DC/Fate: Age of Heroes

Mount Olympus shook with fury.

Edward had just marked Athena's fate, her acceptance of monstrous punishment in exchange for her life. The air between them was tense, yet still. Athena's silver eyes were dim with shame, yet calm in resolve.

But that moment of silence shattered instantly.

The gods struck as one.

Zeus raised his hand high, his voice bellowing like the storm. "DIE!" he roared, as he hurled his thunderbolt, white-hot and howling like a star torn from the sky.

Apollo didn't hesitate. He nocked an arrow and whispered a sacred hymn. The arrow glowed gold—no, it became gold, alight with the full, blinding radiance of the sun. With a sharp twang of his bow, the solar spear flew forth.

Demeter clenched her fist and drove it into the ground. The marble cracked as thick, serpentine vines erupted—dark, thorny, and alive with divine hunger. They coiled toward Edward, barbed tips twisting like fangs.

Aphrodite, her beauty warped into rage, summoned a long-forgotten relic: The Bow of Eros. A heart-shaped arrow shimmered with rosy mist as she aimed it at Edward's chest, lips curled in fury. "Let's see you mock love now, beast,"she spat, loosing the arrow that would force obsession and longing into even the coldest soul.

And Hephaestus roared, limping forward with his molten-forged hammer, the air around it shimmering with heat. He brought it down with the force of a mountain, aiming to crush Edward into the earth.

It was a divine onslaught. A combined assault that could break titans, destroy kingdoms, and erase mortals from existence.

But Edward… just smiled.

His voice came quiet, a whisper, more like a curse:

"Equip: Avenger."

The moment those words left his lips, the world shook.

A shockwave erupted from his body—raw, black energy laced with red veins burst outward like a living flame. It shattered the vines, twisted the air, and cracked the sky above.

The thunderbolt, the solar arrow, the lustful charm, and the hammer's blow all crashed into the same point—where Edward had stood moments ago.

The mountain trembled as the explosion sent debris flying in every direction. Fire. Lightning. Dust. Blinding heat and splintering stone engulfed everything. The gods flinched. Even Zeus grinned for a moment.

They thought they'd won.

But Athena knew better.

She stood to the side, watching the others cheer. Her eyes narrowed, not out of fear, but from grim understanding. She had seen the shift in Edward's form the moment he whispered those words.

She had felt the presence within him, ancient, monstrous, and unyielding. Yet she somehow felt hope brimming from within him. She whispered softly, " Just who is he?"

The ash-colored figure loomed behind the gods.

The charming Edward was no longer there.

In his place stood the Avenger. The warrior whose wrath had slain Ares. The beast who tore Heracles limb from limb. The nightmare who mutilated Artemis.

And the gods, drunk on premature victory—didn't even realize he was behind them.

Until it was too late.

Splurt!

Apollo's body jolted. His mouth opened, but no words came. Only golden ichor flowed through them.

He looked down in shock.

Two divine blades pierced clean through his back , emerging just below his ribs.

He gasped in pain.

Behind him, Edward grinned, eyes glowing with infernal rage. It might have been charming before, but now? The grin sent shivers down the spine of the gods.

With a sudden pull, the Blades of Chaos retracted, the chains coiling like serpents, dragging Apollo backward toward him like a puppet.

Apollo wheezed, blood pouring from his mouth as his knees buckled. His bow clattered uselessly to the ground.

Zeus turned and hurled his divine weapon, just as Edward seized Apollo by the throat and held him up like a human shield.

"NO!" Zeus shouted, with a surge of madness and regret.

Apollo's bloodshot eyes widened. He saw his death. It came screaming toward him, fast and merciless.

But even then, he clenched his teeth and smiled weakly through the blood.

"If I die… I'm taking you with me, monster."

And with the last of his strength, Apollo locked his arms around Edward's torso. " this is for Artemis."

The thunderbolt struck like a fallen star.

A scream ripped through the heavens as the explosion tore across Olympus. The summit shook violently, statues cracked, and divine ichor sprayed across the ruined marble. Apollo's form was lost in the searing blast, his final act of defiance swallowing both him and Edward in a maelstrom of lightning and sunfire.

Zeus's face was twisted in fury, but behind his eyes was something else — doubt.

The dust settled slowly, carried by howling winds that reeked of ozone and blood. Debris littered the battleground, chunks of broken stone smoldering amid the charred remains of columns.

Athena stood still as a statue, eyes narrowed.

She had seen it.

Before the blast consumed him, she'd seen Edward smile.

That alone chilled her deeper than any thunderbolt ever could.

Zeus's fists clenched as his gaze swept the ruins. His voice cracked with a furious tremor.

"Apollo…" he muttered, grief barely veiled beneath wrath. Then his voice rose into a bellow.

"EDWARD! Show yourself! I'll tear your soul apart!"

Lightning rained again, wild and reckless — bolt after bolt launched into the dust and rubble. He didn't care what he hit. He only wanted destruction.

But the storm began to fade. Slowly. Unnaturally.

And then came a whisper. Not from above. Not from around.

It came from beneath the very fabric of the world.

"My fury burns all…"

A tremor rippled across Olympus, subtle at first — then violent, as if the mountain itself recoiled from the voice.

"…and my rage rends the world asunder."

The sky darkened. Not with clouds — but something else. Something primal. Something ancient.

Athena took a step back. Her breath caught.

He's still here.

The gods turned as a figure emerged from the thinning dust. Not the burned remains of a man, not the charred corpse they expected…

But Edward. Whole. Unbroken. And… different.

His body glowed faintly beneath the blood and ash, not with divine light — but with something older. More terrifying. Surrounding him, a storm of weapons shimmered into being: twin Blades of Chaos wreathed in flame, the crushing gauntlets of the Nemean Cestus, the spectral Claws of Hades dragging the chains of the underworld behind them, the golden glow of the Blade of Olympus sparking in and out of view. Not summoned one at a time — but all at once, orbiting him in a vortex of pure hatred.

These were not tools of war.

They were the embodiment of slaughter.

Each weapon had killed a god. Each soaked in divine blood. Each etched with legend.

Edward stood at the center, his eyes burning red — not just from his own wrath, but from the awakened power of the one within.

Kratos.

The God-Slayer. The Ghost of Sparta. The man who broke Olympus.

Their spirits now burned as one, and from their union, the concept itself emerged.

His voice echoed, layered and thunderous — more than mortal, more than divine.

"Let the heavens bleed—"

He raised his arm, and the swirling weapons responded, spinning faster, burning hotter, shrieking through the air like screaming souls.

"Ἀναίρεσις Θεῶν (Anairesis Theon)!" (The Undoing of Gods.)

The gods froze.

This was no weapon.This was not magic. Not technique.

This was the manifestation of a myth , a divine concept forged in the ruin of Olympus itself.

The gods felt it immediately within their soul. Their skin crawled. Their ichor burned.

Something was being stripped from them — not just strength, but divinity itself.

Hephaestus stumbled back, clutching his chest. His hammer slipped from his hand, and he collapsed to one knee.

Demeter gasped as the vines around her arm withered into dust, her dominion over harvest and life unraveling with every second she stood in Edward's presence.

Aphrodite screamed, clutching her head, beauty faltering. The divine allure that once bent armies to her will flickered and died in her eyes. Her immortality felt fragile now. Breakable.

Even Zeus staggered. Lightning sparked erratically across his frame as if the very storms resisted him. The air around him thinned. His aura — once immense, suffocating — was crumbling.

Edward walked forward, slow and deliberate, like an executioner walking toward the scaffold. His hands were empty , he didn't need to wield a weapon. They followed him. They danced around him like vengeful spirits, each strike they would make now carrying a singular truth:

Every blow would be absolutely fatal.

Because Anairesis Theon didn't just kill gods.

It undid them completely.

Athena whispered, almost to herself, "By the Fates… He's become the end of Olympus."

Zeus bared his teeth. "NO!" he howled, and hurled another thunderbolt, one infused with all the divine might of the King of Gods.

The lightning arced toward Edward.

The Claws of Hades lunged out like serpents — and caught the bolt mid-air, the chains coiling around it and devouring it. The souls of the Underworld hissed in glee as they swallowed Zeus's wrath whole.

Edward didn't even flinch.

He raised his head, and his eyes locked with Zeus's.

"Are you scared?"

The gods began to back away.

But Edward lifted his hand, and with a snap, the Blades of Chaos flew forward, carving through air, fire, and flesh.

The war wasn't over yet.

But It was about to reach its climax.

****

The heavens wept black storm clouds and the mountain's roots quaked beneath the weight of divine annihilation. The moment Anairesis Theon was unleashed, the very concept of godhood became fragile in Edward's presence.

And the gods — these so-called immortals — were no longer gods.

They were prey.

The vortex of divine weapons encircling Edward glowed crimson and gold, spectral chains dragging sparks through the air, dragging with them the legacy of every god Kratos had slain — now fused into one fury-driven Avenger.

Aphrodite was the first to falter.

Her knees hit the marble with a desperate thud, hands trembling as her illusion of dominance crumbled. Her silken dress slipped from her shoulders as she attempted to wield the only weapon she had left — her body. She dropped her bow, crawling forward with wide, shimmering eyes.

"Please… please, I beg you," she whispered, voice a soft melody now cracked with terror. She ran her hands down her curves, peeling away the rest of her dress until she knelt nude before him. "I'll serve you, become your slave… fulfill your every whim. Just spare me. I… I can make you feel pleasure no goddess ever has."

She reached for his leg, trembling.

But Edward did not look at her with desire.

Only disgust.

His voice was flat.

"You mistake me for a man who seeks comfort from filth."

He lifted a hand — and with a flick of his fingers, the Blades of Chaos shot forward like twin vipers. They wrapped around her body with supernatural speed, coiling tighter and tighter.

"Wait—NO! NO PLEASE—"

SHRRRRT!

The chains yanked in opposite directions.

Her body burst.

There was no elegance, no grace, no divine death. Her flawless skin tore like parchment. Her golden hair was drenched in blood and ichor as her head spun into the sky, severed from her neck. Limbs were ripped free, and her spine snapped with a grotesque crack as she exploded into a storm of gore and viscera. Golden ichor rained down across Olympus, painting the once-holy grounds in divine carnage.

Her final scream echoed across the land, shrill and hollow — a goddess laid bare, reduced to meat.

And from the remains, a pulse of divine energy surged into Edward's chest. The vortex around him absorbed it greedily. Anairesis Theon did not simply kill. It erased gods. Their divinity, their concepts, their myths — consumed and assimilated.

He didn't stop to look back.

Behind him, Hephaestus roared and charged forward, dragging his great hammer behind him like a meteor preparing to strike. His one good eye was ablaze with grief and fury, though his leg dragged behind him in its eternal limp.

Beside him, Zeus raised another thunderbolt, raw energy coursing from the heavens into his hand. His face contorted with wrath, beard bristling with static.

From behind, Demeter raised her hands to the skies, calling upon nature itself to aid her children. Thorned roots erupted from the ground again, thick as serpents, and hundreds of vines lashed toward Edward with divine precision.

But he was gone.

Before the vines even reached him, a crack in space whispered — and Edward appeared behind Demeter.

She gasped, startled, turning just in time to see the smoldering red glow in his eyes.

He gripped her by the head. Her green robes wilted. The grass beneath her feet turned to ash.

"Do you remember," he said coldly, "how your grief-starved the world?"

She clawed at his arm, but his grip didn't budge.

"How your sorrow over your daughter's abduction led you to kill millions? Mankind… who had nothing to do with your pain. And yet, you took their lives without remorse."

She struggled. "I— I was mourning—!"

"You chose vengeance. You are no goddess of harvest. Only famine."

Suddenly, a thunderbolt whistled toward him — hurled by Zeus from afar.

Edward didn't flinch.

He caught the thunderbolt mid-air with his free hand, divine energy crackling against his palm. Demeter's eyes widened in horror.

"No… NO—"

He drove the thunderbolt into her chest.

The sound was like the splitting of a mountain.

The lightning coursed through her body, erupting out of her eyes and mouth. Her screams were hideous, her body convulsing violently as the bolt didn't just destroy — it burned her concept, searing through her spirit, eating her from the inside out.

She collapsed forward, but he held her upright, watching as her flesh dissolved into golden mist. Her form collapsed into glowing fragments — and the divine energy that made up Demeter bled out like light drawn into a void.

Her divinity scattered — and surged into Edward's chest. The weapons orbiting him pulsed brighter, sharper, deadlier.

Two gods down.

The world groaned beneath his presence.

Athena, from a distance, watched with silent horror. She closed her eyes and whispered a prayer — not for salvation, but for the dead. For Demeter, who once wept for Persephone. For Aphrodite, who had only known how to manipulate, never fight. There was no forgiveness here. Only endings.

And now, only two remained.

Zeus. Hephaestus.

They stood together, though even the father of gods now looked shaken.

Hephaestus's hammer trembled in his grip.

Edward walked toward them, step by step — each impact cracking the marble beneath his feet.

In his hand, he still held Zeus's own thunderbolt, now flickering faintly, corrupted by the same force that unmade Demeter.

His face was emotionless. The storm around him was alive — the Blades of Chaos, the Claws of Hades, the Nemean Cestus, and others rotated behind him in a deadly cyclone of memory and myth.

Zeus gritted his teeth, and for the first time in eons… he felt something foreign.

Not fury. Not pride.

Fear.

And worse still — the knowledge that nothing he could do would change what came next.

*****

The cracked marble beneath Edward's boots echoed with each slow, thunderous step as he advanced toward the final two gods of Olympus. The shattered remains of the pantheon littered the battlefield—smoldering, twitching, lifeless—and still, the storm in his heart had not calmed. The Blades of Chaos spun in lazy arcs at his sides, glowing faintly in the blood-hazed light of the ruined heavens. Zeus stood stiffly beside Hephaestus, their divine forms battered, cloaked in ichor and dust, the air thick with the stench of scorched flesh and cosmic ruin.

Zeus glanced at his estranged son—Hephaestus, the god he had spurned and discarded for centuries—and for once, the King of Olympus looked… human. His voice was low, grave. "Perhaps I treated you harshly, my son. For what it's worth… I apologize."

Hephaestus let out a jagged breath that sounded more like a death rattle than a chuckle. He spat golden blood, wiped his trembling hand across his lip, and gave a broken smirk. "Cough… Too late, old man. But thank you… for finally acknowledging me."

Edward paused mid-step, raising a brow in something approaching amusement. "What is this?" he asked, his tone dry. "Character development? A redemption arc?"

He scoffed and spun Zeus's own Thunderbolt in his hand before hurling it with god-slaying precision. The golden projectile howled through the air like a comet and struck Hephaestus dead in the chest. The god's eyes widened in disbelief, and then—

BOOM.

Hephaestus detonated in a burst of golden flame, divine ichor, and steaming viscera. His limbs were vaporized, his forge-strong body reduced to ash and gore. Bone fragments rained down like meteorites. The explosion drenched Zeus, painting his regal form in the remains of the only son who ever truly wanted his approval. Splashes of Hephaestus's ichor clung to his beard and robes, dripping slowly.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Zeus stood unmoving, staring into the space where his son had once stood. His eyes, wide and unblinking, turned to Edward, who now radiated with the absorbed divinity of yet another slain god.

Slowly, the Father of the Sky bent and picked up his weapon—the shattered remnant of his Thunderbolt, crackling weakly with dying light. His voice, when it came, was hoarse but steady.

"You have brought ruin to Olympus. Our home lies in ashes. The world will tremble with imbalance. Humanity will suffer for this madness. You think yourself a savior? What have you actually achieved?"

Edward stood in the carnage of gods, his body soaked in celestial blood, his eyes strangely calm. He stared down Zeus and answered, quietly:

"I'm no savior. Some might call me a monster."

He turned his gaze skyward for a moment, as if addressing the stars themselves, before returning it to Zeus. His voice hardened with resolve.

"But even monsters can sometimes cast a light in the darkness. If I must carry this burden, then so be it. I will stand before mankind, not as a god, but as a beacon of hope and freedom… so they never falter in blind worship again."

Zeus coughed blood as he spoke , " Humans are flawed, weak and pathetic creatures that would cease to exist without us."

Edward looked at the sky and replied softly, " They would stumble, they would fall. They would make mistakes. But in time, they will work together, and find their way into the light. And I will be there guide them."

A tired smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. Not of triumph, but burden and duty.

From behind, Athena observed the exchange with an unreadable expression. A dull ache pierced her chest as she watched Edward's solitary figure.

"This man is a fool," she whispered to no one, voice hushed yet reverent. "But a fool even the greatest heroes would admire."

Then, Zeus roared.

A final cry of defiance. Of pain. Of wrath.

He summoned all the power left within him, calling lightning from the broken sky, and lunged at Edward with one last desperate swing of the Thunderbolt.

Crack.

Edward didn't flinch.

With one hand, he caught the weapon mid-swing. Sparks erupted, divine energy crackling violently as the King of Olympus looked on in disbelief. Then, Edward squeezed.

Hairline fractures split across the weapon's surface, and with a sickening pop, it broke apart—lightning fizzling uselessly in the air.

In a flash, Edward's other hand came forward, and with it, the Claws of Hades roared to life.

He swung viciously.

SLASH.

Zeus screamed—a raw, animalistic sound—as the clawed edge tore through his lower torso. The weapon tore away not flesh, but something deeper. Divine essence ruptured. Zeus crumpled, clutching his ruined groin in horror. Something wet and significant hit the ground with a splatter.

It twitched.

Edward looked down, unimpressed. He lifted his boot and crushed it beneath his heel.

The King of the Gods writhed at his feet, gasping in agony, tears and ichor running down his face.

Edward's tone was devoid of mercy. "Just for that act alone… the women of Greece would thank me. You are the worst of them all, Zeus. King of Gods? You were a tyrant. A glutton. A rapist. Power wasted on an arrogant fool who only knew indulgence. No more."

With grim finality, he raised the Blades of Chaos, still humming with wrathful energy, and drove them straight through Zeus's face.

CRACK.

Bone shattered. Divine thunder erupted. A blastwave surged outward, shaking what remained of Mount Olympus. The world shuddered as the King of the Gods fell.

When the dust cleared, Edward stood alone.

He exhaled slowly. "One more."

With a flash of divine speed, he vanished.

Far above, atop the highest peak of the mountain, a battered Hermes lay in the care of a few minor gods and spirits. His silver blood stained the stones. He was half-conscious, muttering, unaware of what approached.

Edward didn't pause.

He didn't speak.

He simply appeared, blade in hand—and in one fluid motion—

SHINK.

Hermes's head was severed from his body. It hit the ground with a hollow thud, rolling gently to a stop, his expression frozen in confusion. There were no words. No pleas.

Just silence.

It was truly over.

Edward stood upon the wrecked summit of Olympus. He looked at the Divine Sphere—a gleaming mass of compressed divine authority, the spiritual embodiment of every god he had slain. It pulsed faintly, almost like a heart.

He considered it for a moment… and then tossed it into the Gate of Babylon opened behind him, golden and infinite, and the sphere vanished into its depths.

He turned, walking away, his back to the heavens, his heart heavy with fire and silence.

Olympus was no more.