The person who entered the room was none other than the Egyptian Sun god, Ra.
Ra has light brownish skin with short black hair, as well as light green eyes. When he entered the room he had a very stern look on him as if he'd just been kicked 14 times in the shin and was trying to hide the pain. He had a long chin, defined cheekbones and a forehead which lined his seriousness up.
Ra was quite tall, standing about 6'3 with quite long, skinny limbs. He wears an Egyptian necklace around his neck, golden bracelets on both of his wrists and golden anklets that wrapped both of his ankles, He was also barefoot.
"You're perfect, Ra." Zeus stood slowly, spreading his arms as thunder rolled behind him. "You will fight for round two."
Ra didn't rise. He didn't even look impressed. The solar disk behind his head dimmed slightly as he crossed his arms.
"No, I will not," Ra replied calmly. "I am here to observe. That was the agreement."
Zeus' jaw tightened. "You will fight for round two."
Ra finally turned his head, golden eyes narrowing.
"What… I already said no, old man."
A hush fell over the pantheon.
Perun straightened.
Set stopped smiling.
Even King Enma looked up from the arena below.
"You. Will. Fight. For. Round. Two."
Each word Zeus spoke struck like a hammer, thunder cracking in rhythm with his voice.
Ra stood.
The temperature in the chamber spiked instantly. Stone glowed faintly beneath his feet, heat radiating outward like the rising sun itself.
"Since when," Ra said coldly, "did the gods become your dolls?"
He stepped forward.
"Thinking you can just force us to fight in your fucking game."
The solar disk flared, flooding the chamber with blinding light.
Several gods recoiled.
"When I say you will fight," Zeus snapped back, lightning crawling along his arms, "you will fight."
Ra laughed, low, dangerous.
"Careful, Zeus," he warned. "You are king because we allow it. Not because you own us."
The air between them became
distorted. Heat warping against lightning, sun pressing against storm.
Thoth swallowed. "This is… unprecedented."
Patecatl stepped back. "They're going to—"
Zeus leaned forward, eyes burning with ancient fury.
"This Armageddon exists because I willed it," he growled. "And because Ares is dead, we need a god who will not fall to tricks, horses, or mortal arrogance."
Ra's smile vanished.
"…So that's it," he said quietly. "You're afraid."
Zeus slammed his staff into the floor.
The chamber shook.
"You will remind humanity," Zeus thundered, "why they once worshipped the sun."
Ra stared at him for a long moment.
Then he exhaled.
"…Very well."
The solar disk ignited fully, blazing brighter than ever.
"I will fight," Ra said. "Not because you command me."
He turned toward the arena, eyes burning like dawn.
"But because I want to see which human thinks they can survive the sun."
"THEY ARE SENDING OUT RA????" Bialorus staggered backward, eyes wide, before collapsing into Joachim's arms. "The… the all-mighty sun god…"
Joachim caught him, steadying him. "I know… I know. This is bad. Very, very bad."
Bialorus trembled, burying his face in Joachim's shoulder. "He's a god of fire, of light… he could burn us all to ash without even trying. He's… unstoppable."
"Well," Ferbiris said, hands raised in mock surrender, though his voice carried the tension of battle, "now we've got to decide who to choose next. Anyone got ideas, Joachim?"
Joachim exhaled slowly, eyes scanning the human roster again.
Napoleon had just taken down Ares. A feat no one in the pantheon thought possible, but Ra was different. A god of the sun, omnipotent, almost omnipresent. There was no brute force to outmatch him; there was no cunning that could easily pierce his essence. Only strategy, courage, and a little… audacity.
"I…" Joachim began, rubbing his temple, "we need someone who can think outside the battlefield. Someone who can counter power with precision. Not just a fighter. A tactician."
"Yeah, but who?" Bialorus mumbled, still shaken. "We don't have another Napoleon."
Ferbiris leaned forward, eyes flicking across the screens of human champions. "What about… him?"
Joachim's eyes widened. "Him…?"
"Exactly!" Ferbiris leaned back, clapping his hands once. "Hear me out. He doesn't just fight, he predicts. He understands the laws of nature, angles, trajectories… maybe even divine power."
Bialorus shook his head violently. "A philosopher? Are you serious? He's never swung a sword in his life!"
"And he doesn't need to," Ferbiris countered. "Ra is light, heat, solar flares. Things that move fast, yes, but all follow rules. If He can calculate the energy, the angle, the timing… he could survive. Maybe even outthink him."
Joachim chewed his lip, the weight of the decision pressing down like a vice. "If Napoleon is the blade… he would have to be the shield. The brain to counter the sun. But is that enough?"
Ferbiris shrugged. "It's either him or someone we risk sending to their death. And frankly, he's our best shot."
Bialorus groaned. "I hate this game. I hate every second of it. I don't even want to watch him get roasted alive!"
Joachim gripped his friend's shoulder. "We don't have the luxury of fear. That's what Ra is counting on, our hesitation. If we hesitate, humanity dies. And we're not letting that happen."
Ferbiris leaned back, exhaling. "Good. That's settled then. Napoleon showed them the human spirit. Now it's time for the human mind."
Joachim's hand hovered over the display, highlighting his name. "This is it. Round two. Humanity's second champion against the sun itself."
"This is… insane," Bialorus whispered.
"There's no way he survives this, right?"
"Shut up," Joachim snapped, eyes fixed on the arena floor. "Not until it happens. And even then… maybe."
A hush fell over the arena as the smoke thickened. From within it, a slender figure emerged, cane tapping lightly on the stone. Each tap echoed like a metronome across the chamber, marking the rhythm of a human heartbeat against the gods' looming presence.
The cane wasn't just a walking stick, it gleamed bronze in the sunlight filtered through the arena, its tip sharp enough to pierce armor, yet elegant in design, engraved with delicate geometric patterns.
From the smoke, the man stepped forward. Anaxagoras.
He was neither tall nor imposing like Napoleon, yet his presence carried a quiet authority. Shoulder-length dark hair framed a sharp, angular face, where high cheekbones gave him a look of contemplative intensity. Deep, penetrating eyes, dark as storm clouds, scanned the arena with calm calculation, as if already analyzing every inch of ground, every angle, every threat.
A light gray tunic, cinched at the waist with a simple leather belt, flowed around him, moving gracefully with every step. Simple sandals carried him over the arena floor, yet he moved with the precision of a man who understood balance and momentum as deeply as a warrior understands blood and steel.
Around his neck, a small pendant caught the light, a circular bronze disc with concentric circles, a symbol of the sun, of reason, and of thought itself. His right hand rested lightly on the cane, fingers curling around it with subtle strength, as though the instrument were an extension of his own body, a tool to channel strategy into action.
The smoke cleared, and there he stood, perfectly composed. The whispers of the audience were drowned out by the anticipation hanging thick in the air.
"The arena floor, destroyed by the previous battle, is now completely new thanks to divine intervention! ARE YOU READY TO RUMBLEEEEEE!!!" Mercury bellowed, horn blaring, shattering the tension like a cannon shot.
"YEAH!!!" The human section erupted, voices hoarse, but full of hope.
"For the humans," Mercury continued, "the fighter holding humanity's hope to go 2-0 up, is this man here…"
The bronze cane tapped once more, a signal that Anaxagoras was ready. Each step he took was measured, deliberate, echoing across the arena like a heartbeat in time with every human watching.
Anaxagoras paused at the center of the arena, cane planted firmly in front of him. His dark eyes scanned Ares' successor, Ra, waiting, blazing with solar fury at the opposite end.
A single smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, small but unmistakable. Not fear. Not arrogance. Just certainty.
He raised the bronze cane slightly, pointing toward Ra.
"Let's begin," he whispered, almost to himself.
From the smoke-filled corridor, a massive golden throne appeared, carved from stone and bronze, inlaid with jewels that flickered like miniature suns. The throne itself gleamed with divine energy, radiating warmth so intense that even the humans squinted against it.
Four Egyptian slaves, tall, muscular, their skin bronzed and glistening carried the throne effortlessly, their synchronized steps echoing like a drumbeat across the arena. Each wore ceremonial white kilts, adorned with gold armbands and collars, their expressions stoic, emotionless.
The ropes and chains they held glimmered with divine light, binding the throne in midair as if gravity itself bent to Ra's will.
Seated upon the throne, Ra radiated absolute authority. A long crimson and gold cloak draped over his shoulders, embroidered with intricate symbols of the sun, serpents, and hieroglyphs, falling across the throne and brushing the arena floor.
His hands rested lightly on the arms of the throne, long fingers tipped with faintly glowing nails, yet he made no move to attack… not yet.
Even the gods above shifted uneasily. Set's grin faltered. Perun's hand twitched toward his thunder stick. Thoth muttered under his breath, scribbling furiously in his floating tome.
The humans in the stands froze. Joachim's glasses reflected the light of Ra's halo. "I… I don't think I've ever seen anything like this," he whispered.
Bialorus shrank back, gripping the railing with white-knuckled intensity. Ferbiris simply leaned forward, jaw tight, eyes wide with a mixture of awe and fear.
The throne stopped at the center of the arena, and the slaves knelt, bowing their heads, letting Ra's presence dominate the field. The sun god's gaze swept across the arena, resting on Anaxagoras with an almost imperceptible smirk.
"I see… the next challenger of humanity," Ra intoned, voice low and resonant, carrying the heat of a thousand suns. "The one who dares to think against me. Stand forth, philosopher."
The golden solar disk behind him flared, the temperature in the arena rising so fast that the air shimmered like a desert mirage. Dust rose from the ground. The stones groaned under the intensity of Ra's presence.
Anaxagoras raised his bronze cane slightly, adjusting his stance, calm in the face of absolute godhood. He did not falter.
The crowd, the humans and gods alike held their collective breath.
And so, the second battle of Armageddon was about to begin: human intellect versus solar divinity.