When We Were Gods: Rise Of The Immortals

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The Thamesview Villa – 12:13 PM

The fireplace crackled with quiet rebellion. Rain traced silent paths down the floor-to-ceiling windows, blurring the London skyline beyond. Inside, four ancient figures stood over a map—each marking possible locations of the two that remained lost.

Dorian sipped wine like it was sacrament.

Akari leaned against the far wall, watching the sky like it owed her answers.

Selene sat on the armrest, fanning herself absently.

Roux drew invisible patterns across the glass with his fingertip.

> "If Jasmine is truly in Lagos," Akari said, "she will feel the pulse soon enough."

> "And the sixth?" Selene asked.

> "We do not speak his name," Roux said.

> "Because you still fear him?" Dorian smirked.

> "Because names carry weight," Roux replied. "And his still breaks things."

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Outside – 12:14 PM

A black van screeched to a halt just outside the villa's private gate.

Then another. And another.

Men in full tactical gear spilled into the rainy drive.

Helmets. Rifles. Vests. Visors.

They moved with military precision—circling the villa like it belonged to a warzone.

Atop a nearby rooftop, a gloved sniper loaded a round silently.

The operation had one name attached to the file:

Dorian Kayle.

Alias: Unregistered arms dealer.

Status: Immediate apprehension.

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Inside – 12:15 PM

Selene's fan stopped moving.

Akari blinked.

Roux looked up from the glass.

> "They've come."

> "Let me guess," Dorian said, swirling his wine. "Kevlar. Ego. And enough guns to feel important."

The front door exploded inward.

Policemen stormed in, shouting warnings, weapons aimed like they thought bullets could intimidate gods.

> "ON THE FLOOR!"

"HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM!"

"THIS IS A RAID—"

Roux raised a hand calmly.

> "I would advise you to leave."

One officer stepped forward, shouting again, but Roux kept walking—unarmed, casual, deadly.

> "You are intruding on territory you do not understand."

A shot rang out.

From outside.

From the rooftop.

A high-caliber sniper round sliced through the window and—

Cracked into Roux's skull.

Time seemed to hesitate.

The bullet burst through his temple and out the other side.

A mist of blood sprayed the wall behind him.

He collapsed without a sound.

The officers froze for a beat.

Then surged forward.

Dorian laughed from his place on the couch.

> "Oh, gentlemen," he said between chuckles, lifting his glass. "You've just declared war on the wrong house."

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Roux stirred.

Then moved.

Then stood.

His head still bled—but the hole was closing, as if time reversed only for his flesh.

The bullet clinked to the marble floor.

He turned toward the officers.

Expression calm.

Eyes glowing faintly gold.

> "You had your warning."

They screamed.

Opened fire.

Everything changed.

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The Fight

Bullets tore through the room—shattering vases, chandeliers, picture frames.

But Roux was no longer standing still.

In one blink—he was among them.

The first officer's arm twisted with a crack.

Elbow bent the wrong way—bone burst through flesh.

Roux slammed him through a column.

Stone fractured like sand.

A second man tried to scream.

Roux's hand found his throat—lifted him—and hurled him across the room.

He crashed through the dining table, spine bending unnaturally.

Three others fired point blank.

> Thud. Thud. Thud.

Roux didn't flinch.

The bullets struck. They sank. But they didn't stay.

Flesh pushed them out.

Bones reset.

Skin sealed.

He grabbed the barrel of one rifle and crushed it in his palm like wet paper.

> "You are not the first to bring iron to my door," he said.

"But you may be the last."

A fourth tried to run.

He didn't make it to the door.

The shadows in the hallway stretched. Clutched his legs.

Dragged him screaming back into the room where Roux waited with no mercy in his hands.

Selene watched calmly, fanning herself.

Akari did not blink.

Dorian poured another glass.

> "He always was the dramatic one," he mused aloud.

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A grenade clinked across the floor.

Roux looked down.

It exploded.

Flames and dust consumed the room—furniture shredded, curtains burned.

When the smoke cleared—

Roux stood untouched.

Hair tousled. Shirt torn.

Eyes burning.

> "You brought thunder," he said.

"Allow me to return lightning."

He leapt—inhumanly fast.

Elbow crushed one skull.

A heel broke another's ribcage inward.

> …He grabbed the barrel of one rifle and crushed it in his palm like wet paper.

> "You are not the first to bring iron to my door," he said.

"But you may be the last."

One officer screamed and fired again—only to have Roux catch the bullet with a sudden shift of his head. The round sliced across his cheek. He grinned.

> "Close."

In a blink, Roux was behind him.

He ripped the officer's gun from his hands, flipped it in the air like a blade—

—and drove the butt of it through the man's throat.

The metal pierced flesh and spine like a javelin, pinning the officer to the wall, where he twitched once, then went still.

Another officer lunged with a combat knife.

Roux let him come.

Then plunged both hands into his chest—fingers curling past ribs like the pages of a ruined book—and tore him in two, flinging the halves to either side like trash.

Only one remained now.

The last officer backed away slowly, shaking, whispering to himself.

> "What are you…?"

Roux stalked toward him, blood dripping from his forearms, shadows coiling around his ankles.

> "Judgment," he whispered.

He raised his hand to strike—

But another hand caught his wrist.

Akari.

Cool. Still. Unshaken.

> "Enough," she said.

Roux's golden eyes narrowed.

> "He lives?"

Akari tilted her head, gently guiding Roux's arm down.

> "Only until I'm done."

She turned to the trembling man, who had fallen to his knees, sobbing, choking out prayers.

Akari stepped forward without urgency.

She didn't raise her voice. She didn't blink.

She simply extended one graceful arm, and with a slow, deliberate swipe of her fingers—

his head slid cleanly from his neck.

No scream. Just silence.

Blood pooled gently as the body slumped forward like a doll with its strings cut.

She turned, wiping her fingers on the edge of her dress.

> "I prefer clean exits," she murmured.

Roux gave a slow smile.

> "Remind me not to interrupt you when you're angry."

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The villa was a mess of smoke, broken marble, and scattered bodies.

Selene finally stood.

> "Well," she said, brushing a speck of dust from her shoulder, "that escalated like it always does."

Dorian walked past the wreckage, glass in hand.

> "Do you think they'll send more?"

> "Let them," Roux said, wiping blood from his wrist. "The world must remember what it buried."

Akari looked at the smoke rising from the street.

> "They will feel it. He will feel it. Every one of them will."

Roux closed his eyes.

> "Then let them come."

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