Creation Of All Things

Celestial Plane

The moment Adam said it—

"I brought god killers."

—the skies of the Celestial Plane tore open like paper held too long over a flame.

And just like that, everything changed.

A divine silence followed—shaken, not broken. The gods, hundreds strong, stood tall above their mirrored realm, cloaked in the might of law, time, creation, and fate. Yet in front of them stood Adam… smiling.

And behind him, his people.

And two of them stepped forward first.

Aria.

Alfred.

She, wrapped in robes etched with frost runes, her eyes focused and sharp like glacier edges.

He, smoldering like a sun restrained by will alone, a quiet blaze rising around his form like a slow, deliberate storm.

Oron stepped forward from the gods. "You dare challenge us first?"

Alfred spat into the marble. It sizzled.

"No. I'm just warming up."

BOOM—

The battle began.

Oron raised a wall of golden sigils, summoning divine constructs shaped like lions of law, each breathing compressed judgment.

Aria raised her hand, palm open.

"Fractal Seal: Frozen Logic."

The moment the constructs leapt—

—her spell snapped into reality.

A ring of glyphs formed midair in front of her, rotating like a glacier turning gears. Ice crystals laced with divine mathematics burst out, piercing through their divine forms—not with brute force, but by canceling the very equation that let them move.

They froze in place, shattered, and reformed as harmless snow.

Aria adjusted her glasses mid-motion. "They rely too much on faith-based functions. Predictable."

Alfred charged through the mist left in their wake, his entire body engulfed in white-hot fire.

"Infernastra: Blazing Trail!"

He punched the air—and the flames didn't just blast forward—they wrapped into a meteor, a burning trail of condensed plasma trailing his charge like a comet in human form.

It slammed into Rouk's flank.

The beast-god snarled, meeting the blow head-on, his claws digging into the comet-trail with all his strength.

But it was too hot. Too wild.

Even a god of hunger couldn't consume it.

KRA-KOOM!

A blast echoed through the plane.

Rouk was thrown across the sky, crashing into three other deities. One of them exploded on contact—his domain simply couldn't process combustion on that scale.

Alfred didn't even look. He pivoted.

And then came the retaliation.

Selira stepped into view, arms raised. Glyphs of forgotten alphabets floated around her. "Ice and flame… both fade before truth."

Her spell formed instantly—language made into weapon.

"Decree: Collapse Thermic Duality!"

Every inch of the battlefield twisted. Fire bent. Ice cracked. The very laws that allowed heat and cold to exist twisted.

Alfred shouted, his flames flickering.

Aria narrowed her eyes.

"She's targeting our nature," she muttered. "Time to counter."

She dropped to one knee and slammed her staff into the floor.

"Invocation: Mirror of Reversal—Absolute Reflection!"

From the ice under her, a sphere burst upward—half-frozen, half-liquid, fully impossible.

The language glyphs slammed into it—

—and bounced back.

Straight toward Selira.

BOOM!

Selira's eyes widened as her own decree tore into her chest, flipping her through the air like a broken poem. She hit the back wall and didn't get up.

Alfred grinned.

"Now that's the Aria I know."

"Stay focused, hothead," she muttered, already preparing the next array.

The gods recovered fast. Dozens rushed at once.

Irivelle, goddess of stillness, extended both hands. Time around her slowed to a crawl. Aria's motions dragged like syrup in a dying clock.

Alfred roared, flames bursting out like he was breaking free from gravity itself.

But it wasn't enough.

Irivelle's cold pressed down—

Until Aria whispered:

"…glacial sync."

And just like that—

Everything froze.

Not the battlefield.

Time itself.

WHOOM—

A second ring of cryo-runes ignited behind her, synchronized to the celestial drag. Aria had matched Irivelle's time dilation with her own—a paradox of stillness that canceled out the field.

Irivelle blinked.

That was her last motion.

Because Alfred was already there.

"Infernastra: Judgment Burn!"

His blade whipped in a diagonal slash, flames screaming around it. It tore through Irivelle's shoulder and left a trail of absolute flame across her chest. She stumbled backward, burning—but not physically. Conceptually. Her essence caught fire. Her domain caught fire.

She fell.

Not dead.

But broken.

"Retreat!" one of the gods yelled. "Focus on containment!"

But it was too late.

Aria was already in motion, her staff a blur of freezing precision.

"Array No. 17: Polar Shift!"

The floor split open into a spiral of cold logic, drawing enemies toward her and pulling their own energy into traps they couldn't see—energy-consuming spirals that restructured their laws and crushed them in inverse.

Alfred leapt into the center of it.

Burning.

Roaring.

"Core Ignition—Burning Crown!"

A tower of fire blasted upward from him as he drove his fist into the ground, his body surging with every ounce of fire he could pour from his soul.

The tower spread outward.

Combined with Aria's spiral?

It was a storm.

Fire spinning around freezing pulses. Heat amplified. Ice refined. Opposites not canceling—but accelerating each other.

Gods were flung across the realm. One slammed into the ceiling. Another disintegrated mid-flight. Rouk, bloodied and staggering, growled and backed away.

Alfred landed beside Aria again, breathing hard.

"You okay?"

"Never better," she said, already forming a new spell. "You?"

Alfred cracked his knuckles. Flames danced around his eyes. "I'm just getting started."

The Celestial Plane screamed.

A line of gods tried to form a wall—

Aria shattered their coordination with a wall of frozen equations—

Alfred burst through them with fire so white it hurt to look at—

Together, they carved through the divine wall like gods of contradiction—flame and frost, chaos and calculation.

They didn't just fight.

They rewrote the battlefield.

They didn't wait for permission.

They didn't ask for forgiveness.

And they weren't stopping.

Because for them, this wasn't a war about who deserved a throne.

This was about who never needed one to begin with.

A/N

This war arc might span for many chapters so please be patient with me.

Once again, I need gifts