It is shaping up to be a dark, dark night. Heavy clouds blot out the stars, and the moon is nowhere to be seen. A mournful wind blows across the land, shrieking across the plains, heading toward the mountains in the distance. People with bad knees and animals can feel the pressure in the air—a storm is brewing, a storm so bad that Greece had not experienced one like it for the past two hundred years. As the rain and lightning start, a swirling vortex forms, sucking in the nearby clouds. It grows larger and larger and spins faster and faster with every passing second, and people watching the vortex descend upon the land gasp in fear. As the tornado touches down, it starts toward the distant mountains, toward Mount Olympus.

A man stands on a balcony near the top of Olympus. He stands regally, arms folded across his chest, watching the cyclone make its way toward the mountain. Rain splatters off his ornate cloak, and water drips off the scepter that he carries in his right hand.

The whirlwind hits the balcony, engulfing the man within it. However, instead of sucking both man and balcony into itself, the tornado instead starts to disperse. As the clouds clear and escape back to the sky, another man was left standing upon the balcony. He is dressed much more simply than the first, wearing a brown traveling cloak. However, there is no doubting this certain air the traveler has around him, for he also carries a golden rod in his hand. The two men greet each other, and turn around to go inside the mountain.

The interior of the mountain is sparsely furnished, with naught but four golden thrones placed around an ornate table in the middle of the large cavern. As the two men walk into the room, two of these thrones are already occupied. One of the occupants sits with a bowl of fruit, though interestingly enough, he only picks out the banana pieces to eat, for they are his favourite. His jeweled rod lies on the table, and he seems to give it little attention. The other individual sits quietly, playing with gold coins that he pulls out of a pouch. Unlike the other three, this man’s golden staff is nowhere to be seen.

Clink, clink, clink.

The one eating fruit looks up as the two men walked in, and address the newcomer: “Hell of an entrance as always.”

The traveler chuckles. “Works great if you’re in a rush, you know.”

The man playing with the coins doesn’t even look up.

Clink, clink, clink.



The traveler sits down in his throne, and then turns to the first, “Well, you called us all here for something. What is it?”

The first man sighs, regal cape fluttering on his shoulders. “I’ll make this short,” he said, “We’ve all know something is wrong. The constellations are disappearing. Greece is plagued by terrible times, and all of us are powerless to do anything about it.”

The traveler shifts uncomfortably in his seat, and whispers softly, “I can feel it as well. Our… power is not as it used to be. We’re losing order. Why can’t we maintain the balance?”

Clink, clink, clink.

The fruit bowl falls to the floor as a heavy fist slams into the table. “I will go teach those mortals how it is done. Leave it to me, I shall straighten out the world.”

The first man smiles slightly, “Heh, that’s what you said three years ago… then you got married. Afterward, your power level...” He clears his throat, pauses for a second, and then continues, “Gentlemen, we know what must be done, though all of us have been refusing to admit it for the last few years…”

The traveler angrily breaks in at this point, “No, no, no! We swore that there would only be four, four I say!”

The first man continues unperturbed. “Don’t you remember? There was a fifth throne forged, a long time ago. It was meant for that dagger-wielding assassin, after he toppled our resident coin-flipper long ago during that dreary March.”

At this, the man playing with the coins seems to stiffen, but still chooses not to utter anything.

Clink, clink, clink.

The third man picks the bowl of fruit back up. “Now now, even though that assassin toppled him from the skies, he still couldn’t hold it up after that, and so as I have said all these years, he is undeserving of the throne.”

The kingly man held up his hand. “I wasn’t thinking about that one... There are two others that are more deserving of this throne, Flashius and Jaedos.”

As the third man eats a piece of banana, he muses out loud, “Both of them have been around for a while, and each has had his ups and downs, though to be a god one must be uncontested…”

The emperor smiled. “Exactly. Fate has deemed that there will be one last showdown tomorrow night between Flashius and Jaedos at the Arena of Seoulinete, one that will finally determine who is the stronger of the two. Whoever wins there… will be the one to inherit the fifth throne.”

The cloaked traveler grumbles, but concedes the point. “I guess… it’s our only way of maintaining the balance.”

The bananas have all been eaten. “I concur with the two of you… now I guess we’ll just have to watch and wait for the outcome now…”

Clink, clink, clink.

The four gods walk out to the balcony, looking for the city below. Hundreds of miles away, Seoulinete is completely quiet, though its inhabitants have no clue of what's to come...

The MSL has been over and done now, and no matter what happened in the games, I'm pretty sure not many people predicted the actual results correctly. Here's Arrian and motbob with the results and summaries of the games played.

Game One: Triathlon - VOD
+ Show Spoiler [Battle Report] +

Game Two: Odd-Eye 2 VOD
+ Show Spoiler [Battle Report] +

Game Three: Match Point - VOD
+ Show Spoiler [Battle Report] +

Game Four: Fighting Spirit - VOD
+ Show Spoiler [Battle Report] +

Game Five: Triathlon - VOD
+ Show Spoiler [Battle Report] +

The battle is fierce, and the crowd cheers as the two forces clash. Swords strike, shields shatter, and blood spills, wetting the sands. Soon enough, Flashius and Jaedos enter the battle personally. As the two start to circle, the armies cease to fight. All eyes are upon the two combatants, and thousands of mouths, belonging to citizens and warriors alike, hold their breaths as the first strikes are exchanged. The battle is fierce, and as a form of fighting it is a work of art. The two best swordsmen of Greece, locked together in combat, know that the outcome only has room for one person standing. And the crowd knows it too. That warrior victorious will be the one to rule Seoulinete, he shall be the one to finally lift the city from darkness. The thunderstorm continues to rage overhead, and with each strike of swords, a lightning bolt emanates from the darkened skies. The weather slowly grows colder, and all signs point toward a ferocious blizzard. The rest of Greece begins to freeze, but the Seoulinete arena is ablaze, lit up by light, by energy, and so the blizzard, for now, cannot touch it. The sound of metal on metal rings through the air; lightning bolts slash through the sky, scorching the atmosphere.

The crowd cheers.

While the fight is chaotic and furious, after a while the outcome is determined, long before the battle is finished. With a quick feint, Flashius cuts through Jaedos’ sword, shearing the blade in half. While Jaedos continues to defend for a while longer, soon enough he finds his neck at the tip of Flashius’ blade.

The crowd shouts and hollers.

Flashius looks toward the masses, searching for the judgment.

The thumbs point downward. Jaedos is to be spared.

As Jaedos drops his broken weapon, Flash sheathes his own sword. He helps Jaedos to his feet, and the two embrace, as brothers would. Shortly after, Jaedos departs the field, and Flashius is left all alone, surrounded by thousands of his soon-to-be-subjects.

The crowd goes wild.



The patch of sky above the Arena clears, and dazzling light shines down upon the Arena, lighting up the night sky like day. As all the people of Seoulinete are shielding themselves from the blinding glare, they do not notice the four individuals descending from the sky, walking on the air.

They look like men, they walk and talk like men. But they are much, much more than man, for they are the gods. As all of Seoulinete sit, blinded, in their seats, the gods approach Flashius. While all four have a sort of air around them, the one walking in front stands out above all. He is regal, a king amongst kings. He is Limyos, the ruler of the gods, the Emperor of the sky. On his right walks the wise Nathenos, the rider of storms, and on his left, Choimeter, the king of the harvest. Trailing behind the three walks Ichthys, still playing with his gold.

Flashius, not affected at all by the light, recognizes the gods for who they are, and bows deeply. After the four return Flashius’ bow, Limyos begins to speak.

“Flashius, dark times are upon Greece, and we all know it. There is… something amiss in the air, something that we have not been able to combat.”
“But you, Flashius, have the power to right all the wrongs,” speaks Nathenos. “You alone can save Greece from eternal darkness.”

“This is why we have come before you today,” says Choimeter. “We have come to…”

Clink, clink, clink.

Limyos finishes the sentence. “…To turn you into a god.”

The crowd, still yet unable to see but able to hear, lets out a collective gasp. Then come the mixed responses. A few are ecstatic, coming from people that are happy to see that Flashius will be elevated to godhood. The large majority of Seoulinetians is less enthusiastic, though. They are thinking about their city, and how Flashius would have to desert Seoulinete in order to reign from Olympus.

The Emperor gestures, and motions for Flashius to look skyward. A final blinding flash of light emanates from the sky, and then afterward everybody can see it. “Look, Flashius. That is your throne, the fifth throne that was long ago forged, in preparation for the Times of Chaos after the fall of Ichthys.



Flashius looks at the throne, and looks at the four gods. They stand there, smiling, beckoning for him to ascend to the heavens.

Flashius starts walking forward.

And then Flashius lowers his gaze, and stares at his men, the faithful troops that have fought with him for years and years now. He turns around in a circle, looking at the citizens in the stands, the citizens who he had pledged to save. They are all looking at him, telling him not to go.

Flashius falters.

He looks at Jaedos, who has reappeared on the battlefield. Jaedos shakes his head, and Flashius understands. Though he has fought for glory, for godhood, his real duty lies with the people. The people do not want Flashius to ascend to Olympus. They want him here, on earth, to lead them.

Flashius stops moving, and turns to address the gods.

“I’m sorry, Limyos. I cannot accept this, for my place is here with my people. For now, I shall remain on earth. I will watch over Seoulinete, and from here I shall bring the rest of Greece back to the light, and back to the peace.”

Limyos nods his head. “While we do not like this decision, Flashius, we are ready to honor it. But beware: this throne offered now may now go to another, another in the future. Are you willing to take this risk?”

“I am.”

The crowd. Goes. Wild.

Nathenos sighs. “Then, I suppose our business here is finished. Farewell, Flashius, ruler of Seoulinete. We shall be watching you with interest.”

And with another flash of light, the gods are gone, though the light remains. Darkness has turned into day, and the blizzard that had been assaulting Greece has vanished.

Flashius smiles. He makes his way outside of the Arena, and it is there that he stands, surveying the city below him. As he turns his focus outward, he idly flips a golden coin, one that Ichthys had dropped. The sun had risen over Greece, the darkness was receding.