r/RecordOfOurRagnarok

Behold! This is a collaboration roster with Maides himself U/Golden_creeper1 he did the gods I did the humans.

So yes this is an officially two person roster.

He told me to post it here since he’s less known here (also look at my work I’m just to peak baby) so yeah

Let me know who you think will fight who (some of these make no sense) also if you wanna know who anyone is I suppose you can ask below

And as they endure

A red dot drifted across his view, left, right, up and down, at various speeds and angles of attack, in response he moved at light speed, deflecting one after another with his hands. 

His vision blurred as he saw nothing but a red line dashing across the ring before him, relentlessly attacking.

“Alright! Keep going old man, just a bit more and you’ll run him through!” Muramasa said with a grin on his face.

“My oh my!” Adam looked down at the ring, his glance shifting to the spot near the god’s audience not too far from his own lounge. “It appears your hero is struggling quite a bit, oh queen of the Norse.”

Vidar looked down at the duel, eyes narrowing as his hand went to the handle of his weapon. “No.” Freya spoke decisively, her gaze not averting from the battle. “None can interfere once the match starts.”

The god went to open his mouth but was once again stopped by the goddess beside him. “He won’t fail, he never has or ever will. The champion I made will be victorious on this day.”  She spoke, her hand crushing the throne she sat on into dust.

Come on now, try new tricks already. Give the audience a show before you go and kick the bucket.

“Ah…Ah…” Deep breaths were all he could let out in response while defending himself, in the midst of the crimson barrage he saw the briefest of openings and took it.

The light speed jab was launched forward, grazing past the red cloth that covered Longinus’ eyes, the human ducking under the blow and following up with a thrust aimed at Baldur’s heart. But that too was met with nothing but empty air. Baldur swiftly and perfectly went under the blow, resting his whole body upon one hand before launching a sweeping kick.

‘That will slice clean through my legs!’ Quickly thinking, Longinus jumped above the kick as it cut into the ground. Radiant light appeared from below, Baldur’s fist surging with power as it launched upwards at the human champion.

[Aesir’s Light: Gullinbursti]

‘He can’t dodge in the air’ 

As the rising comet of a punch headed towards him, Longinus brought his spear up and placed it against his foot to guard against the hit. A flash of light enveloped both of them, the ground beneath Baldur broke as he sent Longinus flying across the ring. The human spinning in the air, his bones still shaking from the impact still as he landed on the ground, stabbing the spear into the ground to slow himself.

[Aesir’s Light: Gullinbursti]

The god did not slow down on the follow up bringing down an overhead hit. The punch slipped past Longinus as he moved his body to the side, the blow shattering the earth it struck, sending shards of rock all over the place.

Longinus ducked down, dodging another perfectly executed attack, a left hook aimed to tear him in two. Next was another overhead meant to bury him into the earth from above. He moved to the side to avoid it, at the same time launching another quick jab of his red spear at Baldur. The god deflected it with the back of his hand before ducking under the follow up swing as Longinus took distance.

Instead of another follow up hit, Baldur changed his approach. His left extended forward more than usually,  taking a sharp breath and becoming a white blur, rapidly moving across the ring. Flashes of his figure darted around Longinus, the human holding a stance as he waited for the god’s strike. 

Baldur’s rapid movements closed in around Longinus, dashing continuously around him in a circle just shy out of both of their ranges and creating a ring around Longinus.

A slight shift to the side, ducking his head low, a back step. Three actions that avoided three consecutive jabs. Through the of his creation, Baldur still held his stance perfectly and launched [Aesir’s Light: Nanna]

“You really can’t give this old man a break, eh kiddo?” Longinus said mostly to himself as a bit of sweat ran down his forehead.

“Perfect footwork, perfect form. Only one such as I could replicate this, yes yes! Baldur’s method of attack cuts off any way for Longinus to escape!” Ratatoskr spoke into the mic as he and the audience were captivated by the god’s movements. But the truly strong saw even further beyond it. Perfection, even after taking so many hits from the crimson spear, each movement, each shift of his feet, angle of the jab, all of it was done so precisely as if it were a textbook example of the movements shown. And yet.

A mere man stood untouched.

From each and every direction, all at blinding speeds these bolts of light came, each looking to be the finishing blow. The human would compare to being surrounded by spears, or had he known of them, being shot by high caliber rifles. 

He parried the attack from the front, taking a step back for the one to his left, side stepping the one from behind, ducking under another aiming for his head. Each dodged by a hair, tearing up bits of his clothes as they ran past him. 

“But even in the face of such fierce attacks, not one manages to hit Longinus!”

Relax, just keep going and one will eventually land…probably

Baldur didn’t have much time to listen to Loki’s words as the crimson spear shot ripped through the air at him once more, stopped by the norse god’s guard as his right hand parried it before launching a counter jab with his left. Longinus avoided it, the punch scraping past his cheek before Baldur continued his movements around him.

The spear made its way through the barrage of jabs, each parried by Baldur and counter attacked by another jab that was getting close to its mark. Another line of red flew through the air. Baldur’s reflexes were late to react, the spear slipped through his guard and struck him in his ribs. Instead of a flash of pain that the spear tip usually provided, a blunt force pressed into his chest.

Baldur’s eyes darted down and widened, ‘He struck with the other end!?’ His eyes moved back to Longinus, quickly trying to counter with a jab and shake the spear off with his other hand, yet to no avail. The human shifted the god’s center of gravity with the blunt end, throwing off his posture and stopping his footwork. The jab misfired and Longinus stepped forward, twisting the spear and bringing the front downwards in a swing, drawing more blood from the Baldur’s shoulder.

The god gritted his teeth and pulled back with a blinding step, yet the human followed in pursuit. Baldur quickly let out several rapid blows at close range, all blocked by the polearm or dodged entirely by Longinus before he launched a counter for each of the strikes.

He’s good for a geezer, come now next trick, I’m already bored of this one, the audience will follow suit

The battle continued, exchanges ebbed and flowed. Badlur unleashing the full extent of his arsenal, divine out boxing, blinding speed, perfect movements, punches, kicks, elbows all performed without a shred of wasted movements. Every technique the Norse could implant upon him was on display, without mistakes without doubt at their pinnacle. And even still.
Divine outboxing was crushed, that blinding speed outpaced, those perfect movements stopped in their tracks, his offense evaded or defended against. At the face of such godly power, Longinus stood firm, avoided the peerless attacks and tore into the Light Bringer’s immaculate frame. 

The God Killer slipped past another light speed jab, the crimson spear shining with a light as it hit into Baldur’s forearm, tearing past it and into his chest. Baldur jumped back before it could run him through completely.

Baldur stumbled and rolled across the ground, finally stopping himself and standing on one knee as he caught his breath. Heavy pants escaped his lips, the cries of worry and cheers for the champion of humanity were all but mere static noise to his ears as his clouded eyes focused solely at the man in front of him. ‘...What can I even do now…’

Well guess this is the end of it. You have tried everything, every bit of your strength and skill you had to show. That perfect saviour that the gods created, at the knees of humanity’s saviour! Can’t think of a much more pathetic death than that!

Loki’s figure appeared behind the god, his cape digging into Badlur’s bloodied clothes as he laughed into his mind with gleeful malice.

Everything he tried, everything failed. His resolve wavered further and further, hearing those words again in his head, echoing loudly to the point they shut off Loki’s taunting.

‘Become strong… Be better than anyone… Train harder than anyone… Be perfect.’

Freya held Baldur’s face in her arms, looking down at him with a reassuring smile at his efforts in the past, destroying every enemy before her pantheon and keeping the peace. ‘You did well my son. Such strength has not been seen in our pantheon in many millenia. You went above and beyond what I asked for, you truly became my hero.’ Her hands pressed into the sides of his face, nails digging into his skin and her sweet voice fills his ears. ‘But not yet, there is still more to do. You must continue carrying on your purpose, the expectations of all of heaven rest upon those shoulders. You failed once but you will not let it happen again. Keep fighting, for me, keep being strong and crush our enemies. My hero.’

‘My Hero’ Pathetic saviour ‘Be strong forever and always’ Preach about peace and protecting when all you do is crush anyone in front of you ‘Fight and win for me, crush our enemies’ Struggle until your last breath and die as a liar

His breath became rapid, gasping for air as his gaze turned to the ground, the sharp pain of all of his wounds pierced into him again. The visage of Höðr staring up at him from the ground, eyes torn out and his features unmoving.

“...” Longinus paused, the grip of his spear tightening at what he saw before him. ‘...Why…’ What stood before him was something he had only seen once, not a burning fire of a brave warrior looking for glory, but a weak light that was surrounded by darkness. Shell of spreading despair and shattered hope that ate away at a wavering soul. That day flashed before him, the only time he had been able to see the world as much as anyone else. A scenery he will never forget, and that saint upon a cross which he had slain.

His lips pursed, as he tried to look away but his head still remained firm. The view was gone, the world of dark and light returned. And his grasp of the spear weakened. ‘No… Not again.’

“...Yo kiddo, still hanging in there?”

Baldur’s head snapped upwards, ready to dodge any incoming blow, yet one did not appear. The human's voice was not of mockery and deceit, yet strangely that of concern.

“... I guess… You could say that I am… You’re letting yourself worry for me even at a place such as this?” His voice was hesitant as he tried to hide it the best he could, but to Longinus all was clear. His light was being snuffed out bit by bit.

“...” Longinus paused for a moment, resting his spear on his body before answering. “...I just felt it right thing to do, kiddo. I haven’t been in many fights like these but… Doubt anyone would wish for it to continue like this.”

“... Like this?... We were both sent to annihilate the opposition… What is more there to this?”

First time I agree with you there

“...I haven’t a clue.” Longnius spoke bluntly but with a voice still with compassion. “But I sure am not going to blindly follow what others tell me…Not anymore…” He whispered the last part to himself, only Baldur being able to faintly hear it. “If I’m to fight so be it, but I’ll do it the way I want it to be, not following in someone’s footsteps or going in a way another pushes me towards. I’ll be on a path I set myself on.”

“...”

In the stands, Oni looked at Muramasa with concern before the human spoke before him. “It’s all good, let the old guy do what he wants.”

I can’t guess who’s the more pathetic fool, you or the geezer for not finishing you off. All that babbling going to the waste of air like you!

Loki’s insults and mockery fell on deaf’s ears. Baldur’s eyes locked onto Longinus as a flash to that day, the one that he failed, that he wished to forget of for so long.

“You know little brother…” Höðr spoke with a sort of sincerity Baldur had not heard from his brother before. “Your deeds are plenty and your heroics nuremous… But, if you were to encounter a challenge that will push you to the edge of your life and in the face of dispair… Do not follow anyone’s orders, even if they were to mock, laugh or scold you… Do what you think will be the best and carve your own way through to the light.” His hand goes to pat his brother’s shoulder as he let out a smile. “I’m sure you’ll make the choice that feels the right for you, Baldur.”

The moment ended as soon as it had arrived when he heard Longinus speak once more. “Sorry about all that, must have been embarrassing hearing this old man talk like that…” The man stopped as he saw Baldur, no movements were made nor words spoken. But that fading light began to give off a new glow.

Baldur clenched his fist, the pain of his wounds tearing away at him as he stood up. His hands went to his cape, detaching it from his shoulders as it dropped to the floor. He let out more heavy breaths as he tore off his bloodied top. His bare body, once so elegant, bloodied and battered with cuts and slashes, but even more so the black lines that ran across his skin, those left by Loki. 

The gods flinch and begin to talk amongst themselves. What has become of their hero, what is he about to do?

All of it fell onto Baldur who still stood tall. ‘Forgive me, brother… That it took me this long to see.’

So ready to accept it yet or-

Loki’s words stopped as he felt a scorching sensation,  Baldur’s body beginning to give off a heavenly light, the cursed marks on his body began to glow radiantly. Loki’s phantom began to disappear with them.

You brat! You think you’ll be free of me from just this! I’ll haunt you until the end of your days, at your lowest I will watch you fall! I will

“Quiet. This is not a place for the likes of you.”

Without even a screech of agony, the cursed being that would be forgotten in history was evaporated by Baldur’s light in an instant.

Baldur, the greatest of the Norse, appeared before Longinus as something he never witnessed in his life. A brilliant beacon in the dark, shining brightly and more radiant than anyone else he had met before.

The Light Bringer, at the attention of all of heaven and earth, ready to take a step onto the path he chose.

“Let’s go. To our light.”

[Aesir’s Light: Svalinn]

​

Well we're halfway there

Round 7

Galvarino vs Huitzilopochtli

The Warrior Without Hands vs The Sun of Endless War

The score stands even.

Gods — 3

Humanity — 3

For the first time in Ragnarok…

the possibility of humanity’s victory feels real.

The gods are furious.

Humanity is inspired.

The atmosphere in Valhalla feels less like a tournament now and more like war.

Heimdall raises the Gjallarhorn.

The sound is harsher this time.

“ROUND SEVEN!”

The arena transforms violently.

The earth cracks apart as massive jungle roots burst upward from beneath stone and ancient temples rise toward the heavens the sky burns crimson.At the center of the arena stands a gigantic sacrificial altar stained black with centuries of blood.The air itself feels hot enough to breathe fire.

No grand procession comes.

No music.

No spectacle.

Only footsteps.

A scarred warrior walks into the arena barefoot.

Lean.

Covered in old wounds.

Both forearms ending in cruel stumps wrapped tightly with leather bindings.Attached to them are long curved obsidian blades.

The audience falls silent immediately.Not because of fear.

Because everyone understands

this man already sacrificed everything long before Ragnarok began.

Heimdall’s voice booms across the arena

“Even mutilation could not stop him!”

“Even conquest could not break him!”

“The warrior who fought after losing both hands!”

“HUMANITY’S UNBREAKABLE SPIRIT!”

“GALVARINO!”

Humanity erupts emotionally.

Among the audience stand roars his name but Galvarino says nothing.He simply stares toward the temple above waiting.

Drums thunder as the sky splits open.A blazing miniature sun descends slowly from the heavens.

At its center stands a towering warrior clad in turquoise-and-gold armor decorated with hummingbird feathers and sacrificial jade.

god radiates violence. Pure violence.His eyes burn like molten gold.Behind him marches an endless phantom army of eagle and jaguar warriors.

Heimdall roars

“The god who demands blood to keep the sun alive!”

“The conqueror of Heaven’s battlefields!”

“THE FIFTH SUN!”

“HUITZILOPOCHTLI!”

The gods erupt thunderously.

Even Ares grins.

This is a god built for slaughter.

Huitzilopochtli lands atop the sacrificial altar.

Looks down at Galvarino.

Then laughs.

“You come to fight me already half destroyed?”

Galvarino finally speaks.

Quietly.

“Still enough left to kill you.”

The audience explodes as the Battle Begins

Huitzilopochtli attacks first.

His spear crashes downward like a falling meteor.

Galvarino barely dodges.

The impact vaporizes stone instantly.

The heat alone burns flesh.

The gods roar approvingly.

The longer the fight continues—

the stronger Huitzilopochtli becomes.

The battlefield temperature rises rapidly as air distorts and blood evaporates on impact

Galvarino is immediately outmatched physically.

But he keeps attacking.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Every slash reckless.

Every charge suicidal.

The human audience begins screaming his name desperately.

Flashback

The Mapuche are captured.

Spanish conquistadors drag Galvarino before their commanders.

To terrify future resistance—

they sever both his hands publicly.

Blood pours onto the dirt.

The Spaniards laugh.

Then—

Galvarino stands.

Not broken.

Enraged.

Later, warriors attempt to stop him from returning to battle.

He refuses.

Blades are strapped directly onto his arms.

And he charges back into war.

Back to the Fight

Huitzilopochtli impales Galvarino directly through the shoulder.

But instead of retreating—

Galvarino forces himself further onto the spear just to get closer.

Then slashes across the god’s face.

Blood flies.

The arena falls silent.

A god has been wounded.

Huitzilopochtli touches the blood on his cheek.

Then smiles.

A real smile.

“GOOD!”

The god’s power surges violently.

Every drop of blood spilled strengthens him further.

The miniature sun overhead grows larger.

Brighter.

The jungle catches fire.

Human spectators collapse from heat exhaustion.

Yet Galvarino keeps moving.

Barely alive now.

But still moving.

Flashback

The young god erupts fully armed from his mother Coatlicue.

His siblings move to kill her.

Huitzilopochtli slaughters them instantly.

To him war is not cruelty.War is survival.

The strong preserve existence itself through bloodshed.

Without sacrifice the sun dies.

“The Fifth Sun Descends”

The entire sky ignites.

A blazing sun forms directly above the arena.

The heat becomes apocalyptic.

Even gods shield their faces.

Galvarino’s flesh begins burning.

But Still he walks forward.

One step at a time.

The audience is crying openly now.

Not because they think he can win.

Because he refuses to surrender.

Huitzilopochtli descends from above like a falling star.

Galvarino charges directly toward him.

Screaming Not in fear In rage.

Their attacks collide.

The explosion tears apart the temple itself.

Smoke floods the arena.

Silence follows.

Then Galvarino is revealed kneeling.

One obsidian blade shattered.

The other buried deep in Huitzilopochtli’s side.

The gods stare in disbelief.

The war god coughs blood.

He was genuinely close to death.

But his spear has pierced directly through Galvarino’s chest.

Huitzilopochtli stares down at the dying warrior.

Confused.

Almost disturbed.

“Why?”

“Why keep fighting?”

Galvarino spits blood.

Then grins.

“Because someone has to.”

His body dissolves into light while still attempting to stand.

Humanity falls completely silent.

Even many gods cannot speak.

Winner

HUITZILOPOCHTLI

The score shifts once more:

Gods — 4

Humanity — 3

But the victory feels wrong.

Huitzilopochtli hand pressed against the wound Galvarino gave him.

For the first time in countless wars

the god of sacrifice understands why humans frighten the heavens.

Round 5

Saladin vs Erlang Shen

The Sultan of Mercy and Steel vs Heaven’s Unblinking Eye

The score stands:

Humanity — 2

Gods — 2

For the first time since Ragnarok began…

the gods are uneasy.

Humanity has proven they can kill gods.The divine audience no longer laughs.Meanwhile, humans are emboldened.

The arena buzzes with tension as Heimdall steps forward.

“ROUND FIVE!”

The battlefield transforms.

Golden sand spreads endlessly beneath a burning sun.

Then—

the desert splits apart.

On one side:

the shining walls of Jerusalem.

On the other:

massive celestial gates floating among clouds.

Earth and Heaven face one another directly.

The sound of marching feet echoes across the sand.Not chaotic,Disciplined.

But to only a lone mounted warrior clad in elegant armor of green, gold, and steel.Calm eyes,Steady,posture,No hatred.

Only resolve.

Heimdall raises his horn.

“A king among conquerors!”

“A warrior respected by enemies and allies alike!”

“The man who reclaimed Jerusalem!”

“THE SULTAN OF MERCY!”

“SALADIN!”

Humanity roars.

Even many gods watch carefully.

From the stands, Richard the Lionheart smirks proudly.

“About time they sent a proper king.”

Places one hand on the hilt of his shamshir.

Then looks toward Heaven’s gate.

Thunder rolls across the sky.

The celestial gates open.

A divine army descends in perfect formation.

At their center walks a tall warrior dressed in black-and-silver armor with crimson accents flowing behind him like banners.

A third eye rests closed upon his forehead beside him walks a massive white celestial hound.

Every step radiates absolute authority.

Heimdall announces:

“Among Heaven’s warriors…”

“None are more dependable.”

“None are more relentless.”

“The greatest hunter of the Celestial Court!”

“HEAVEN’S UNBLINKING EYE!”

“ERLANG SHEN!”

The gods erupt in cheers.

Even Ares looks impressed.

Sun Wukong lounges in the audience grinning wildly.

“Oooh, this’ll be good.”

Erlang Shen studies Saladin carefully.

Then speaks.

“You carry yourself like a god.”

Saladin answers calmly.

“No.”

“Merely a man trying to be worthy of those who follow him.”

The third eye twitches slightly.

Saladin draws his blade.

Erlang Shen opens his third eye.

The pressure explodes outward.

The desert cracks beneath them.

Then—they vanish.

CLANG!

Their weapons collide at impossible speed.The crowd erupts immediately.Unlike previous rounds, this is not chaos.

It is mastery

Every movement deliberate and Every strike calculated.

Two commanders testing one another.

Erlang Shen gradually begins overwhelming Saladin.

The third eye predicts footwork,breathing,muscle tension

And attack timing

Every move Saladin makes is countered instantly.The gods begin regaining confidence.

Ares laughs.

“Human skill means nothing before divine perfection!”

Saladin is slowly forced backward.

Yet—

he never loses composure.

Jerusalem falls.

His soldiers await slaughter.

Years of war have filled everyone with hatred.

Instead—

Saladin orders mercy.

Prisoners spared.

Civilians protected.

Ransoms lowered for the poor.

One commander asks:

“Why show kindness to enemies?”

Saladin looks toward the city quietly.

“Because victory means nothing if you lose yourself achieving it.”

Erlang Shen strikes Saladin across the chest.

Blood stains the sand.

Yet Saladin’s eyes remain calm.

His Völundr glows brighter.

“MERCIFUL KING”

The more composed he becomes—

the stronger the blade grows.

For the first time Erlang Shen’s attacks are redirected instead of blocked.

The audience gasps.

Saladin is turning divine power against Heaven itself.

Floods devastate entire kingdoms.

Gods argue endlessly over responsibility.

Erlang Shen acts.

He carves mountains apart to redirect rivers.

Slays monsters threatening villages.

Stands alone against disasters while Heaven debates.

Mortals worship him because unlike many gods—he protects.

Not for praise.

Because it is his duty.

Back in the arena—

both fighters are heavily wounded.

The celestial hound snarls protectively beside Erlang Shen.

Saladin steadies himself.

Then says quietly:

“You are wasted among arrogant gods.”

The arena falls silent.

Erlang Shen responds:

“And you were born among creatures too cruel for your mercy.”

Neither truly hates the other.

Erlang Shen fully opens the third eye.

“Judgment of Heaven”

The sky itself tears apart.

Divine light descends like a spear from Heaven.

The entire arena trembles.

Human spectators collapse from the pressure alone.

Even Saladin’s sword begins cracking.

Sun Wukong whistles.

“He’s actually serious.”

Saladin charges directly into the divine light.

The audience screams.

His flesh burns instantly.

Yet he keeps advancing.

Step by step.

His sword glowing brighter with every wound.

The Crescent of Jerusalem absorbs the divine energy itself.

For one brief moment—

the impossible happens.

Saladin reaches Erlang Shen.

Their blades clash one final time.

Silence.

Then—

CRACK.

Saladin’s Völundr shatters.

The divine light pierces through his chest.

Humanity goes silent.

Saladin falls to one knee.

Erlang Shen catches him before he hits the ground.

The god’s expression is solemn.

Respectful.

Saladin smiles faintly.

“A worthy guardian…”

Erlang Shen lowers his head.

“A worthy king.”

Saladin dissolves into green light beneath the desert sun.

No cheers come from the gods.

Only silence.

Winner

ERLANG SHEN

The score shifts once more:

Gods — 3

Humanity — 2

But as Erlang Shen leaves the arena

many gods are disturbed.

Because for the first time…

one of Heaven’s greatest warriors hesitated before claiming victory

Round 2

Dante Alighieri vs Charon

Humanity’s Pilgrim vs Ferryman of the Damned

The arena is silent.

After Gilgamesh’s death, humanity’s confidence has already been shaken. The gods sit smugly in their stands while the human audience grows fearful.

Heimdall raises the Gjallarhorn.

“ROUND TWO OF RAGNAROK!”

A deep horn echoes across Valhalla.

Humanity’s Entrance

The gates creak open.

Not with an army.

Not with a king.

But with a lone man in simple red robes carrying a book.

The human audience murmurs in confusion.

“No weapon?”

“A scholar?”

“Humanity sent a poet?!”

He walks into the arena, visibly impressed by the sheer scale of the audience watching him.

Heimdall announces:

“This man descended through Hell itself!”

“The poet who mapped the sins of mankind!”

“The dreamer who walked the road between damnation and salvation!”

“HUMANITY’S PILGRIM!”

“DANTE ALIGHIERI!”

Humanity’s side is uncertain.

The gods laugh openly.

Ares nearly falls out of his seat laughing.

“THIS poet is fighting next?!”

But in the crowd, one figure quietly watches with pride.

Virgil.

Beside him stands Beatrice.

Dante grips his Völundr tightly:

La Divina Commedia

The pages begin turning on their own.

The God’s Entrance

The arena lights dim.

Then vanish completely.

A terrible creaking sound echoes through the darkness.

Water begins flooding across the arena floor.

Black water.

Still water.

A boat emerges from the shadows.

Massive.

Ancient.

Rotting.

At its center stands a towering figure cloaked in rags, face gaunt and corpse-like, holding an impossibly long oar.

The souls of the dead scream beneath the water.

Heimdall’s voice lowers.

“Before kingdoms…”

“Before heroes…”

“Before memory itself…”

“There was already one who carried the dead.”

“The Ferryman of the DAMNED!”

“CHARON!”

The gods fall silent.

Even they respect him.

Charon steps off the ferry his boat floating in mid air

The round begins.

Dante looks up at The pressure radiating from Charon is overwhelming.

Charon slowly speaks.

“You are the poet.”

Dante responds.

“...And you are exactly as terrible as I imagined.”

Charon’s dead eyes narrow.

“Imagined?”

Styx starts flooding the ground shooting up geysers of black water.

Dante barely dodges as the arena floor dissolves beneath the Styx managing to create a small platform of hellish terrain.

The audience panics.

One touch of the water causes stone to decay instantly.

Dante opens the manuscript.

Pages ignite.

“Through me the way into suffering…”

Chains burst from the ground.

Infernal winds roar across the arena.

Spectral sinners drag themselves from beneath the earth.

The gods stop laughing.

Dante isn’t physically strong.

But his imagination manifests reality itself.

The fight becomes surreal.

Every verse changes the battlefield.

But None of it matters.

Charon gets on his boat and rows forward through Hell itself completely unfazed.

Charon has seen every horror humanity can imagine.

Charon jumps off his boat lands on the ground runing towards Dante who is sending spectral sinners and blinding winds to block his path but Charon managers to strikes Dante once with the oar.

Sending him flying back The injury is not physical His soul itself feels crushed.He suddenly experiences every fear he has ever had exile,failure,irrelevance and death

Charon quietly says:

“You know nothing of the dead.”

Flashback — Dante’s Exile

Young Dante wanders Florence alone after exile.

Friends abandon him.

Citizens mock him.

He watches his home disappear behind city gates.

For the first time in his life:

he truly understands despair.

Virgil appears beside him.

“If humanity suffers… then give suffering meaning.”

The flashback ends.

Dante rises again.

This time calmer.

The manuscript glows white instead of red.

The battlefield transforms.

Hell disappears.

A mountain rises beneath the arena.

The souls around Dante begin climbing upward.

Even Charon pauses.

For the first time in countless ages

Charon sees hope.

Dante attacks not with hatred but understanding.

Charon’s Flashback

For thousands upon thousands of years…

Charon ferries souls endlessly.

Children.

Warriors.

Kings.

Mothers.

Every single one begs for more time.

Eventually…

their voices stop meaning anything.

Death becomes routine.

Emotion dies.

Duty remains.

Charon raises his oar.

“Final Crossing”

The entire arena floods with the Styx.

The giant ferry manifests behind him.

Human spectators begin collapsing merely from feeling its presence.

Dante realizes the truth:

Charon is not evil.

He is inevitability.

The final barrier every living thing must face.

Dante smiles weakly.

Then opens the final pages.

Paradiso

Light explodes across the arena.

For one brief moment…

the audience sees Heaven.

Not the realm of gods—

but humanity’s hope for something greater.

Even the gods are stunned silent.

Of the scene of the Heavenly view clashing with the Styx

Dante walks forward through the black river with la divina Commedia glowing with heavenly and infernal energy.

And says:

“I understand now.”

Beatrice cries in the audience.

Virgil smiles proudly.

Charon for the first time in eternity…

Charon hesitates before realizing that he'll be defeated if he doesn't act fast he start running across the surface of Styx dodging the Heavenly and the infernal energy spewing out of la divina Commedia Charon managers to push through and with a powerful thrust---

The oar pierces Dante’s chest.

Silence.

The manuscript falls into the river.

Winner

CHIRON

No cheers come immediately.

Charon stares at Dante’s body feeding away into green particles.

Then quietly says:

“I was wrong, poet.”

“You did know the dead.”

Dante get's a small smile on his feeding face

As Charon leaves

the waters of the Styx fade away

the Ferryman looks tired As he walks back through the gate he here's the people mourning Dante.

Round 1: Dinobot (Beast Wars) vs Thor

Round 2: Yusuke Urameshi (YuYu Hakusho) Vs. Zeus

Round 3: Jean Pierre Polnareff (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure) Vs. Poseidon

Round 4: Joker (Fire Force) Vs. Heracles

Round 5: Tizoc (King of Fighters) Vs. Shiva

Round 6: Machiko Noguchi (Alien vs Predator) Vs. Artemis

Round 7: Thunder (Killer Instinct) Vs. Hades

Round 8: Leo Valdez (Percy Jackson) Vs. Beelzebub

Round 9: Tony Stark (Marvel) Vs. Apollo

Round 10: Antonio Garcia (Power Rangers) Vs. Susano'o no Mikoto

Round 11: Nicholas D. Wolfwood (Trigun) Vs. Loki

Round 12: Kung Lao (Mortal Kombat) Vs. Anubis

Round 13: Ace Ukiyo (Kamen Rider) Vs. Odin

No power scaling this please. This is purely for fun and that you can decide who wins. no draws, no only humanity winning, no double kills. Just have fun!

An angel’s agony

The once green grass is stained red with blood covering every inch. The mangled corpses of angels strewn out across the battlefield, limbs bent beyond normal limits, wings removed from their backs. Amongst them all a single writhing creature stares up at the angel, the greatest threat to the heavens, the serpent of heaven, Satan. Its head stretches up as it lets out a bellowing screech that rings out across all of the heavens, the surviving angels around the archangel having to cover their ears. Michael looks down at the serpent and grips her sword with all the strength in her body, both her hand and the hilt drenched in her blood. She takes a deep breath as her gaze locks with Satan’s. Both suddenly charge through the air at each other, wings beating hard and the air booming around them. Satan’s mouth opens wide as Michael raises her sword high, the blade glowing as she does. The two close in and the serpent’s fangs are inches away from her body when…

Michael’s eyes shot open as she stared up at the ceiling of her room, a cold sweat over her body as she laid in her bed. She placed her hand on her forehead and felt the dampness as she sat up, a thousand yard stare on her face, her breath heavy. “That dream again,” she quietly mumbles, pinching the bridge of her nose, “how long must it haunt me?”

Michael forced herself out of bed and splashed some cold water in her face before collecting her sword and leaving the room without another word. Silently, Michael walked to a training room and gripped her sword with a strength that would threaten to break any other weapon.

An hour later, a lone figure dressed in a long black dress that flows behind her walked into the doorway and saw the archangel standing before a set of training dummies, the sacks torn to shreds and the stuffing covering the ground. Michael weakly raised her sword to strike again and went to swing down on the dummy, but was stopped by the visitor grabbing her wrist. “Michael, stop before you harm yourself.” Michael’s grip on the sword loosens and it slips out of her grip, clattering down to the ground. “The same dream again?”

Michael weakly turned to face the visitor, their face faintly shaded by the black veil she wore though Michael can still see the concern in her face. “I can’t be that weak again, Azrael. I just can’t,” Michael says, her eyes filled with a pleading exhaustion.

“Another war isn’t going to happen. You don’t have to fear losing so many to a horrific event like that again. You can rest Michael, the weight of responsibility of being ‘the guardian of heaven’ doesn’t have to haunt you every day.” Azrael’s gloved hand moved from Michael’s wrist and to her shoulder, the exhausted angel’s body dropping limp and into Azrael who catches her before she drops to the ground. “And even if the heavens lose their stability, the angels’ strength has grown, we shall be able to fend for ourselves.”

“It’s not just the title that hangs over me. I don’t want anyone to die again. I don’t want you to die, Azrael.” Michael was unable to look up at Azrael, her head hung low so the angel of death brought her to the wall where they both sat to continue talking. “How did you even find me here?”

“You weren’t in bed this morning so I feared you had that dream again. Knowing that you always come here whenever you remember the war, I came here and found that my fears were correct.” Azrael pulled out a glass bottle of water from her hip and handed it to Michael. “Here, I knew you’d need something to help you recover.”

“You know me too well.” Michael took the bottle and started to drink, the cold water inside being more refreshing than she expected. She drank half of it in a single breath before passing the bottle back to Azrael who drank a mouthful before putting it down. “If you don’t mind me asking Azrael, how do you do it? Your whole life is surrounded by death. You have to watch as humans lose those they care about and you’re responsible for it all. So how, how do you deal with that?”

Azrael stayed silent a bit as she looked up at the ceiling. “It’s tough to say. Our two roles carry very different weights on our shoulders. Yours is to save lives while mine is to take them, though that isn’t to say my role makes it any easier,” explained Azrael before looking back at Michael. “Seeing the faces on the loved ones of the mortal I must bring the ultimate end to will always be painful, especially for those that were young. No amount of exposure makes it any easier but no matter the pain, I have to perform my role or else humanity will suffer. To me, bringing the final breath to any mortal is a mercy as without it they will continue to suffer. The elderly will become too frail to move, the terminally ill will continue to feel pain forever. If I could let humans live forever without suffering I would, but as they are now that world won’t be here for millenia. Obviously it may not apply the same to you, but it’s what gets me through my duties.”

Michael reached for the water and took another gulp of water. “I see. Thank you Azrael. I’ll try to relax and see if that helps with the memories but I want you to know that even if I won’t train in fear of a future war, I want to keep up my strength to be able to protect those I hold close.”

Azrael softly let out a light chuckle at Michael’s seriousness. “I wouldn’t expect anything else from you Michael.” She stood up and helped Michael back to her feet and handed the angel her sword. “I doubt you’ll need to protect me in the future, I’d be a sorry excuse for an archangel if I couldn’t protect myself.”

Michael took the sword out of Azrael’s hand and looked at her with a weak smile before the veiled angel left her alone in the training room. “Maybe, but no matter how long it is, I can never shake those fears from my head.”

Decades passed and Michael’s fears slowly began to subside though that nagging fear of losing everyone close to her never left her. To avoid becoming rusty, Michael continued to practice her swordsmanship, occasionally duelling Azrael when the angel wasn’t busy with her duties. Peace remained in the heavens all throughout that time while humanity continued to develop down on earth. Discussion on what to do with humanity started to pop up amongst the gods though most were fine with humanity surviving, Azrael one of the larger voices on the side of humanity staying.

Even more decades passed until that one day Michael feared arrived. She stood alone in her training room, the lights dimmed. A single messenger walked in and said a single sentence. “Lady Michael, Azrael has died.”

Michael stood there in a stunned silence, too many words getting caught in the knot in her throat, silent tears ran down her face. The messenger left the angel alone before she dropped to her knees. “Azrael… I couldn’t protect you. I’m… sorry, I’m so so sorry. Forgive me please… I couldn’t fulfil my duty.”

She grabbed hold of her sword and both memories of the war in heaven and memories of Azrael handing her the sword flashed in her mind. She gritted her teeth and gripped both the handle and the blade with all the force she could, the blade cutting into her palm and drew blood. She stood up and faced the training dummies around her, her vision blurred with tears. “Azrael… I…” Michael fell silent again as she tried to stay steady on her feet before letting all the pain in her chest out in one bloodcurdling scream. “AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Hundreds of thousands of times Michael’s blade cut through the dummies, her mind unable to leave the visions that plague her mind. She cried out for forgiveness amongst her cries of pain, her body begging for her to stop. Over and over again, Michael struck the training dummies until her body eventually gave out, collapsing to the ground despite her mind crying to let out all her mixed emotions of the dummies. She tried to claw at the ground to continue to shred the dummies, but her body was completely exhausted and soon her exhaustion caught up to her and she passed out on the ground, surrounded by the destruction of her grief.

When the angel awoke, she felt completely empty, the death of Azrael leaving a void within the guardian of the heavens. “I failed her. I let her die. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. I failed in my duty. I’m so sorry Azrael, I never meant to fail you. Please Azrael, forgive me. Forgive me for my failure. I never meant to let you die.” Michael remained on the floor, crying, begging for things to be different and forgiveness. It was on that floor that Michael shifted from the caring guardian of those close to her, to the strongest soldier under Gabriel, the cold, unfeeling general that would never fail a duty again no matter what was asked of her. But behind the empty void within her, the memories of her past remained, a permanent scar within the angel.

Valhalla arena

Michael looks down at the beast below, visions of the great serpent overlapping her vision. Her sword nearly slips out of her hand as every muscle in her body screams for her to flee, but nothing in her body acts the way she wants as she hovers in the air above the monster below. Then, the vision of her greatest enemy shatters and an even greater monster pulls her into the present.

Michael’s eyes turn wide at the sight before her, the frame of the man, no, of the beast before her in an instant, letting out a war cry close to a howling dog. Those sharp eyes that pierced her before are now filled with wild fire. The gigantic spear is raised high above the vanguard as Cu Chulainn brings his jaws down upon her.

A thunderous blow rings across the arena, the audience only seeing a cloud of dust after Cu’s leap into the air. The dust settles down, the body of a bloody and beaten archangel laying in a crater as the demi god begins to descend down, the angel unmoving aside from her racing breaths.

Cu points his spear downward before throwing it while mid air, Michael who managed to block the previous blow notices the spear coming down through her blurry vision, dodging to the side as it stabs into the ground. Her wings move once more before the human attempts to crush her beneath him. The champion of mankind doesn’t move his gaze away from her, yanking Gae Bolg out of the earth and rushing towards the angel.

Swing, swing and swing, wild movements that leave no opening, they shatter the ground around combatants with each miss. Michael does everything in her power to parry each swing though her swordsmanship has turned sloppy compared to before, Cu pushing forward with each one. A wild hound relentlessly hunting his prey.

Through the wild storm of attacks, Michael’s guard continues to slip more and more, the spear cutting through her skin and her once white dress is now  pure red, the silver wings slick with blood. Cu shifts his stance and the muscles in his body all flex and grow, the cape he wears breaking loose from his body and drifting to the floor.

Not a moment later, the angel feels a deep impact at her side, an impact as if a massive log just smashed into her. With a loud roar, the human sends her flying into the wall, Michael's body bouncing off of it. Her sleeve was torn to shreds, forearm left broken and rotated beyond its joints. She cries out in pain as she drops to her knees, the crowd watching in horror as heaven’s strongest angel is treated as nothing more than a dog’s chew toy.

And yet he did not stop, Cu running at her with Gae Bolg pointed right at her, Michael barely managing to move at the last moment as it ran through the wall. Cu’s head snaps immediately at her as he does not pull the spear out, swinging it through the wall as if it wasn’t even there to begin with.

Another beat of her wings gets Michael out of immediate range and into the air once more. The angel hoping for a chance to reset, though the demigod would not let that come to be..

Running across the wall, before jumping off it in a span of less than a second, even in the skies Cu Chuculainn catches up to Michael. Gae Bolg finds its mark once more, catching her in the chest and launching the angel across the arena with an explosive hit that echoed through the colosseum.

Cu landed down on the ground, moving again to his enemy. Across both mankind and the gods, a similar thought runs through their minds.

‘No one, not human or god.’

Each step shatters the ground below him as he closes the distance.

‘With that huge body and that spear, no one should be able to have strength such as that.’

And Gae Bolg moves for another killing blow on the angel. The spear tip pierces the air and Michael stumbles to the side in an attempt to dodge though it’s nowhere near enough to truly dodge as the spear digs into her side and pins her against the wall, her limbs limp as she hangs in the air.

The monster stares at the pinned angel who stares past him, eyes glossy and her lips softly move to whisper the only words she can manage. In her fading view, Michael sees a familiar figure descend from the light to approach her, time stopped in her view. “Azrael… please…”

I don't know if you guys would want more do you guys want more

Round 3

The Red Baron vs Fujin

Humanity’s Crimson Ace vs Heaven’s Tempest King

The score stands:

Gods — 2

Humanity — 0

Fear spreads through humanity’s stands.

Two fighters dead.

Two overwhelming defeats.

Even the Valkyries begin doubting themselves.

The gods laugh openly now.

Ares grins.

“At this rate, Ragnarok won’t even last a week.”

Then Heimdall raises the Gjallarhorn once more.

“ROUND THREE!”

Lightning cracks across Valhalla.

The arena transforms into an endless sky.

Floating debris, clouds, and steel platforms hover thousands of feet above an invisible ocean below.

The audience looks upward nervously.

A distant engine roars.

Small at first.

Then louder.

LOUDER.

A crimson triplane bursts through the clouds at impossible speed, spiraling around the arena before narrowly missing Heimdall’s head.

The crowd erupts.

The plane lands roughly atop a floating platform.

A tall man steps out calmly in a crimson flight coat.

Cold blue eyes.

Calm posture.

No fear whatsoever.

Heimdall shouts:

“The battlefield of humanity once belonged to the land…”

“But this man conquered the Sky's themselves!”

“The legendary ace with eighty confirmed kills!”

“THE DEVIL OF THE SKIES!”

“MANFRED VON RICHTHOFEN!”

“THE RED BARON!”

The Baron adjusts his gloves.

Then looks upward.

Waiting.

The clouds begin rotating unnaturally.

Thunder shakes the arena.

Wind screams from every direction at once.

A massive tear opens in the sky itself.

Out of it descends a gigantic figure carrying a great bag across his shoulders.

Wild hair.

Fanged grin.

Eyes glowing green.

The wind bends around him like a living thing.

Heimdall roars:

“He is the roar within every storm!”

“The breath of typhoons!”

“The terror that tears kingdoms apart!”

“HEAVEN’S TEMPEST KING!”

“FUJIN!”

The gods cheer wildly.

Raijin pounds the stands laughing hysterically.

Fujin looks at the tiny airplane.

Then bursts out laughing.

“THAT is humanity’s warrior?!”

The Baron lights a cigarette.

“You’re loud this might be an easier Hunt than I thought”

The Battle Begins

Fujin swings one arm casually.

The resulting wind blast obliterates entire floating islands instantly.

The Baron narrowly dodges in his triplane.

Humanity gasps.

One direct hit would completely erase him.

But then—

The Baron smiles as the sky erupts into chaos.

The Crimson Valkyrie darts through hurricanes and pressure waves at impossible speeds.

Fujin attacks are like natural disaster: sending debris hurling around with Stadium with columns of air circling around

The Baron flies through all of it.

Barely.

Every movement is razor precise.

Heimdall screams:

“HE’S DANCING THROUGH THE STORM!”

The gods begin realizing something horrifying.

Flashback to a Young Manfred crashes during an early mission.

His plane burns beside him.

He stares upward at birds gliding effortlessly through the air.

For the first time…

he falls in love with the sky.

War turned the sky into hell.

And he mastered it.

Fujin Gets Serious

Fujin’s grin fades.

“Human…”

“Why are you smiling?”

The Baron reloads calmly.

“Because this is is a challenging Hunt.”

Fujin roars with laughter.

Then unleashes:

“WRATH OF THE TYPHOON GOD!”

A colossal storm descends into the arena.

Entire sections of the sky vanish inside spiraling winds.

Even gods shield their eyes.

The Baron disappears completely.

Humanity panics.

The Silence

Then—

Gunfire.

Tiny at first.

Then closer.

Fujin looks upward.

The Red Baron emerges from ABOVE the storm itself.

The crowd loses its mind.

He used the storm currents to climb higher than Fujin could even perceive.

Ace Instinct activates fully.

For a brief moment—

The Baron sees the flow of every current in the battlefield.

The wind no longer belongs to Fujin alone.

Fujin unleashes a continent-splitting gale.

The Baron dives directly toward it.

His plane begins tearing apart instantly.

Wings shredding.

Engine exploding.

Metal ripping away.

Yet he keeps going.

Fujin screams:

“Why do you fly when you know you'll die by my hands ”

The Baron grins.

“because that the fun of the hunt”

The Crimson Valkyrie pierces through the center of the storm.

At point-blank range—

The Baron fires directly into Fujin’s head.

Silence.

Then the storm stops.

Completely.

Fujin stumbles backward.

A massive hole burns through his head.

The god looks shocked.

The wind around him begins fading.

He laughs weakly.

“So that…”

“is why humans fly…”

Fujin dissolves into green light.

The storm clouds vanish.

Blue sky appears above the arena.

Winner

THE RED BARON

For the first time in Ragnarok—

The gods are silent.

Then humanity erupts.

Screaming.

Crying.

Cheering.

The red Barons plane comes plummeting to the ground there is a moment of silence before

The Red Baron steps from the wreckage of his destroyed plane.

Bleeding heavily.

One arm broken.

Barely standing.

But alive.

He lights cigarette.

And quietly says:

“ that was a good Hunt.”

​

Round 4

The Black Douglas vs Camazotz

Scotland’s Darkest Knight vs The Death Bat of Xibalba

The score is tied.

Gods — 2

Humanity — 1

After the Red Baron’s impossible victory, humanity finally has hope again.

The gods, meanwhile, are irritated.

Ares slams his fist into the arena wall.

“One lucky human doesn’t change anything.”

Hermes smiles quietly.

“Perhaps.”

“But fear has entered Heaven for the first time.”

Heimdall steps forward.

“ROUND FOUR!”

The arena changes instantly.

Gone is the open sky from the last round and instead a dense black forests stretch endlessly beneath a blood-red moon.

Ancient stone ruins rise from the jungle floor.

Torches flicker weakly.

Something moves in the dark.

The audience grows uneasy immediately. As War drums echo. and then Bagpipes answer them.

As a dark cloaked figure wearing heavy armor and the massive claymore slung across his shoulder. His very presence feels predatory.

Heimdall raises his voice:

“England feared him!”

“His enemies called him a demon in human flesh!”

“The blade of Scotland’s independence!”

“THE BLACK DOUGLAS!”

“JAMES DOUGLAS!”

Robert the Bruce stands proudly in the audience.

Douglas walks forward slowly.No arrogance,No theatrics,Just cold focus.

He plants the massive sword into the ground.

Then torches suddenly extinguish.

One by one.

The jungle becomes silent.

Then—

a sharp metallic clicking echoes through the darkness.

Not animalistic.

Intentional.

Elegant.

A figure emerges atop the ruined temple.

Tall.

Lean.

Wrapped in feathered black-and-crimson robes resembling folded wings.

His face is hidden behind an ornate bat-like death mask carved from obsidian and jade. Turquoise jewels glimmer around his throat and crown. Long clawed fingers drag across stone as though testing prey.

Behind him, shadows twist unnaturally like living wings.

The gods go quiet.

Even among divine beings…

Camazotz feels wrong.

Heimdall announces carefully:

“In the deepest darkness of Xibalba…”

“There exists a god feared even by those who worshipped death.”

“The hunter within the eclipse!”

“THE WINGED NIGHTMARE!”

“CAMAZOTZ!”

The jungle trembles.

Some human spectators instinctively avert their eyes.

Camazotz tilts his head slowly toward Douglas.

Then speaks in a soft, distorted voice.

“You smell like someone who believes themselves too much”

Douglas smirks faintly.

“aye ye smell like something needing killed.”

The Battle Begins

Camazotz vanishes.

Instantly.

Douglas barely raises his sword in time.

SCREEEEEECH—

Claws slam against steel hard enough to split the ground.

The audience gasps.

Camazotz moves less like a beast—

and more like an assassin.

Every movement sharp.

Precise.

Cruel.

He disappears into darkness again.

“Night Devours All”

The moon vanishes.

Absolute darkness swallows the arena.

Human spectators panic.

Even gods struggle to see.

Only two glowing turquoise eyes remain visible in the void.

Then blood sprays across the ground.

Douglas staggers back with deep cuts across his armor.

Another strike.

Another.

Camazotz circles invisibly, carving him apart piece by piece.

The god’s voice echoes from every direction.

“Humans fear the dark because they know…”

“they are prey.”

Young James Douglas kneels beside the ruins of his family home.

English banners fly overhead.

His inheritance stolen.

His family disgraced.

Robert the Bruce offers him a hand.

Instead of despair—

Douglas chooses war.

Enemies begin calling him:

“The Black Douglas”

Not as insult.

As warning

Douglas breathes heavily.

Bleeding badly.

But smiling.

Camazotz pauses.

“Why do you laugh?”

Douglas lifts his claymore.

“Because I know your type.”

Silence.

“Thinks fear makes him king. It doesn't but it make you one hell of a fighter”

His Völundr activates fully.

“TERROR OF THE NORTH”

The arena changes.

The darkness itself begins recoiling from Douglas.

Not because he overpowers it—

but because he embraces it.

The fear in the audience shifts.

Camazotz suddenly realizes something horrifying.

Douglas is not prey.

He is another predator.

In the depths of Xibalba…

Ancient priests throw screaming sacrifices into darkness.

Camazotz descends silently.

To him, terror is sacred.

Fear strips mortals down to their truest selves.

That is why he loves it.

Camazotz spreads his arms.

Eclipse of Xibalba

The blood moon cracks open.

Thousands of spectral bats flood the arena.

The darkness becomes alive.

Douglas is overwhelmed instantly: flesh torn open, armor shattered ,blood covering the ruins

Humanity screams his name.

Robert the Bruce grips the railing tightly.

Camazotz descends from above like death itself.

Claws aimed directly at Douglas’ throat.

At the last possible second—

Douglas drops his sword.

Camazotz pauses instinctively.

Wrong move.

Douglas grabs the god by the throat.

The audience explodes.

“FOUND YE.”

Point blank—

Douglas headbutts him hard enough to crack the obsidian mask.

For the first time—

Camazotz looks shocked.

Douglas retrieves his claymore.

Then roars out “FOR SCOTLAND,FOR HUMANITY!”

One full-powered swing cleaves through the darkness itself.

The blood moon shatters.

Camazotz is cut diagonally across the chest.

The jungle falls silent.

The god stumbles backward.

His cracked mask slowly falling apart.

Beneath it—

not a monster.

But a tired, beautiful, deathly face staring in disbelief.

Blood drips from his lips.

He laughs softly.

“So this…”

“is mortal fearlessness…”

His body dissolves into green particles and The darkness finally lifts.

Winner

THE BLACK DOUGLAS

Humanity erupts as The Black Douglas stands alone beneath the returning moonlight covered in blood.

He picks up his sword.

Looks toward the gods’ side.

And gives them the same expression England once feared.

A predator’s grin.

I I'm already halfway through the next one so it will be coming out real shortly