"In the forge of creation, gods are not born—they are remembered through the hands that dared to strike the anvil."
Piercing the Veil between Gods and Legends
The world held its breath.
The aftermath of the divine roar reverberated across the Capital, its resonance tearing through steel, storm, and spirit alike.
From the heart of the miasma, violet, gold, and crimson swirled violently together, forming three colossal silhouettes that blotted out what remained of the moon.
The Sandata Unit roared first.
"Bathala Incarnate!"
Violet glyphs spun across the fractured plaza, forming concentric mandalas etched with Baybayin sigils. From these emerged a titanic figure—humanoid, regal, armored in spectral obsidian patterned with pulsating violet veins.
The Kamay ni Bathala's patterns streaked across its limbs, mirrored by the ghostly Sundang and Kampilan in its grasp. Its movements were deliberate yet fluid—each gesture embodying the weight of every strike the unit had ever learned together.
The second roar followed, deep and resonant like the sea itself.
"Magwayen Ascendant!"
Golden light rippled through the storm as the Babaylan Saints' spiritual construct surfaced—a towering feminine entity composed of tidal vapors and starlit foam. Her silhouette flowed like water in motion, every step birthing waves that shimmered with ancestral script.
Chains of judgment, woven with glyphs of passage and death, coiled around her arms. Beneath her feet swirled the Abyssal Axis—waves churning with souls adrift, glowing faintly beneath the rain.
The last roar shook the very heavens.
"Kan-Laon Imperium!"
A golden-red eruption engulfed the eastern ruins as the Ahas ng mga Lakan's synchrony coalesced. A vast draconic colossus, half-serpent and half-emperor, uncoiled from within the miasma—its scales inscribed with time glyphs that ticked like cosmic gears.
Eyes of molten amber swept across the battlefield, tail weaving trails of temporal distortion. Every motion bent the flow of reality, each ripple carrying echoes of what once was—and what might yet be.
The three Divine Synchronies stood apart—distinct, sovereign, divine. Each a spirit forged from unity, legacy, and defiance.
The Anino ng mga Anito awaited. General Ramon Dimagiba straightened his stance, Agimat symbols rotating across his chest like awakening war machines. Datu Alon rolled his shoulders, Dahong Palay humming a low, eager tone as emerald leaves danced through the ruins. Governor Lakambini Reyes raised her fan, the storm bending into perfect stillness around her.
Dimagiba grinned. "At last, the true forges of Bathala reveal themselves."
Alon's eyes gleamed green. "Then let us see which creation endures."
Lakambini's voice softened, filled with both awe and challenge. "And which shall be forgotten."
The miasma boiled.
Then—movement.
Bathala Incarnate struck first.
It surged forward with impossible speed, the fractured plaza cratering beneath its step. Both Sundang and Kampilan swung in unison, their arcs forming a perfect cross of violet light.
Dimagiba intercepted with his crimson grids, his Agimat absorbing the initial blow, but the second tore through his defenses, sending shockwaves through the palace's foundations.
Marble towers collapsed in cascades. The Heart's pulse beneath the earth trembled in rhythm.
Kan-Laon Imperium joined the fray next, its serpentine body sweeping across the avenue like a tidal current of gold and crimson.
Datu Alon countered, planting his blade into the ground. "Verdant Dominion!" The Dahong Palay erupted into a storm of green light, millions of spectral rice leaves slicing through the serpent's coils.
Yet Kan-Laon shimmered, time itself folding—its wounds vanishing, its strikes returning before they landed. The serpent's claws met Alon's blade again and again, each impact resonating like the clash of worlds.
To the south, Magwayen Ascendant advanced with silent grace. Waves surged from nowhere, enveloping the plaza in a spiraling vortex of luminous water. The winds howled, and lightning struck with ferocity.
Within the cyclone, Lakambini's fan snapped open—Abaniko ni Urduja caught the storm's full weight. She responded with elegance and fury.
"Divine Tempest—Unending Breath!"
The collision between wind and sea birthed a hurricane that devoured the skyline. The waves carved highways through government towers, their glass facades reduced to mist. Yet Magwayen stood tall, her eyes gleaming like twin horizons. Golden chains lashed out, binding the air and reeling the governor closer as spectral waves crashed down in divine rhythm.
The battlefield no longer resembled a city—it was an open wound of creation, soaked in color, thunder, and ruin.
Bathala Incarnate engaged Dimagiba in a dance of overwhelming power. Every slash mirrored Gregorio's training—the seamless flow between Kisap Mata's bursts and Godfist Strike's heavy precision. The entity's Sundang parried shockwaves, its Kampilan shattered the air with cutting light.
Dimagiba met each with godlike strength, his counterstrikes fracturing the ground into molten veins.
Violet and crimson collided—discipline versus divine instinct.
"Your strength mirrors command," Dimagiba growled, intercepting a strike. "But command without hierarchy is chaos!"
Within the spirit form, Gregorio's voice echoed, calm yet resolute.
"Then chaos must be what sets us free."
A colossal punch met a violet blade.The explosion engulfed both in blinding light.
To the east, Kan-Laon Imperium spiraled into a golden tempest. Raja and his cohort moved in unison, each motion mirrored through the serpent's massive frame. The Pamana ni Lakan flared crimson, channeling lightning through the colossus' limbs. Kalawit's scythe slashed through distorted space, while Putik's molten essence hardened into temporal armor.
Datu Alon countered with fury.
"Rain of Blades—Final Bloom!"
Emerald glyphs cascaded from the heavens, embedding into Kan-Laon's armor. Yet with every strike, time reversed—leaves rising back into the air as though unwriting their fall.
Kan-Laon struck back, its tail swinging in a temporal arc, trapping Alon between moments. His body flickered between past and present as the serpent's jaws closed in.
Meanwhile, Magwayen Ascendant wove through Lakambini's cyclones. The Babaylan Saints synchronized within her—Hermano's golden faith anchoring, Juan's storm channeling, Mia's truth scripts realigning the wind's direction. Magdalena's illusions masked their position while Crispulo's shadow-steps bridged the currents.
"Magwayen Ascendant—Path of Souls!"
Chains of light burst from her arms, coiling around Lakambini's fan. The governor twirled, breaking two, only for ten more to replace them. The sea beneath them split open, revealing a glowing abyss filled with drifting spirits. The living storm screamed.
Lakambini smiled through the gale. "So, this is death's embrace."
Her fan snapped shut—wind became silence. "Then I shall teach death how to breathe."
The air exploded. Wind met tide, creating a vacuum that consumed itself. The center of the capital vanished into a whirling void, drawing in debris, flame, and lightning alike.
Bathala Incarnate, Magwayen Ascendant, and Kan-Laon Imperium fought as if the gods themselves were testing their endurance against those who would replace them.
The city cracked beneath the strain—avenues folding into rivers, skyscrapers imploding as gravity warped.
Yet amid the devastation, the Anino ng mga Anito still held.
Ramon's blows were cataclysmic; Alon's green storm still cut through space; Lakambini's winds refused to yield.
Each of them smiled through exhaustion—divinity recognizing divinity.
At last, a tremor louder than thunder shook the horizon.
The clash of six divine entities froze the heavens.
The sky fractured—light breaking into prisms that fell like shattered halos.
Then came the silence.
The rain stopped.
The air burned.
Far above the chaos, a helicopter's lights flickered through the haze.
🎙️ Rico Velasquez (Archipelago Television News):
"Rico Velasquez reporting live over the ruins of the Capital… what we're witnessing—this is… this is no longer warfare. These are gods walking the earth."
His voice trembled as the camera panned across the obliterated skyline, the smoldering expanse stretching beyond human comprehension.
"Three colossal figures—one of light, one of shadow, and one… I—" static overtook the feed for a moment, "—the military has lost communication. Energy readings are off every scale. Citizens across Luzon can feel the ground shaking beneath them."
Lightning carved the heavens behind him.
The camera captured the silhouettes of Bathala Incarnate, Magwayen Ascendant, and Kan-Laon Imperium clashing against the Anino ng mga Anito—each strike rewriting the horizon.
"This is Rico Velasquez… and the world is watching the end of something—"
The broadcast cut out.
The storm consumed the signal.
And the battle of men and gods raged on, beyond mortal reckoning.
The Ascension of the New Malacañang
The clash of titans intensified—growing faster, heavier, and more insatiable.
Bathala Incarnate surged through the maelstrom, each step reverberating like a quake, each swing creating a violet arc that cleaved lightning in two.
Dimagiba countered from below, Agimat runes igniting as crimson grids spiraled around him like turbines.
The plaza fractured. Marble and steel lifted, suspended for an instant, before detonating midair as violet and scarlet energies collided.
Gregorio's rhythm guided the energy within Bathala Incarnate. Marian cloaked their advance in vapor; Agosto's flames engulfed the construct's arms; Renato's Kalasag infused pure reinforcement into its spine.
Together, their strikes harmonized precision with chaos—a divine unity in motion.
Dimagiba absorbed the initial impact, parried the second, and then launched upward—directly into the construct's chestplate. His aura detonated like a mortar, propelling him onto Bathala's shoulder, where he struck the neck joint with two rapid Agimat seals.
Gregorio twisted the construct's form, violet glyphs counterspinning to destabilize him.
Dimagiba kicked off, landing on a crumbling façade, already preparing for his next gridburst.
To the east, Kan-Laon Imperium unraveled the fabric of time itself. Each coil of its body rewound and replayed the same moment of destruction—a serpent consuming its own past.
Alon charged through the distortion, Dahong Palay singing in vibrant green ribbons. He leapt, spinning once, then twice, before vanishing into a blur of temporal folds. His blade re-materialized behind Kan-Laon's skull.
"Temporal Bloom!"
A thousand leaf-slashes etched reality into ephemeral lines—each existing for an instant before being undone by Kan-Laon's own pulse.
Raja's voice resonated from within:
"Chrono Reversal—Echo Coil!"
The serpent flared gold, and the world snapped backward by two seconds; Alon found himself back where he started, already mid-swing. A counter met him with perfect timing.
Across the plaza, Magwayen Ascendant descended from above—water forming wings while chains of passage-light drew half the skyline into her orbit. Lakambini's fan blurred into motion, slicing through the golden rain.
"Gale Form—Thousand Petals!"
Winds carved vortices into the deluge, forming spirals that struck upward like spears. Magwayen confronted the onslaught head-on, her palms glowing.
"Path of Souls—Return Current!"
The waves inverted, redirecting the wind back at Lakambini. The collision birthed a column of raw energy, shredding through the government district, drawing light and matter into a singular point.
Then the fight shifted—everyone moved.
Bathala Incarnate's right arm struck down, narrowly missing Dimagiba, but the shockwave sent Alon reeling. Kan-Laon's tail lashed out to intercept, shielding its ally, only to be ensnared by Magwayen's chains and hurled across the plaza. The serpent twisted midair, reversing its momentum, coiling around Bathala's leg to steady itself. In one fluid motion, the two divine entities spun as one—violet blade and temporal fang cleaving through the debris towards Dimagiba.
The general grinned, slamming both palms to the ground.
"Agimat Core—Grand Reprisal!"
Glyph-grids erupted like mines, forming a dome to meet the combined strike. The explosion shattered sound itself, the blast folding back into silence for one impossible heartbeat—then reality screamed.
Entire city blocks vanished into waves of dust and light.
Above them, Magwayen ascended through the shockwave, arms outstretched as spectral waves materialized beneath her.
Within, Hermano and Juan synchronized their focus, channeling the saints' resonance into a tidal surge.
"Death Tide—Eclipse Current!"
Chains of soul-light coiled across the plaza, sweeping the battlefield into a maelstrom of water and flame.
Kan-Laon dove through it, using the current to accelerate, its claws tearing through collapsing structures to reach Alon.
Bathala Incarnate shifted its position—violet glyphs flickering into new patterns. Gregorio adopted the Kisap Mata stance—every move faster, tighter, unseen until it struck. The construct blurred, delivering a series of rapid slashes that merged into a singular shockwave aimed at Dimagiba.
The general countered, palms glowing with red sigils. "Command Fracture!"
The ground split beneath him, hurling concrete shards skyward as he redirected Bathala's energy into three diverging vectors.
Each pulse ricocheted—one into the serpent's flank, another into Magwayen's leg, and the third detonating like a small star over the bay.
The explosion illuminated everything—the shattered towers, the glowing Heart beneath the plaza, and the shadows of gods locked in an endless struggle.
The rhythm shifted once more.
Magwayen, now entangled with Alon, redirected her tidal force downward, summoning the sea itself. Water poured from the clouds, merging with spectral mist until the capital transformed into an ocean suspended in midair. Within that rising deluge, Bathala Incarnate leapt—driving its Kampilan into the flood, splitting it apart with a column of light that reached the heavens. The light reflected off Kan-Laon's scales, refracting through time, striking Dimagiba's barrier in three distinct moments—past, present, and future—cracking it like glass.
Dimagiba dropped to one knee, laughing through the static. "Impressive… unity."
He raised his hand, bleeding glyphs. "Then allow me to return it."
A surge erupted from the Heart beneath them—crimson tendrils connecting every combatant for a fleeting instant. Each felt the pulse; each recognized it was deliberate. The Heart was feeding, consuming the chaos, storing it.
New Malacañang began to rise. Columns of shattered marble and steel reassembled, locking into new geometries. The palace ascended slowly, impossibly, as if shedding the weight of the earth itself.
All six combatants halted.
The Anino ng mga Anito stepped back—not in fear, but in reverence. They had awaited this moment.
Inside the ascending palace, ancient wards glowed—circles of divine script revolving like celestial orbits. The Heart pulsed brighter, nourished by every ounce of unleashed power.
Bathala Incarnate raised its head toward the sky. Magwayen's waves arched upward. Kan-Laon's coils traced a spiral around the rising palace. Their combined light illuminated the storm, transforming night into something sacred and formidable.
The air thickened, thunder trapped in its own echo.
Alon's lips curved into a knowing smile. "It's done."
Lakambini whispered, "The Heart awakens."
Dimagiba simply closed his eyes, satisfied.
Bathala Incarnate struck one final time—an upward swing that met no enemy, only the sky.
The shockwave ascended into the heavens, wrapping the palace in a violet halo.
Magwayen's tides solidified beneath it, supporting its rise.
Kan-Laon's coils tightened, bending time to smooth its ascent.
The storm fell silent.
Far above, Rico Velasquez's chopper trembled in the turbulence.
"—It's ascending—New Malacañang is lifting… the entire core is glowing—this isn't an evacuation; it's an awakening!"
Static consumed his transmission as the camera captured its final image—the palace suspended in the clouds, framed by divine light.
On the ground, the divine entities stood still—Bathala Incarnate, Magwayen Ascendant, Kan-Laon Imperium—gazing at the sky where their adversaries had vanished.
The city burned beneath them, rivers of molten glass tracing the scars of battle.
The Heart pulsed again—deep, alive, deliberate.
And the Anino ng mga Anito, within the ascending palace, smiled.
They had taken what they needed.
The energy surge was complete.
The Heart now glowed with a purpose only they understood. New Malacañang disappeared into the storm's crown, leaving behind a silence heavier than war.