A GOD'S WAY OF JUDGEMENT

Everything that can be created can also be destroyed. But who destroys life? Gods create life, watch it grow, and end it when they decide it is unworthy. Where do gods reside? That place is called heaven, while hell, although resembling any other planet, exists below. Heaven shines brightly on the surface, while hell lurks in the shadows beneath.

The God who created life also made minor gods, each with unique powers, to help Him with His creations. He built both heaven and hell for these minor gods to dwell in and oversee His work. He then established a hierarchy to govern the gods, before vanishing without a trace.

Heaven is ruled by the god of creation, while hell is ruled by the god of destruction. These minor gods are not immortal; they rule and judge for a few million years before passing down their power and titles to their children. This cycle continues for nine generations, after which an immortal heir is born to serve forever. This was one of the orders given by the creator god.

During the fourth cycle, a war broke out between heaven and hell. Hell initiated the conflict, but heaven emerged victorious. To prevent future threats from the immortal heir of hell, heaven decided to wipe out the lineage by executing the ruler of hell. This act stopped the birth of the immortal of hell. The rule of hell was then passed to the sibling of the former ruler, and hell became a part of heaven. This transition did not upset the residents of hell, who saw it as a blessing.

In the tenth cycle, a momentous event unfolded: twins were born—a boy and a girl—both of whom were already immortals. Their arrival marked a new chapter in the celestial realm, and this story follows the boy, Ronan Arcanveil. He was named by his father, Cyrus Arcanveil, a figure of authority and wisdom, who recognized the significance of this new life. His sister, Liviya Arcanveil, was named by their mother, Elara Arcanveil, whose gentle spirit and nurturing heart enveloped them both. On the day of their birth, the celestial court gathered in anticipation, and with great fanfare, Ronan was declared the crown prince of Heaven. The moment was filled with joy and celebration, though young Ronan, still a child, simply basked in the warmth of his family's love, unaware of the immense legacy that awaited him in the years to come.

Now, with millennia of preparation behind him, the weight of his destiny pressed upon his shoulders as he stood at the brink of his final judgment. For millions of years, he had watched over worlds, weighing their worth, and now his duty brought him to this one—his last trial before claiming the throne that had awaited him for eons. To judge a planet meant living among its people for twenty years, experiencing their ways, their flaws, and their hopes. This time, however, the decision had already taken shape in his mind: this world was destined for destruction.

He called out, his voice steady and unwavering, "Celia." His fiancée, the one destined to ascend alongside him as the Goddess of Creation, appeared by his side. Celia Ashcroft, daughter of Draven Ashcroft, a man once close to his father, had been chosen by his mother long ago to be his wife. Over the years of growing up together with her and her brother, Dante, something deeper had formed. He had come to care for her, perhaps even love her, though that part of him remained buried beneath his focus on duty.

"I have decided to judge this planet for destruction," he declared, the finality in his tone undeniable.

Celia's gaze sharpened, her thoughts aligning with his effortlessly. "Your judgment aligns with mine," she said softly, though there was steel in her words. "This world lost its way long ago when they began war against each other."

He nodded, eyes narrowing as the gravity of his task settled on him fully. "Looks like I have a big report to write when we return home."

Turning to her brother, Celia's voice took command. "Dante, summon the portal. He has a judgment to complete."

As the swirling energy of the portal began to take shape behind him, Ronan reached for his armor. Its pristine white gleamed under the dimming light, a symbol of his divine role as the God of Creation. Golden energy coursed through the intricate lines etched into the armor, glowing like veins of raw power, pulsating with purpose. He suited up with deliberate precision, each piece locking into place as if it were part of his very essence.

Far above the planet, the sky itself seemed to part as a streak of light shot down from the heavens. The satellite had done its part, launching his weapon from orbit with pinpoint accuracy. A brilliant spear-like polearm tore through the atmosphere, its descent burning with fiery intensity. And then, in one breathtaking moment, it arrived. The polearm halted just before reaching the ground, hovering in front of him, the very air humming with its power.

With a mere flick of his wrist, the weapon snapped into his grip as though it had been waiting its entire existence to be held by him. The golden energy from his armor surged into the polearm, igniting it with divine brilliance. He stood now, a force of judgment, a god of creation ready to pass his final sentence.

His eyes, burning with purpose, turned towards the horizon. The time had come. The end was near.

With his weapon in hand, Ronan shot into the sky with a speed that defied comprehension, leaving a powerful gust in his wake. The winds roared as he moved, creating fierce currents that whipped across the planet's surface, causing devastation in his path. Tornadoes formed in the atmosphere, howling across the land and sea, wreaking havoc upon the unsuspecting inhabitants below. Buildings were torn apart, forests flattened, and the sky darkened with the chaos of wind and storm.

In mere moments, he reached the planet's northern pole, his destination. The air itself seemed to tremble at his arrival, the pressure shifting ominously as Ronan floated above the frozen, barren landscape. His expression was calm, almost indifferent, as if the catastrophe unfolding around him were nothing more than a routine duty. Yet his heart remained steady, driven by a singular purpose—the throne awaited, and this judgment was but a step toward it.

Hovering in place, his voice cut through the chaos like a divine commandment. "I, Ronan Arcanveil, summon the judgment of this planet, deemed unworthy of life." His words echoed across the pole, infused with the weight of a god's decree.

He raised his polearm high, its tip glowing with divine energy, radiating power. "System Command: Authority of Creation, Authority of Destruction—Total Annihilation."

With an unyielding force, he thrust the polearm into the ground. The very earth beneath him responded as if it were alive, cracking open from the sheer impact. The planet trembled violently as volcanic eruptions began to tear through the crust, molten lava spewing forth in a fiery display of destruction. Earthquakes rippled outward from the poles, shaking cities and continents to their foundations. Cracks splintered across the surface, swallowing anything in their path as the planet's core began to destabilize.

The living felt it—their impending doom. Fear gripped their hearts as the ground crumbled beneath their feet, and the skies above seemed to collapse. Regret and guilt spread like wildfire among them as they realized the futility of their existence, the wars they had waged, the life they had squandered. They looked to the heavens for mercy, but none would come.

The destruction was slow, agonizing, and absolute. The planet fractured from within, its life force extinguished by the authority of Ronan's command. It collapsed upon itself, the final remnants of its existence fading into oblivion.

As the last tremor subsided and the planet dissolved into nothingness, Ronan remained still, observing the aftermath with cold detachment. His task was complete. The world had been judged and destroyed.

Without a word, he turned away from the desolation, the portal now swirling before him. He stepped through it, the golden light of his polearm still glowing faintly, a reminder of the power he wielded. Celia was already waiting on the other side, her expression calm, her presence unwavering.

Together, they left the ruins of the doomed world behind, disappearing into the light as the portal closed. Judgment had been passed, and now the throne awaited him.