Shanamon, the current avatar of the god of destruction, was nearing the end of his yoga session when they came for him. With a grunt of disapproval, he unfolded himself from the Padmasana pose and greeted his visitors.
“Soryasu urgently seeks our help.” Inatar, avatar of justice, valiantly tried not to be distracted by Shanamon’s glistening form.
“Is this about the Dyson Sphere?” Shanamon gestured to the living area with one hand while wiping himself with a towel with another. “They actually managed to complete the device?”
“Complete it, test it, and then satisfactorily run it.” Gunyong, avatar of knowledge, graciously accepted the glass of juice Shanamon offered him. “As you know, the function of this Dyson Sphere is to harness the entirety of the Sun’s radiant energy, and then re-purpose it to the needs of our followers. Soryasu would have attended to it herself when the construction of the thing began, but she didn’t think them capable of accomplishing their goal – until it was too late. As we speak, the Dyson Sphere is draining the vitality of Soryasu at an alarming rate, such that she cannot deal with it alone.”
Shanamon chuckled bitterly.
“You still call them followers? They stopped worshiping us millennia ago. And they stopped caring for our creations and our teachings well before that.”
“Not all of them, though.” Ora, avatar of war, gleefully munched on her piece of fruit cake. “It may be tempting to think of them as one body of beings, but they are still very divided in their opinions and attitudes. Including towards this Dyson Sphere.”
“Regardless, our plan is to bring down the device,” declared Inatar. “So as to earn their respect rather than their ire, we should do it in a single, swift strike. Gunyong has identified a space station on the device’s perimeter that is a structural weak point. If we bring this down, the Dyson Sphere will collapse into the Sun soon after.”
“The space station is heavily fortified though,” said Ora, “It will take a small group of us to break though all their automated defenses.”
“And so you came to me.” Shanamon smiled grimly. “If a fellow deity is in need, who am I to refuse their call for help? You can count me in, friends. Let’s do Gods’ work!”
*
Due to its proximity to the Sun, only robots and sufficiently augmented cyborgs were able to occupy the security posts around the Dyson Sphere. And since the terrestrials still didn’t completely trust AI to handle things on their own, a lone cyborg named Fh1L was currently stationed at the security post in sector MZ-20E, along with an AI companion who was currently reporting something odd...
“You’re sure it’s not one of the asteroids we’ve been tracking, Rozer2920?” asked Fh1L.
“Affirmative. Its velocity vector doesn’t match any known asteroids. Attempting to communicate with them now.”
If Fh1L was capable of sweating, they would have done so as Rozer2920 relayed the standard warning to intruders.
Fh1L was capable of sitting down and placing a hand on their agape jaw. They did this after hearing Inatar’s response:
“We are divine retribution. If you value whatever variant of life you have, move away from the Dyson Sphere. Now.”
*
The space station was surrounded by electromagnetic shields, laser turrets, mobile sentry-bots, and all manner of other defenses. A planet-scale army would have been decimated before they could even break through the first force field.
The four avatars embraced the challenge.
Ora swung her war-club Wahakka with no regard for safety as she whaled away at the force fields, drawing the attention of the more aggressive fortifications to her bulky form. Gunyong craftily darted around Ora, twirling his bladed staff Gundao and using the reflective sides of its blade to deflect the oncoming lasers back at their sources. Inatar stayed far from the thick of it, sniping sentry-bots with deadly accuracy from afar with her bow Maanna. And Shanamon?
He danced.
This was Shamanat, the dance of destruction. All objects that he touched with his staff Trishang were eventually destroyed. All projectiles that sought to harm him uselessly flew past as he deftly avoided them. Only a divine being could so gracefully wreak devastation as he was doing now.
“Showoff!” cackled Ora, the second force field breaking down from her assault.
“Would you like me to stop?” asked Shanamon, a mess of drones exploding behind him.
“NO!” blurted out Inatar before composing herself. “I mean, their first wave of reinforcements is almost here. We can’t stop yet.”
“The station should be exposed once we have dealt with them.” Gunyong readied Gundao for the next clash. “Would you like to do the honors, Shanamon?”
“Do you have to ask?”
*
“What the hell is going on there, Fh1L!”
“It’s... an Act of Gods,” finished Fh1L lamely.
“Bullshit! They must be aliens we should have discovered by now! Someone’s going to – wait, is that a nuke they’re firing at the station?”
“I don’t think so, HQ. Nukes don’t have that many arms.”
*
Summoning all his cosmic strength into a single glowing fist, Shanamon chanted a rumbling mantra as he streaked towards the exposed space station:
“Your fate has arrived.
As your existence ends, another shall begin.
Behold my wrath in all its divine glory:
PASHUPAT PUNCH!”
With a single blow, the space station was vaporized. Waves of unfettered destruction smashed through the vicinity in all directions. A nova of light scorched through the star system. Moments later, the fractured Dyson Sphere succumbed to the Sun’s gravity and collapsed into its fiery bowels, moaning silently in anguish.
*
“Not very subtle, are you, Shanamon?” asked Soryasu as the four checked up on her.
“Subtlety isn’t good for commanding respect,” replied Shanamon. “Will you be alright?”
“In time, yes,” Soryasu gulped down the concoction Inatar gave her. “Thank you all for your aid. Serves me right for underestimating our followers.”
“And serves them right for underestimating us.”
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