anwhile, in Olympus...
Enyo stumbled through a corridor, holding onto the wall for balance. She walked unsteadily, her legs trembling with every step.
Her face was red.
"How much stamina does he have...?" she whispered to herself, rembering what had happened inside the sealed room with Sharky. "I can’t even walk properly..."
Her face burned even hotter.
"Ahh!" she cried out suddenly, images flashing through her mind.
"...It hurts. But it also felt good. It was amazing." She swallowed hard. Then she slapped her own face. "Enyo! Get it together!"
But then she sighed, "I want to be punished by him again... but how?"
Her thoughts spiraled. She hid her face, embarrassed yet addicted to the mory. She shook her head, breathing unevenly.
For now, she decided not to return to Ares.
She turned around and walked away quickly, well, tried to walk, but her legs kept shaking from the "punishnt." She was still shaken, both physically and ntally, by Sharky’s overwhelming stamina.
---
Sharky stood before Cerberus, with Deter, Artemis, and Persephone at his side.
He was about to question the guardian.
"Tell where Echidna is," but mid-sentence his heart clenched, his chest tightened, his breath hitched, and it felt as if sothing had pierced straight through his soul.
Sharky staggered slightly. Artemis rushed forward instantly. "Sharky! What’s wrong?"
Deter placed a hand on his arm, her expression turning grave.
Sharky clutched his chest as his vision blurred and his eyes lost focus, his voice breaking in confusion as he whispered, "Why... why do I suddenly feel this much pain...?"
Sothing had happened, sothing terrible. "...Sothing is wrong."
Slowly, Sharky clenched his fist, and his aura erupted outward in a violent shockwave.
---
A sudden connection appeared inside Sharky’s mind. It was Hela. Her voice trembled as it echoed violently through his thoughts.
"Sharky—Sharky, listen to !"
Then her voice cracked completely. "They took him—THEY TOOK SIGURD—!!!"
Sharky’s blood ran cold, his breath catching in his throat as his heart seed to stop.
Hela’s image ford before him, kneeling in a ruined field, blood soaking her armor, hair wild, her aura unstable and flickering.
Tears stread down her face, tears the Goddess of Death had never shed before.
"D-Deimos... and the Keres..." she sobbed. "They took our son..."
Sharky’s heart throbbed violently, the ground beneath him trembling in response.
"I fought them, Sharky... I almost killed them," Hela continued, her voice breaking. "But Keres appeared, and then... she vanished with Sigurd... our baby... our son..." She scread.
Sharky steadied himself, forcing calm into his voice as he spoke to her, promising, "I will bring him back. I swear it."
He then turned and told the goddesses around him what had happened.
Artemis stepped forward slowly, eyes wide. "...D-Deimos did this?"
Persephone covered her mouth in horror. "Why... why would he take a child?"
Deter clenched her fists. "This is madness. Phobos is dead, why involve the innocent?"
"No matter the reason," Sharky said quietly, "he has crossed a line."
His body remained still, but his eyes changed, shifting from warmth to a glowing, blood-red light.
"...Deimos will regret," he said softly, almost gently, "that he was ever born."
Artemis felt her knees weaken. Persephone instinctively stepped behind him, trembling.
The ground split open as a portal ford before them, shaped from pure Luminara power.
Sharky turned toward it, and stepped inside.
Artemis, Persephone, and Deter followed him at once, sensing the fury raging within his aura and knowing he must not face this alone.
They stepped through the portal after him without hesitation. Behind them, Cerberus let out a thunderous howl, and leapt into the portal as well.
---
Deimos was pleased with himself. His mission had succeeded, and celebration already filled his thoughts. He floated through the void, whistling triumphantly.
Keres hovered beside him, clutching the unconscious infant Sigurd by the scruff like a trophy.
Sigurd’s tiny fists twitched.
Deimos laughed loudly and cruelly.
"Hah! This was easier than I thought! Now Asgard will surely be provoked... since their prince is in our hands. Father will reward for sure!"
Keres hissed gleefully, rocking the baby mockingly, "He’s so small... so helpless... Should we make him cry for fun?"
Sigurd whimpered softly.
Deimos grinned, "After we enter Olympus."
Keres nodded and turned toward the golden gates of Olympus.
But she froze. Her eyes widened. Her laughter died.
Right between them and the entrance to Olympus, a figure stood in their path.
Behind him were Artemis, Persephone, Deter... and Cerberus.
"Who is he?" Keres asked, glancing toward Deimos.
Deimos didn’t answer imdiately. He was shocked, stunned by how fast he had appeared. Because he recognized him.
It was Sharky.
Keres turned back toward the figure and snarled, "Who the hell blocked my way?! Do you WANT to die, insect?!"
Sharky lifted his head. His voice was soft, but every word felt terrifying.
"You took... my son."
A chill crawled down Keres’s spine.
Deimos scoffed loudly.
"So it was you, huh? So YOU killed Phobos? Good! Saves the trouble!"
He raised his middle finger right in Sharky’s face.
"And what can YOU do to , huh? Half-breed mortal trash! Co! TRY—"
But Deimos’s words were cut off mid-sentence as Sharky’s aura exploded. The cosmos trembled, even Olympus felt it.
Sharky whispered, a whisper that echoed like a god’s decree, "You will regret saying that. Cosmic Nexus."
And his entire body ignited with white-blue reality-light as space bent and twisted around him; Keres gasped and dropped Sigurd, but Sharky flicked his wrist.
Sigurd floated safely into a stasis bubble of pure Nexus energy. Keres shrieked as her hand burned.
Deimos stumbled backward, terror flooding his face. "W-What are you...?!"
Sharky raised his hand calmly. "Create... one thousand punishnts of hell."
The mont the words left his lips, a thousand portals opened behind Sharky, real, physical constructs of pure cosmic law, roaring like a choir of dying worlds as each portal flickered open one after another to reveal a different horror.
And Deimos watched, trembling violently, as the previews cycled before his eyes, each portal having a unique punishnt and suffering beyond death.
In one of the punishnt displays, a tal horse was there. Upon its back, a cruel iron spike protruded, its tip sharp and rciless.
A decoy body, eerily identical to Deimos, was strapped naked and thrown upon the horse. Then the chanical beast lurched forward. The thick iron spike rose from the saddle and plunged into the decoy’s ass with a sickening schk.
The decoy scread in agony as blood sprayed forth, its body convulsing against the restraints. Then, with a brutal jerk, the horse retreated, dragging the spike out of the decoy’s ravaged ass. The tal was slick with crimson, chunks of flesh clinging to its surface.
The horse lurched forward again, and the spike tore deeper into the decoy’s ass with a sickening crunch. It continued its brutal path, splitting the decoy open until its chest cavity was laid bare.
Yet, horrifically, the decoy regenerated almost instantly, its wounds closing and flesh knitting back together as if nothing had happened.
Deimos stumbled back, his legs shaking violently as he stared at the next punishnt exhibit in sheer horror.
It was a massive iron pole, its tip glowing red-hot from the flas surrounding it. A decoy leg was suspended above the pole, and with a cruel hiss, the searing spike penetrated the decoy’s ass.
The heat was intense, causing the decoy to howl in anguish as its flesh began to burn and char.
The pole started to spin slowly, gradually picking up speed. The decoy’s leg twisted and contorted grotesquely as it was roasted alive.
As the spinning intensified, the decoy’s leg began to disintegrate, ash and charred remains fluttering to the ground. Yet, even as the flas consud its flesh, the decoy’s regeneration kept pace, rebuilding the ruined limb in a nightmarish cycle of destruction and renewal.
Deimos felt bile rise in his throat as he watched this horrifying spectacle. His gaze flicked desperately to the next exhibit, praying for rcy that was not to be found. The room of mirrors greeted him, its surface reflecting back an infinite array of tornt.
A decoy sat in the center of the room, its own hands moving against its will. With a sickening rip, razor-sharp nails extended from its fingertips like cruel claws. The decoy’s hands began to tear into its own flesh with brutal efficiency, stripping away strips of skin from its arms, chest, and face.
Blood splattered the mirrors in macabre patterns as fresh wounds opened on the decoy’s body.
The wounds closed almost imdiately, only to be reopened by the relentless claws. The cycle of destruction and regeneration repeated endlessly, an eternal punishnt with no respite.
Deimos stood paralyzed, his mind reeling from the sheer cruelty and ingenuity of these tornt devices. Each exhibit was a masterpiece of pain, designed to push the boundaries of endurance and sanity.
The barrage of horrors flashed before Deimos’s eyes in a relentless succession, each more nightmarish than the last. His mind reeled as he tried to process the sheer magnitude of tornt contained within these chambers. The rooms where bones grew backward, twisting and contorting in unnatural ways. The pits swarming with flesh-eating insects, their mandibles clicking hungrily. Floors of electrified steel, delivering shocks that would tear through muscle and bone.
Sonic chambers where screams beca tangible blades, slicing through the air and flesh alike. Gravity loops that crushed and restored, over and over again, until the body could take no more.
Acid winds that flayed skin from bone, exposing raw nerve endings to the burning air. Firestorms fueled by celestial flas, consuming everything they touched.
Shadow devourers that crept along walls and ceilings, slowly consuming their victims from the edges inward. Rooms of enforced compulsion, driving their occupants to tear at their own flesh with desperate abandon. Flesh-lting light beams that reduced victims to puddles of molten tissue.
Worlds of unbearable sensory overload, where every nerve ending scread in agonized overstimulation. Silence dinsions where sound and thought were erased, plunging souls into an abyss of non-existence. Psychic storms that ripped through minds, shredding sanity and leaving only madness in their wake.
Ligature forests that tightened around every movent, squeezing the life from those trapped within. mory-devouring rivers that stripped away identity, leaving shells of beings with no past and no future.
Void chains that bound across dinsions, trapping souls in an eternal prison with no escape. Ether-extraction rooms that drained the divine essence from their victims, leaving them hollow and lifeless.
Bone gardens grown from living victims, their skeletons twisted into grotesque sculptures. Chrono cages that trapped souls in fractured ti, where minutes stretched into eternities and hours flew by in the blink of an eye. High-pressure deep realms that crushed from all sides, leaving no space for even a breath.
Eternal lightning planes where strikes fell without end, each bolt a searing brand of agony. The list went on and on, a seemingly endless parade of horrors designed for one purpose: to break Deimos completely.
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