The Dance of Chaos

The Colosseum of Sky was filled with cheers and screams of disbelief, creating a wave of noise that threatened to tear the very fabric of Aethoria asunder.

In the shattered remains of the arena, reality itself seemed to hiccup and stutter, struggling to reassert itself after the cataclysmic clash it had just witnessed.

At the epicenter of this maelstrom stood Atenzi, his form wreathed in the fading energies of his reality-warping assault.

Blood – both his own and the golden ichor of a fallen demigod – covered him like a macabre second skin.

His chest heaved with exertion, each breath sending ripples through the still-unstable air around him.

Across from him lay Hercules, the mighty son of Zeus, now looking all too mortal.

The demigod's chest rose and fell in shallow, pained gasps, his once-perfect form marred by wounds that defied conventional physics.