Against The True Gods

The sound of footsteps echoed.

In a long corridor leading to a grand gate, a man could be seen walking.

He was tall, standing over six feet, with a compact and refined frame that perfectly complemented his masculine yet slightly androgynous features.

His short black hair was slicked back, and his eyes, like a world of silver clouds, mysteriously swirled with hints of white and gold.

Every step the man took was powerful yet endlessly elegant, perfectly reflecting the scholarly aura and sharpness with which he carried himself.

He wore an ancient changpao of black and white, embroidered with a sleek design of golden clouds.

As he arrived before the grand gate of golden metal, he took a deep breath, slipped on a pair of glasses, and murmured to himself.

"It's time."

He exhaled a long, calm breath, then without fear, pushed the gates open.

***

Within a war conference room, entities of divine proportions were arguing.

Some had bodies of fire and heads of lightning; others were spectral entities, noticeable only by the terrifying pressure they emitted, while some weren't even humanoid, taking the form of famed dragons with multiple demonic heads.

All kinds of supernatural and divine energies clashed and exploded as they argued, their terrifying power shaking the earth, their breaths causing tornadoes and their intensity threatening to shatter the world itself.

These entities could only be referred to as Gods.

"NO! We MUST attack now! The abominations are slowly eating away and corroding our cosmic barrier! If we remain passive, by the time we get an answer from their side, we'll be overrun. Do I need to remind you we CANNOT afford to lose any mortals?! Or has peace made you all stupid?" Roared a man whose body was entirely made of snakes, with eyes of swirling golden fire.

Before any of the many divine figures in the room could respond or get mad at his words, they all froze as the doors opened and a figure walked in.

Detached and cold, handsome, with dark hair and cloudy eyes—they all immediately recognized him.

'Blight….'

Existence was divided into three realms—The Infernal Realm, The Earthen Realm, and the Heavenly Realm.

Between these three realms, countless smaller worlds existed, populated by quintillions of cultivators, entities that used Qi to ascend and leave their mortal coil behind.

And yet, within the World Council, through the ages since the first dawn, not a single cultivator had managed to reach their ranks.

The World Council had only ever included Celestials, Immortals, Demons, and Rulers—the strongest of the strongest races.

This had been the case until a few thousand years ago when a certain mortal cripple defied fate itself and reached their ranks without ever cultivating.

His name was Caine, and they called him The First Blight.

***

Caine's gaze was cold yet unthreatening as he calmly scanned the room, observing each council member seated around the meeting table.

Silence reigned as he did so, and after a few moments, he walked over to a simple throne of silver metal.

Only when he sat down did the previously ongoing conversation continue.

"As I was saying, we need to act. I understand that you don't want to violate the ancestral pacts, but we must. If they don't care for the ancient pacts, why must we? We have to be decisive," said the one who had previously been roaring and screaming, his tone now much tamer and civil.

On the other side of the table, a woman with a body seemingly made of broken glass and ice shards suddenly spoke.

"No, we do not need to do anything, Sarbon." She shook her head. "As detailed in the monthly reports, we are specifically waiting for them to breach our cosmic barrier so the ancient pacts are nullified and we can attack at full force."

Another figure, with a body made of rotten hands, nodded and spoke.

"Mhm. Our armies have been ready for a long time. All we need to do is—"

Caine shook his head at these words, disappointment painting his face.

"It seems our people have not learned. We've warred against the abominations for eons and lost most of those wars, yet we still look down on them. How sad."

His words were like a bucket of cold water.

"Pacts? When have restrictions ever mattered to these monstrosities? They are born from pure chaos, and pacts are kernels of order. Why would they work on them?" He sighed and stood up.

"They're not attacking our cosmic barrier to create a pathway to enter; they're trying to distract us while their forces take place."

He began to walk away.

"They're already here and have been for a long time."

As Caine walked out, he spared a glance at an entity with a body of water filled with tiny meteors.

"We've been compromised."

As soon as their gazes met, the entity exploded into a rain of ash, and a wild gust of chaotic energy swept over the shocked members of the World Council.

The entity who'd just died was Kairo, a Celestial from the Tainted Water Clan, who had been here for the longest time. His age ranged in the millions, and most of that time was spent as a member of the council.

If Caine's judgment and words were to be trusted, and Kairo indeed was a traitor—one who had been among them for so long and knew all their deepest secrets—

They were done for.

Panic rapidly consumed these lofty and divine existences, but this only made Caine shake his head more as he exited the room.

"Prepare the armies. We'll be marching out at dawn."