The battlefield lay in ruins. The war had ended. And yet, nothing had changed.
The sky, once torn by divine light and infernal fire, hung in eerie silence. The land, once scorched and broken by centuries of war, stood still. The armies of gods and demons had vanished, their champions erased in an instant. And yet, their presence lingered—watching, waiting, whispering.
At the heart of it all, the Holy Grail remained.
It should have been empty. Its wish had been granted. Its purpose fulfilled. And yet, it pulsed—an artifact untethered yet unyielding, brimming with power beyond comprehension. It was as if it mocked those who had fought for it, a relic of a war that had ceased to matter.
And beside it stood the human.
His wish had shattered the balance, and yet the gods and demons had not disappeared. Stripped of their champions, stripped of their influence over the world, they still refused to fade. They surrounded him in the unseen, their voices stretching across the void—some like silk and shadow, others like fire and fury.
"You could rule.""You could destroy.""You could become something greater than human."
They tried to influence him, to bend him to their will.
The gods spoke of duty, of divinity, of justice. The demons whispered of temptation, of power, of absolute freedom.
And yet, for all their voices, for all their words, he only laughed.
Because none of them understood.
He had never wanted power. He had never wanted this war.
He only wanted the world to be free.
And now it was.
Those untouched by divine blessings or demonic corruption—the true mortals, the ones who had been nothing more than collateral in this endless war—had vanished from the battlefield. No longer bound to the whims of gods or devils, they now stood beyond their reach, enclosed within a sanctuary that neither heaven nor hell could breach.
Leaving him alone.
One man against the remnants of heaven and hell.
One man who now stood before them, the Holy Grail at his feet, and smiled.
"Well then," he said, arms wide, his voice carrying through the shattered sky. "Shall we play a game?"
The gods and demons hesitated.
A game?
This was no god, no demon—not even a chosen hero. Just a human. A mortal, standing against them all.
And yet… they could not touch him.
The Grail's presence still clung to him, making him untouchable, untamed. He had defied them all, had broken their carefully constructed rules, and now, standing before them, he still held the power to decide everything.
The air was thick with unspoken tension. The gods, once mighty and infallible, now whispered among themselves, uncertainty tainting their perfect voices. The demons, unrelenting and prideful, flickered in and out of reality, torn between fury and intrigue.
And the human waited.
Then, one of them stepped forward.
Neither god nor demon—something in between. A being of duality, one that had walked both light and shadow. Its form wavered, unsteady, as if unsure of its own existence.
"What kind of wager?" it asked.
The human's smile widened.
"Simple." His voice was calm, steady. "Ownership of the Grail."
A ripple of disbelief passed through the divine and the damned alike.
"You would dare—" one god began, but the human cut him off.
"Oh, don't act so surprised." He gestured around them, his expression amused. "This is what you all wanted, isn't it? You can't steal it. You can't force me to hand it over. So let's gamble for it. Unless…" His smirk deepened. "Unless you're scared."
The silence was deafening.
No god, no demon—no being that had existed for millennia—would ever back down from a challenge. Not when it involved power. Not when it involved pride.
And the Holy Grail was the greatest prize of all.
A voice, deeper than the abyss, echoed through the heavens.
"Very well," it rumbled. "We accept."
The human's eyes gleamed.
"Then let's begin."
The final game.
One human. Against gods and demons alike.