Ethan touched down silently on the cobblestones of Cathedral Square, standing directly in front of the ornate façade of the Grand Kremlin Palace. The structure, the heart of power for the Olympus faction and their leader Putin stood bathed in soft lamplight, the gold onion domes dusted with fresh snow.

"Quite a view," Ethan murmured, his breath forming small plumes of vapor. "A true pity it has to be stained."

"BRING BORIS BEFORE ME IMMEDIATELY!"

Ethan didn’t yell. Instead, he resonated his voice using his internal Void frequency, turning his command into a sonic boom that slammed against the palace walls. The ancient glass of the windows shattered instantly, and the heavy stone façade trembled as if in fear.

Within seconds, the tranquil square was overwhelmed. A hundred specialized Olympus elite guards—the ’Sons of Olympus’—poured from hidden entrances, surrounding Ethan. They wore reinforced tactical plate armor and wielded swords that hummed with condensed spiritual energy. They locked onto Ethan, their expressions grim, waiting for the signal to execute.

"Who is your leader?" Ethan asked, hands in his pockets, perfectly casual.

The guards didn’t answer. They maintained their combat formations, their eyes burning with killing intent.

"It seems you mistake my calmness for weakness," Ethan sighed, shaking his head. "I suppose a lesson is in order."

Ethan didn’t move a muscle. He didn’t even breathe hard. He simply focused. His transformation into the Full Amethyst Void Body had removed the need for hand gestures or incantations. The lightning wasn’t something he channeled anymore; it was an extension of his mind.

He narrowed his eyes, and the sky directly above the Kremlin exploded in a deafening crash. A massive pillar of chain lightning descended, not hitting a single point, but branching out into hundreds of smaller, erratic bolts. The Sons of Olympus tried to evade, their high-speed combat movements a blur, but the lightning bolts moved with a sentience of their own. They tracked, intercepted, and connected.

A rhythmic series of sickening *thuds* echoed as the guards’ bodies slammed into the cobblestones. The high-voltage surge didn’t just stop their hearts; it vaporized their neural pathways instantly. All hundred guards lay dead, their heads seemingly intact but empty inside.

Ethan extended his hand, and the familiar Void Singularity opened like a black maw in the square. The gravity shifted, and all hundred corpses were lifted from the ground, sucked into the darkness and compacted into pure spiritual energy that flowed directly back into Ethan’s core. He felt a refreshing hum through his body.

"Since you insist on disrespecting me," Ethan said, dusting off his jacket, "I suppose I’ll just tear this place down brick by brick until someone important enough to speak to me crawls out of the rubble."

Ethan took his right hand out of his pocket and casually launched a punch into the open air toward the main palace entrance.

The space directly in front of his fist fractured like broken glass. The compressed air pressure generated by the motion amplified exponentially, becoming a devastating air-cannon blast that traveled at hypersonic speed.

The blast hit the Grand Kremlin Palace with the force of a low-yield tactical nuke. The massive front section of the palace was shredded, iron beams twisting, marble pillars turning to dust, and the central section of the structure getting wrenched nearly free from its foundations.

The shockwave rolled across Moscow. On the surrounding streets, civilians who had been watching the confrontation with curious awe screamed in terror. Phones were already raised, live-streaming the scene to billions across the globe.

The comments section on global forums descended into madness.

Username1: "THE DEMONS HAVE DESCENDED! IT’S THE END!"

Username2:"It’s the antichrist! Look at that beauty, it’s a deception!"

LiveNewsFeed: "Live updates as an unknown ’God-Rank’ entity completely destroys the Kremlin palace front!"

Ethan turned his gaze toward the terrified crowd. In a flicker of amethyst light, he vanished from the palace step and reappeared directly in front of a group of screaming civilians, inches from their phone cameras.

"Greetings, mortals," Ethan smiled, his face radiating an innocent, breathtaking beauty that was a chilling contrast to the destruction behind him.

He chuckled, the sound echoing through their microphones. "I’m only joking. But seriously," his voice dropped into a commanding bass, "all of you should get back immediately. I’m going to flatten this entire complex within the hour, and I have no desire to murder civilians. Unlike some factions, Royal always defends the weak. We never abuse our power for the sake of it."

He looked back at the ruined palace, waiting for Boris to respond to the challenge.

From the jagged ruins of the Grand Kremlin Palace, the remnants of the ’Sons of Olympus’ began to crawl. The devastating air-cannon blast had been precise, obliterating the front entrance and the central structures instantly, turning the majority of the guards inside into indistinguishable pulp.

Only a handful had survived, those stationed in the deepest sub-basements or the far wings that still stood. They emerged bleeding from their ears and noses, their tactical armor shredded, coughing up dust and bile. They looked at the beautiful monster floating in the courtyard and felt terror.

Then, the ground in the center of the debris field began to crack. A slab of reinforced concrete was thrust aside, and the Leader of Olympus emerged.

Vladimir Putin stood, brushing the gray dust from his tailored suit. His expression was legendary—completely devoid of emotion, a mask of cold, calculating stoicism that had intimidated world leaders for decades. Ethan had seen that face on television countess times, a symbol of unshakeable authority. Now, he was facing it.

In a flicker of amethyst light, Ethan vanished and reappeared directly in front of the President, their faces scant inches apart. Ethan was slightly taller, forcing Putin to look up into eyes that pulsed with the violet light of the void.

"Leader of Olympus," Ethan stated, his voice a rich, resonant tone that only Putin could hear over the groans of the dying. "Your ’trump cards’ have been neutralized. You have two choices."

Ethan tilted his head, his delicate features offering a terrifying contrast to the latent violence radiating from his pores.

"Choice one: Hand Boris over to me immediately. Out of respect for the Blood Matriarch—and only out of respect for her—I will spare this place, and your remaining people may live. Choice two: Offer resistance."

Ethan’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. "If you choose the latter, the world will watch me erase Moscow from the face of the earth. No one... not one... will survive to bury the dead. Choose well, ’Tsar’."