The air inside the coliseum shifts. Dust settles. Silence falls.
Zohar, Raiden, Kaito, Connor, and the others—all bruised, battered, and barely standing—exchange glances. Around them, the battlefield is still echoing with the cries of pain, the clash of steel, and the roaring crowd, but within their circle, there's a calm—a stillness.
They look up to the gods, To the All Mighty.
They all know what's expected of them now. Only one victor. The trial is nearly over, and the gods await the final blows. One winner. One standing.
But something inside them won't allow it.
Zohar takes the first step. He drops his axe-hammer hybrid to the ground with a deep metallic thud. Raiden follows, letting his crackling fists fade to calm. Kaito exhales and lowers his stance, the frozen steam curling at his sides dispersing. Connor, bloodied and quiet, nods once and sets down his claws.
One by one, they lay down their weapons.
Then their armor.
No more fighting.
Zohar raises his voice, broken but proud:
"We've been tested, pushed, beaten to our limits. But this trial—this wasn't about killing each other. It was about who we are when everything's stripped away."
Raiden steps forward.
"Real warriors don't fight for glory. They fight for what's right."
Kaito adds:
"If this is about character—then this is our answer."
The gods fall into silence. The All Mighty stands at his throne, eyes sharp, his expression unreadable.
Then, slowly, he begins to clap.
Clap… Clap… Clap…
Thunderous applause erupts across the heavens.
"Well done," the All Mighty declares, his voice shaking the walls of the realm. "You chose peace when war was expected. You showed restraint when fury burned in your veins. That—that is the mark of a true warrior."
The other gods nod in solemn agreement.
"All of you have passed," the All Mighty continues. "Even those who fought until they couldn't stand—they too have proven themselves. But with this final choice, we now have our rankings."
A beam of light bursts upward from the center of the arena, shimmering with ancient celestial energy.
The divine light from the center of the coliseum twists into a spiral, splitting into dozens of strands. Each wraps around a Chosen One and lifts them gently into the air. The All Mighty's voice returns, this time calmer—almost like a proud father.
"The Trial of the Coliseum has ended, and now your roles shall be revealed. These rankings reflect not only your strength in battle, but your character, your will, and your potential."
One by one, the lights carry the Chosen into position, floating over new banners marked with ancient sigils—each representing a different divine faction.
Kaito lands softly upon a rising platform wreathed in blue mist, bearing the trident insignia. The All Mighty speaks:
"Kaito, Chosen of Neptune and Poseidon.
You are now Fourth Rank in the Navy Defense Unit, side by side with Atlantean guardians and other sea-god Chosen. Your role is to defend both land and sea from corruption. You'll serve with honor under the tides."
Around Kaito, several other Chosen appear—others marked by oceanic runes, water flowing along their armor. Warriors of Atlantis nod to him with mutual respect.
A crimson and gold flame erupts elsewhere.
Raiden and Zohar descend near a towering Spartan banner, an archangel's wing crisscrossed with Viking axes behind it. The platform bears the seal of frontline divine enforcers.
"Raiden. Zohar.
You are assigned to the Frontline Vanguard, formed of Spartan elites, Einherjar warriors, and the archangels' successors.
You are the shield and the storm—those who charge first and fall last. This team represents discipline, valor, and unstoppable force."
The crowd of divine watchers murmurs in admiration as Raiden and Zohar stand tall among living legends—some already clad in ancient golden armor, others with tattoos of Valkyrie runes and blades humming with angelic resonance.
Off to the side, shadows gather and a gust of black wind rushes over the coliseum.
Connor is lifted onto a darker pedestal, marked by the ancient Celtic knot. Beside him, the symbol of Morrigan and the ghostly spirits of the Fianna warrior hunters shimmer in the air.
"Connor, Chosen of the Morrigan.
You walk the path of both beast and guardian.
You are now among the Fianna Strike Division, an elite unit tied to fate and chaos. You will serve as scout, destroyer, and protector—those who move in shadows, but strike with thunder."
Connor stands alone for a moment before ghost-like warriors in old Irish war-paint appear behind him. One places a hand on his shoulder in silence.
The All Mighty continues:
"Many others have also proven themselves and now serve in specialized squads under various divine domains."
He gestures broadly to dozens of small banners rising from the arena:
A desert fire division led by Ra, formed of solar-blessed warriors capable of incinerating demonic legions.
A moonlight reconnaissance unit under Artemis, full of agile, long-range Chosen with sharp instincts and stealth skills.
A lightning rapid assault team forged under Zeus' command, built for sudden strikes and air-based warfare.
A forgemaster's guard, created under Hephaestus, formed of bulky, armor-clad tanks with enhanced durability and divine tech.
"These squads," the All Mighty explains, "represent different branches of the coming divine army.
You will be trained, tested further, and deployed in missions—some alone, some united."
Then, with a slow nod:
"But make no mistake—this war is not a game. This is the beginning of your true purpose."
Thunder rumbles in the sky.
The coliseum begins to descend into the clouds as banners fade and portals open all around.
"Now, rest. Heal. And prepare for what's next.
The demons on Earth grow restless.
Lucifer stirs."
The great Colosseum echoed with thunderous applause. The crowd—gods, chosen, and celestial beings—rose to their feet, cheering for the four standing warriors: Raiden, Kaito, Zohar, and Connor. The cheers weren't just for strength, but for heart, unity, and conviction. Even some of the other Chosen who had fallen earlier in the trial clapped and bowed their heads in respect.
Among them, Feiyu and Zofia exchanged glances, bruised but composed. Feiyu gave a short nod toward Connor and his group—his expression unreadable, but the gesture one of respect. Zofia, slightly behind him, offered a salute of her own, a rare soft smile tugging at her lips.
The four young warriors looked at one another—bloodied, scraped, aching—and shared a moment of quiet celebration. A small circle of exhausted champions, smiles breaking through cracked lips and sore jaws.
But then, as Raiden looked up toward the gods seated in the grandstands above, his breath hitched.
His eyes scanned past Odin, Poseidon, Zeus… until they landed on Athena. Sitting beside her was a girl—shy, glowing softly, her shimmering eyes locked onto his. Kirashi.
His smile vanished—replaced by a trembling lip, tears welling in his eyes.
Kaito and Zohar noticed him suddenly frozen in place and followed his gaze. When they saw her too, their smiles widened in support. Zohar gave a subtle nudge. "Go."
Without a word, Raiden sprinted.
Athena, already smiling knowingly, raised a hand. With a divine motion, the ground between her viewing platform and the Colosseum arena shimmered, opening a clear path.
Kirashi stood, unsure at first, until Athena gently encouraged her. She made her way down, her steps hesitant, nervous.
But Raiden met her halfway, arms open, tears streaming down his face.
They embraced—tight, desperate, emotional. The crowd quieted, giving space for the moment. This was more than a reunion. It was healing. A spark of light amidst the chaos and trials.
Even gods were moved. A few exchanged knowing glances. Others bowed their heads. The All Mighty himself simply closed his eyes with a faint smile.
This trial had done more than test their strength. It had revealed their hearts.
As Raiden and Kirashi embraced, the warmth of their reunion washing over them like sunlight through storm clouds, two figures sprinted from across the battlefield—Kaito and Zohar, battered but smiling.
Without hesitation, they threw their arms around both Raiden and Kirashi, wrapping them in a group hug. For a moment, the war, the gods, the arena—none of it existed. Just friends reunited, siblings rediscovered, pain momentarily paused.
Raiden, his voice cracking through the tears, whispered to Kirashi, "I thought you were dead…"
Kirashi, her own voice trembling, clutched him tighter. "I thought the same about you… and Kaito… and Zohar."
Raiden gently ran his hand through her dark hair, pushing a few strands behind her ear. He looked deep into her shimmering eyes, still misty from crying. "What about Shigenori?"
That question shattered her composure.
She broke into sobs, collapsing into his chest. Raiden caught her and held her tightly, his chin resting on her head. His arms wrapped around her like a shield, as if trying to protect her from every horrible thing that had ever touched her.
"It's okay," he whispered, his own eyes filling again. "It's okay…"
Kaito turned away briefly, wiping his face. Even Zohar, hardened by lightning and trial, blinked back tears.
Then Zohar clenched his fists, his voice low but seething. "We're going to make sure Lucifer pays for this. All of it."
High above, on his golden throne, the All Mighty looked down at the scene in the arena. His face unreadable at first… but then, slowly, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Not one of warmth—but something more sinister, more calculating.
Behind him, a tall shadow emerged from the dark space beside the throne, its form hard to make out—flickering, robed in shadows.
Without turning, the All Mighty asked, "Shigenori?"
The figure replied in a cold, almost mechanical tone:
"Stable."
The All Mighty leaned back on his throne, resting his chin on his knuckles. The sinister smile grew slightly wider.
"Good."