The two continued up the path set out by the denizens of Mount Olympus. The travel proved surprisingly quiet. He expected resilience. A great battle to come of their disturbance. The wrath of dozens of gods storming upon them the instant they crossed a certain barrier.

Instead, they witnessed ruin and destruction.

An aqueduct torn in two. Holes in the clouds, now stained red instead of their normal illustrious yellow hue. And bodies. So many bodies. Filled with stab wounds, sliced in two, some even beaten to death.

Among the ruins, one man sat upon a throne. Zeus’s throne, the elder god who ruled above all.

Lord Drakkon sat there, his helmet off, his golden locks flowing in the wind. Not a single scratch on his body. And in his hand… a chalice filled with a purple liquid. The chalice itself felt enchanted by the gods. It appears he came across quite the nifty tool.

“Overkill much?” asked Nonon.

“Dionysus… he certainly lived up to his name.” Drakkon sat comfortably as he took a sip. “But he fell. Just like the rest.”

- LetterSequence Round 1