I Am Zeus - Chapter 248

Chapter 248: “Fuck Your Father.”
The spark in Zeus’s palm didn’t flare. It swallowed.

It was a tiny point of absolute black, but not a cold, empty black like Lucifer’s. This was a hungry, living dark. The air around it warped, sucking in the hellfire from Lucifer’s raised claw, pulling at the very light.

Lucifer hesitated, the hellfire in his hand guttering. “What is this? A final trick?”

Zeus didn’t answer. He let the spark fall from his hand onto the ground.

It didn’t hit the ground. It sank into it. And then, the ground remembered.

It remembered being molten, before continents, before life. It remembered the chaos of creation, the raw, untamed fury of a universe being born. The fused glass of the crater didn’t melt; it un-formed, boiling backward into a seething, elemental soup. Jagged spires of rock and fountains of raw lightning erupted around Zeus, not from the sky, but from the earth itself.

He rose to his feet. His wounds didn’t heal. They were still there, brutal and real. But they no longer seemed to matter. His one good eye wasn’t just fixed on Lucifer; it saw through him.

“You talk about what He made you,” Zeus said, his voice layered now too—the rumble of the god and the quiet grit of the man. “But you were always so focused on Him, you never looked at what you came from. What we all came from.”

He took a step forward. The chaotic elemental storm around him surged. “Before order, there was chaos. Before your Father spoke a single word, there was the storm.”

This was no longer the disciplined lightning of the King of Olympus. This was the raw, untamed power of the Primordial Chaos that had existed at the dawn of everything. The power that had birthed Titans, gods, and worlds. The power he, as a ruler, had always sought to control. Now, he was letting it out.

Lucifer roared and unleashed the gathered hellfire. A wave of incineration that could burn souls to ash.

Zeus didn’t block it. He opened his arms.

The hellfire hit the churning, chaotic energy around him and… dissolved. It was broken apart, its ordered malevolence unraveled and absorbed into the wild, ancient soup of creation. It wasn’t defeated; it was digested.

“IMPOSSIBLE!” Lucifer bellowed, genuine shock in his monstrous voice.

“Nothing is impossible before the rules are written,” Zeus said. He was in front of Lucifer now. He hadn’t moved through space; the space between them had simply ceased to be a problem.

He punched.

It wasn’t a clean strike. It was a mess of force. His fist, wreathed in crackling void and primordial lightning, connected with Lucifer’s armored chest.

The sound was wrong. It wasn’t a crack or a boom. It was a tearing, grinding noise, like reality itself being sick.

Lucifer was thrown back, but not in an arc. He tumbled through dimensions, his form flickering between solid and not, crashing through realms of existence that shouldn’t exist next to each other before slamming back into the ground of Hell, his brutal armor cracked and steaming.

Zeus was on him instantly. He didn’t pummel him. He grabbed one of Lucifer’s massive horns and wrenched.

A scream, pure and undiluted by layers of power, ripped from Lucifer’s throat. It was the sound of ultimate violation. The horn, a symbol of his devilish pride, snapped off at the base with a sound like a mountain breaking.

Zeus dropped the shard of obsidian and brimstone. It hit the ground and shattered into a million screaming fragments that then melted into the chaotic morass at their feet.

He grabbed Lucifer by the throat, the same way Lucifer had held him. The searing heat of Lucifer’s new form blistered his arm, but the chaos energy flowing through him simply consumed the pain, using it as fuel.

“You are a child,” Zeus growled, his face inches from the devil’s, “throwing a tantrum in a cathedral. It’s time to go home.”

He raised his other fist, a maelstrom of destructive potential gathering around it. This wasn’t a killing blow. It was an unmaking. A return to the nothing from which nothing should return.

“STOP!”

The voice was a command woven from the fabric of law itself. A blade of pure, golden light slammed down between them, not attacking, but forming a barrier.

Michael stood there, his wings spread, his face a mask of stern urgency. “You cannot do this.”

Zeus didn’t even look at him. “Watch me.”

“He is a divine being! His fate is not yours to decide! The balance—”

“The balance is broken!” Zeus roared, the chaotic energy around him flaring, pushing against Michael’s golden light. “He broke it! I’m just cleaning up the mess!”

“You will unleash consequences you cannot comprehend!” Michael shouted, his composure cracking for the first time. “To unmake a being of his stature… it is a violation of the highest order! Our Father will not allow it!”

That did it.

Zeus slowly turned his head, his one good eye fixing on the Archangel. The chaos swirled violently around him. The memory of a simple shepherd named Ixion, who knew nothing of divine orders or cosmic balances, rose to the surface. The memory of a father who would let his children tear each other apart over a petty rivalry.

He looked Michael dead in the eye, his voice dropping to a low, venomous, and utterly human whisper.

“Fuck Your Father.”

The words hung in the air, a blasphemy so profound it seemed to shock the chaos itself into silence for a split second.

Michael stared, utterly stunned. No one. No one had ever…

In that moment of stunned silence, Zeus acted.

He didn’t push Michael. He didn’t attack him. He simply blinked.

The space around Michael folded. One moment he was standing before Zeus, the next he was a mile away, reappearing in a flash of displaced golden light, stumbling as his own laws of physics were briefly turned against him.

The barrier was gone.

Zeus turned back to Lucifer, who was struggling weakly in his grip, his remaining horn twitching, his red eyes wide with a fear he had never known.

“There are no rules here,” Zeus said, his voice calm once more. “There is only what must be done.”

He brought his fist down.