The collision of our wills shook the fabric of reality, opening fissures through which the void of the cosmos seeped.
Cronos breathed with difficulty, his ancient armor shattered by the near-nuclear explosions unleashed by each of my blows as I manipulated the electrons in the surrounding air.
I paused for a moment, observing him with cold indifference.
My brothers, out there, served as a useful distraction against the Titans; if they fell, I cared little.
My sisters, protected by their new artifacts, held firm.
My full attention was fixed on the old king and the way his power operated.
I analyzed his technique as the fiery scythe glowed once more.
Cronos didn’t control time through simple linear manipulation; his blade functioned as a quantum sink.
Each time he brandished it, he created a micro-temporal loop that “harvested” and accumulated the surrounding kinetic energy, absorbing seconds from the universal flow and redirecting them as a hyper-dense mass toward me.
“Nice trick, Father,” I said, smiling smugly without bothering to explain anything he already understood perfectly.
“But a broken clock is only good for taking it apart.”
I didn’t need to say more.
While his scythe tried to capture the present moment to erase me, I used the electromagnetic charge of my atoms to shift through the frequency of his own loop.
If he manipulated the seconds to become faster, I simply destabilized the magnetic polarity of his blade, causing the temporal field to collapse upon its own wielder.
Cronos blinked, bewildered as he watched the edge of his weapon turn against his own timeline.
“Impossible…” he muttered.
I accelerated my particles to a speed that froze the world around us in a single frame.
Without giving him time to reactivate his scythe, I pierced his chest with my hand enveloped in pure plasma.
There were no villainous speeches or explanations.
I unleashed the accumulated power directly into his divine core, destroying his molecular structure from within.
The titan of time let out a silent scream as his body began to disintegrate into golden ash, instantly absorbed by the maelstrom of energy I released to cleanse the throne room.
The scythe fell to the floor, losing its fire.
I surveyed the scene from the heights of the destroyed Olympus.
The Titans were either fleeing or falling before the advance of my sisters, and my brothers were fulfilling their role as cannon fodder with efficiency.
The throne was vacant, and the entire cosmos now belonged to whoever held the absolute power to rule it.
The age of the Titans was dead, and the final storm had only just begun.