A GOD'S WAY OF JUDGEMENT

26- Order

The Hall of Eternal Judgment was deathly quiet, suffocating under the pressure of a rising storm. The shimmering barrier sealed all exits, trapping the gods inside. The tension was palpable as realization dawned on them—there would be no escape, no salvation from what was to come.

Ronan Arcanveil, standing tall and unwavering, let his eyes sweep over the room. The criminals trembled in terror, their divine bodies frozen in place. But it wasn't only them. Even the gods in the viewing section began to feel fear creeping into their immortal hearts. The air around them buzzed with divine power, so thick it was choking.

Ronan spoke, his voice echoing like a death knell.

"System... summon Gungnir."

The gods stirred uneasily. Gungnir, a weapon designed for one purpose: the destruction of gods. The air rippled with energy as the command was executed. Across realms, in Ronan's private forge, the celestial spear answered the call. It tore through the dimensional boundaries, blazing across the sky, and within moments, it pierced the Hall's ceiling like a divine meteor.

The spear landed in Ronan's grip with a deafening crash, a blast of light rippling through the room. He now stood clad in radiant golden armor, white accents shimmering like the light of a dying star. This was no mortal court. This was the domain of a god—the God of Creation—and his judgment would be absolute.

The criminals tried to scramble, but it was futile. Ronan's eyes narrowed, and with a flick of his wrist, Gungnir flashed forward, finding its first victim.

One of the gods screamed as he stabbed her in the stomach with a spear and lifted her off the ground. His body jerked in midair as his arms and legs wet from the inside out, blood dripping from each orifice. Gungnir withdrew with a sickening squelch, and the god's body crumbled in heaps of gore, his entrails sliding from the ground to the bloody marble floor.

Another god bolted, trying to flee through the hall's rows, but Ronan was relentless. With a subtle gesture, Gungnir shattered into fragments—each shard a razor-sharp spear of divine energy. They crossed the room like arrows, lodged behind the fleeing god. He screamed in pain as the fragments tore him from all sides, knocking him to the ground. Ronan slowly tied his fingers together, twisting the pieces that turned his flesh into a spine in the god's body. His final scream echoed before he dissolved into a pool of blood.

Ronan turned to another criminal, his expression merciless. This one knelt, hands outstretched, pleading for forgiveness. But Ronan was beyond mercy. He waved his hand, and a force ripped the god's arm from his body with a savage snap. Blood sprayed across the hall, the god howling in pain. Ronan showed no hesitation—he ripped the other arm off just as brutally, then the legs. The criminal lay there, a limbless torso writhing in agony.

"Please... no more!" the god gurgled, but Ronan wasn't finished.

With a final flick of his hand, Gungnir sliced downward, decapitating the wretched figure, his head rolling across the floor before coming to rest in a pool of his own blood.

The gods in the viewing section began to stir in a panic, but it was too late. Ronan's cold gaze settled on them. These were gods who had escaped judgment, their names unsullied because the criminals they had conspired with hadn't revealed their involvement. But they couldn't hide from Ronan's divine sight.

They began to stand, their panic evident as some tried to reason.

"Ronan, please! We weren't involved—"

The words died in the speaker's throat as Gungnir streaked toward him, moving faster than sound. The spear didn't simply kill—it mutilated. It struck the god in the gut, but instead of piercing through, it twisted inside him. His body jerked violently as the spear tore him apart from the inside. His eyes bulged, blood spraying from his mouth in thick streams. Ronan's eyes remained cold as the god's flesh shredded, leaving behind only a pulpy mass of tissue and bone.