The Karma Meter burned in Aron's vision like a wound that refused to heal, a searing reminder of the truth he had glimpsed from the realm he had only just came back from.
[Olympian Pantheon: 235,635⬆️]
He drew a slow, deliberate breath, tasting the bitter wrongness that clung to the air like smoke. Whatever calamity had pushed the scales into such violent imbalance, he would rip the truth from it, layer by layer. And he would begin right here, with the trembling, corrupted creature still caught in his tight grip.
Aron's fingers tightened around the man's throat—not enough to crush, but enough to remind him how easily flesh could break. "Release the girl," he ordered, his voice low, ancient, carrying the weight of countless forgotten eras.
The yellow-haired man felt the pressure sink into his very bones—an immense, primordial force he had never imagined could exist. A crushing sense of utter insignificance swallowed him. He was nothing before it. A speck beneath an descending mountain. His survival instincts roared, demanding submission, surrender, anything to live.
'…It's like standing before the true gods of Olympus themselves…' he thought in raw panic as his trembling hands rose and finally let the girl go.
"Daddy!" she cried out, tears cutting clean tracks through the soot on her face.
"Come here, sweetie, come here," Peter murmured, voice breaking as the suffocating pressure finally lifted from him. He pulled her into his arms, holding her so fiercely she could feel his heart pounding against her. "Thank God… thank God you're safe."
He held her tighter, his own terror slowly ebbing. "…I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Your father is a complete idiot," he whispered, voice cracking as tears slipped free despite his struggle to contain them.
[Karma: 241+]
Aron allowed the faintest trace of a smile—not for the karma gained, but for the pure warmth of that reunion, the unmistakable light of love piercing the darkness. Yet sentiment had no place here. His expression hardened as he turned fully toward the yellow-haired man, every hint of softness erased.
"I will release you now," he said with icy precision, circling slowly until they stood face to face, golden eyes boring down like divine judgment. He positioned himself deliberately between the man and Peter, an immovable barrier. "But if you run, you die. If you move without permission, you die. If you so much as blink without my leave—you die."
"The only actions you are allowed are breathing, and speaking only when I permit it. Blink once if you understand every word."
The man blinked instantly, eyes wide with terror.
"Peter," Aron continued without breaking his stare. "Take your daughter and the others outside. And be cautious," he added in a quieter tone, sensing the dangerous imbalance still churning inside the mortal.
Peter nodded with deep gratitude, gathering his daughter and the rescued family before leading them out with urgent protectiveness. The ruined room lay in shadow, lit only by flickering emergency lights from the windows outside. But Aron saw everything perfectly—his golden eyes caught every twitch, every subtle shift. And he saw the rapid, defiant blink.
His fist did not travel—it simply arrived. The motion was too fast to perceive. The yellow-haired man registered nothing until the impact exploded against his jaw.
Bang!
A heartbeat later he was airborne, crashing violently through the wall into the charred apartment beyond amid a storm of dust and shattered debris.
'What the…' he thought in stunned, agonized disbelief as he lay sprawled across the burnt floor, jaw shattered, back screaming with overwhelming pain that radiated through every nerve.
"…Stand," Aron commanded calmly, stepping through the new opening with unhurried menace. "We will try again."
The man wanted no part of this nightmare. But that single, effortless blow had seared the lesson into his soul: disobedience meant one thing and one thing only, instant, merciless death.
He forced himself upright, vertebrae protesting with sharp cracks. Words of apology clawed at his throat, desperate to escape, but he held them back. Those golden eyes offered no mercy—perhaps never would.
Aron studied him, noting how the man now stood perfectly still, obeying every unspoken command. He nodded once. "hhmmm...Good. You may speak."
The man exhaled the breath he had been holding like a drowning man breaking the surface. "…I greet you, golden immortal," he managed, reverence and lingering fear warring in his broken voice.
Aron remained silent for a long, deliberate moment, letting the quiet press down like a physical weight. He glanced toward the window, taking in the growing crowds outside—the injured stumbling in shock, the lingering aftermath of senseless destruction still thick in the smoke-heavy air.
"You created spectacle and chaos tonight," Aron said at last, voice slow and edged with cold curiosity. "If a demon had done this, I might accept it as their nature. But you… your karma should be drowned in negative depths right now."
"What compelled you to act?"
"…I…" The man hesitated, the admission bitter on his tongue. He knew how to dominate the weak, but facing true strength left him stuttering. "…I am Theo, a servant. An apostle of the demigods. I… did what I was ordered."
Demigod. The word sparked immediate interest. Half-breed offspring of those who styled themselves gods. Rare, and long ago forbidden by Aron himself from mingling with mortals.
Pieces clicked together—the sudden surge in Olympian karma now had potential explanation. Yet it seemed foolish, reckless. He needed more. More info.
"So, Theo," Aron continued, gesturing slowly around the ruined space, "you claim you merely followed orders. None of this was... personal."
"Ye—"
"No!" Peter interrupted, storming back inside. "My lord, this man is a devil! He didn't just follow orders—he reveled in it!" Rage rose as he glared at Theo, the memory of that smirk still burning.
"I did what I had to in order to survive!" Theo shot back, yellow eyes flashing panic.
Peter could not believe the gall. He stepped forward, seizing Theo's collar. "You lying bastard. Lie again. I can still see that sick grin when you held the knife to my daughter's throat!"
Theo met those righteous blue eyes and felt old hatred boil up. He hated that innocence, that purity. So he gave Peter exactly what he despised—baring his teeth in a deliberate, venomous smirk.
"Let go, brat," Theo sneered. "The adults are speaking."
Peter's fist rose, glowing with stolen divinity, but a heavy hand clamped his shoulder and stopped him cold.
"Peter. Calm yourself," Aron said, irritation threading his tone.
Peter released the collar slowly, stepping back. His lord was right. He had disobeyed enough already. More defiance would only worsen things. Yet the rage remained, coiled and burning.
Holding Peter's shoulder, Aron felt the deeper wrongness. "Peter… your karma. What did you do?"
[Peter Anderson]
[Karma: -50]
The truth glowed clear. At -50, the world itself would seek to end him. And in that instant, it tried.
Shhhh....
Aron caught the scent—thick Olympian stench. His hand moved faster than thought, intercepting the golden spear that pierced the window toward both Peter and Theo.
Tang!
The spear stopped dead inches from their hearts, vibrating against an unbreakable barrier. Both men swallowed hard, staring at the ornate weapon.
"…The spear of heroes," Aron murmured, examining it. The source was distant, yet the scent was unmistakable. Not one—but many.
[Proximity Alert: Multiple HIGH Divinity Signatures Converging]
[Estimated Arrival: 5 minutes]
Tang!
He planted the spear firmly, claiming it as his own. Recognition came swiftly.
Theo began to shake, sweat beading as his heartbeat thundered. "tgar spear, its there's, They're coming… for me."
Peter, still reeling, asked, "…Who?"
"The ones who bound me. The ones who—"
"The demigods," Aron finished.
Aron stepped to the shattered window, watching panicked crowds gather below beneath flickering emergency lights. The pieces fit together with cold clarity as distant shouts rose. He leveled the captured spear at Theo, tip a millimeter from his eye, close enough to feel frantic breath against gleaming metal.
"So… you played the villain, perfectly timed for the heroes to arrive and claim effortless glory," Aron said, voice quiet but laced with certainty.
Theo's breathing grew ragged, unable even to blink with death hovering so near. "…Yes. The fire, the deaths—all staged so they could swoop in and be celebrated without risk," he admitted, voice cracking. "…But…"
"But Peter ruined everything," Aron continued, lowering the spear with deliberate slowness that let tension coil. "He saved everyone before your masters could play savior."
He turned to Peter, hand once more on his shoulder—firm, grounding.
"…My lord?" Peter braced for rebuke, guilt heavy for his disobedience and the forbidden law he had broken in desperation.
"You did well," Aron said simply, approval carrying real weight.
"…Huh?" Peter's eyes widened in stunned relief. "But...I disobeyed you."
"You saved lives without hesitation. In that moment, you knew instinctively that lives mattered more than blind obedience," Aron replied, a small, proud smile touching his lips.
"My lord… because of me, the demigods will now hunt us relentlessly."
Theo's lips twisted in bitter resentment. "He's right. They'll hunt me first, then you—slowly, painfully—for interfering, and they'll take whatever—"
Aron's spear moved in an invisible blur.
Tang!
The weapon planted again as half of Theo's right arm dropped like butchered meat. Pain exploded a moment later, blood pulsing from the severed stump.
"If you scream, the other arm follows," Aron warned calmly.
Theo clamped his remaining hand over his mouth, stifling every sound as agony consumed him.
"I permitted speech, not interruption," Aron said, turning back to Peter. His grip tightened, reaching deeper—establishing a vital link.
[Aron connecting to Peter…]
[Connection made]
'Transfer the karma I earned to him.'
[Transferring…]
[Transferring complete]
[Karma: -241]
Warmth flooded Peter—pure, heavenly strength restoring what rage had drained.
"My lord… did you truly—"
"Balancing what is right," Aron cut in gently, patting his shoulder. "You earned it. But save your thanks. I need you at full strength for what comes."
[Estimated Arrival: 44 seconds]
"These creatures are always messy," Aron muttered, seizing both men in an iron grip.
""What is the plan, my lor—" Peter said, but before he knew it completely, his vision blurred in a rush of motion, and before he could even blink or react fully, they were already on the roof without transition or warning. The nausea kicked in quickly as his gut wanted to vomit out from the sudden, disorienting shift that defied understanding.
'Wh… what happened exactly? Did he… just blitz me and him to the roof… in seconds without effort or strain?' he thought in awe.
"You'll adjust," Aron said, walking to the edge, gazing toward approaching divinity. "Peter—the veil."
"Yes, my lord. How wide?"
"The entire building. No gaps."
Theo, having torn his jacket to bind the bleeding stump, spoke cautiously. "Lord Aron… I mean no disrespect, but there are many of them. Even an immortal of legend cannot face a group of demigods without cost."
"I'm here too, you bastard," Peter snapped.
Theo, pale from blood loss, offered a deliberate, envious smirk—silent provocation.
Tang!
Aron pounded the spear on the ground once again with force that echoed across the roof. Peter got the message instantly without need for explanation. He threw the veil at the sky; it exploded with light that spread rapidly, gradually covering the whole building in protective layers that shimmered briefly.
The building was already empty of civilians below, but for now, no civilians or firefighters would try to come inside despite the chaos and growing sirens.
[Estimated Arrival: 3 seconds]
[Estimated Arrival: 2 seconds]
[Estimated Arrival: 1 second]
[Estimated Arrival: 0 second]
Shhhhh...
Something was coming—the noise echoing from above with building intensity that vibrated through the air. And before they knew it fully in that tense moment…
Bang!
An immense axe landed right on the ground with earth-shaking force that cracked the concrete, crushing the veil ball completely and shattering the veil in pieces that dissolved harmlessly into fading sparks.
Doom! Doom! Doom!
Right before the weapon, three individuals landed like three shooting stars coming down from the sky with divine arrogance that radiated outward as the veil around them slowly tarnished away without resistance or fight.
"...Look who we have here…" one of them said with casual menace that carried lazy confidence. His hair yellow but more goldish in hue that caught the moonlight. His eyes hazel, radiating with burning life force that pressed the air around him. Taking the axe from the ground effortlessly with one hand, he placed it on his shoulder with ease that mocked its weight. Even his six-foot, lean body held the heavy axe like it was just a toy without strain or effort.
Aron sniffed deeply—yeah. The scent hit him clearly and offensively. The smell of rotten peasant gods flushed from them in waves that tainted the night. They were indeed what Theo feared without doubt or mistake.
*Unbalanced lumps of divinity without refinement or control,* Aron thought with contempt that hardened his features, his grip on the spear growing tight with anticipation that built steadily. '...Charge.'
[Charging: …0.1%]
"...My lord…" Peter said cautiously as Aron waved him to stand at his back without delay or question. Things could get even messier now as the veil was down completely without protection.
Another one of them stepped forward confidently with swagger. "Is that my spear?" he said with growing irritation that edged his voice. Another yellow-haired, blue-eyed man stepping up with purpose that carried entitlement.
"...Oh Lacy, he got your spear. That's so lame, dude," another one spoke with a petite tone that carried sharp mockery—taller than the guys but much leaner in build with graceful lines, her hair yellow but much longer, much much longer in flowing waves that caught the wind, having the same hazel eyes like the one carrying his axe with casual strength that belied its power.
Lacy grunted in annoyance as he opened his palm wide, calling his spear back with divine command that echoed faintly. The spear moved slightly in response, but it was firmly in Aron's hand without yielding. It vibrated intensely, trying to release from his grasp with desperate force, but…
Tang!
[Charging: …0.5%]
"It's not coming back, Ron. Who is that guy exactly?" Lacy said with a hint of caution that crept into his voice despite his bravado.
"Don't care at all about names. Our plan failed miserably because of him and his interference without warning," Ron said, his tone gripping them all like worthless tools without value or regard. "...Father's going to be angry about this complete mess we allowed, and we need his dead body to calm him down properly without questions. And where the hell is that shitty apostle we sent on this task?"
Eli pointed behind the golden-haired man with sharp precision and a smirk. "There he is exactly where we left him. It seems like he got his arm chopped off cleanly in the process."
"...Just his arm? Later I'm gonna chop something worse without mercy or hesitation," Ron replied with dark promise that hung in the air.
Aron saw them stepping forward with growing confidence that bordered on arrogance. He saw in them ignorance—the utter ignorance of who he was without clue or fear that could save them. And he didn't mind it one bit in that moment. His palm felt itchy with anticipation that built. He wanted answers, more answers to unravel their arrogance and expose the truth beneath.
[Charge: 1%]
"Lets get messy then,"