Theomachy

The stones reeked of age. Expierence. On them probably had threaded creatures no current soul could imagine. The events that had transpired within this ancient building had been decisive for the downfall or uprising of entire civilizations, the calamities of whole universes, the wreckage of the closest of families.

But surely, none of them were as ancient as the woman sitting majestically on the stone throne, just at the notch of an incomplete granite circle which encompassed nearly the entire room and double-functioned as a desk for hundreds of attendees coming to see their sovereign speak out to them and hear their discussions about the fate of the universe.

But today, the hall was desolate except for one, dark-blue haired man, facing the woman at the other end of the notched circle. Light streaming through a central hole in the roof that was neither solar nor lunar, casted fickle shadows on his face, although his head was facing downwards and stray locks hiding his expression.

The room was filled with obedience. The sheer aroma within every breeze disturbing the motionlessness of the happening was flavored with innumerable respect for the throne-seated. It seemed godless and simply insane not to crawl in the dirt at her feet. Yet, when the man lifted his head his eyes were twinkling fiery and a confident grin was glued to his face.

"I'm afraid we have a problem, Iwanagi-hime." Despite the seriousness of the honorific, the man's tone almost made a joke out of that simple sentence.