I Am Zeus

The silence hung for a long moment. Smoke curled where Surtr had stood, the air still trembling with the memory of his roar. The courtyard was nothing but ruin, but in the middle of the rubble, something glowed faintly—burning against the dark like a fallen star.

Zeus stepped toward it, slow but steady. The others watched in silence. The light pulsed, alive in a way that was more than fire. When he crouched, he saw it clearly: Surtr's essence. The molten breath of his being, still raging in its heat. Alongside it, deeper, harder, lay the core—a shard of pure flame compressed to impossible density. Both hummed like hearts torn from a giant's chest.

Zeus stretched his hand. Lightning curled around his arm as he reached into the blaze and drew them out. The essence swirled like liquid fire in one palm, while the core, heavy as a mountain, burned in the other. Neither scorched him. They bent to him, surrendering their fury.

He rose, the gods' eyes following him as the glow painted his form. For a breath, he looked like the storm crowned in fire.

Then he turned. His gaze fell on Ares first.

The god of war was still gripping his sword, bloodied and bruised, but his eyes were alive, burning with the same hunger Surtr had carried. Zeus stepped before him and lifted his palm.

"This belongs to you," he said, voice quiet but heavy.

Ares blinked. "What—"

Zeus pressed the essence into his chest. The fire sank into him instantly, threads of flame burning through his veins. Ares staggered, teeth gritted as the heat spread, his aura flaring crimson. Sparks of molten light raced across his armor. His roar split the air, more beast than man.

When the glow steadied, Ares stood straighter. His eyes shone like red steel pulled from a forge. His sword vibrated, reshaped itself, lengthening into a blade licked with fire. He looked at his father with shock, then smirked, a feral grin.

"I feel alive," he growled, voice rough with power.

Zeus only nodded once. Then his gaze shifted to Apollo.

The archer god stood uncertain, his bow lowered. He still trembled faintly, the fire wolf's howl echoing in his bones. But Zeus didn't hesitate. He placed the core in Apollo's hands.

The young god flinched—the heat seared instantly, brighter than the sun itself. He almost dropped it, but Zeus's hand pressed over his. "Hold it," he commanded.

Apollo's jaw tightened. He clutched the core tighter.

The flame sank into him, burning upward through his chest, into his throat, his eyes. His aura exploded outward, flooding the ruined courtyard with blinding gold. His bow stretched, reshaped, glowing as if forged anew by the sun. His hair lifted, his whole body trembling as the fire fused with the light of day inside him.

When it settled, Apollo exhaled slowly, his breath smoking. He lowered his bow, then looked at Zeus, awe in his eyes.

"You… gave me the sun of another world," he whispered.

Zeus's gaze was steady. "Use it well."

The gods murmured among themselves, eyes wide. To take the spoils of a fallen Primordial and hand them away—none of them had expected it.

But Zeus turned without another word. His robe was gone, his chest still streaked with blood, yet he walked like a man untouchable. He stepped past the broken walls, up the ruined steps, until he reached the high balcony overlooking the mountain.

The night was scarred. Clouds still twisted overhead, burned and torn from the clash. Below, the world stretched vast and silent, watching.

Zeus placed his hand on the railing. His storm still hummed quietly under his skin.

That was when Nyx appeared beside him. She didn't step, didn't fly. One moment she wasn't there. The next, the stars of her robe brushed against his arm. Her silver eyes glowed faint, reflecting both ruin and fire.

"You are now really a threat to them," she said softly, though her voice carried. "Not one, but two Primordials have fallen at your hands. First Tartarus's spawn. Now Surtr."

Zeus's jaw clenched. He said nothing.

Nyx's gaze didn't waver. Her tone lost its teasing edge, cutting sharp instead. "They will come for you now. All of them. And they will not laugh at Olympus anymore. They will take you seriously."

Behind her, the air shifted again. Roots spread faintly across the floor, tiny vines pushing through cracks of molten marble. A soft green glow rose, warm against the storm's cold light.

Gaia appeared.

Her form was weary, her steps heavy. The earth mother looked thinner, her skin cracked faintly like dry soil. Yet her presence filled the ruin with life, even against the scent of ash. Beside her, another figure emerged—Rhea. Regal, calm, the Titaness who had defied Cronus, her eyes sharp as ever.

They both looked at Zeus.

"What Nyx says is true," Gaia murmured, voice deep as mountains. "You have tipped the balance. You did what we could not—you cut down a Primordial's champion and lived. That alone makes you a danger they cannot ignore."

Rhea's gaze softened, though her voice held iron. "You will need allies, Zeus. Support from every corner of Olympus. Even those who do not yet trust you."

Zeus turned his head slightly, eyes flicking between them. His hand still gripped the railing, knuckles white.

"They think me a child still," he said.

"Not anymore," Nyx whispered. "You bled them. You bled gods of the old night itself."

Apollo and Ares stood below, still glowing faint with their gifts. Hermes shifted uneasily, while Athena's face was set, unreadable. The others whispered, some in awe, some in fear.

Gaia took a step forward, her roots crawling further, wrapping the broken stone. "The Primordials are not mortals, nor Titans, nor giants. They are older than sky and sea. You face them now because you have forced them to see you. And they will not forgive."

Zeus's eyes narrowed, staring out at the vast dark. Lightning flickered faintly along his arms.

Rhea's voice cut the silence. "This is only the beginning. The war you fought with Cronus was nothing. The storm that comes now will make the Titanomachy look like a child's quarrel."

For a long moment, Zeus didn't answer. His gaze was on the horizon, where the clouds churned and the stars shivered.

Then thunder rolled, low and distant.

Nyx tilted her head, her silver eyes catching his profile. "Tell me, Sky King. Do you feel fear?"

Zeus's lips curved, faint and cold. His eyes burned with stormlight as he whispered, "No. I feel the world holding its breath."

The balcony trembled under his grip as another bolt split the heavens, the light scattering across Olympus.

Gaia closed her eyes, weariness deep in her voice. "Then prepare yourself, child. For they are coming. And this time… they come for you."

The gods below fell silent at her words.

Zeus stood unmoving, the storm crawling across his shoulders, the night pressing in around him. For the first time since the Titan War, Olympus felt small under the weight of what loomed beyond it.

And yet, lightning still hummed in his veins.