Location: Mount Olympus – Echoes of Divinity
The skies above Mount Olympus had been quiet for centuries. The once-great pantheon had either faded, fallen, or fled after the last war that shattered divine order. But now, something stirred. A ripple of old power, a whisper of vengeance, and at its center—a name spoken in awe and fear:
Kratos.
Harry stood at the edge of a marble courtyard, watching the clouds swirl violently. He felt the shift—an awakening not of creation, but of consequence.
"They know you've returned," he said to Kratos, who stood motionless before a broken statue of Zeus.
Kratos didn't look away. "I killed them all… or so I believed."
Jean stepped beside them. "Something's reassembling the old pantheons. Stitching together remnants of power left behind."
"They've been watching," Thor added, lightning crackling around his fingers. "Waiting for a moment of weakness."
Eira traced a rune in the air. "This isn't just a power grab. It's personal."
Harry nodded. "This is legacy demanding vengeance."
And then the skies tore open.
The Heirs of Olympus
A massive rift split the clouds, and from it descended beings wrapped in divine energy—young, fierce, and burning with inherited rage. They wore armor forged from the ruins of Olympus and carried weapons once wielded by gods.
At their head was a woman with storm-colored eyes and hair that shimmered like moonlight. She carried a spear tipped with celestial fire.
"I am Nyssa, Daughter of Athena," she called out. "And I speak for the Last Heirs of Olympus."
Behind her stood Phoros, Son of Ares, and Lykaon, blood of Hades. Dozens more filled the skies.
Kratos stepped forward. "You come seeking revenge?"
Nyssa's gaze burned. "We come seeking justice. You tore down our gods. Now we rise to claim what was taken."
Harry summoned the Pen of Fate, holding it low at his side. "Justice isn't revenge."
Phoros sneered. "Easy to say for those who've never buried their gods."
Kratos said nothing. He only stepped forward, slowly drawing the Blades of Chaos from his back. The chains rattled.
"You want legacy?" he said. "Come and take it."
The War of the Pantheon
The air exploded with battle cries as the heirs of Olympus descended like meteors. The Guardians met them mid-air, power clashing against power in a dazzling storm of divine fury.
Jean unleashed a mental scream that shattered the will of six attackers. Thor caught Phoros mid-charge, their weapons colliding with enough force to bend time.
Eira trapped half the battlefield in a time-bubble, giving Harry a chance to strike. He wrote the rune Banish in the air, sending three attackers back to their origin planes.
But the heirs were powerful—too powerful to be just descendants.
"They're being enhanced," Jean said through the mental link. "Something's amplifying them. Something old."
Kratos fought Nyssa directly—her spear clashing with his blades in a deadly dance of fury and grace.
"You don't deserve to carry their memory," she snarled.
Kratos blocked, twisted, and slammed her back. "Then earn the right to take it from me."
Their battle shook the mountain.
The Source of the Storm
Harry scanned the battlefield and saw it—high above Olympus, hidden in a veil of divine mist: a throne made of bone and stars. A figure sat upon it, cloaked in shadow and power.
He flew upward, breaking through the illusion with a word.
There, he saw the impossible.
Chronos.
The Titan King.
He had survived the destruction. Wounded, diminished, but alive. And now, he was feeding divine power into the heirs like a twisted gardener nurturing a field of vengeance.
"You're behind this," Harry said, eyes glowing.
Chronos smiled. "I preserve what was lost. Olympus may have fallen, but I remain. And through these children, Olympus will rise again—without the poison of mercy."
"You're corrupting their legacy."
"I am refining it. Kratos broke the cycle. I forge a new one."
Harry summoned his magic. "Then you've declared war on the multiverse."
Chronos stood, drawing a blade that cut through time itself. "So be it."
Guardian vs Titan
The sky cracked as the two forces collided—Harry, heir of Merlin, Arthur, the Founders, the Gods of Olympus and Asgard—against Chronos, the ancient god of time.
Their fight broke reality around them—every clash rewrote seconds, erased minutes, shifted timelines.
But Harry fought with will. Not fate.
He struck Chronos with the full force of the Hallows, the Pen, and the energy of the Nexus. His final blow carved a sigil in the sky: End.
Chronos screamed, his body unraveling, pulled into the heart of a collapsing time-loop—sealed by Eira and reinforced by Kratos' chains.
Aftermath: Forging a New Legacy
The heirs of Olympus, free from Chronos' control, staggered back in shock. Nyssa fell to her knees.
"We were used…" she whispered.
Kratos approached her, covered in blood and ash. "You still have your legacy. But you must choose what it becomes."
Nyssa looked up at him. "Can it be something better?"
"That is your war to fight now."
Thor clapped Kratos on the back. "You're finally becoming a proper god."
Kratos grunted. "Don't insult me."
Harry watched it all, heart heavy but hopeful.
Legacy had tried to destroy them.
Now, it could become something worth protecting.