Blasfemy of the Gods

Tanaka gasped as reality tore itself apart around him. The void that had once surrounded him shattered, and in its place, a vast, sprawling land unfolded—a realm neither mortal nor fully divine.

The sky burned a deep, crimson hue, thick with swirling clouds of gold and black. In the distance, temples and ruins of ancient pantheons stretched endlessly, their spires crumbling under the weight of neglect. Statues of gods—some familiar, others long forgotten—stood frozen in sorrow or rage, their eyes hollow, their mouths twisted in silent screams.

And then… the whispers began.

Not words, but feelings. Longing. Betrayal. Desperation.

Tanaka clutched his temples as the voices of a thousand gods murmured inside his mind, their presence like echoes trapped in stone. Some pleaded for worship. Others cursed his existence. Some demanded his death.

“Enough.”

The shadowed man’s voice cut through the madness like a blade. The whispers ceased, though their weight still pressed against Tanaka’s soul.

“Where are we?” Tanaka exhaled, his breath misting despite the heat.

“The Threshold,” the man answered, stepping forward. “A place between realms. Where gods who are forgotten linger before they vanish forever.”

Tanaka’s eyes narrowed. “You brought me here for a reason.”

The man smiled. “I did.”

Suddenly, the ground split open, and from the depths rose a beast of bone and flame.

Its skull was elongated, its fangs dripping molten gold. Its body, a mixture of serpent, lion, and man, pulsed with unholy fire. Its many arms clawed at the air, each hand clutching a relic of a different god—an Ankh, a Trishula, a Thunderbolt, a Feather of Ma’at.

Tanaka instinctively stepped back. “What the hell is that?”

The man’s ember eyes gleamed. “Your first test.”