A GOD'S WAY OF JUDGEMENT

27- Father and Son

After some time, Cyrus Archanveil stepped through the grand entrance of Arcanveil Mansion, his keen gaze immediately catching the surprise etched on the faces of his wife, Elara, and their daughter, Liviya. He noticed the remnants of shock in their eyes and the tension that hung in the air like a storm cloud.

"What happened here?" Cyrus asked, his voice steady but laced with concern. He glanced at the bloodstains that marred the pristine marble floors, the eerie silence surrounding them thickening.

Elara took a deep breath, her eyes darting between her family and the scene of carnage that had unfolded just moments earlier. "Ronan... he returned from the Hall of Eternal Judgment," she began, her voice trembling slightly. "And he was... different. Brutal. He—"

She faltered, struggling to find the words, but Liviya stepped in, her expression grave. "He slaughtered the criminals. And he... he killed gods, Father. It was like nothing we've ever seen. He was so powerful, so cold."

Cyrus absorbed their words, the gravity of the situation sinking in. He had always known Ronan possessed immense power, but to learn that he had unleashed such brutality—against gods no less—was a revelation that shook him to his core. The image of his son as kind and approachable felt shattered, replaced by something darker, more formidable.

Before he could voice his thoughts, the door to Ronan's workshop creaked open. Ronan stepped out, his attire now changed to something more casual, yet his demeanor remained composed. He looked at his father with an expression that betrayed nothing of the earlier violence, as if the massacre had been a mere formality.

"Father," he said, his tone almost casual, "come with me. I need to show you something."

The command was uncharacteristic for Ronan; he never invited anyone into his workshop. Cyrus exchanged a glance with Elara and Liviya, confusion mingling with concern, but there was a spark of curiosity that ignited within him. He followed Ronan into the workshop, the air thick with anticipation.

Inside, the workshop appeared small and unassuming at first glance. Cyrus stepped carefully, his eyes scanning the cluttered space filled with tools and blueprints. "It's... compact," he remarked, trying to make sense of it. "Very different from what I expected."

Ronan approached a concealed wall panel, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Are you ready?" he asked, and without waiting for a response, he pressed a hidden switch. A section of the floor gave way, revealing a dark shaft.

"Can you jump down safely? It's about seventy feet," Ronan said, his tone casual as if they were discussing the weather.

Cyrus chuckled lightly, masking the trepidation rising within him. "I can handle it," he replied, steeling himself. With a practiced motion, he leaped into the abyss.

The descent felt exhilarating, the wind rushing past him until he landed softly on a platform below. He looked around, and a voice echoed through the air.

"Welcome, Ronan and Mr. Cyrus Archanveil," the AI known as Z announced, its tone friendly yet mechanical. The lights flickered to life, illuminating the expansive space around them.

Cyrus' breath hitched in his neck as he took in the story in front of him. The building was huge, filled with a series of machines, armored vehicles, luxury jets and planes. Hundreds of weapons and impressive collections of weapons adorned the walls, each a testament to Ronan's intelligence and will.

"What is all of this?" Cyrus asked, his voice barely above a whisper, awe mixed with apprehension.

Ronan smiled, a mix of pride and something deeper flickering in his gaze. "This is my vision. A place where I can create—where I can prepare for the future. I've developed technologies that could change everything."