowed by death once more. Grendel's mother, The Sea Witch, sneaking in under the dead of night, had killed Hrogthar’s faithful advisor before stealing her son’s arm and retreating back to the moors.
When he heard of this, Beowulf donned his armor and the Danes and Geats set off for the monster’s lair with vengeance in their bellies.
…
With their trail of Grendel’s blood having ended at the shore of a deep lake, the party made camp as Beowulf readied himself. But as he prepared to dive into the depths, Unferth the cowardly thegn approached.
“What do you want?”
The Thegn suddenly fell to his knees, producing a sword and offering it to Beowulf.
“T-this is Hrunting.” He cried. “My family’s ancestral blade! Not once has it failed its wielder in battle, and so I now offer it to you, O mighty Beowulf! Your deeds have humbled me, and I regret now my envy and folly. Please—use it, better than I ever would have, to put an end to this once and for all!”
Taking the blade from Unferth’s hands. Beowulf expression softened, inspecting Hrunting—a fine blade indeed—silently. He then nodded, sheathing the blade into his belt and wading into the surf.
“BEOWULF!” Unferth shouted, tears welling in his eyes watching the hero disappear beneath the surface.
“You are a man that only comes once in a lifetime! The Warrior of a Century—NAY! A MILLENIUM! A GOD amongst men!!! I place my faith in you, knowing—THAT YOU WILL NEVER LOSEEEEEE!”
…
It was said that the lake which the Sea Witch called home was so deep, it took an entire day to reach the bottom.
Beowulf’s second great battle raged for hours with no witnesses. The Danes and Geats on the shore, waiting so long, found that their faith was beginning to wane.
Eventually, the Danes conceded, leaving Beowulf for dead with only his loyal vassals remaining, the cold winds battering against their tired bodies.
…
“Tch, can you believe those Danes?” A Geat muttered, warming his hands by the dying fire. “Just up and abandon Beo like that?”
“Bah. Don’t be too harsh on ‘em…” His companion muttered. “But I’ll say. If any of YOU guys dare do the same… I’ll cut you down right where you stand!”
“HEAR! HEAR!” The rest of them cried.
At that moment, a Geat lifted his hand, pointing excitedly towards the surf—At last, Beowulf had resurfaced, his body splattered with blood.
In his hands was clutched a giant sword hilt and a head—Grendel’s. He lifted both in the air.
“Hondscio!” He howled as his men bathed once again in his triumph. “You are AVENGED!”
The Danes and Geats had sought a man, nay, a legend. And fate had birthed a champion to step up to the challenge. God amongst men, a glimmering ray of hope for the hopeless, and a monster more terrifying than the monsters…
…
Present Day: Valhalla Arena
Just as Beowulf steadied himself, a loud crash echoed through the air followed by a familiar bellow as The Behemoth rose from the massive crater that formed from its collision. At the same time, The Leviathan’s shriek was heard as the serpent’s head exploded out from under the rubble.
Beowulf chuckled, dropping into his stance. “These guys just don’t know when to quit!”
The two monsters panted, ragged breaths with bruises and cuts all over their massive bodies. Their eyes flickered to the side, turning towards Beowulf balefully.
“Oh good, you two had me almost worried there for a second.” Yahweh said, suddenly appearing in between his two monsters. The God grimaced, pointing towards Beowulf with a finger.
“Now hurry up and get back in there!”
A rumble came from The Behemoth’s throat, the great beast pawed the ground, eyeing Beowulf as it as its maw began to open and—
“HROOOOOOOOAARGH!” It whipped around and bellowed right at The Leviathan’s face!
“W-what’s this?!” Heimdall yelped. “It seems that Yahweh’s creations are—are turning on each other?!”
“SsssssssKAAAAAAH!”
The Leviathan let out a startle trill, unhinging its jaw and letting out a piercing shriek as its fins shivered dangerously. Yahweh spat furiously, bending his spine as the serpent’s tail swept over his head.
“Dammit! This nonsense ALREADY? I’m still giving orders here—!” He started, before leaping aside as even more debris was unearthed from the already hole-riddled ground as The Behemoth blustered forward.
The Leviathan lunged forward, striking with its fangs and making The Behemoth howl in fury as it retaliated with a gouge that missed the serpent’s coils as it let out a taunting hiss.
“Whoa, whoa!” Beowulf laughed. “What’s this? GYAHAHAHA! You lost control of your beasties, god?”
Yahweh landed, wobbling slightly as his foot slipped against the uneven surface.
“PISS OFF!”
‘I think your throw made them go crazy or something, Beo!’ Goll cheered.
“GYAHA—Maybe! You're thinking what I’m thinking, partner?” Beowulf said, pushing one foot against the ground. He drew his sword back as a wave of strength spilled from his frame. The ground groaned beneath his feet, cracks spiderwebbing outward as the atmosphere seemed to cave inwards.
‘YEAH!’ Goll answered back. For a brief moment an image of the young valkyrie appeared by Beowulf’’s side, her face confident and devoid of trepidation.
“We strike whilst the iron’s hot!!!”
…
Humanity’s VIP Booth
Brunhilde could not believe what she was seeing:
The man with the visage of a God of Destruction, and The Chooser of the Slain besides him. Both not the slightest bit afraid of the rampaging beasts that towered above them like the shadows of mountains—
“Ahahaha—I just can’t believe it.” The Eldest Valkyrie laughed, feeling her own legs start to shake
“It’s not a look I see her wear often… But there’s no mistaking it. That really is the frightened little crybaby I know and love! That’s—Goll!”
…
Spectator Stands
Meanwhile, focused on his own kin, Wiglaf couldn’t help but feel a smile creep across his face.
Yeah… it’s just human nature to gravitate to that which we believe in—
For the young, the old.
“YOU SHOW THEM ALL, MY BOY!”
Hygelac, King of the Geats, was not acting very kingly as he swung his staff—and clubbed Breca’s head on accident—cheering wildly for his nephew on the bleachers.
The desperate, and the weak.
Besides the King of Geatland, were a familiar group of Danes led by two equally familiar faces.
“BWAHAHA! Just seeing that boy again… all my troubles seem to melt away!” Hrogthar cackled. The King of Danes was in the pink of health, jolly and fat as opposed to the days when Grendel still stalked Heroet
“To at last witness the warrior who bested both Grendel and his mother fight with my own eyes…” Unferth sobbed, clutching Hrunting as his eyes watered with emotion.
“I CAN DIE HAPPY NOW—WUHUHUHUHU!!!”
We can’t help but believe—for better or worse… And no matter what you may have hoped for, that person has just always been you: Someone who’d have everybody pouring their faith and hope into. Someone who could carry that torch and lead them out of the darkness! Someone you’d follow to the ends of the earth! That’s just the essence of who you are. That is the essence of…
Exploding forward, the Monster Slayer and Valkyrie brought Eotenbana crashing down with a unified roar. Blazing aura erupted from the blade, spiraling like fire as it coalesced into a serpentine drake.
The Behemoth and Leviathan turned, eyes widening in realization—but it was too late. Pinned in place by the sheer pressure of the attack, they could only watch as the construct tore free from the sword and surged across the battlefield. A heartbeat later, it slammed into them, engulfing both titans in a brilliant explosion!
Wiglaf inhaled, taking a deep breath before letting out his own mighty battlecry.
“BEOWULF!!!!!!!”
“INCREDIBLE! Yahweh lives up to his status as a creator, summoning not one, but TWO gigantic monsters to do his bidding! Humanity’s champion is in a rather constricting situation now!”
Trapped within The Leviathan's coils, Beowulf strained furiously, any sound he made was muffled by the scaly hide of the monster’s tail.
Atop The Behemoth’s head, Yahweh rested his head on his fist.
“Geez finally some peace and quiet around here. Levy shut you up real fast.”
The Monster Slayer grunted, freeing an arm and reaching for his blade that had been knocked out of his grasp when The Leviathan grabbed him. However, the serpent coils tightened around his body, dragging him away from Eotenbana and slamming him down into the dirt.
“Cute.” Yahweh chuckled. “But Levy ain’t gonna let that fly.”
“Hruff!”
The One True God glanced down at his mount with an annoyed look.
“Oh shut it, Behey. You had your chance.”
With a seemingly triumphant sneer at the disgruntled Behemoth, The Leviathan lifted Beowulf upside down till he was face-to-face with Yahweh.
“I wonder…” The God muttered, pushing Beowulf’s head with a finger. “What inspires such… bravado in you?”
The Monster Slayer could only glare as Yahweh grabbed him by the scalp, turning his head from side to side, as though he were inspecting some kind of oddity.
“The faith your allies have poured into you? That is your power? How cliche, and… mistaken. You think you know of faith? You think you know its true weight and burden? How laughably… human. There is a saying where I come from: Gods Inspire. Humans Desire. It means your ilk—you are predisposed to long for something more, and it is the duty of us gods to answer. To mold that faith into something more—Yet as far as I can see, all you… ANIMALS do is take and take, bringing nothing but RUIN upon everything! So tell me… HUMAN!”
An ominous aura exploded atop The Behemoth’s skull, causing the audience, and even the two massive beasts to shudder.
In her booth, Brunhilde shielded herself with her arm, a bead of sweat rolled down her cheek as Yahweh let out an unearthly shriek
Such vitriol… it’s so strong it’s almost UNNATURAL!
“If your kind’s faith in me was all for naught, then what chance does yours have?! Do you think you’re somehow better than me? Do you fancy yourself some kind of GOD? YOU PIECE OF SHIT???!!!”
…
“SnOOORE—”
“Eh?” Brunhilde muttered, peering through a crack in his arms.
Still wrapped in The Leviathan’s coils, Beowulf’s hair had come undone and was now covering his face. A confused Yahweh reached out, pushing locks out of the way.
“SnOOOOOOOOOORE—!”
Beowulf, Humanity’s Greatest Monster Slayer, had conked out.
“NO WAY!!!” The entire audience facepalmed. “He—HE FELL ASLEEEEEEEP?!”
In the God’s VIP booth, Ares had collapsed in his chair, whilst Zeus belted out peals of laughter.
“BWAHAHAHAHA! I quite like that whippersnapper! Never thought I’d see the day that brat get all riled up like this.”
Said brat growled. A snot bubble had developed from one of Beowulf’s nostrils and was in a constant state of comically inflating and deflating. Yahweh gritted his teeth, popping the bubble with a start.
“Hey… I’M TALKING TO YOU!”
“SnOOO—Snrk! Wuh? Whazzat?!” Beowulf’s eyes burst open, his voice now somewhat audible.
“Guh… Oh crap, did I fall asleep or something?” Beowulf asked groggily. “Mah bad, I swear I was listening during the first part. But when you got into the whole ‘woe is me’ nonsense, I got kinda bored and dozed off—GYAHAHAHA!”
Yahweh sneered, “Oh haha. Laugh it up, big guy.” He turned, snapping his fingers.
“Because now you die.”
With a low trill, The Leviathan’s coils closed in, tightening against Beowulf’s body, sealing his mouth shut again. The serpent began to squeeze and constrict itself further around him, causing the hero’s bones to shift and crack as his arms were pushed up against his sides.
CRUSHING ABYSS!
Beowulf struggled, his eyes seeming to roll back into his skull.
The Leviathan’s trill echoed into a triumphant shriek as it unwound its coils before wrapping around again in a final crushing hug just as Beowulf’s eyes burst opened and—
‘RIIIIIIIIIP!’
The serpent’s shriek transformed into a cry of agony! Its coils unfurled so fast it looked as though it had been stung.
Dropping to the ground, Beowulf’s body was covered in splatterings of blood as his fellow man cheered for his freedom.
“What happened, Levy?!” Yahweh yelled, watching his creation recoil. The Leviathan’s body rippled, before stiffening as though that had caused it pain. Beside it The Behemoth let out a snort that sounded suspiciously like laughter, earning a sharp trill from its partner.
That little shit! Yahweh thought, facing Beowulf.
…
‘Beo! Are you alright? Oh no… You’re bleeding!’
“Itsh sho k, Goll.” Beowulf rumbled, his voice slurred like he had something in his mouth.
“Nyot… mah blud.”
In the Monster Slayer’s mouth was a piece of bloodied flesh. Following the trail of crimson splattered across the ground led to The Leviathan’s tail, which had a chunk taken out of it!
The Sin of Envy hadn’t been stung—it had been bitten!
“Ptoo—! Bleh… a bit too shrimpy for my taste, GYAHAHAHA!”
Beowulf’s eyes scanned the arena, lighting up as he spotted Eotenbana. In turn, Yahweh grimaced.
“BEHEY! LEVY! Don’t let him get that sword!”
Exchanging an almost competitive glance, the two creations surged forward.
“Oh? Tripping over yourselves to impress daddy? That’s cute!”
With a burst of power, the Monster Slayer leapt high into the air, hovering above the beasts as they let out mighty battlecrys.
The Behemoth dug its tusk into, and ripped up the earth, sending chunks of debris flying. Meanwhile, The Leviathan’s frills bloomed like a cobra’s hood as its long neck rose, readying to swallow him whole.
Beowulf laughed.
“GOLL! Are you ready?”
‘Mhm! Let’s DO this!’
The hero inhaled, taking a deep breath as he drew his arm back, fingers straightening and pressing together till the edge of his hands aligned. With a loud roar he snapped it forward—
“COMET CHOOOOOOOP!!!”
A shockwave blasted down from the action, splitting every piece of the incoming debris clean in half, sending pieces crumbling down on top of the Leviathan.
Hissing as pebbles rained into its eyes, The Leviathan began to spam uncontrollably, trying to blink the debris out from its sight. And when it finally opened its eyes…
“GYAHAHAHA! Oi fish-face! Heads—UPPPPPPPP! COMET… STRIKE!!!!”
Beowulf’s elbow was already inches from its face!
…
Hlokk’s Waiting Rooms
Seated on their couch as usual, the duo of Hlokk and her Einherjar, Jack The Ripper were spectating the current round over a cup of tea.
“I must say that I was certainly concerned when God himself showed up to fight.” Jack commented as a tremendous boom echoed through the TV screen in front of them.
Beowulf’s elbow had just connected with The Leviathan’s head, sending it crashing head-first into the earth!
Its writhing coils soon followed, collapsing like cut pieces of rope that had lost their tension, and falling into a pile.
“To think one man is capable of matching him with such ease. Certainly a product of young Miss Goll’s power?”
There was a pause, prompting him to look over at his partner expectantly. Hlokk’s energetic personality was surprisingly absent.
“Oh? Do you disagree? You are not usually this reserved with praise for your sisters, my dear~”
“Oh shut it, you!” Hlokk snapped. “I mean—don’t take this the wrong way! Goll IS the youngest amongst us… So it's only natural her powers are…”
“Weaker?”
“Hey, I didn’t say that! Goll’s powers are just… straightforward, that’s all. The louder her spirit and voice grows, the greater her strength! But with just how—well, ‘Goll’ she is—I never thought it would be this strong considering she’d always collapse when training under Hilde!”
“I see…” Jack mused.
He pulled out a teapot and a small cup, placing the latter on the table as he began filling it with tea.
“Indulge me in a bit of speculation, my dear. Say this kettle represents Miss Goll’s power. With her youthful inexperience, the amount she is able to draw out by herself is insufficient to say the least before her body—“
He stopped pouring, gesturing to the cup that had already been filled to the brim.
“Is simply unable to handle it anymore. However say this bucket I add to the equation was Beowulf—“
Jack then produced a large bucket, ten times bigger than the cup, and positioning the kettle above its mouth.
“HEY! Don’t waste good tea!”
“Apologies.” He chuckled. “But I believe you see my point?”
“Y-yeah…” Hlokk muttered. “Beowulf’s the bottomless bucket that can share and handle all the strength from her power that Goll by herself couldn’t!”
Jack nodded.
“A simple combination at first glance—pairing her inexperience with a boisterous veteran. But it works frighteningly well as we see.”
…
Valhalla Arena
Crashing back onto the ground, Beowulf had barely lifted himself off his knee before a shadow fell over him and he heard a familiar bellow.
Launching its foot down, The Behemoth unleashed another ‘Megatton Stomper’, sending a jolt down his spine as he barely caught the attack with his hands.
“This again? Alright big fella, if you insist! But if you’re gonna sneak up on me this time—“
With a yell, the Monster Slayer twisted his arm, forcing The Behemoth’s entire leg to turn as well. Bellowing in rage, the beast found itself thrown off balance and crashing down against the floor whilst Yahweh quickly leapt off its head.
“COMET DROP!”
‘Beo!’ Goll called out. ‘On you right!’
KEEL AMBUSH
Whipping around, Beowulf leapt just in time for The Leviathan’s fangs to barely miss him as its strike went wide, colliding against the earth.
“Good catch, Goll! You’re improving fast for a rookie!”
‘D-don’t mention it. But we gotta find a way to get Eotenbana back somehow!’
Beowulf grinned, cracking his knuckles. If looks could kill, he would have been dead a hundred times over from the glares both monsters were giving him as they rose from the ground.
“Leave that to me!”
In an explosion of dust, the hero surged forward. His ascent met with the unearthly shrieks of the great beast as they charged to meet him in turn.
First was The Behemoth. Clenching his fist and leaping into the air, Beowulf delivered a powerful strike meeting its swiveling horns head on! The impact sent both man and monster backwards. However, The Behemoth was quick to recover, digging its tusk into the ground and launching uprooted projectiles with a swing of its head again.
PRIMORDIAL DEBRIS
Shifting his leg, Beowulf responded with a series rapid-fire jabs one after another. Tearing through the rocks like paper, as The Behemoth continued its barrage. Soon enough, a massive crater formed at the monster’s feet, only growing larger as Beowulf’s arm met each attack without fail—steam pouring from his muscles.
“GYAHAHAHA! Keeping your distance now, are ya? What’s the matter, beastie, you scared?”
At that moment, The Behemoth sent another wave of rocks flying. However as Beowulf wound his arm back preparing to break these too, a luminescent streak darted between the corner of his eyes, moving swiftly between incoming projectiles and using them as cover.
What was that? Wait… Beowulf looked around, a certain something was missing from the battlefield! I see, so that’s how you two wanna play? Sneaky Bastards!
…
Landing on the ground, Yahweh brushed himself off as he turned to look at the battle raging behind him.
Tch…? That’s a first. Never seen Behey and Levi—
Like clockwork Beowulf tore through those rocks with ease. However, as one burst apart in a shower of pebbles, a familiar set of fangs and frills seemed to explode into existence, and The Leviathan’s gaping maw bore down on the Monster Slayer.
—working like this together!
…
“WHOA!” Beowulf cried out, shifting back as the serpent’s fangs slammed shut just inches from his face. The Leviathan trilled, as its body coiled back to The Behemoth’s side.
Exchanged a sinister glint, The Behemoth’s tusk dipped back down and lifted a huge chunk out of the ground, smashing it into pieces before hurling them at Beowulf! Simultaneously, The Leviathan shot forward, its serpentine body shifting between and behind numerous projectiles so fast it soon became lost in the field of debris!
PRIMORDIAL DEBRIS + KEEL AMBUSH
“Tch…” Beowulf cocked his fists, jabbing and smashing rocks as they came near. “Looks like we’re in a tight spot here, Goll—WHOA!”
The Leviathan struck, sweeping around a boulder to strike! Beowulf barely dodged, returning with a swift chop. But the serpent had already slithered away as another projectile soared past his ear, refocusing Beowulf’s attention on the new wave of debris sent his way by The Behemoth.
This dangerous game continued: Beowulf breaking more chunks that came in never-ending waves, forcing him into a state of hyper-focus as his joints moved surgically to counter each and every single one without leaving so much as a scratch!
However, this left him vulnerable. As without warning, The Leviathan would emerge from nowhere and deliver a deadly blow! Leaving only a tiny window in between beats for the Monster Slayer to react and dodge.
Though Beowulf was moving along just fine, with each passing second it became clear to all—that this razor thin margin would only grow narrower!
‘Arggggh! This isn’t good!’ Goll cried. ‘Since when could such a big snake be so sneaky!’
Beowulf didn’t answer, preoccupied with parrying. A sudden lunge from the left caught him off guard, and the Leviathan’s fang grazed his left wrist, drawing blood as the creature sneered and dove back into its cover.
‘... Heheh—I know that look! Y-you’ve got one of your trademarks plans, don’t you Beo?’
“GYAHAHAHA! You’ve read my mind, partner! Gotta warn ya though, it’s gonna be risky!”
‘Guh—R-risky? Pfft–! Remember what you said, Beo? We can do ANYTHING together!’
“... You know I can tell you’re still scared out of your wits, right?”
‘S-sorry… I didn’t want to—’
Just teasing, partner! I don’t care how scared you are right now. Because what you just said—”
Beowulf raised his fist just as The Behemoth launched another barrage. His body buzzed with preparation as he watched The Leviathan slither and disappear once again into the crowd.
“IS. DAMN. FUCKING. RIGHT!”
…
Archangel’s Viewing Booth
“Odd.” Michael mused, watching the exchange below.
“What’s wrong, brother?” Raphael asked.
“I’ve seen both The Behemoth and The Leviathan working in tandem many times.” The Archistraegos explained. “But in all my years of combat, I have never known Lord Yahweh’s creations to fight so… reservedly.”
At that moment, two new angels entered the booth. Both sporting the same prismatic wings as Michael, and Raphael. The one on the right was skinny, dressed in yellow, with short spiky hair. Whilst the one on the left was considerably wizened than the rest, sporting a snowy white beard. There was a long scar running down his left eye, and he wore starry blue robes whilst resting a gloved hand on the scabbard by his hip.
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Archangel Gabriel
(Abrahamic Pantheon)
The Angelic Herald
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Lord Metatron
(Abrahamic Pantheon)
The Celestial Scribe
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Brother Gabriel! And… Lord Metatron?!” Raphael greeted the duo. “What brings you here?”
“I was making my way down here myself when I ran into Lord Metatron.” Gabriel explained, caressing a golden horn in his hand not too different from Heimdall’s whom he regarded with a spiteful glare.
“Tch! So Zeus did get that Norse hack to act as commentator after all? That geezer has no sense of decorum…”
On the other hand, Metatron made his way to the edge of the balcony, scanning the arena as his eyes landed on Yahweh.
“Lord Metatron… It’s been a while.”
The angel silenced Michael with a flick of his palm. Stroking his beard as he mused deeply.
“Excellent observation, Michael…” His voice was soft yet reverberating. “Yes… it would have been expected for both beasts of old to sense that human’s growing exhaustion and go in for the decisive kill. Yet, they still cling to this strategy of chipping away at his strength? There can only be one explanation for such behaviour… FEAR.”
“?!” The younger angels tensed at that word.
“FEAR?” Michael spluttered. “The Primordial Beasts of Land and Sea are… afraid?”
Metatron’s eyes focused on Yahweh again, spotting him grimace.
“Yes… I’m sure that boy knows it too. To the rest of the arena, there are but only two monsters on the battlefield. But as far as The Behemoth and The Leviathan themselves are concerned—”
…
Valhalla Arena
Watching Beowulf destroying projectiles, The Leviathan laid in wait, instinctively targeting the hero’s bloodied left. Watching… waiting just for Beowulf's body to relax slightly after delivering a punch. It didn’t have to be a decisive blow… just enough to continue bleeding him like a pig!
The Leviathan lunged forward, unhinging its maw to deliver a quick cut.
‘Ba-dum. BA-DUM! BA-DUM!’
“Dammit not again!” Yahweh cursed, clutching his chest. “Urgggggh—Forget that! Don’t tell me… he’s seriously going to—?!”
The moment the Leviathan had sprung, Beowulf’s eyes and its own locked together. The Hero’s body twisted sharply, his left arm veering into the path of its jaw. Unable to stop itself, the serpent’s fangs sunk into his flesh, lodging deep within as it instinctively bit down!
“OH NO! Beowulf has just taken a devastating strike from The Sin of Envy! What could Mankind’s champion possibly do now?!”
“... Oi, god.”
Hearing Beowulf’s voice call out to him all the way across the arena, Yahweh felt his hair stand on end as he shifted unconsciously.
‘BA-DUM! BA-DUM! BA-DUM!’ A-am I afraid? Of this human?! No… no, that isn’t it—that isn’t it at all! This was… this was the same thing when I watched every single one of those rounds—!
Beowulf took a step back and grinned.
“Caught. You~”
I… I HATE FEELING THIS WAY!!!
…
Before the Leviathan could react, Beowulf swung his arm into the air! What a sight it was, to see the entire length of this massive serpent forced along, hanging midair as the hero began to spin it round and round like a whirlwind.
“COME ON. COME ON! Why do you now cower, oh god of the south? Did you not ask me what I was?” Beowulf called out as the centrifugal force from his spin began to draw in the air around him.
“Burn it in thine heart, for well you know my name! I am Ripper... Tearer... Slasher... Gouger. I am the Teeth in the Darkness, the Talons in the Night. Mine is Strength... and Lust... and Power! I AM BEOWULF!!!!”
…
‘BA-DUM! BA-DUM! BA-DUM!’
“Damn you, human—! Sorry Behey, you’re on your own!” Yahweh said before suddenly leaping away and leaving The Behemoth behind.
I’m not falling for the same trick twice!
…
“COMET SPIN!!!”
With all his might, Beowulf dislodged the shrieking Leviathan with momentum alone, sending the massive serpent flying across the air towards The Behemoth as the great beast let out a bellow of surprise! Its ally had been turned against it, the heavy air denying either of them any chance of escape!
The Beast of the Land, and The Serpent of the Seas. Their eyes locked onto each other for a picosecond, their savage minds in that instance shared but a single thought before they collided in a mighty ‘BOOOOOOM!’ that shook the entire arena to its foundations.
‘On that barren landscape of vitriol and ruin. There is only ONE monster amongst them all!’
Just gonna say it. Forseti hate feels forced even as a joke. Like I swear atp people are doing it to fit in because it's the cool thing to do, rather than because they actually dislike him for any valid reason.
I'm not even a fan of this mf, but I roll my eyes whenever I see post #4206967 dogging on him for just breathing or doing shit every other RoR spectator does:
"Get worried for their fighter when they're in a pinch"
"Glazes them as the strongest when they are winning"
Also, the last time the leakers told us that Forseti is appearing in a flashback, everyone was fuming because they made it sound like a full-on backstory with him as the focus, when in reality it was only like a few fucking panels as a side-character to an Odin flashback.
The entire arena was in an uproar. Gods were groaning, yelling in disbelief, and some humans shared in that shock.
“INCREDIBLE!” Heimdall howled. “D-despite Yahweh’s incredible skills of contortion and evasion… Beowulf’s gigantic greatsword has absolutely decimated the One True God in one strike, and blown him COMPLETELY away! Is the fight already over?!”
“No…” Raphael gasped, cupping his mouth. “That… can’t be right! Lord Yahweh… defeated so easily?!”
Next to him, Michael gripped his shoulders tightly as tics began to twitch across his forehead.
I knew it… You’ve let yourself go, you idiot. It was only a matter of time…
“DAMMIT!”
…
God’s VIP viewing booth
From his seat, Ares felt his jaw drop as he beheld Beowulf’s powerful pose.
“What is that human made of? An attack like that… should not be possible! He blew Yahweh right out of the arena itself!”
Hermes stroked his chin thoughtfully.
“That human… he got the gist of Yahweh’s abilities so quickly. I expected him to capitalize on the flaws in the techniques, but I certainly didn’t expect him to just… completely negate anything and everything with such a bombastic attack."
Zeus chuckled darkly.
“Hoho! You have to respect the simplicity in such a response though. What’s the use in fancy movements if anywhere you go, you’d STILL just be blasted away!”
Ares grimaced. “How can you be so calm, father? We just… LOST! And badly too!”
The War God’s words only made his fellow Olympians snicker.
“Oh I don’t know about that, my son.” Zeus said as his gaze panned to the smoking earth where Yahweh had just been standing—Just been? Nay… slowly Ares and the rest of the arena too came to realize that The One True God…
WAS. STILL. THERE.
“I think you’ll be surprised by just how far the limits of that brat can go.”
…
‘Ba-dum, Ba-dum, Ba-dum.’
‘Beo—!’ Goll’s voice called out urgently.
“Don’t worry, Goll.” He chuckled. “I know… Hey, god! You gonna keep the audience in suspense or what?”
For a moment there was no response…
“Haiz… and here I thought I could get the jump on you too.”
“EHHHHHHH?!”
The audience sprang to their feet, rushing to see what had happened.
Sprawled on the ground at Beowulf’s feet was Yahweh, and at first, it might have seemed that he had simply just fallen to the ground? But then, they all saw, leaving them speechless, his ankles—
They were bent, at a full 90 degrees angle.
Even Heimdall couldn’t muster words for his commentary. Simply staring, with Gjallarhorn shaking in his grip.
I-I think I’m gonna be sick! J-joints… joints aren’t supposed to bend that way!!!
Unperturbed by their shock, Yahweh’s chest was rising and falling rapidly, a small grin slowly began to spread across his face.
““Gah—! My feet feel like jelly now.” He sighed, as his ankle joints slowly began to rotate upwards like a lever.
‘Ba-dum, Ba-dum, Ba-dum.’
“… Heh…”
‘Ba-dum! Ba-dum! Ba-DUM! BA-DUM! BA-DUM! BA-DUM!’
“Heh… Aha—Hahaha… HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! WHOO! I didn’t… I didn’t think I could even pull off something like that! What a rush!”
Yahweh hopped from one foot to the other, swiveling his joints freely as he planted them against the ground. For a moment he seemed happy? But his face quickly fell as he seemed to regain his wits, taking a deep breath and exhaling.
‘Ba-dum, Ba-dum…’
“Hoo… Got carried away there.” He muttered, turning to Beowulf with a mirth-less smile. “Guess I was wrong, you reaaaal impressive swinging that sword around, like a maniac, aren’t you? Is that how you feel like a man?”
Beowulf sneered in return. “GYAHAHA! Don’t get it twisted!”
All of a sudden, he swung his sword carelessly over his shoulder, sending a massive shockwave barreling straight towards the audience!
“Wait, Beowulf is attacking us? Did he go crazy?!”
Many humans cowered in their seats. However, a certain few sat still without a trace of worry.
“This guy…” Wiglaf sighed as the Geats watched the shockwave begin to dissipate the closer it got. Till no more than a gentle breeze blew through their hair.
Beowulf then flicked his wrist casually, and the flat of Eotenbana’s blade appeared inches away from Yahweh’s cheek.
Though he did not flinch, The One True God could not stop his lips from twitching upwards, as his hands trembled in excitement.
Fuck me… I don’t know what it is about this human. Ha—HAHAHA! What the hell… is wrong with me?!
‘Ba-dum, BA-DUM! BA-DUM!…’
“This sword here… is a sign of trust from a warrior with a mighty spirit. I would never dream of using it so casually! So listen up well! You can bend and twist all you like, god! But with the faith that she and everyone else has for me—I CAN DO ANYTHING! Even if it is OVERCOMING GOD HIMSELF!”
‘BA-dummmm…’
Suddenly, Yahweh’s smile disappeared instantly, and his face became shrouded in a sinister darkness as he closed his eyes. His hands curled tight, and beginning to shake.
“That so? Haiz. Now why did you have to go and say that, human?”
Ghk?!
Beowulf tensed, drawing his weapon back into a more defensive pose.
“Goll…”
‘I felt it too! Like… something really dangerous is about to happen!’
At that moment, the pair noticed something clutched in Yahweh’s right fist. A clump of earth, ripped from the floor beneath them when the God was against the floor.
“Oh boy…” Michael sighed. “Here it comes.”
The golden markings that lined Yahweh’s arms began to pulse and glow as he slowly rotated his fist.
“It’s a real shame too.” He sighed. “I gotta remind myself to stop getting worked up over nothing.”
‘CRACK!’
He shattered the rubble in his hands, and the texture and color of his forearm seemed to shift, resembling that of the ground as his thumb, index, and middle finger came together whilst his baleful eyes opened with a start.
“Ok. I don’t want to play with you anymore…”
‘Snap!'
The ground beneath them rumbled, as streaks of light erupted from Yahweh’s fingertips, flying into the air. They skimmed the surface of the arena floor, whipping up Beowulf’s hair, and carrying away chunks of earth with them. Gathering in the empty space behind Yahweh, and coagulating in a swirling mass of creation.
“I don’t like where this is going!” Wiglaf grimaced, covering his face.
Beside him, Breca was blowing stray hair out of his face. “Hey… what on earth is that?”
“NEW GENESIS…”
The Book of Job 40:15-24: ‘Look at Behemoth, which I made along with you and which feeds on grass like an ox. What strength it has in its loins, what power in the muscles of its belly!’
The mass was now taking shape. Layers of earth began folding over one another like muscle and hide. Forming a muscular torso, humped like a bull, suspended in the storm.
‘Its tail sways like a cedar; the sinews of its thighs are close-knit. Its bones are tubes of bronze, its limbs like rods of iron.’
Four pillars dropped from its corners, thickening into colossal elephantine legs that struck the ground with tremendous weight. Another column rose from its front, condensing into a thick neck and head, its eyes piercing through the wind as it towered over Beowulf.
‘It ranks first among the works of God, yet its Maker can approach it with his sword.’
With its colossal form complete, the creature’s body shifted. Concrete and earth turned into a thick, leathery hide as it lowered its massive head—an amalgamation of hippo, elephant, bull, and countless terrestrial megafauna—allowing Yahweh to vault onto its back. Rising to its full height, it released a deafening bellow that rattled the arena to its very foundations.
“Crush him… BEHEMOTH.”
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The Behemoth
(New Genesis)
The Great Beast
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The One True God took a seat on his creation’s forehead, looking down with an apathetic expression.
“Don’t mind me, just taking a break. You got any complaints, take it up with this fellow right here.” He said, gesturing down at The Behemoth as it pawed the ground aggressively.
I-impartial be damned! Heimdall gulped, feeling his knees shiver. “Y-yahweh… has summoned a massive JUGGERNAUT! W-what god could ever hope to stand up to such a thing, let alone ONE man?!”
‘Ulp! I-I’m scared out of my wits too!’ Goll muttered. ‘B-BUT! It’s no problem for the two of us as long as we have each other’s backs. R-right, Beowulf?”
“GYAHAHAHA! SPOT ON, PARTNER!” Beowulf rumbled, hoisting Eotenbana in front of him in a battle-ready stance.
“Oi, god! Didn’t ya hear the announcer at the start? Facing down big old pug-uglies like the one you’ve just subbed-in… IS MY SPECIALITY!"
Letting out a bellow, The Behemoth answered with powerful trods, lowering its head and digging its tusk into the ground like a plow as it stampeded forward. Simultaneously, Beowulf raised his sword and thrusted, cutting through the air he met The Behemoth’s tusk with an ear-splitting ‘CLANG!’.
Ivory and metal skidded against each other, sending sparks flying into the air so large that they looked like fireworks. Hero and Beast found their blades and gaze locked in combat as they battled for supremacy, and to Yahweh and everyone else’s shock, Beowulf was easily holding its own against a creature hundreds of times his size and weight!
“Ho? What’s wrong, big boy? Ain’t used to ants not being crushed? Well then you should also know what happens when we ants are pushed–!”
He grabbed Eotebana’s handle with both hands, every vein and muscle on Beowulf’s arms seemed to pulse as his waist began to twist—pushing against The Behemoth’s tusk with his sword till cracks began to form across the ivory.
“WE PUSH BACK A HUNDRED TIMES HARDER! EOTENBANA: SHATTERING SWINGER!”
With a trumpet of alarm, The Behemoth’s entire head was forced upwards as Beowulf overpowered it. The beast stumbled slightly, shaking in confusion as Yahweh struggled to keep his balance atop its head.
Tch! He actually managed to size up to Behey?
Eyes exploding open with rage, The Behemoth shifted, swiveled wildly as it rose on its hind legs, stretched one enormous front foot out, and let out a great cry as it brought it crashing back down to earth upon Beowulf’s head!
MEGATTON CRUSHER!
‘Beowulf!’
“ON IT!”
The Monster Slayer stuck his sword into the ground and lifted both his arms above his head, catching the incoming strike!.
“Idiot, you couldn’t possibly—!” Yahweh growled, before his eyes widened.
“GYAHAHAHA! NOT BAD!” Beowulf rumbled, his arms standing strong even under all that weight, simply refusing to allow it to move any further down! “But us Geats—do our work best under pressure!”
“Tch! Bothersome! Alright, then we’ll just keep going till you can’t—!”
GIGATTON CRUSHER!
A loud groan erupted as The Behemoth pressed down and exerted even more pressure.
‘This isn’t good! You can’t keep taking this! What should we do now?’
Beowulf huffed, his eyes darting as his mind formulated a plan.
“Don’t worry, I got one.” He rumbled. “But it’s reaaal risky, and I gotta need you to trust me on this!”
‘Mhm! I-I’m not gonna get scared! I believe you!’
“GYAHAHAHA! That’s what I like to hear! Now—“
Against all logic, Beowulf removed his right hand from the support, instantly falling to a knee as his remaining arm trembled.
Ares leapt from his seat. “Don’t tell me that he’s actually going to—?!”
Clenching his right fist into a ball, Beowulf inhaled, and force began to gather around his fist like before into a singular point. With great effort he rose, letting loose a thunderous battlecry as he swung his arm upwards, and connected with the thick keratin of The Behemoth’s sole.
COMET UPPERCUT!
The Behemoth howled, pressing down even more. However, the Monster Slayer stood firm, straining every muscle in his body to follow through with the blow, breaking through layer after layer of skin.
“You seriously think you can punch your way out of this one?” Yahweh yelled.
“Big words from the one who can’t even fight his own battles!” Beowulf roared back. “Didn’t you hear?… As long as people believe… I… CAN SURPASS ANYTHING! ARGGGGGGGGH!”
“You piece of shit—!”
At last, with a shared howl of pain, Beowulf’s knuckles broke through the last layer of spongy skin, piercing into the flesh beneath, and striking a giant blood vessel.
The Behemoth reared back, bellowing angrily as it stomped its injured foot against the floor in a frenzy. Now freed, Beowulf fell to his knees in exhaustion, grimacing as he flexed his own bloodied knuckles.
‘Beo! You alright?’
“Yeah!” He answered, pulling Eotenbana free and getting back up. “Just a flesh wound, I wouldn’t have been able to pull that off without your help, HAHA!”
If the valkyrie face was visible, she most certainly would have been blushing.
“T-thanks! But really it was—BEHIND YOU!’
Whipping around, Beowulf was met with The Behemoth swinging its horns towards him. The Monster Slayer raised his sword, trying to catch the beast with the blade’s flat, only to be knocked off-balance.
“This idiot’s pissing you off too, huh?” Yahweh called. “Well then, Behey—Whaddya waiting for? Bash his brains out!”
Hearing its creator’s commands, The Behemoth’s eyes narrowed as it reared back, its massive head rising high above the battlefield as the muscles on its neck stretched. For a heartbeat, the hulking skull hung suspended like a mountain poised to fall—before cascading down in a crushing headbutt!
PRIMORDIAL LANDSLIDE!
Beholding this incoming attack, Beowulf wasted no time—He leaned back, drawing in a deep breath as his shoulders rolled. For a brief moment, he held that coiled posture, chin raised and neck taut—
Brunhilde slammed her hands on the railing in a mixture of disbelief and rage.
“NO! That idiot better not be doing what I THINK he’s about to do!”
“GOLL!” Beowulf roared, every muscle in his frame tensing in anticipation
‘I-I’m ready for it! Just do what you have to do! RAAAAAAAAAH!’
“GYAHAHAHA! Don’t worry, I know you are! OUUUUUUUUUUUUUUH!”
He exploded forward, driving off his feet and snapping his own head ahead like a striking ram, heading straight for The Behemoth’s cranium in an inevitable clash!
COMET BASH!
Head, and gigantic head clashed. The force produced was so great it slammed into the ground with catastrophic power, sending stone and earth erupting outward in a violent shockwave as the impact split the arena beneath it.
Wind sweeping across his face, Yahweh grimaced as he could barely make out Beowulf’s silhouette as streaks of light danced across his eyes.
‘BA-DUM! BA-DUM! BA-DUM!…’
Fuck, not again! It just… keeps getting stronger, and I don’t know why! I hate feeling like this… I hate… not being… ARGH! So… ANNOYING! It makes me want to scream—Wait, scream?
His train of thoughts interrupted, Yahweh glanced down at Beowulf. Even though the clamour of the clash was ear-splittingly close, he could still hear Beowulf’s own mighty battlecry, unwavering as he once again pushed The Behemoth back through strength alone with each rising decibel.
Slowly the gears turned, and a grin stretched across The One True God’s face.
Ah… Gotcha.
…
‘AHHHHHHHHH—Ahhhhhh—Ack! Ugh… my head’s feeling a bit woozy…’
“OUUUUUH—Goll! You alright?” Beowulf rumbled. In his hesitation, a wave of pain suddenly crashed against his cranium, instantly causing him to stumble.
Ghk–! Got careless there…!
‘Beo!’ Goll gasped as she shared the pain. ‘Argh–I’m so sorry I made us lose focus!’
“Haaaah—! Don’t worry about it!” Beowulf replied, regaining his footing as blood poured from his forehead. “It's my fault for making YOU worry. So just focus on staying strong and let me—”
Raising his arm slowly, Beowulf grabbed at The Behemoth’s giant temples with his free hand, burrowing his fingers deep into its thick skin.
Its eyes widening in alarm, The Behemoth surged forward to try and crush him against the arena wall. However, even as his feet tore through the ground, Beowulf refused to let go.
“HANDLE THIS! Now as for you. Why don’t you—”
All of a sudden, Beowulf seemed to EXPLODE with energy, slamming his foot into the ground so abruptly The Behemoth nearly tipped over. Push as hard as it might, the Monster Slayer simply refused to budge!
Lifting his sword with his other hand, Beowulf held the monster’s head fast as he aimed down the length of the blade—eyes locking onto The Behemoth’s own while the great beast’s massive frame began to quake.
“GET. OUTTA. MY. SIGHHHHHHT!!!!!!!!!”
Thrusting Eotenbana forward, the swordtip slammed against The Behemoth’s thick skull and sent it flying across the field! The audience gaped seeing such bulk thrown like a paperweight, and flinching as The Behemoth landed with a shattering ‘BOOM!’.
EOTENBANA: DEAFENING LANCE!
…
“W-what POWER!” Heimdall yelled. “Beowulf has completely OUTMATCHED a monster tens of times his own size, TRULY HE IS THE MONSTER SLAYER!”
Collapsing to one knee, Beowulf’s massive chest was heaving up and down. Sweat dripped steadily off his pectorals as he exhaled slightly.
‘Y-you did it, Beowulf!’ Goll cheered.
“Nah, not yet.” Beowulf said, gesturing to The Behemoth which was now struggling to clamber back to its feet. “Not saying we didn’t do good, but that big lug’s still kicking. Plus—”
The Monster Slayer’s eyes swept across the field.
“It ain’t him we’re supposed to beat, remember?”
“—Interesting, so it was all that caterwauling. wasn’t it?”
A chill ran down Beowulf’s spine, immediately swinging his fist around and barely missing Yahweh’s jaw as the God contorted his spine to swerve out of harm’s way.
“I was reaaaaal puzzled at first. Goll… I assume it means screaming like a maniac? The louder you holler, the stronger you get. That’s how you were pushing Behey around, ain’t it?”
“GYAHAHAHA!” Beowulf rumbled. “I think you’re mistaken, god! Dealing with your little pet is a breeze. But yeah, with Goll as my partner? Heh… I’ve reached heights even I didn’t know of!”
The Monster Slayer rose to his full height. Trails of steam rose from his frame, adding to his unearthly silhouette as he dwarfed over Yahweh like an incoming storm.
“But now ain’t this just a pickle for you! Your little trump card’s off licking its wound, and I’m still fit as a flea! Are ya gonna start fighting your own battles now. god?”
Yahweh smirked unperturbed, scratching his chin with one hand.
“Hmm yeah, it does look pretty bad for me, doesn’t it? Left all alone facing a big strong warrior whose screams render him practically invincible. Just what am I gonna do now—? Oh wait, I know—NEW GENESIS…”
“?!”
At that moment, Beowulf noticed a tiny glint on the fingertips of Yahweh’s other hand. A small droplet of liquid… Nay, a bead of sweat? HIS sweat!
He must have swiped it offa my body just now. Damn, I didn’t even notice!
‘Careful, Beo!’ Goll’s disembodied voice echoed. ‘If he’s gonna do what I think he’s gonna do—’
The Valkyrie barely finished her sentence before another ‘Snap!’ was heard, and the lines across Yahweh’s body glowed again as the texture of his arms flashed momentarily with the transparent fluidity of water—
A massive serpentine form burst from the sweat between God's fingers, its broad coils lined with bioluminescent fins and spots as it wound itself around Beowulf, separating him from its creator.
The Book of Job 41:25-34: ‘Strength resides in its neck; dismay goes before it.’
Rising high into the air, the creature revealed a crocodilian head bristling with spikes and spines that ran down the length of its back. Catfish-like barbels hung from its narrow snout, beside segmented frills along its neck. As it let out a piercing trill, rows upon rows of shark-like fangs glinted within its gaping maw.
‘When it rises up, the mighty are terrified; they retreat before its thrashing. The sword that reaches it has no effect, nor does the spear or the dart or the javelin.’
“Oh nice, a sea monster.” Beowulf chuckled, grabbing Eotenbana. “My FAVOURITE sort of catch!”
The serpent’s coils closed in, wrapping itself around Beowulf’s body and squeezing tight.
“HA! As expected, but I’ll—Ghrk?!”
Iron, it treats like straw and bronze like rotten wood. Arrows do not make it flee; slingstones are like chaff to it. A club seems to it but a piece of straw; it laughs at the rattling of the lance.’
Just as the Monster Slayer attempted to unleash his mighty battlecry, the creature’s tail slammed against his mouth, immediately stifling his voice and preventing even a whisper from being uttered!
"On earth there is nothing like him, which is made without fear. He beholds every high thing; He is king over all the children of pride.'
“Rend him…” Yahweh commanded, having returned to his perch upon The Behemoth’s forehead. “LEVIATHAN!’
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The Leviathan
(New Genesis)
The Sin of Envy
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Some context: This from a follow up to a Twitter post asking about people's boiling takes on RoR. Pretty concerning things about racism were raised about what I can only assume is other parts of the fandom like Twitter or Tiktok, seeing as here on the Sub we mainly have power-scaling, fanfics, agenda shitpost, and worshipping micro-celebs.
However, this particular one is frying me because go on Google, search Shiva, and tell me what you see. Yeah, he's traditionally portrayed as blue or PURPLE. But ig RoR is secretly racist for... giving Shiva an accurate skin-color?
"Shiva was literally black before official colouring!"
Oh I'm sorry, I didn't know Bro was using his powers to determine what the official skin colour of a character from a BLACK AND WHITE MANGA ART is.
“Welcome back everybody” Heimdall yelled. The Valhalla Coliseum arena had been remodeled into a wide square arena, with two tall rectangular doors resembling boxes that had the words 神 (Gods), and 人類 (Mankind), emblazoned on the doors’ paper-thin screens.
A massive holographic screen above the VIP viewing booths displayed the current score in the tournaments
“With the gods now as three wins, and humanity at two! After seven million years… mankind has taken a step closer—TO ITS END!”
Humanity shuddered at the Watchmen of The Apocalypse’s words. Standing in Humanity’s VIP viewing booth, noticeably alone, Brunhilde gripped her shoulders tightly as the screen flickered out of existence.
“Now get ready… for the Sixth Round of Ragnarok!”
The lights in the arena went dim hushing the excitable clamour of the crowd.
“Amongst the legends of mankind—there exists that of ‘The King Asleep in the Mountain’! a hero who lays dormant, waiting to answer the call of their people in their greatest times of needs! From Britain, KING ARTHUR! In Ireland, FINN MCCOOL! But further up north in the deep forests of southern Sweden, the Geats await ANOTHER legendary hero!”
A harsh light shone from behind the doors as numerous Geatish warriors in the stands rose from their seats, smashing their axes and swords against their shields as their hoarse chants were heard all across the arena.
The doors burst open, and a large wooden warship reared its head out into the arena, carrying more Geats whose chants melted into the overall cheer.
Below the keel was Beowulf, his sword strapped to his back as he carried the entire structure along easily with just one hand!
“When the Jotun, Grendel savaged the halls of the Danes. Only HE was brave enough to answer the call! When the Sea Hag came for vengeance, it was HE who ventured to her lair alone! And when a dragon ravaged his homeland, HE, in his twilight years slew it in a blaze of glory! Is it no wonder his people look to him for aid even in death?! Without further ado, I give you, The King of The Geats! The Warrior of a Century! Humanity’s Greatest Monster-Slayer!...”
BEOWULF!!!!
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Beowulf
(Sweden)
Humanity’s Representative for Round 6
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“GYAHAHAHA! Thanks for the workout boys! My shoulders were feeling a bit stiff!” Beowulf laughed boisterously as he set the massive ship on the ground. “But I’m afraid it's time for you to disembark!”
As the Geats descended, their voices dripping with confidence was heard.
“Knock’ em dead, my lord!”
“Show them gods how we do it back in Geatland!”
“We’ve all got your back, cousin.”
Beowulf smiled at the last one, placing his free hand firmly on his faithful kinsman’s shoulder.
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Wiglaf
(Sweden)
Beowulf’s cousin, and heir
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“I know you do, Wiglaf. Now watch closely. I’m going to knock that god right out of their boots!”
“Heh—You go and give them hell!”
As Wiglaf left the battlefield, hundreds of angels descended with ropes to carry the boat off Beowulf’s shoulders.
“You lot can manage it alright?”
“Y-yup!” The lead angel said, sweating buckets as they hoisted the massive frame into the air. “N-no worries here!”
‘Who do you think the gods are going to send out now?’ Goll’s disembodied voice rang out in Beowulf’s ear. ‘Ooooh… I’m getting all jittery just thinking about it!’
“Perish those worries, Goll!” Beowulf replied to the confusion of some. “Fret not about what you cannot control. As long as we have each other’s backs, no god is a match for us!”
‘M-mhm! Got it!’
Returning to Heimdall, The Watchman of the Apocalypse spun around to the God’s side of the arena. Just as the lights dimmed again, and low gregorian chanting was heard as a heavenly glow bathed the battlefield
“On to the representative of the Heavens! BELIEF! To the mighty gods of Valhalla, this word is NOTHING. However, to mankind, it is EVERYTHING! For it is through belief that a Gorgon becomes the victim! A Monkey cultivated into a sage! The Devil martyred into a rebel! If power and status were determined through belief alone, THIS GOD! Would be NIGH OMNIPOTENT!”
The doors opened, and Yahweh strutted casually out of the darkness, hands resting behind his back as his cloud-like hair floated carelessly in the wind.
At first, his entrance was met with mild interest. But slowly that soon morphed into sounds of recognition—especially for the humans.
“W-wait… that guy. Doesn’t his face look a bit… familiar?”
“What are you—Wait! You’re right! I can’t help but feel like I’ve seen him before. But… from where?”
“I-it can’t be!” The men turned around to see a priest falling to his knees, his hands clasped tightly in prayer.
“Hey! What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you recognize that god?”
Get on your knees, you fool!” The priest sobbed. “And look closer at his face!”
The humans turned back, squinting their eyes closely, and promptly recoiled.
“N-no way… his face! It’s the absolute spiffing image of… of… OF ADAM!”
“No you fool. Adam’s face… was built in HIS image!”
With those words, realization dawned on humanity’s faces. Many pious folks dropped to their knees, as others felt a horrible chill run down their spine. The god who the First Man’s image was based on, that could only be—
“N-no! A-are you saying that god is…?!”
“ ‘Thou shalt have no other gods before me... You shall not bow down to them or serve them’! That bold claim to his followers earned him the vitriol of every other pantheon! Yet to billions of humans around earth, only HE is to be known by the words: G-O-D! Despair, mankind! For your faith has been met with indifference! HE. Alone is the almighty! He. Alone is the creator! And HE. Now stands before you. The so-called: One True God…!”
YAHWEH!!!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Yahweh
(Abhramic Pantheon)
Heaven’s Representative for Round 6
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Geez keep it down, Heimdall.” Yahweh sighed, picking his nose. “Really laying it on thick, aren’t you?”
Heimdall flashed him a poisonous look. “I don’t like you either, ‘True God’!” He growled. “But being an impartial referee comes first, so I’ll give you the spotlight like every other fighter.”
“How kind of you.” The God drawled, flicking a booger at him much to Heimdall’s dismay. Meanwhile the dismay that had gripped humanity turned into confusion as from holy men, to the average joe, they all shared the same thought.
This scruffy fellow…. Is God?
…
‘WHAT? WHAT? WHAT?’ Goll squealed in Beowulf’s subconscious. ‘O-our opponent is THE God??? I didn’t even think he was real!!!’
“Course he’s real!” Beowulf laughed. “If all the other gods exist, why wouldn’t he?”
‘Well… I…’
“GYAHAHAHA! Calm your nerves, Goll. You’re making us look real silly right now! Like I said, it doesn't matter which god comes at us. We’re just gonna send them flying!”
Yahweh smirked, taking a step forward.
“Goll, huh? So you got the runt of the litter now did you?”
“GYAHA–! I’m sorry…” Beowulf answered, hoisting his sword over his shoulders and bringing it smashing onto the ground next to the God as his grin turned sinister. “What didja just say about my partner?”
“Settle down now!” Heimdall yelled. “Wait for my signal! Which is right about… NOW! BEGIN!”
At Heimdall’s call, Beowulf suddenly pulled his blade back, burying it deep into the earth as he then began taking slow, thundering steps forward whilst cracking his knuckles.
‘Beowulf? What are you doing?’
“Sorry Goll. I know I said we’re in this together. But from what I see, this little shrimp is a real piece of shit—GYAHAHAHA! Let me go test the waters. I would hate to put you in harm’s way if it turned out all I needed was one punch to win this whole she-bang!”
‘Uh?... OH! Right, yeah! Samavadhana, and by extension, Volund, makes it so that it's not just my Divine Weapon that’s capable of hurting a god, but your body is too!’
“Now ya got it! Hey… god!” Beowulf rumbled, towering over Yahweh as the latter scratched his armpit unceremoniously whilst looking up at him without the slightest trace of fear.
“I don’t like the way you talked to my friend! So if you don’t mind…” He swung one huge fist back. “I’m gonna knock your teeth in!”
“Go ahead. No complaints from me.” Yahweh smirked.
Beowulf let rip one meaty right hook. It sailed through the air, right towards Yahweh's face at near point-blank range!
COMET STRAIGHT!
The air seemed to explode in a violent burst as his fist made contact! All of a sudden, The One True God… was left without a head!
‘Y-you did it?!’ Goll gasped.
“Nah, not quite.” Beowulf answered, his smile tightening.
In front of the Monster Slayer, Yahweh did in fact appear to have lost his head… But gazing past Beowulf’s outstretched arm revealed the truth. The God’s neck was in fact—
“—BENT TO THE EXTREME. WHAT AN UNNATURAL WAY TO DODGE!” Heimdall screamed, as gods and humans alike gasped in amazement. Beowulf slowly retracted his fist, and as he did, Yahweh’s neck moved back into place without so much a joint snapping.
“Heh… always funny seeing folks freak out over that.” Yahweh smirked. “So, how does it feel looking like a fool in front of everyone? Don’t answer, I already know a fellow like you’s got too much spunk to spare.”
“Gyahaha! Pretty interesting thing you got going on!” Beowulf said, locking and loading both his fists. “Well then, I guess I’ll just have to up the ante! Get ready…”
COMET STRAIGHT! COMET LEFT! COMET HOOK! COMET JAB! COMET CROSS! COMET RIGHT!
The Monster Slayer unleashed a barrage of heavy blows in close combat! Sending each of them hurtling forward with a shower of bullets!
In response, Yahweh began to move, his feet planted firmly in the ground as his upper-body, heads, and arms swiveling independently, weaving in and out of the way of every punch and strike!
Changing strategies, Beowulf’s left leg shifted to the back, now perpendicular with his right. With that, he focused all his strength and concentration to his right arm that began shooting to and fro so efficiently it was like a well-oiled machine!
Not to be outdone, Yahweh’s hips joined the fray, twisting masterfully like its own well-oiled machine as his torso spun out of harm’s way with the skill of a belly-dancer.
“Can this thing go any faster?” The God taunted. “I’m barely breaking a sweat out here.”
“GYAHAHA! SURE THING!” Beowulf roared. All of a sudden something hurtled from out of the corner of Yahweh’s left eye! The Monster Slayer’s muscular forearm had reentered the battlefield!
COMET LARIAT!
Yahweh’s eyes widened, and his spine quickly went limp as his torso curved forward evading Beowulf swing which went wide overhead. The God scoffed to himself:
Too easy—?!
With Yahweh now eye-level with Beowulf’s knee, the Monster Slayer’s left foot swung forward with terrifying force! Alarm bells blared in Yahweh’s mind as he twisted his body so fast it coiled up like a spring as Beowulf’s foot sent a rush of wind into his face as it blew right past.
He had barely caught his breath, when a shadow was cast above his head, that being Beowulf’s right fist following through by hurtling straight down!
Releasing his compressed body, Yahweh’s upper body barely spun out of harm’s way just as Beowulf’s fist crashed into the ground and splintered the concrete below.
…
Spectator’s Stands
“What on earth…” Breca muttered to himself. “I wouldn't say I’m on the level of the Einherjars, but I spar regularly with Beowulf and can only dodge one or two of his strikes before they inevitably hit me… Meanwhile this god!”
Wiglaf narrows his eyes, “Beowulf always has a plan. Plus that god’s already feeling the pressure, I’m sure of it! I just want to know… how on earth he can do that with his body!”
…
Humanity’s VIP viewing booth
“There it is…” Brunhilde muttered to herself. “That asshole’s weird body! It isn’t just his hair that's care-free like a cloud—it’s every damn bone and joint! After all—“
GOD MOVES IN MYSTERIOUS WAYS
“With that ability, he’s practically Heaven's perfect contortionist! What is that moron doing just throwing his fist around and wasting energy…”
The eldest valkyrie paused, looking around the booth for a moment.
“…Oh right, Goll isn’t here. Feels awkward just talking to myself… who does that?”
…
Beowulf and Yahweh stood in front of one another, their cheats heaving up and down from exertion.
Tch… He’s a bit more on the extreme side than I thought. Doesn’t matter though…
Yahweh glanced down, seeing Beowulf ball his left fist and winding it back.
“Heh, you humans really are funny. I can’t think of any other species who knows what they’re doing is wrong, and still does it anyway.”
Beowulf chuckled. “We can be stupid, that’s true.” He rumbled. “But the same thing? Assuming only makes an ass out of yourself!”
“?!”
At that moment, Yahweh realized something. The sheer force and pressure that was being exerted from the charge-up of Beowulf’s attack alone! It was so powerful, it was so hypnotising! It was so strong that his entire body felt like… No, it WAS being drawn straight in like a blackhole!!!
COMET UPPERCUT!
Are you kidding me?!
Yahweh’s body went limp so fast he got whiplash, like a marionette who had his strings cut. His tousled hair grew even more unruly as Beowulf’s strike soared high into the sky, sending gales of winds blasting straight into his face!
Though he’d managed to evade once again, he still felt the tip of the Monster Slayer’s knuckle graze the skin of his nose!
How did he?!
No time to think, the moment Yahweh lifted his head, he saw another attack coming straight for him! Beowulf’s right foot swung in a sweeping arc, aimed straight for his feet that had not moved even a single inch.
Don’t tell me—!
Yahweh tendons roared with effort as he pushed off against the ground with leg strength alone. Leaping straight into the air, and seemingly hopping slightly on nothing.
“GYAHA! Now time to test my theory!” Beowulf roared. The Monster Slayer raised his fist and shot a gust of wind forward with one punch!
“But that won’t do a thing!” Ares cried from his booth.”Yahweh will just contort his body to avoid it!”
“Fufufu~ Dear brother, didn’t you hear?” Hermes mused. “Assumptions—why they can be quite dangerous indeed.”
Like Ares predicted, Yahweh’s body did turn, but with one glaring difference. The One True God’s body was not as flexible as it had been before!
And so the compressed air from Beowulf’s punch slammed straight into his stomach with such force, that the wind was knocked straight out of Yahweh’s lungs right before it sent him crashing back down!
…
Spectator’s stand
Michael and Raphael stood in a room just below Zeus’ VIP booth. Watching the events transpire with folded arms.
“Impressive…” The former muttered. “That human figured it out so quickly?”
…
‘W-whoa! How did you do that?!’ Goll gushed excitedly.
“EASY! I noticed that god really liked standing in one place, his feet didn't leave the ground even when he was dodging all my attacks! I wager that he can only contort his body effectively when his legs are pressing against solid ground! GYAHAHA! Ain’t that a laugh? This god doesn’t like being above the rest of us!”
Beowulf turned, grabbing ahold of his sword.
“And with that, Goll. Testing has concluded. Now it’s time for you to start pulling your own weight here! You ready for this?”
‘Y-yeah !’
“Nuh-uh! What did I tell you? You gotta yell it straight from your soul! So loud even the Heaven’s are gonna shake!”
‘YEAH!!!’
“THAT’S MORE LIKE IT!” He roared. “OOOOOOOOUUUUUUHHHHHHHH!!!!”
‘OOOOOOOUHHHHH!!’
As the two of them let out their mighty battlecry, Beowulf’s great sword began to pulse with a warm light that grew stronger with each rising decibel!
The ground beneath them began to rumble as the Monster Slayer slowly began to pull his blade out from the ground. He kept pulling and pulling. And the sword just kept growing and growing! Until at last, Beowulf ripped it from out of the earth and spun the now easily ten-foot blade over his head!
Brunhilde grinned. “Guess I really underestimated the two of them, huh? So that is what the mighty sword used to slay Grendel’s Mother looked like.”
CLAMORING BLADE: EOTENBANA
Heroforge Pro kitbashing by u/Craftex101
…
“… GAH!”
Yahweh gasped, instinctively placing both his feet on the ground, shaking debris out from his hair.
“Man… I was hoping I could get a clean win. Although… technically he didn’t actually hit me. So, it doesn’t count! Pfft! Hey, why am I getting worked up over something so trivial like—?”
“Psst! Is that really God?”
“It can’t be right? This has to be some sort of joke. God isn’t so… imperfect.”
The God pursed his lips hearing those words.
Ah… now that’s a familiar feeling. Doubt. Meanwhile…
He looked at Beowulf, ignoring the appearance of the massive sword that towered over the both of them.
Yeah. Of course HE would be shot up with the stuff…
Yahweh sighed, twisting himself upright.
“That’s a mighty big sword, you got there.” He called out. “You sure you’re up for it? It’d look really stupid if you just up and fell over.”
Beowulf grinned, dispelling any doubts by drawing the giant blade behind his shoulders with ease.
“I don’t know? What do you think, god?”
“… Heh. I think playtime is going to be reeeeeeal interesting with you, human.”
The Monster Slayer swung his massive blade forward and suddenly the entire horizon ahead of Yahweh was eclipsed with nothing but the edge of Eotenbana!
Moving to the side was useless. Jumping into the air would leave one leg-less. Every fighter worth their salt in the arena that day quickly realized that this was an attack that the ordinary human or god simply—
COULD. NOT. DODGE.
And Yahweh was now about to take it—
HEAD. ON.
EOTENBANA: THUNDEROUS SPLITTER!
There was a clamorous ‘BOOM!’, soon followed by an explosion of smoke and dust kicking into the air as Beowulf guided Eotenbana in a breath-taking follow through. And as the dust settled, all that seemed to remain in the arena was the mighty Monster-Slayer himself, his giant sword held parallel to his arm.
As for God…
He was nowhere to be found.
“Til’ the very end… you stood firm on your feet.”
Like a streak of fire, Shiva’s kick sliced through the air, silencing the roar of the arena as the world went black forever for one incredible human. Then a soft thud was heard as something fell to the ground.
“The pleasure’s all mine, human. No… Raiden Tameemon.”
The Peak of Svarga turned, walking away as his opponent’s body crumbled into dust.
“With your help, this was… The best match of my life.”
…
“Struggle after struggle… and turn-around after turn-around!” Heimdall roared into his Gjallarhorn as the god erupted into cheer.
“At the end of a fierce clash, the one left standing is this man… Th-the winner of Raganrok, Round 5 is The Mighty Destroyer of Svarga… SHIVAAAAAAAAA!”
...
God’s VIP Viewing Booth
“Phew…” Ares sighed, collapsing on his chair. “Shiva may have won, but he lost three arms doing so. That ending was as close a call as could be!”
“Indeed.” Hermes concurred. “It was his ‘sumo’ honed through a daunting amount of discipline that allowed Raiden Tameemon to drive Shiva that far against the wall.”
The two Olympians turned around. Zeus was sitting on his throne, his face shadowed, and his verdict on the match unclear.
“F-father?” Ares started tentatively.
“That round… That fight…” Zeus muttered, his fists curling around his armrests and shattering them into pieces. The King of the Gods raised his head, eyes bulging in excitement while his wizened features wrinkled from the sheer glee and battlelust he felt in his soul.
“WAS THE BEST THING I’VE WITNESS THUS FAR, AHAHAHAHAHA!”
Ah, we were worried for nothing. Both Ares and Hermes sighed, seeing their father’s usual childish excitement return.
“I can’t wait, can’t wait!” Zeus hollered, leaping off his throne. “Watching those two brats fight… It's like a fire has been lit under these old bones of mine! Oooooh, how I wish I could go in again for seconds! Nevermind that, let’s get the next one started soon as possible!”
“N-next one?” Ares stammered as he chased after his father. “Don’t tell me you already picked out our next representative so quickly?”
“Of course we have, dear brother.” Hermes chuckled. “Didn’t you know?”
“Why does nobody ever tell me these things?!”
Left alone in the booth, Hermes returned his gaze to the arena below rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Should I follow them? It will be a bit before the next round can commence…”
Just then, something caught the Olympian’s eye in the sea of godly spectators and made his brow raise.
Oh? Isn’t that…?
…
Spectator’s Stands
‘Ba-dum…Ba-dum…’
“Geez everyone is so loud today…”
Amongst the sea of pumping hands and celebratory cries, one God instead lay on his back, eyes gazing into the vast and empty blue sky.
‘Ba-dum, Ba-dum…’
“What’s the big deal? Just a couple of knuckleheads fighting themselves to death.”
‘Ba-dum, Ba-dum, BA-DUM… Ba-dum, Ba-dum, BA-DUM…’
“Giving it their all… Fighting with everything on the line, their hearts… their souls… Not just these two, but everyone of them…”
‘BA-DUM BA-DUM BA-DUM! BA-DUM BA-DUM BA-DUM!’
He exhaled, one hand resting on his chest, whilst the other inserted a finger into his nostril and rotated it idly as he rolled over in his spot.
‘BA-DUM BA-DUM BA-DUM!... BADUM… Ba-dum…Ba-dum…’
“Tch–Why did I even come here? I hate… feeling like this…”
He extracted his finger from his nose, inspected the dried mucus crusted on its tip, and promptly flicked the debris away.
“Gods fighting against humans… Pah! Just a huge waste of time is what it is.”
He had barely finished that sentence before someone flung a book at him somewhere off-screen and caught him on the forehead with a rough thump.
“OI! Watch where you flick your boogers you disgusting piece of shit!”
“Tch, oh it's just him.”
“Wonder what he’s even doing here… Hey, who’d you think he was rooting for? Us or them?”
“Why don’t you just ask him?
“You kidding me? No way am I approaching that loser, HAHAHA!”
As his fellow spectators around him began to disperse, the God groaned, sitting upright and rubbing his bruise.
He was a strange looking fellow with skin the color of copper, accented by golden lines and markings that were etched into it like tattoos. He wore clothes akin to a toga, with one side of his bare chest exposed, as they seem to flow freely like water and smoke. A hood was pulled way over his head, covering it and his face entirely.
“Yeah that’s right.” He mumbled under his breath. “You better run, cause I’m the one, true—Yadda yadda, you get the gist of all that bullshit… Geez, didja have to be so rough, though?”
“My, my. I thought it was you~”
The God looked up, finding Hermes had made his way down from the booth and now stood right next to him in the spectator’s stands.
“...Hermes, right? Whassup?” The God muttered, flashing a peace sign with another hand, much to the Olympian’s amusement.
“Sigh… to think that you of all gods decided to come down and watch Ragnarok in person.” Hermes tutted as he fished his phone out from his pocket. “Lord Zeus won’t be pleased…”
The God snorted, leaning back against his seat. “Tell your daddy he better start getting used to disappointment then.”
…
Valhalla’s Garden of the Gods
Goll was barely holding back tears as she slowly trailed behind Brunhilde. The youngest valkyries’ mind was filled with dear memories of her time spent with her deceased sister.
“S-sister Thrud… was happy wasn’t she?” She asked, tears dripping down her cheeks. “To be able to be with the man she loved for the rest of her life… She was happy wasn’t she?”
Unable to hold it back any longer, Goll burst into tears.
“WAAAAAAH! I know… I know I shouldn’t be crying since this is about saving humanity… B-but—WAAAAAAH!”
Brunhilde paused, stoic, silent and offering no sympathy. “Goll…”
“Why big sis… Why are you going so far to save humanity?”
The eldest valkyrie sighed, balling her fist with determination.
“Remember, Goll. What the first man Adam, said: ‘Is there any man who needs a reason, to protect what is dear to him?’”
Seeing her sister’s resolve, Goll’s eyes lit up with hope and inspiration. Rubbing the tears from her eyes she nodded and quickened her pace with renewed vigor to keep up with Brunhilde.
“M-mhm! I… I understand, big sis! I won’t let you down… B-but mind telling me… what are we doing—back here?”
In stark contrast to the valkyries somber mood, they now trailed along the picturesque scenery that was their homeland in the Norse pantheon. More specifically the beautiful Garden of the Gods where numerous deities had gathered as usual for recreation below the canopy of the lush forest and beside the babble of the river.
The place was familiar to Goll, after all she and her sisters had visited the garden frequently during a more innocent time. It was a place of many happy and nostalgic memories… though now there were just as many sad ones.
“Tch!” Brunhilde’s expression suddenly morphed into displeasure. “It’s because HE wasn’t in his waiting room like instructed! I swear none of these guys demonstrate even a bit of restraint… Wiglaf told me that he was heading here, it’s only a matter of time until—”
“Waiting room? He? Hold on—you’re not saying one of the Einherjar made his way into Asgard are you?!”
Before Brunhilde could reply, sounds of outrage were heard from the lakeside. The two valkyries exchanged nervous glances before hurrying over.
…
“U-unbelievable! This is simply outrageous!”
“Get out of there right now! Humans aren’t allowed in the Garden of the Gods, much less Asgard!”
“Somebody call the guards! That human is ruining the tranquility of Valhalla!”
Pushing past scandalized maidens and nymphs, Brunhilde and Goll made their way to the water’s edge. In front of them was the usually still and calm lake, but today that stillness was broken as powerful limbs dived in and out of the water’s surface, making noisy splashes as two men swam through the waves with powerful strokes!
“Dammit.” Brunhilde snarled. “Just what does that knucklehead think he is doing?!”
“GYAHAHAHA! What’s the matter, Breca? Losing steam already?” Cried the one in front.
The man known as Breca let out a hearty laugh.
“Keep laughing, I’m just warming up here! ”
“HA! And I welcome YOU to keep dreaming, old friend!”
“Dreaming?” Breca roared. “Oh it is ON! HRAAAAAAAAH!!!”
“OOOOOOOOOOOOOH!!!”
In a few strokes, Breca was now neck and neck with his companion. Not to be outdone, the latter answered with arms that seemed to cut through the water surface like butter as he reclaimed the lead! Steam poured off their muscles as neither man refused to lose!
A nymph gasped. “Wait, stop! If they keep this up, they surely would awaken—“
Just as she had said this, the two men swam past an islet in the middle of the lake… Then, a rumble was heard across the water, as large ripples appeared across its surface. All of a sudden the ‘islet’ began to rise from the depths of the lake, revealing itself to be a giant monster that now towered over both men with a vengeance for interrupting its peace.
“OH NO!” Goll squawked in terror. “T-they… THEY’VE DISTURBED THE LYNGBAKR!!!”
The Lyngbakr lowered its massive head, glaring balefully down at the men who had paused their race to stare back up at it. It opened its massive maw and roared furiously as it swung its head downwards to smash them to pieces! However, neither Breca nor his friend betrayed the slightest trace of fear?
“Oi. You got this one?”
“GYAHAHA! You know it! Keep on swimming, it’s the only way you’ll ever beat me after all!”
Rolling his eyes, Breca continued swimming onwards. “Show off…”
“HUUUUUH?! Big sis—He’s just abandoning his friend?!”
Brunhilde smirked. “I’d be more worried about the Lyngbakr if I were you, Goll.”
“?!”
“Hey beastie…” The man rumbled, curling his fist tightly beneath the waves. “Usually I’m all for a good old brawl—But interrupting a race with a dear friend of mine?”
Goll gasped as the Lyngbakr let out a snort, not out of anger, but… Fear?
“UNFORGIVABLE! So why don’t you—!”
He threw his arm backwards, and held it there for a split second—Before hurling it right back forwards, colliding fist-first with the Lyngbakr’s leathery head, and sending it soaring out of the water and into the sky!
“GET. OUT. OF. MY. SIGHHHHHHT!”
Goll, the nymphs, and other gods in the garden felt their eyes pop out of their sockets at this incredible sight, “NO WAAAAAAY?!”
“Geh—Looks like I lost again, huh?” The man grunted, flexing his arm without so much a trace of injury. Seeing that Breca has already made it out of the water, he too began wading his way back to shore.
“Ah well, looks like you take this one too Breca—GYAHAHAHA!”
“B-big sis… Just who is that man?” Goll shuddered. Just then, the Lyngbakr’s heavy body came crashing back down into the lake and sent water splashing all over the spectators.
“That Goll—“ Brunhilde grumbled, blowing a strand of wet hair out of her soaked face as they watched him rise from the water to greet them. He was a large muscular man in his forties, with a chest so broad it looked as though it were stretched over his scarred muscles. He wore an infectious grin underneath a well-groomed moustache with matching long blonde locks.
“Is Humanity’s Strongest Monster-Slayer. Meet…BEOWULF!”
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Beowulf
(Sweden)
Humanity's Strongest Monster-Slayer
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…
“Ahh! Brunhilde, what brings you here today!” Beowulf said, as he and Breca toweled off by the shore.
“Tch! As if you don’t know why!” Brunhilde fumed. “You were supposed to stay in your waiting room like everyone else till I called you!”
“Gyahahaha! Apologies, apologies.” Beowulf laughed, fist-bumping Breca. “But when an old friend challenged me to a little competition, I simply could not refuse!”
The eldest valkyrie sighed. “Well at least we’ve got you now… you’re to be humanity’s next representative in Ragnarok.”
“No complaints from me! And I assume that little girl is meant to be my partner?”
“H-huh?!” Brunhilde and Goll were left baffled, seeing the Monster-Slayer’s finger directly pointing at the youngest valkyrie.
“W-wait—ME?!” Goll squeaked, her arms moving frantically. “N-no way! I-I’m just t-tagging along, that’s all I do. I probably won’t be much use to you, Mr Beowulf!”
“But you are a valkyrie, no?” Beowulf rumbled, kneeling down so that they were face to face. “And last I checked there were 13 rounds and 13 valkyries, so clearly your sisters believe you’re just as capable as them.”
“I-uh-uhmm…”
“Beowulf!” Brunhilde stepped forward. “I have six other sisters who are more than willing to fight by your side. You don’t need—”
“GYAHAHAHA! I’m sure each of them are strong in their own right, Brunhilde!” Beowulf interrupted. “But I find that I work best with younglings who still haven’t grown a backbone! Sorry to break it to you, but I’ve decided I’m not fighting unless this little squirt is my partner for the match”
“...!”
He turned back around to face Goll. “Now tell me, squirt. Are you afraid of fighting?”
“I… Well, I mean… Maybe a little…”
“Well that’s only natural considering the nature of Ragnarok. I was watching the fourth match, that valkyrie girl, she's probably only a few years older than you, yeah? But she had to fight against one of the most beloved beings in the Heavens alongside a pretty awful human. Do you think she was afraid, squirt? Do you think any of your sisters were afraid?”
“P-probably, I guess…?”
“Indeed. Fear’s a real pain in the ass. So how’d you reckon they were able to pull it off? If you ask me, squirt, it’s because they had faith!”
“F-faith?”
“The faith to trust their partners. Faith that even if they lose, they are fighting for something bigger and better. Now I don’t need you to be fearless, but what I do need is a partner, one that has faith in me, AND herself. So… DO YOU BELIEVE THAT YOU CAN SAVE HUMANITY?!”
Those last words made Goll shudder. “I-I’ll try my best!”
“TRY?” Beowulf bellowed, pumping his fist forward. “I don’t like that word! It’s either DO, or DIE! So answer me again from your very soul! DO YOU BELIEVE THAT YOU CAN SAVE HUMANITY!”
The youngest valkyrie squeezed her eyes shut, her fist trembling by her side. “I… I…!”
The meaning of our name, ‘Valkyrie’, is ‘Chooser of the Slain’. In order to save humanity… we just need to ensure the lives we choose succeed. Success… is all that matters.
Her eyes opened, filled with resolve as she thrusted her own arm forward, took a deep breath and:
“I DOOOOOOO! I-I believe! That I can be a strong valkyrie, just like big sis Hildeeeeee! I… I’m gonna help you WINNNNNNNNNN!”
“YEAH! You CAN do it!” Beowulf howled. “You KNOW you can! So—SCREAM IT OUT AGAIN! Come on! LET ME HEAR YOUR BATTLECRY!"
"Aah!”
"You call that a battlecry?! AGAIN!"
"Aaaaaah!"
"NO! LIKE THIS! AAAAHHHHHH!!"
"RAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!"
“GYAHAHAHA! THAT’S RIGHT! NOW YOU GOT IT—PARTNER!!”
Valkyrie and Man’s fist met in the middle, their hearts resonating, filling the garden with a brilliant flash of light! The unmistakable sign of: VOLUNDR!
Brunhilde could only watch on in awe and fear as the glow subsided, revealing Beowulf now wielding a gigantic great sword that towered over even his impressive height. The Monster Slayer admired his new weapon, his lips curling into a smile.
“Heh… I knew she had a big spirit after all!”
“G-goll…”
“It means ‘to make noise’.” Beowulf said, effortlessly swinging it over his shoulders. “Fitting. Cause me and your sister? We’re gonna raise one HELL of a racket those gods won’t soon forget! Hey… Brunhilde!”
The eldest valkyrie looked up and instantly felt an intense wave of aura crash into the very core of her soul as she beheld Beowulf’s figure!
Gguhk?! T-this feeling… She thought to herself, staggering slightly. It… it makes me feel… like everything is going to be fine! I can see why even a scaredy-cat like Goll would—!
“Now I got something to ask of you as well, you hear me?! I need you to put your faith… in me.”
“H-huh?”
She faced Beowulf again. The hero’s face was now stern, like a solemn promise!
“I swear to you. That I’ll get your dear little sister back to you, safe and sound. A person can only go through so many heartbreaks in one lifetime.”
The Monster-Slayer turned and made his way out of the garden with Breca following close behind. Brunhilde’s breaths were shallow, feeling light-headed as she fell to her knees.
“Ha… Haaah—Those two idiots… I should have… Goll isn’t…!”
But then she sighed. “Yet… I believe. I believe those two might be a far stronger pairing that I ever could have imagined.”
…
The Temple of Holy Light
The headquarters of the Abhrahamic Pantheon was truly something to behold, a magnificent, glistening white church with tall marble pillars that stretched high towards the ceiling, riddled with various marble figures so well sculpted they looked as though they could leap off the walls at any moment.
Large stained-glass windows were decorated with mosaics hung above the entrance archway, bathing visitors in an opulent glowing light.
Inside the temple, various angels of differing ranks bustled about the different levels and rooms: guardians, healers, clerics, paladins—Each of them going about their day, tending to their various duties. However, today, all was not so peaceful in this temple of sacred tranquility
“WHAAAAT? What is the meaning of this, Michael? You can’t find him?!”
Zeus’ angry cries echoed across the hallowed halls, causing angels in every direction to flinch as they hurried away from the receptionist desk where Zeus and Ares had just arrived, and were now in the midst of an argument with a certain Archistrategos.
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Archangel Michael
(Abrahamic Pantheon)
Taxiarch of The Heavenly Hosts
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Archangel Michael fumed, his prismatic wings flapping as he butted heads with the King of the Gods.
“I already told you, you old coot! We looked all over the temple, but he just isn’t here!”
“Ooooooh! I can’t trust you angels with anything!” Zeus hollered, getting all up in Micahel’s face. “What sort of shoddy business are you running? Lemme speak to the manager right this instant!”.
Michael slammed both hands on the table, glaring at Zeus as they pushed against each other for dominance.
“LOOK AT THESE EYES!” He screeched, gesturing to his baggy panda eyes. “ I AM the manager you dunderhead, and I’ve barely gotten a wink’s sleep in millenia thanks to that slacker!”
Behind them Ares, and another angel, frantically waved their hands trying to dissuade the heated confrontation.
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Archangel Raphael
(Abrahamic Pantheon)
The Divine Healer
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“Now, now, brother.” Raphael said, “Let’s all just keep calm over here, Gabriel and her corps are already all over the place looking for him.”
“F-father! Let’s not make such a big deal out of this!”
“You two stay out of this!” Michael roared, drawing out a flaming sword. “This has been a long-time coming, Zeus. Someone ought to teach you that the Heavens aren’t your playground!”
In response, Zeus’ muscles swelled to abnormal sizes, ripping the bandages around his body.
“Oh ho ho! It is a fight you want? You uppity angels are finally speaking my Langua—Ring! Ring!—Oop. Scuse me, gotta take this, you don’t mind?”
“No, not at all. Please do.”
“Thank you, now let’s see… What do I press~”
“That button over there.” Michael said helpfully gesturing to the call button.
“Oh, much obliged, Mikey~ Hello? Hello?”
Ares and Raphael exchanged a sigh of relief, the cordialness between them now was a baffling contrast from mere moments ago!
‘Lord Zeus, father. I imagine you and brother Ares are already at the Temple?’ Hermes' tinny voice came from Zeus’ phone.
“Indeed Hermes.” Zeus bemoaned dramatically. “But that little rascal is nowhere to be found! That Brunhilde better not start going around saying we're chicken!”
‘Ahaha. Allow me to take care of that problem for you. You see… our representative was actually right here in the arena this whole time.’
“WHAT?! Hermes! Put him on the phone right this instant!”
Back in the Valhalla Coliseum, Hermes chuckled lightly as he turned to the unidentified God and handed him his phone.
“It’s for you~”
The God sighed, plucking it from his grasp, and had barely uttered “Hello—?” Before Zeus’ fuming voice blasted into his ear.
‘YOU WHIPPERSNAPPER PUNK!’ He cried, hopping comically on one foot to another. ‘MAKING AN OLD MAN LIKE ME TRAVEL LONG DISTANCES FOR NOTHING?! MY FEEBLE BONES AREN’T WHAT THEY USED TO BE Y’KNOW! OOOOH, YOU MAKE ME SO MAD! JUST WAIT TILL I GET MY HANDS ON YOU LITTLE—!’
Raphael and Ares deadpanned: Old man? Sure. Feeble? Hardly.
The God heard a rustling noise on the other end of the line as Michael wrestled the phone out of Zeus’ grip.
‘Lord Zeus! Please! Exercise some restraint. You have an image to uphold.’
‘Yes… Yes. Whew! Hoho! Got a tad bit winded back there.’
‘May I?’
‘Be my guest.’
“Hello? Is anyone still there?” The God questioned, leaning his ear further into the phone—-
‘YOU USELESS PIECE OF SLACKING CRAP!’ This time it was Michael’s shrill voice that sent the God recoiling. ‘HOW DARE YOU RUN OFF WITHOUT TELLING ANYONE! MY PATIENCE WITH YOU WEAR THINNER EVERYDAY! OOOOOH, YOU MAKE ME SO MAD! JUST WAIT TILL I GET MY HANDS ON YOU LITTLE—!’
“Geez Michael.” The God groaned, rolling his eyes. “If you’re done with your aneurysm, put Zeusie back on the line.”
‘ANUERYSM?! MY BLOOD PRESSURE ALONE IS ENOUGH TO KILL—!’
Raphael and Ares barely managed to wrestle the phone away from Michael’s grasp as Zeus' voice came back online.
‘Ahem! Well, now that’s all over… I’ll simply cut to the chase. You are going to be Heaven's representative for the sixth round of Ragnarok.’
“Tch! Bothersome as always. Are you going senile, old man? What makes you think I’ll waste my time with this nonsense?”
‘Ohohoho! True enough—Yet for you of all people to head down to watch Ragnarok in person… Perhaps something about it has caught your pretty little eye~? A… fire? Lit up in your soul?’
The God went silent. Hermes grinned eerily watching his grip on the phone was tightening as he gritted his teeth.
My, that old man certainly knows how to push a person’s buttons, doesn’t he?
“Bloody codger…” Images began to flash through the God’s mind:
Loneliness banished with a brilliant clash—
‘Ba-dum’
A father’s love toppling the sky—
‘Ba-Dum’
The weakling’s sword shattering perfection—
‘Ba-DUM’
Sinful hands piercing indomitable justice—
‘BA-DUM’
Fire and passion giving it their all, and now…
‘BA-DUM!’
‘Weeeeeell? What is your answer?’
“Fuck you… I’ll play your stupid little game…”
He could practically hear Zeus grinning over the phone as he said that.
‘Well isn’t that a surprise! I thought I would have to strong-arm you a little more than that! Haha, I expect a veeeery interesting round if your agreeing to be in it—‘
The God drew his hood back, revealing hair that was the closest thing one could find to a disheveled cloud. Voluminous, flowing, and pale, but extremely tousled with a bad case of bedhead. His soft, androgynous face wore a sharp and baleful expression. His eyes, a brilliant kaleidoscope of colors, were weary and glazed over.
‘YAHWEH.’
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Yahweh
(Abrahamic Pantheon)
The One True God?
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OC, do not steal. :3
If you told 2024 me that Wukong was in a RoR spin-off and that I would absolutely despise him, and instead would be invested in the personification of Death at the center of a mislabeled translation drama… I’d say that’s a pretty good guess cause that’s what happened.
My prediction for Death and Enma's backstory:
Enma used to be one of many judges in the Chinese underworld, he started his own indie business in Japan, where Death became one of his workers.
Death then begins his own start-up, Enma opposes and the exchange goes like this:
E: When I was your age, I built my name up with hard work, racism, and sweat!
D: Shut up old man, I want to kill a bunch of people!
E: You youngsters have no respect anymore!
D: You were always jealous of my ballet! That’s why you’re trying to bring me down! Because you’re mad that I stuck with my passion instead of letting the corporate life crush me like it did you!
E: No, you chuckle-fuck. It’s because you murdered half my work force!
D: They laughed at my dance! They had NO taste!
There might be a slight bias with the GOAT Naruse vindicating me by confirming that Death's name is in fact "Death". But even without that, this round is actually really solid, and I'm actually invested and interested.
“W-What is going on?!” Heimdall roared. “Unbelievable as it may be, Caligula… has survived Amaterasu’s fast-paced ONSLAUGHT with sheer endurance alone! His opponent’s incredible speed seems to have dulled for the moment, and the Mad Emperor has activated some sort of mechanism that's pouring smoke into the arena?”
The Watchman of the Apocalypse discreetly turned as the crowd bristled with amazement.
EHHHH? What’s this?! Could it be a special change to the arena? I don’t remember ever approving such a—No… it wouldn’t be good if I revealed that the wool was pulled over my eyes. The show can only go on!
Multiple screens materialized around the stands to allow spectators a better view of the battle. Caligula raised his hand, beckoning Amaterasu as the fog around him obscured his lower half.
“Come then, my Little Star! Let us put on a spectacle the Heavens won’t soon forget!”
“I don’t know what trickery you’re trying to pull, human. But it won’t work!” Amaterasu replied, shooting forward with a thrust.
Letting out a chuckle, Caligula twisted his body, spinning out of the way and brought his spear down to crush her. Amaterasu responded with a swift turn of her own, their weapons clashing against one another, and pushing Caligula back, his legs skidding across the floor as though it were ice.
Hm… Her speed is definitely more manageable now, He mused, leaping back to dodge a follow-through cut by Amaterasu. but I didn’t expect her strength to be that formidable. I had assumed it was only thanks to her increased agility, but I see now it was a slight error in judgement—
His thoughts were cut off, as was his jump. Caligula landed on his feet with a heavy thud.
?! Oh right… the greaves.
The Sun Kami swooped low, pushing her offence and launching herself upwards to strike at his abdomen. Caligula attempted to move out of the way, but his heavy legwear slowed the attempt, allowing the blade to graze his stomach.
“Looks like I’m due for a quick change!” He laughed. “So why don’t we just… TAKE FIVE!”
One hand grasping the end of his spear, Caligula launched five piercing jabs towards Amaterasu without even moving forward. Each strike came after the previous one so fast, they left afterimages surged forward like serpents ready to strike!
Faced with the first strike of this incoming wave, Amaterasu braced its impact with a gauntlet and then parrying the next with her sword. She tilted her head just as the third took a lock of her golden hair, before shifting Kusanagi and knocking the last two strikes away with it.
“I told you, it won’t work!” Amaterasu roared, as she lifted Kusanagi above her head and cleaved downwards. However, Caligula had already vanished by then, and the Sun Kami just barely got a glimpse of his grin disappearing into the thick smoke around them.
“I see. Well then I suppose I’ll just have to up my cover then~”
As his voice was lost in the shroud, even more smoke began to pour out. Amaterasu followed it and began launching attack after attack while her target only grew more obscured. Can’t lose him now! There’s no telling what sort of trickery he will get up to within this shroud.
“Tsk tsk!” Caligula’s voice called out again, sounding close, and yet deeper within the fog at the same time. “Now that’s no way to tackle the unexpected. I’d expect my Little Star to be capable of a little improvising!”
“Be quiet!” Amaterasu growled, leaping back into the center as something swiped at her out from the shroud.
The Sun Kami glanced around herself and realized that the fog had grown so thick that nearly the entire battlefield was covered in it save the patch where she stood in the middle of the grounds.
As her eyes swiveled from side to side, a dark shape began to circle the ring of smoke, darting within the shroud and making it hard to keep track, oftentimes seeming as though there were more than one.
“Tch!” Amaterasu grumbled. “I’ll be having a word with Heimdall after this… Now this shroud—it seems to be ordinary smoke, merely cover? If he was able to sneak such a trick into our match there’s no telling what else that human is hiding!“
“Oh? Do I have you on the defensive then? Don’t mind if I do~”
The mist behind her burst apart as Caligula’s spear flew at her in a sneak attack! Amaterasu swerved to the side as the polearm shot past, her legs already twisting around as it retracted back into the shroud.
The Sun Kami gave chase, one foot stepping into the smoke as she swung Kusanagi at Caligula’s murky silhouette. However out of the corner of her eye, she spied another dark shape within the smoke accompanied by a sharp noise.
There’s two of them?!
Caught off guard, Amaterasu's attack went wide and just barely missed the first silhouette, the shadow slipping away further into the mist and disappeared from view.
Was that him? She thought as she spun around to face the second silhouette, and brought her sword down in a cleave.
However, unlike the first shadow, this one did not move. Instead there was a loud, harsh screeching, and sparks flew off Kusanagi’s blade as Amaterasu sliced through the mysterious object as though it were butter.
The mist around her dissolved in an instant, and in front of Amaterasu was a life-sized statue of Caligula modelled and posed, now broken in half by her attack.
“What sort of ridiculous joke is this?!”
“Why, the kind that made you look, of course~”
Caligula burst out from the mist in full, his spear held aloft above his head, and the crowd gasped at what they saw on the screens.
Gone was the heavy imperial armor that Caligula wore into the arena. He now wore a white chiton with purple accents and golden trimmings, exposing his surprisingly muscular frame, paired alongside caligae sandals adorned with soft white wings that seemed to flutter carelessly in the wind.
Heaving his spear down with his shoulders, Caligula slammed the entire length of the polearm against the ground, sending debris flying in all directions as Amaterasu leapt into the air, proceeding to use gravity to strike down.
But with the end of his spear pressing into his palm, Caligula pushed against the floor and lifted himself up, vaulting into the air as Kusanagi missed its mark.
He’s that fast even with his injuries? Just how heavy was that armor?!
As he landed, Caligula darted back into the cover of the fog laughing, far reedier than his previously bombastic persona.
“HAHAHA! Hither and see, Little Star! In the last act you faced the Indomitable Emperor, unrelenting and standing even under the fury of a thousand blades! But now in this theater of misdirection! Allow me, the Fleet-footed Trickster, this dance!”
“You will not get away that easily!” Amaterasu yelled, giving chase. However countless shapes had emerged within the smoke, statues similar to the previous one obscured by the shroud whilst the true Caligula hid between them waiting to strike.
Amaterasu growled, walking up to one that appeared right on the edge. It was certainly life-like.
Where did these even come from? It’s barely been minutes but I can’t stand to see his face, let alone multiple! Best stay in the clear for now and re-think my strategy.
The Sun Kami lifted the pommel of Kusanagi and broke the statue head-first before moving back to the center of the arena. She glanced up, the sun’s rays were hardly penetrating through the thick cloud that had formed overhead.
…
“What do you mean by that?” Ra yawned, as Huitzilopochtli stood by his side looking concerned.
“I mean that—Well, isn’t it obvious?” The Aztec God said. “Every move that guy made may look like he blundered into some serious damage, but I just know those are the choices of someone who knows who he is up against!”
Before Ra could respond, a gust of wind sent the doors to the booth bursting open as two bundles of energy darted across the interior, ricocheting off walls like bullets, excitably repeating: “NEE-SAN’S FIGHTING! NEE-SAN’S FIGHTING!”
“Huitzilopochtli—“ Ra started, but the Aztec God was already up on his feet.
“I got it, I got it. Please don’t kill them.”
Reaching out, he caught both under either arm revealing Raijin and Fujin. The young Thunder and Wind Kami were nearly identical with tiny horns, and sharp underbites. But Raijin’s red skin, stockier build and orange hair, easily distinguished him from Fujin’s blue skin, and green wind-swept locks.
The twins looked up, slightly abashed as they flashed big toothy grins. “Oh. Hi, Huitzy-san!”
“Staying out of trouble?” Huitzilopochtli chuckled, setting them down.
“Uhmm—maaaaaaybe?”
Izanami floated in after them, beaming sweetly, “Hello again, you two. I do hope it’s no trouble if we watch from here too? My little babies are just dying to see their beloved Nee-san fight~”
Ra sighed, contemplating whether torching her was worth the trouble. “I see… no issue with that. Huitzilopochtli, continue.”
“R-right! We all know about Amy’s power right?”
“Yeah! She uses the sun and goes super fast, it's crazy!” Fujin gushed.
“Not as fast as me though!” Raijin pouted.
“Not just fast.” Huitzilopochtli corrected. “But as fast as light, literal light-speed! Amaterasu’s HIKARIRYUU: LIGHT STYLE draws power from the sun, channeling it through her Divine Diadem: Yasakani no Magatama, and merging her body with light to strike almost instantaneously.”
“That’s so COOL! Nee-san is unbeatable!”
Izanami sat down, placing the twins on her lap “Of course not, my dears. There are always limitations to such power, and your sister cannot sustain that amount of strength forever. After unleashing a limited burst, Yasakani needs time to recharge itself with the sun’s rays.”
“Exactly.” Huitzilopochtli said, “It’s like that human knows this! Everything he’s pulled off: heavy armor to keep himself rooted to the spot, superhuman levels of endurance to wait out the limit, and now covering the arena in smoke to hide himself and block out the sun? You can’t tell me his strategy wasn’t built around countering Amy’s ability!”
…
Amaterasu exhaled, I see… so that’s his game.
The Sun Kami held Kusanagi in one hand, drawing the blade back and holding it there as her stance tightened and her breath steadied. Dust stirred at her feet, lifting as though drawn to the motion.
Alright then, you have played an impressive hand thus far, but power or not I’ll tear through your guise without fail!
In Japanese legends, the Divine Blade Ame-no-Tsurugi was said to have come into the hands of Prince Yamato Takeru. During a hunting expedition with a treacherous warlord, the young prince found himself ambushed in a field of grass set alight by fiery arrows that would surely burn him to ash!
However, Yamato Takeru learnt of the true potential of the divine blade in his desperate attempt to extinguish the flames: the ability to control the winds with one powerful swing! An ability that would lead to the renaming of the sword to—
“KUSANAGI-NO-TSURUGI: GRASS-CUTTING SWORD!”
In the blink of an eye, Amaterasu stepped forward and swung Kusanagi in a single, decisive strike. The release was heralded by a sharp crack as her cut sliced through the air, and a compressed gust burst outwards from the edge and scattered the first layer of smoke closest to her.
The space ahead was now barren, exposing a dozen statues to the world—but was the true Caligula amongst them?
Sniff~ The Sun Kami felt her nostril prickle as she took in the acrid odour of the persistent shroud. Yet… there was something else. Metallic, almost coppery and sickly sweet. The smell of…
Her head whipped around, and she surged towards two statues located not far from her right. Between them was Caligula crouched surreptitiously, eyes widening as his element of surprise disappeared.
I’d expected her to use Kusanagi to clear some of the fog. But how did she still spot me so quickly?
He then looked down at himself, positively reeking of the smell of blood from his previously inflicted wounds.
“Ohh—Impressive~”
Caligula barely leapt out of the way as Amaterasu obliterated the statue on his left.
Flanking her from the side, he bit back with his spear. However, Amaterasu somersaulted through the air, evading his blows as she landed behind him. The Mad Emperor turned on his heels and ran, seemingly to duck into the cover of his smoke again, but Amaterasu flanked him again, preventing any such attempts.
“What’s the matter? You suddenly don’t want to be in the spotlight anymore?”
The chase began as Caligula began weaving in and out of the statues that littered the way in front of him.
Amaterasu followed, fuming and confident as she kept pace, forcing him to move erratically in hopes of throwing her off.
So annoying… Amaterasu grumbled, as she pushed off against a statue to build up speed. But it doesn’t matter so long as I know where you’re headed!
At that moment, she caught sight of Caligula’s feet twisting to the right, where the rim of smoke still brewed.
She immediately rushed up to his side, cutting with her sword and forcing him away from the shroud. The Mad Emperor sneered, dashing off again as the chase resumed.
“Man this is getting boring…”
“Even without her powers and his tricks—Lady Amaterasu has that human on the run, as expected!”
“Come on Caligula! Don’t you dare run out of steam now!”
“Just kill him and get this over with already!”
Amaterasu fumed, fury sharpened her gaze. The Sun Kami skidded to a halt, feet grinding against the stone as she drew her blade back once more, gathering herself to unleash another devastating gust.
Caligula paled, quickly scanning the battlefield. Where did I… Ah, over there.
Kusanagi cleaved through the air, and a gale erupted from the swing of the blade with enough force to send the closest statues toppling over.
At that exact moment, the Mad Emperor threw himself to the side, the winds plucking his body from the ground and tossed around in the air like a rag doll.
Caligula’s limbs flailed as the gale dragged him on. He crashed violently into a row of his own statues, shattering them on impact as stone exploded into fragments—before he slammed into the ground a heartbeat later.
The Mad Emperor’s body skidded to a halt, his breath husky. Through the wreckage, his disorientated sight saw Amaterasu slowly walking up towards him, her movements deliberate, knowing that she already won.
“My goodness, Little Star! I assume if you were still at full power those winds would have blown all my smoke away?”
Amaterasu rolled her eyes. “Do not act so familiar, you are but another nameless fool I’ll silence with Kusanagi.”
Caligula grinned, using his elbows to prop his body up. “Au Contraire, my Little Star! I dare say I am unlike any man you will meet.”
“Delusional, I’ve met many like you working in the council. All that glamour, yet beneath it all is nothing but subpar strength. Putting on airs, trying to drive away the darkness of his inadequacies with the glamor of spectacle. All style no substance—Pathetic.”
The Sun Kami was upon him, raising her sword above her head to deliver the killing blow. Caligula's arm stretched out, reaching for his spear, but Amaterasu made no attempts to stop him—he wouldn’t get it in time.
“Any last words?”
The Mad Emperor’s head whipped around to face her and she felt a chill run down her spine.
“I do.” He smiled without a single trace of fear. “Now is what we call… the Twist.”
Suddenly, swift whistles were heard as something fired up from the ground and pricked Amaterasu on the neck.
W-what?
She stumbled, groping the numbness and removing two tiny needles from her skin. Looking down at her feet she noticed a fine trip wire, leading to a dart trap, activated as her movements had broken the line in two.
More needles had buried themselves along the back of her hand and legs through her hakama. And even more tripwires littered the floor behind her when chasing Caligula down…
Confusion soon turned to disbelief as Amaterasu felt the prickling numbness slowly spread across her body.
Some sort of slow-acting sedative?! D-did I not feel them hit me before because of the chase?
In that instant, Caligula’s fingers tightened around his spear. He surged to his feet, dragging the weapon in a low, sweeping arc that caught Amaterasu at the legs and sent her crashing to the ground.
The Sun Kami barely had time to process the strike before his silhouette loomed above her, the spear blotting out the light as it came crashing down.
Acting on instinct, she raised Kusanagi and caught the blow, her back slamming against the floor. But the numbness had already crept into her limbs—her arms trembled, strength failing—as Caligula leaned into the strike, forcing the spear down harder, driving her inch by inch toward collapse.
“Did that human just—?!” Ares gaped while Hera and Pandora covered their mouths in shock.
“AMATERASU!” Huitzilopochtli, Izanami, and the twins cried.
Caligula leaned closer, breathing heavily on Amaterasu’s forehead making her skin coil.
“Tracking me by the scent of my blood alone? You're a clever little goddess, Little Star—all the more reason to employ these underhanded tactics~ Welcome… to my TYRANT’S TRAP!”
Honestly Hajun would be a better fit for the Homelander death meme. But Hajun's end was already pretty pathetic, meanwhile Loki's was actually kinda cool: Saying "I love you." whilst getting sniped in mid-air is kinda metal even if you are a friend-zoned cuck simp loser.
So he gets this momentous honor :P
