"In the shadow of the Heart, truth, power, and faith become indistinguishable—each convinced it alone was chosen to rule the silence left by the gods."
The Voice of the Heart
The storm had yet to relent.
Lightning carved the sky with violent tendrils, illuminating the plaza of New Malacañang in strobing white and violet.
The air quaked with the resonant hum of relics and thunder—the heartbeat of gods and men in collision.
Amidst the haze, three figures advanced from the Grand Gates, impervious to the rain.
Senator Datu Alon.
General Ramon Dimagiba.
Governor Lakambini Reyes.
As they stepped onto the fractured marble, the pulse beneath the ground intensified—the Heart of Bathala acknowledging its architects.
Gregorio tightened his grip on Kamay ni Bathala, the relic vibrating subtly, as if it, too, recognized them.
"Senators… generals… governors?" he muttered, disbelief slicing through the static of his communications. "What in the—"
Hermano's voice pierced the storm. "They are not merely men, Gregorio. They are what remains when divinity chooses bureaucracy—Anino ng mga Anito."
Raja's serpent armor glowed with hues of gold and green. "Then this republic has always been their altar."
The three Anino paused before the cracked obelisk—the seal crowning the Heart's resting place.
Alon set his Dahong Palay against the ground; its blade shimmered like liquid jade.
Dimagiba's Agimat pulsed in rhythmic grids across his chest, every beat in sync with the storm.
Lakambini unfurled the Abaniko ni Urduja, the air bending around its glimmering ribs.
Datu Alon's voice was calm and reverent—almost mournful.
"The Children of the Forge stand before the flame once more. How poetic. You—who were born from Bathala's final sparks—dare to speak of balance as the world burns."
Gregorio stepped forward, rain cascading from his armor. "You've been hiding behind the government all this time. Why? What do you want?"
"Completion," Dimagiba stated simply. "The Heart, unfinished, is chaos. The Heart, complete, is order."
Raja's eyes narrowed. "Order? You mean dominion."
"Dominion," Dimagiba replied, "is merely order without dissent."
Lakambini's voice followed, soft yet precise, surgical in its clarity.
"You call yourselves saviors—warriors, prophets, emperors—but each of you seeks the same thing."
Hermano's gaze darkened. "Speak plainly, woman."
She did. "Control."
The word sliced through the storm.
Raja's serpent hissed. "Watch your tongue."
Yet Lakambini persisted, voice unwavering.
"You, Hermano Lopez—the fallen priest who condemns heaven's deceit—seek to replace it with your own truth. A god of revelation, masquerading as a martyr."
Hermano's jaw clenched, golden light flickering along his relic. "I strive to free mankind from lies, not bind them to my name."
Lakambini's eyes remained fixed. "And yet, your sermons resonate across armies that worship your cause."
She turned to Raja.
"And you, Serpent Emperor—you've crowned yourself in shadow, constructed an empire of fear, and labeled it freedom. What is that but another church of submission?"
Raja's voice flared, sharp as lightning. "I conquered so no man would kneel again!"
"Then why," Lakambini whispered, "do they still kneel before you?"
Raja's serpent coiled, its scales pulsing with fury. "Because power demands reverence."
"Precisely," she replied, her tone as cold as the wind. "And you both demand it."
Hermano's aura ignited, golden and furious. "Do not distort our oaths with your heresy! I fight for revelation, not rule!"
Raja stepped forward, his voice interjecting, venomous. "And I fight for dominance, not divinity!"
Lakambini smiled faintly. "Different words for the same affliction."
The storm trembled, as if offended by her truth.
Datu Alon raised his Dahong Palay, its blade humming in resonance with the plaza's pulse.
"Faith, empire, equilibrium—three masks for the same hunger. You all seek to author creation anew, yet you label us tyrants."
Gregorio's violet aura flickered. "You're not wrong about hunger—but at least we bleed for ours."
Dimagiba's voice was measured, almost gentle. "Then bleed for us. The Heart demands its final forge."
"The Heart belongs to no one," Gregorio stated firmly.
Lakambini's fan closed with a metallic whisper. "Not yet. But it will."
Hermano's chains rose like burning serpents. "Do you believe you can claim divinity through politics and deceit?"
Alon's tone turned solemn. "Politics built the temples in which you pray. Deceit carved the gods you venerate. Do you not see, Prophet? The forge never ceased—it simply changed hands."
Hermano's fury crackled through the air. "Then it will stop now."
Lakambini tilted her head. "No. It will finish."
The plaza shuddered—glyphs igniting in crimson spirals beneath the three Anino.
The ground vibrated like a great heart beneath them, its rhythm aligning with the pulse of the relics.
Dimagiba stepped forward. "The fracture is widening. The two Gregorios will meet. And when they do—"The Heart will awaken," Alon completed softly. "And the world will kneel to one will."
Hermano and Raja exchanged brief glances—neither fully comprehending the phrase but both sensing the weight of its truth.
"You speak as though the gods themselves commanded this," Raja remarked.
Lakambini's eyes glimmered faintly silver. "We are what remains of their command."
Hermano's chains coiled tighter, sparking gold and fire. "Then I will silence the last echoes of false gods."
Raja's serpent hissed in tandem. "And I will dismantle every throne they left behind."
Alon's reply was quiet, akin to a priest's benediction. "You will fail because you desire what we desire—only without the courage to admit it."
Gregorio raised Kamay ni Bathala, violet glyphs flaring to life. "I desire none of it. Not your dominion, nor their faith. I only wish for this to end."
Dimagiba's Agimat projected a crimson barrier around the trio of Anino. "Then you must end us."
Lakambini raised the Abaniko ni Urduja, folding the rain into curved rings of still air. "And in doing so, you will complete the Heart."
The pulse deepened—thick, alive, divine.
Alon's Dahong Palay uncoiled like a serpent of green light.
Dimagiba's Agimat expanded into tactical grids.
Lakambini's Abaniko surged with divine wind heralding the arrival of a storm.
Hermano lifted Banal na Parusa, golden light flaring in chains of judgment.
Raja unsheathed the Pamana ni Lakan, crimson lightning snaking along its blade.
Gregorio's Kamay ni Bathala glowed violet, the epicenter of a storm forged from wills.
The rain froze midair for a heartbeat.
Then the Heart pulsed.
And the world remembered what creation sounded like when gods prepared to battle one another.
The Cataclysm Unbound
The first impact was soundless.
Then the world caught up.
A violet flash split the plaza of New Malacañang as Gregorio Aguilar made his move—Kisap Mata Stance!
Three afterimages burst forth from him in a blinding rhythm, each strike a reflection of his intent. Kamay ni Bathala carved the air into ribbons of light, fracturing rain into crystalline dust.
Every blow collided with General Ramon Dimagiba's Agimat field, igniting red geometries across the marble surface.
Dimagiba remained unflinching.
His boots dug deep, the Agimat radiating like a divine command grid. His counterpunch shattered the space between them—one blow fracturing stone tiles and sending Gregorio's afterimages scattering.
The general's voice boomed, calm and authoritative:
"Strength without structure is vanity, Captain. Allow me to remind you what command feels like."
Gregorio steadied himself, sliding backward across the waterlogged marble. Soul Thread—link established.
Marian, Agosto, and Renato synchronized with precision. Four pulses of mythic resonance beat as one.
From the left, Marian emerged in a swirl of mist—Mist Step! Her blade whispered through the vapor, striking Dimagiba's flank. The Sundang ni Makiling sang, its fog cutting sound and sight, tracing fleeting arcs across the general's silhouette.
Dimagiba responded with brutal precision. His fist swung wide, the Agimat emitting shockwave grids that folded the air like warped glass. Marian vanished back into mist just as the blast struck—its force flattening what remained of the southern colonnade.
"Go!" Gregorio commanded.
Agosto erupted in flames. Volcanic Crescent! His Kampilan ni Lam-Ang unleashed molten arcs, cleaving through debris like searing solar flares. He landed behind Dimagiba, sword whirling to unleash a cross of flame that detonated on impact.
The explosion radiated outward in concentric waves, scattering black rain.
Dimagiba marched through it.
His Agimat absorbed the blast, converting fire into kinetic energy. He drove his palm into the ground—red glyphs radiating outward like artillery coordinates.
"Punishment Level—calibrating."
Renato dropped to one knee. Wall of the Giants! The Kalasag ni Bernardo Carpio unfolded into a diamond lattice, intercepting the shockwave.
Cracks spiderwebbed across its mirrored surface, deflecting kinetic light into the clouds above.
Renato grimaced. "He's converting impact into strength—turning our strikes into fuel!"
Gregorio's voice cut through the chaos. "Then stop striking in rhythm."
He blurred—Kisap Mata, Second Sequence! The afterimages overlapped like layered thunderclaps, alternating strikes faster than Dimagiba could absorb.
The general's Agimat grid flickered, cracks blooming across its crimson geometry.
Gregorio's eyes flared violet. Godfist Strike.
A single blow—pure and resonant—slammed into Dimagiba's chestplate, sending him crashing through three layers of fractured stone. The echo rolled like a divine drum.
Even the Heart beneath them seemed to respond.
To the south, Governor Lakambini Reyes spun in the rain.
Her Abaniko ni Urduja opened with a sound reminiscent of a whispering gale—then screamed as the air folded. Divine Wind!
Hurricane currents coiled around her form, cutting trenches into the plaza as they collided with the Babaylan Saints.
Juan Luciano raised his trident, Habagat ni Silang, vibrating with tempest energy.
Lightning gathered as he declared, his voice cracking across the heavens:
"Then face the storm's true heir—I am the Storm God!"
He thrust the trident skyward—Heaven's Hammer!
A column of lightning descended, grounding itself in the plaza with a roar that shattered marble and turned rain into steam.
He pivoted, unleashing Razor Hurricane—hundreds of compressed arcs slicing across the battlefield, each stroke reshaping the very air itself.
He landed amidst thunder and chaos, his eyes glowing white with the fury of the storm.
"The heavens obey the one who dares command them!"
Beside him, Hermano Lopez invoked judgment—Chain of Heaven! Golden links arced upward, cutting through the gale like radiant whips. Lakambini twisted her fan, diverting wind into circular flows that shredded the chains midflight.
Magdalena Ramos emerged from the mist, chains spiraling. Memory Coil! Illusions flooded the gale, scattering mirrored Lakambinis throughout the tempest. The real one's fan flicked—wind sliced through every reflection at once, shattering them into spectral glass.
"Truth Script Burst!" shouted Mia Torre, unleashing a storm of luminous glyphs from her floating tome. Each page erupted, redirecting wind and light to cover Crispulo's movement.
Crispulo Toledo struck like shadow incarnate. Smoke-Steel Assault! Every cut echoed fourfold, invisible edges whistling through the gale.
He sliced through the aftershock of Lakambini's wind bursts, each stroke distorting light until he stood mere meters from her.
Her fan snapped shut. A single counter-sweep disarmed him with a gust that split the tiles beneath his feet.
The Saints advanced from every side, their rhythm relentless, divine in unity.
But Lakambini remained resolute. Her calm was unbroken, her voice cutting through the storm.
"Faith burns brightest before the wind devours it."
With a flick of her wrist, Abaniko ni Urduja opened into a perfect circle.
A silver glyph flared behind her, the shape of a spiral sun.
From the east, thunder met flame.
Senator Datu Alon stood upon cracked marble, the Dahong Palay in his grip rippling like a serpent of light.
Opposite him, Raja and his elite formed a semicircle.
"Advance!" Raja commanded. The Pamana ni Lakan surged with crimson lightning as his serpent armor unfurled. Venomous Ripple! Seven arcs of electricity shot from his blade, curving around Alon.
Kalawit struck next, Void Clash! His Dugong Itim screamed through the air, the scythe's arc collapsing space into a dark vacuum.
Putik hurled the Balisong ng Dahas, every blade splitting mid-flight into a storm of molten edges.
Maximo Imperial raised his Sumpit ni Dumalapdap, playing a sharp rhythm—compressed mana darts rebounding off invisible air, detonating in sync with Putik's blades.
Natalia Saavedra streaked between them, twin Karambit ni Kain trailing dark violet light, her form fracturing into mirrored phantoms that circled Alon like predators.
For a heartbeat, it seemed the Senator was engulfed by the storm.
Then—green light erupted.
The Dahong Palay expanded into a blade of infinite length, its aura flickering like a field of swaying rice leaves.
With a single motion, he cleaved through all incoming attacks. The scythe's vacuum collapsed; Putik's blades vaporized; Natalia's phantoms dispersed.
Emerald glyphs spiraled upward from his feet, painting the sky in woven script.
"Punishment of the Gods—Rain of Blades!"
The heavens responded.
A storm of green light—tens of thousands of blade-shaped leaves—fell from the clouds.
Each leaf sliced the air with impossible precision, carving sigils into the flooded earth.
The entire boulevard transformed into a cascade of beauty and death—rice leaves cutting through water, flame, and steel alike.
Each glyph shimmered with emerald light, forming the Glyph of Verdant Dominion, rotating endlessly like a divine mandala at the core of the storm.
Raja roared, driving Pamana ni Lakan into the ground—crimson serpents coiling around him to shield his faction.
Kalawit's scythe spun, catching dozens of leaves mid-descent, but even he could not block them all.
Putik's molten skin hissed as the leaves sliced lines of smoke across his shoulders.
Natalia leapt through her own reflection, reappearing beside Raja, panting.
"He fights like a god pretending to be humble."
"Then we fight like devils pretending to be divine," Raja retorted.
The emerald rain intensified.
At the plaza's heart, General Ramon Dimagiba rose from the crater left by Gregorio's Godfist Strike. His Agimat's runes pulsed like the circuitry of gods, each layer spinning with geometric precision.
"Punishment of the Gods—Shattered Heaven."
His voice was calm yet it bore the weight of divinity.
Crimson glyphs erupted across the plaza, forming rotating rings around him. Each ring pulsed outward like shockwaves of judgment.
The ground disintegrated beneath him, the shock carving trenches into stone and steel. Each punch he threw now shattered both air and reality—transforming every impact into a localized implosion.
Above him appeared the Glyph of Ruinous Law, twelve intersecting circles inscribed with ancient military runes—the seal of annihilation.
Gregorio countered with Kamay ni Bathala ablaze—Kisap Mata - Ovedrive—but Dimagiba caught him mid-teleport, slamming him into the ground with enough force to crater the marble.
Marian's Goddess' Wrath cut through the smoke, mist enveloping both fighters.
Agosto dove through Kampilan's portal and reanimated behind the stalwar general. "Dimensional Rift Slash!", carving the mist into a narrow seam of molten light that struck Dimagiba's flank.
Renato unleashed Prismatic Spike and reflected a fraction of the blast back—but the rebound only empowered the general's next strike.
"You fight well," Dimagiba remarked, almost admiringly. "But you fight for fragments."
Gregorio spat blood, his eyes burning violet.
"Fragments can still reshape the forge."
He drove his fist into the ground—Godfist Strike! The blow met the Agimat's pulse, exploding into raw, chaotic force. Crimson and violet flared in violent union. The plaza trembled.
Lakambini's fan traced the air, silver glyphs spiraling outward like storm halos
.
"Punishment of the Gods—Divine Tempest."
Her wind folded the storm itself, transforming rain into millions of microblades. The entire southern quadrant vanished under divine wind pressure, statues and towers disintegrating into mist.
The Babaylan Saints were driven to their knees, but Hermano's Banal na Parusa flared, creating a radiant cross of gold that anchored their formation.
Behind her, a massive silver sigil—the Glyph of the Endless Gale—formed in the clouds, rotating with divine momentum, each line channeling the breath of Bathala's lost sky.
Luciano shouted through the tempest:
"Storms answer only to their true master!"
He thrust his trident forward—Plasma Thrust!
A concentrated spear of stormfire shot forth, colliding with the center of Lakambini's vortex. The explosion of wind and light illuminated the heavens, forcing both forces apart.
Mia's Truth Corridors bent light and space, redirecting pressure flows around them.
Magdalena's illusions multiplied their silhouettes, dispersing the wind's targeting glyphs.
Crispulo's Anino shadows darted through the gaps, striking the base of Lakambini's pressure waves.
Hermano lifted his cross, golden chains wrapping around his allies.
"Hold! Faith endures where gods falter!"
The winds shattered against the light.
Three cataclysms.
Three punishments.
Three storms of divinity colliding.
The plaza ceased to be a mere location. It transformed into a wound in creation itself—gold, crimson, and green light intertwining.
Then—silence.
From within that maelstrom, movement emerged.
The Sandata Unit rose first—Gregorio at the front, his violet aura pulsing.
The Babaylan Saints followed, battered yet burning, Hermano's cross gleaming like a sun.
The Ahas ng mga Lakan emerged last, serpents of crimson lightning swirling around their armor.
Gregorio met Hermano's gaze.
Hermano turned toward Raja.
The three shared a single nod.
Then, as one, all three factions roared, their relics igniting in unison—violet, gold, and crimson coalescing into a single radiant trinity.
"Punishment of the Gods—Divine Synchrony!"
The world did not end that night.
But it remembered.
For in that instant, even the gods paused to witness men who had become storms.