CHAPTER:3 WELCOME TO THE PRESENT

 Ezekiel's initial reaction to the shadowy figure's proclamation was one of defiance rather than acceptance. He narrowed his eyes, skepticism evident in his voice as he confronted the guardian. "Destined for destruction?" he scoffed. "And who are you to decree such a fate?" The figure's form seemed to ripple with an ominous aura, devoid of any hint of warmth or compassion. "I am but a harbinger of truths hidden in shadows," it replied, its voice echoing with an ethereal resonance. "Whether you choose to heed my words or not, the path you walk is intertwined with the threads of destiny." Ezekiel's defiance flared as he bristled at the guardian's cryptic words. "I will not be a pawn in your twisted game," he retorted, his voice laced with disdain. "I'll carve my own destiny, one free from your machinations." The guardian regarded him with a cold, calculating gaze, its eyes gleaming with an otherworldly intensity. "Your defiance is futile, young demigod," it declared, its voice dripping with malice. "You cannot escape the inevitable, no matter how hard you try." A surge of anger coursed through Ezekiel's veins as he faced the guardian's relentless hostility. "I'll never bow to you or your kind," he spat, his resolve unyielding despite the fear gnawing at his heart. With a sinister laugh, the guardian lunged forward, tendrils of darkness reaching out to ensnare Ezekiel in their grasp. Panic seized him as he struggled against the suffocating embrace of the shadows, his futile attempts to break free met with cruel laughter from the guardian. And then, in an instant, everything went black.

 Ezekiel's eyes flew open, his body drenched in sweat as he jolted upright in a cold sweat. For a moment, the memory of the shadowy figure's attack lingered like a nightmare, the echoes of his own terror still ringing in his ears. But as he took in his surroundings—the dimly lit alley, the muted sounds of the city beyond—he realized that it had all been just a dream. Around him, In the dark and dirty alleyway where the supposed "Punisher of the gods" was laying down half naked wondering how he got there, all of a sudden the innocent unsuspecting mortals passing by suddenly hear "FUCK YOU HYPNOS I SAID A SLIGHT SPAR NOT PUNCH ME HALFWAY ACROSS THE WORLD".

 With a slow, deliberate movement, he pushed himself up from the cold concrete, his expression remaining devoid of emotion as he recollected his surroundings. The alleyway was empty, save for the faint glow of distant streetlights casting long shadows across the pavement. Ezekiel's mind felt foggy, the remnants of the nightmare clinging to him like a shroud. He couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at his insides, a lingering reminder of the darkness that had threatened to consume him years ago. As he stood in the silence of the alley, Ezekiel's thoughts drifted, the events of the nightmare replaying in his mind like a broken record. The guardian's words echoed in his ears, a chilling reminder of the danger that lurked in the shadows. With a shaky breath, Ezekiel forced himself to push aside the memories of the nightmare, focusing instead on the present moment. Though his expression remained impassive, a sense of foreboding settled over him like a heavy cloak. He knew he couldn't dwell on the darkness that had plagued his dreams. With a silent resolve, Ezekiel turned away from the alley, Now on the street thinking of ways to get back to Montauk.