Rage boiled within Chlorine. Unfathomable, Tatanic rage. This pitiable insect, this hirrible specimen that dared to call herself divine, she dared to think that he couldn't take her blade at a moments notice? He was the antagonist here! He was the vile, the villain, the dark taint that kills worlds and strangles heroes. He was the beast beneath the childrens beds, the monster in the closet. And he was active.
If he could take just one of these insects with him he would be happy. He would walk deaths road, but he resolved not to walk it alone. He would trod on this insect every step of the way to Valhalla. He would see her bleed out with his last breath.
"If I cannot separate you from your blade, wench," He snarled, every syllable physically dripping venom in this cavern of physical thought. "Then I will kill you both. You will feel the fire of Chlorine, the last and the greatest of titans. You will burn, Alcinoe! BURN!"
And with that, Chlorine burst into unholy fire, searing, burning, scarring Alcinoes face with it's fury. The Overgoddess' cave managed to pass with little more than a singe, but Alcinoe was flung through time and space into the world of the gods, at the foot of her tribes chief. Charred and burnt, and inch from death, Alcinoe lay at the foot of mortals.
Of Chlorine, there was no sign.
************
The road was empty, devoid of anything defining or strange. Non-descript trees lined the path, partially obscuring a blank, featureless field. A soft wooden sign stood by the side of the road. It pointed northward, the painted letters proclaiming the place "Othrys".
Chlorine seemed stunned, but unharmed. Birds chittered in the trees as he stirred, looking around. When he saw no sign of trodden goddesses, he let out such a wail as had never been heard before. He was dead, and the goddess was not. He had failed his quest. There would be no more killing.
Depressed beyond measure, he set off down the road.
He would never stop walking.