Calixto, the god of beauty, layed on the ground, his once shimmering silver hair sprawled out and tangled amongst the bloodied earth. Defeated God refused to give up, even when he could barely lift his head up. Clearly, this fight was over long time ago.

His porcelain skin was marred with deep cuts and bleeding wounds that continued to seep and expand across the ground. Although he was clearly on the brink of giving up, his broken ego clung desperately to the remnants of his once-untouchable elegance.

With each labored breath, his pale lips parted and a soft, melodic whisper escaped: "I haven't lost... Not yet."