Medusa stands alone atop the highest altar, her serpentine hair writhing, eyes blazing with triumph. Behind her, devastation reigns—every god of Olympus felled by her vengeful might. At her feet, the battered form of Athena lies motionless, a symbol of her final conquest.
"You have destroyed Olympus, but the most powerful of the gods is the Christian god," Athena whispers, her voice trembling with her last breath.
With a merciless glare, Medusa crushes Athena's head beneath her heel, the sound echoing across the hollow peaks.
Unseen, Medusa slithers past the gates, her form cloaked in forbidden magic. One by one, she dispatches the angels who dare cross her path, petrifying them with a glance, leaving marble statues as dreadful reminders. The heavens tremble at her approach, their golden glow dimming with each fallen guardian.
Virgin Mary[/@ch_3] kneels in prayer before a shimmering pool. The air sparkles, perfumed with lilies, and hope lingers in every corner.]
Medusa materializes, her eyes locked on her sacred target. She chants a dark invocation, her voice twisting reality, and the very light bends as Virgin Mary is torn from Paradise, her cries echoing as she vanishes into Medusa’s lair. Before departing, Medusa casts a petrifying spell upon the angelic army, her message to Jesus delivered: come and face her if he wants his mother returned.
Jesus and God descend, their faces stricken with horror at the total annihilation. Everywhere they turn, their creations stand lifeless, stricken by Medusa’s power. In the center of this devastation, Medusa appears, the Virgin Mary trembling at her feet.
"Welcome, saviors. Too late, too weak. You’ve walked right into my trap," she mocks, her laughter ringing cold and cruel.
The stench—like aged cheese—immobilizes Jesus and God, their divine strength faltering. Medusa presses her foot upon Virgin Mary's face, the holy figure dissolving instantly under the toxic touch. Rage overtakes God and Jesus, and they surge forward to challenge Medusa.
"You thought yourselves untouchable, but now your glory melts beneath my feet," she sneers, pressing her foot to Jesus’ face, who melts away in agony.
Turning to God, Medusa mocks him, her voice dripping with scorn.
"Your world will vanish, crushed by my power,"
She suffocates God with her foot, and he too dissolves, the heavens shuddering with the loss.
Medusa ascends to the throne, her bare feet stretched out, toes fanned with pride. She gazes over her domain, a smile of pure satisfaction curling her lips. The heavens are silent except for the lingering aroma, a new symbol of her reign. With every breath, she savors her ultimate triumph—her feet at rest above all creation.
