The Olympians: The Fall of Kin

Bartholomew Black

Adastros Linnaeus ignored the guards as he approached the gates. They didn't stare at him. Didn't even blink, despite his obvious Godkin heritage. That was The Queen's Guard for you. Ever stoic, just like his imbecilic brother. He stared at the palace with ignominious eyes. All those months ago, he could have had Deity and Alyx break in to get the last piece of the artifact. But he didn't trust anyone with this undertaking, anyone but Kirin that is, but he was currently indisposed.

Besides, breaking into the palace was no easy task. There were contingencies in place for Godkin in particular, contingencies that would make it near impossible for anyone other than an Omega to foil. If one were to attempt to do so, they would need to be unbelievably stealthy, as well as tech savvy. Either that, or they would need to have overwhelming strength, the likes of which could never hope to be overcome by anything more than an identically overwhelming power.

Adastros cracked his neck, then grabbed for his blade, which hung clandestinely at his hip, hidden by the folds of his jacket.

The guards reacted immediately, levelling their weapons at him, but it was far too late for them. He moved like a leaf in the wind, slitting both of their throats before they could have the slightest of reactions. Their blood painted the ground a deep velvet. He raised his devilish left hand and summoned ink-black tentacles that wrapped around the corners of the gate. The tentacles reacted on their own, as if they were a separate entity entirely, and ripped the gate free, tossing it far behind him into the streets of Westminster. People screamed, though he paid them no mind.

"And the god entered the realm of man, seeing them worship one of their own, as if that leader viewed themselves on the same paramount as the god they should have been praising. Humans, so ignorant, and yet so very arrogant." He thought aloud, his steps echoing, their volume growing as he came closer and closer to his goal. He could taste it. The last piece lay beyond this door. And, once he had his fingers around it, everything he'd sacrificed wouldn't be in vain.

The next step would be to merely assemble them, and then soak the blade in the blood of a Bane. And he knew exactly who he would start with.

The human guards reacted instantly, rushing from all corners of the yard and even on the roof. The palace was gargantuan in size, offering perches for many snipers. But they didn't matter. He chose now to offer a glimpse at his true power, at the powers of a certain demon that had so graciously granted him the abilities to liberate his people from the malignant hands of mankind.

So, by barely flicking his index finger, each and every guardsman that stood before him was killed. Not in some flashy way, either. They simply fell where they stood, dying of various conditions.

He walked into the hallowed halls of the building that had stood for so many years as a staple of the English Monarchy. Soldiers fell dead the moment they laid eyes upon him, their gazes crossing paths with a true god.

"What is he?" He heard many say. He proffered no response. It was time humans learned their place and revered him for who he was.

I'm tired of them. Tired of them dictating what we do and don't do. We're above them. We always have been. Whether or not they see that doesn't matter. The only thing I need to show them is the same ideas that have been shoved down my—our throats since The Godkin were first born into this world.

He soon found himself at the Halls of War. It was a relatively new add-on to the palace, which had been constructed after World War III. The only good thing to come of that war, in his opinion. It was at least proof that The English regretted their position in that war, which had resulted in the massacre of Godkin seeking to unite. And, of course, because of the resources they had sitting under them.