Zeus

"Holden Morris, Commander of the Southern War Zone, Lachlan Phillips, head of the Phillips family, and Cedric Murphy, Governor of Vitalis State request an audience with Lord Zeus," the announcement rang out. At 10 a.m., Air Force One descended onto Sapphire Island, the most enigmatic floating landmass in the heart of the Pacific Ocean, where the three men—powerful rulers at the very top of the world's hierarchy—knelt reverently before a towering castle that pierced the clouds. Their eyes shone with awe. From deep within the castle, an aged, resonant voice echoed. "Lord Zeus has already traveled to Elyria City to marry his nine wives. You may leave." The three men froze in disbelief. "Lord Zeus is getting married... to nine wives at once?" *** Meanwhile, at Elyria City International Airport, a tall, commanding young man strode toward the world's only Bugatti La Voiture Noire, his every step flanked by hundreds of elite special forces soldiers. Just as he reached the car, he paused, turning back to gaze at the city—a place both familiar and foreign. His sharp eyes carried a storm of emotions. "Ten years have passed," he murmured. "My nine sisters, are you well? I've returned for you." A sudden, searing aura radiated from him, sharp as a blade. "And those who were involved in the slaughter at the church ten years ago and almost killed me... I'll make you pay the price with your blood." His name was Asher Collins. An orphan taken in by a kind, elderly pastor, Asher had grown up in a small Christian church in Elyria City. It was there that he met his nine sisters—not by blood, but bound by a bond stronger than family. They studied together, played together, shared meals, and even bathed together. Their connection was inseparable, pure, and unbreakable. One day, the sisters made a promise: when they grew up, all nine of them would marry Asher. At the time, Asher was only eight years old, but he took their words to heart. "We're not kids anymore," he said earnestly. "We have to keep our promise." The sisters laughed, linking pinkies with him as they swore. From that moment, Asher dreamed of the day he would walk down the aisle with his nine sisters by his side. But ten years ago, everything fell apart. A m******e tore through the church, shattering their world. The sisters, who had managed to escape, ran back to save Asher, only to find themselves surrounded by assassins. The ten children, terrified and defenseless, hid in closets that offered a sliver of hope. But in the end, the assassins found Asher. Without hesitation, they stabbed him several times, leaving him bleeding out on the cold stone floor. His small body collapsed into a pool of blood, and darkness consumed him. When Asher opened his eyes again, he was lying in a lush, otherworldly garden. A mysterious wizard in a dark cloak stood nearby, flipping through a floating, glowing book. Butterflies filled the air. They swirled around Asher in a mesmerizing dance, and to his astonishment, he realized his wounds were completely healed. The wizard closed the book and smiled faintly. "Feeling better, kid?" Asher held the wizard's legs, tears streaming down his face. "Please... save my sisters!" The wizard sighed deeply. "I can save them, but there are two conditions. First, you must become my apprentice. Second, you cannot return to Elyria City for ten years." Desperate and clinging to hope, Asher agreed without hesitation. From that day forward, his life changed forever. Under the wizard's tutelage, Asher mastered magic, combat, medicine, and even a mysterious cultivation technique. For three years, he trained relentlessly, pushing his body and mind to their limits. Then, the wizard sent him to the war-torn borderlands to gain real-world experience. It was during this time that the Pantheon emerged—a powerful organization that quickly dominated the world's political, economic, military, and technological spheres. It brought the most powerful nations to their knees. At its helm was Lord Zeus—Asher's new identity. After achieving unmatched power, Asher constructed Sapphire Island, a floating fortress of four interconnected islands in the Pacific Ocean. There, he waited for the ten years to pass. Now, the wait was over. Asher had returned to Elyria City! *** It wasn't long before Asher saw the church from his memories come into view. He had sent away all his followers, wanting to meet the nine sisters he had yearned for day and night, alone. But the place was now nothing more than a ruin. Crumbled walls and scattered rubble stretched as far as the eye could see. His nine sisters were nowhere to be found. Asher froze for a moment, a sinking feeling gripping his chest. 'My sisters are all gone.' The familiar surroundings stirred flashes of the past, each memory cutting into Asher like a blade. His heart ached as if it might shatter. Just then, a small, dilapidated house near the church caught his eye. In the yard, an old woman with snow-white hair knelt in prayer, her frail figure hunched over. Asher recognized her instantly. It was Margaret Bailey, the woman who had taken him in so many years ago. "It's only been ten years, and why has Grandma aged this much?" Asher's eyes stung with tears he couldn't hold back. But what happened next sent a surge of fury through him, burning like molten lava in his veins. A young man stormed into the yard. Without warning, he kicked Margaret to the ground and barked at her, "You old f*ck! Where's the money those b*tches sent you? Where are you hiding it?" Margaret collapsed onto the dirt, coughing violently. Tears streamed from her eyes as she gasped, "Cough, cough... I-I don't have any money left. I gave it... all to you." The young man spat at her, his expression twisted with contempt. "Bullsh*t! Don't give me that! I know those b*tches send you money every month. It's the start of the month now, so they must've sent more. Hand it over! You're going to die anyway. What are you saving it for? You can't spend it in your grave, can you?" The more he spoke, the angrier he became. His face contorted with rage as he lifted his foot high, ready to stomp down on Margaret's face. Before his foot could land, a shadow appeared in front of him. In an instant, the young man was sent flying by a powerful kick. Asher didn't even glance at him. He crouched down and gently helped Margaret to her feet. "Are you okay?" Margaret waved a trembling hand. "I'm fine. Thank you, young man." Relieved to see Margaret wasn't seriously injured, Asher let out a sigh of relief. But then his gaze hardened as he turned sharply toward the young man, his voice cold and cutting. "How could you attack an elderly lady and try to take her money? Have you no shame?" The young man, still sprawled on the ground and dazed from the kick, glared at Asher with fear. He gritted his teeth and muttered, "This is a family matter. What does it have to do with you?" "Family matter?" Asher's frown deepened. Margaret sighed, her voice heavy with resignation. "Young man, his name is Merrick Miller. He's the son I adopted." Asher's eyes narrowed as he studied the young man. Recognition dawned on him—it was Merrick, the same boy who used to bully him when they were young, only to be chased off crying by his sisters. 'So, this brat hasn't changed at all,' Asher thought. Taking advantage of Asher's distraction, Merrick scrambled to his feet, his face twisted with rage. "You son of a b*tch! Who do you think you are to meddle in my business? Do you even know who I am? How dare you kick me? You f*cking i***t!" Then, Merrick spun toward Margaret and screamed, "This is all your fault, you old f*ck! If you'd just handed over the money, I wouldn't have gotten kicked! Damn you, b*tch! Go to hell!" Merrick charged at Margaret, his face red with fury. Margaret's frail body trembled violently. She couldn't understand. She had given this child all her love, yet he hated her so deeply. Had she done anything wrong? "Stop, *sshole!" Asher moved like lightning, striking Merrick with a slap so fierce it tore the skin on his face. Blood splattered across the yard.