AntiGod: The Odyssey Of God

In the far northwestern reaches lay the legendary kingdom of Troy.

For an ordinary person, the scene might appear as mere flickers of white sparks, barely perceptible due to the incredible speed of the combatants. However, for a seasoned warrior, the spectacle would reveal a fierce clash among three powerful entities commonly known as gods (or deities), engaged in a struggle that could alter the course of existence itself.

On one side stood Gilgamesh, the Jack of Spades, while opposing him were Hel, the Queen of Spades, and Kagutsuchi, the Jack of Diamonds.

“C’mon, Gilgamesh. Are you even trying?”

That taunt came from Victor, the Queen of Clubs, who was observing the intense duel from a distance, offering unsolicited commentary as Gilgamesh faced off against the two divine beings.

A little irritated by the taunt -seeing as she was just backseat gaming- Gilgamesh unleashed a thunderous battle cry that reverberated through the battlefield, momentarily staggering his opponents. The sound was primal, a raw expression of his annoyance that echoed off the distant cliffs.

“Is he really going for it?” Kagutsuchi wondered aloud, bracing himself against the powerful shockwaves emanating from his body. To his left, Hel, looking a bit worse for wear with her white hair tousled and her body scuffed, smirked in response, her eyes glinting with a fierce light. She alone had the backbone to match Gilgamesh’s declaration.

In unison, they both slammed their feet into the ground, their voices almost merging into a powerful chant as these words erupted out:

“ROYAL FLUSH!!”

As the syllables hung in the air, massive bones erupted behind Hel, resembling wings that unfurled with a haunting grace. A skull hovered ominously above her, its hollow eyes glowing with an eerie light.

In contrast, Gilgamesh was enveloped in a swirling cloud of dark mist, a tempest of shadows that danced around him like a living entity. His form was obscured, but a sinister grin broke through the darkness, a chilling smile that sent a shiver of dread through his adversaries.

The very atmosphere thickened with foreboding, as if the world itself held its breath in anticipation of the impending clash.

Despite the unshakeable sense of danger coursing through Hel’s veins, she pressed on, knowing that a single touch could bring this battle to a swift conclusion.

With a determined leap, she chanted out:

“Imagine you are a mere human faced with divine retribution. Naturally, regardless of what you may want or what you may think, the only outcome for you… is death. That is the phenomenon father bestowed upon me. I am… Execution.”

Extending her arm toward Gilgamesh’s face, her fingers poised to unleash the devastating power she wields. It would only take a single touch. Just a small graze. And yet, it just wasn’t that simple.

In a shocking turn of events, her hand remained frozen, suspended in mid-air as if caught in an invisible web. Panic surged through her veins, and a wave of dread washed over her, chilling her to the core. Her eyes widened in horror, and a paralyzing sensation clawed at her mind and heart. The very essence of her being felt trapped, ensnared by the dark power that Gilgamesh wielded. The swirling mist thickened around him, pulsating with a life of its own, as the realization struck her.

(This feeling… This gripping sensation…)

“What’s wrong? Weren’t you gonna execute me?” a sinister voice echoed from the depths of the dark mist. “Don’t tell me… Are you scared? And you call yourself a Royal Deck.”

Despite the primal urge to flee, Hel found herself rooted in place, paralyzed by fear.

Through the dark mist, formed a golden light as the ominous voice chanted:

“Imagine you were an insect faced with the crushing might of God. Naturally, regardless of what trick you may employ, you know in your heart that it will all be meaningless. That is the phenomenon father bestowed upon me. I am… Trepidation.”

In the realm of "Royal Flush" the outcome of a clash between two Deities hinges not on brute force, but on the strategic wit and intellect they employ against each other.

And it was this understanding that prompted Kagutsuchi, who had kept a safe distance from the fray, to act decisively. "Empower: Inaugurate!" he shouted, as a massive gate swung open beside him. “From within, a radiant beam of pure Zipher, a substance that has evolved to not feel fear.”

With a resounding *SPEWWW!!*, golden light shot through the gate, slicing through the dark mist and striking Gilgamesh squarely in the chest. The once resplendent golden hair that marked his Royal Flush faded back to their natural white, and the ominous mist enveloping him began to dissipate.

As Kagutsuchi approached his wounded form, he remarked:

"This is why I keep telling you all to stop relying so much on Royal Flush. It breeds arrogance and makes you believe you're untouchable."

Hovering above him, the two adversaries loomed as he began to heal. Victor, sprawled casually on a nearby rock, couldn't help but interject with a scathing remark:

"Are you kidding me? How did you fall for that? Damn amateur."

Just as Hel reached out toward him, she added:

"Hey amateur, she's about to execute you. You might want to do something."

Strangely enough, even as his injury healed completely, he felt an unexpected, sharp sensation that left him paralyzed. It was a feeling reminiscent of what his opponents often experienced when they faced him.

He watched her finger move as if in slow motion, and a single thought echoed in his mind:

(Crap. Stupid contradiction.)

“Constellation Art: Blade of Mantis!”

In an instant, it was as if a fine thread sliced through the air, severing Hel’s hand, which then fell limply against Gilgamesh’s imposing figure. Remarkably, no blood spilled forth, as Angels were devoid of such a trait.

Hel, suddenly gripped by panic, clutched her wrist, wincing from the unexpected injury. Kagutsuchi looked up, bewildered by the source of this attack. In truth, Royal Flush was not an offensive ability; it was a defensive one. The defensive manifestation of their respected phenomenon. And it was notoriously difficult to bypass. Unless one possessed a direct counter, like Kagutsuchi’s earlier strike that was immune to fear, success was nearly impossible.

And it was at that moment he caught sight of it -the figure, no, the creature responsible for severing Hel’s hand.

Its torso and legs resembled those of a man, but it possessed long, hairy arms that ended in sharp, blade-like appendages. And its head? Honestly I cringe at the mere thought of it. Picture a grotesque amalgamation of features. From its bulging eyes that glinted with predatory intelligence as they rested on the sides of its face. To the two hairy antennas that hung from its twisted mouth. No matter where you looked, everything could be slapped under the term “grotesque”.

“Ah. You’re finally here, Mantis.”

“I was a bit held up with some business. I am a Saint of Qishi Lu, you know.” the creature retorted, its voice a raspy blend of irritation and amusement. “And I’m not a damn Mantis! …I’m a flea.”