(Alt Title: "I Ripped a God's Face Off in My Sleep. Send Help.")
He dreams.
Not of guilt.Not of memories.But of power.
Raw. Cruel. Beautiful.
The world burns gold.
A cathedral made of flame and language shatters in mid-air.Angels scream as gravity dies.And on a black obsidian stage, Renji—not Renji—Dravion stands over the god Elyon Arkh'Ur.
This isn't symbolic.This isn't poetic.This is war.
🩸 Elyon, the Radiant, the Architect, bleeds light.
His face is split.His voice falters in twelve divine dialects.
"You… were made by us—"
"No," Dravion growls."You just named me last."
Then he reaches forward—bare-handed—and rips the Eye from Elyon's face.
Light erupts. Time stutters.Reality weeps like a violin.
"I'm done borrowing," Dravion says."It's mine now."
He places the Eye into his own chest.It locks with a sound like thunder swallowing glass.
Then he turns… and slaughters the pantheon.
One by one.
⚔️ A god of war split by a thought.⚡ A goddess of storms silenced by a scream.💀 A judge of souls folded into her own scales.
No mercy. No monologue.Just execution.
Renji, the real one, watches.
He's trapped in the dream.Can't move.Only observe.
His knees hit the glass floor.Tears stream from eyes he didn't know could bleed memories.
"This isn't me…" he whispers."Please… this isn't me."
The dream-self—Dravion—turns and locks eyes with him.
"Not yet. But soon."
Then—
💥 A shockwave.
As if the dream can't contain itself.
As if the memory is leaking into reality.
🔥 Cut to: The VaticanSensors explode. Sigils catch fire.The Pearl containment vault fractures.
Underneath, twelve perlas se abren parcialmente.From each, light bursts upward—angelic, ancient, radioactive.
💫 Then: Portals. Everywhere.
Around the Vatican.In Jerusalem.In Siberia.Above Tokyo Tower.
Portals of pure void and divine flame erupt.Old gods step out.Some weep.Some roar.Some simply smile.
From the infernal ones—demon kings long sealed emerge.
And they all say the same thing:
"He has moved."
⚖️ Lucifer stands outside the Vatican, coat fluttering.
He lights a cigarette with a match stolen from Heaven.
"And here… we… f**king go."
Behind him, Amenadiel's wings ignite in self-defense.
"We're not ready."
"We never were," Lucifer replies.
🌀 Final shot:
Renji bolts awake in the ruins.
Sweating. Bleeding. Glowing.
And the Eye inside his chest?
Wide open.