The silence was almost sacred.
Not even the sky dared to thunder. Not even the shadows dared to move.
Strax, colossal and still bathed in the blue flames that swirled like celestial serpents around his draconic body, stood imposingly at the center of what had once been the throne of an empire. His eyes - abysses of unfathomable power - scoured every deity present. Not with anger. Not with a thirst for blood.
But with the calm of one who has already won.
Zeus finally lowered his fists. The storm around him hesitated, as if even the lightning had understood that now was not the time to fight.
"So that's it," he said slowly, his voice reverberating with an echo that seemed to come from the columns of Olympus. "You declare war on the gods. To the Heavens. To Fate."
Strax tilted his head slightly, as if answering a rhetorical question.
"No," he said, his deep voice like a thousand war drums echoing in unison. "I declare independence."
