《The God of Underworld》


 Chapter 1 - 1: Hades

    He jerked himself awake, breathing heavily as a soul splitting headache assaulted him.


    He grasped his head tightly, almost screaming from the pain he is currently feeling.


    And then, it hit him.


    Memories.


    Knowledge.


    Experience.


    The identity and life that wasn''t his flooded his mind as if he was the one who lived through it.


    He almost forgot his own identity due to the massive amount of information that poured into his mind.


    He is Eren Forger, an average university student.


    Yet he is also Hades, eldest son of the Titan Cronus and Rhea, the King of Underworld, the Lord of Spirit, and the God of the Dead.


    Two lives.


    One from the modern era, and the other from a myth almost no one believed to be real.


    Yet he is here, in this body, in this period. As Hades.


    "...fuck."


    From his memories, he and his siblings are currently hiding in Mount Dikte after they successfully escaped from Cronus with the help of Zeus.


    He doesn''t know much time they have left, but it probably won''t be too long before Cronus found this place and start the war.


    His siblings, specifically Zeus and Poseidon, were gathering allies. His sisters, Hera, Hestia, and Demeter, has been doing all the internal affairs and logistics.


    He, however, remained recluse and distant. Barely communicating with his siblings and almost always on his own.


    "But that''s fine...it''s better this way."


    At least with this, he can train silently to prepare for the worst. He can''t rely on his knowledge about mythology alone, who knows what changes had happened, and who knows if what was written on mythology is true or not.


    He sat up, crossed legs and started to look through the memories and knowledge he had received.


    At this moment, Hades wasn''t as strong as in the myths. He has yet to take the crown of being the King of Underworld. He wasn''t the Lord of Spirits yet. And most importantly, he has yet to receive his Divine Weapon, the helmet.


    Truthfully, he finds that weapon quite lackluster compared to Zeus'' Thunderbolt and Poseidon''s Trident.


    He feels like those two brothers of his are always conspiring to keep him at the bottom of power.


    But that''s besides the point.


    Currently, Hades only has authority over shadow, darkness, curses, and spirits.


    It may sound a lot, but in his "prime", Hades also has authority over the dead, the underworld, funeral rites, necromancy, wealth, mining, agriculture, dreams, and earthly fertility.


    But those were all for the future.


    "Shadow...spirits..." Hades muttered, thinking of a certain aura farming character with power over shadows.


    Thinking of trying it, Hades used his power as the shadows writhed and deformed, turning into a figure akin to a medieval knight.


    However, it remained motionless. It only moved when Hades personally used his power to make it move.


    "But if I use this..." Hades opened his palm, using his dominion over spirits to pull an unknown, wandering soul from the afterlife. "...so this is a soul."


    A small blue flame flickered on his palm, with a gentle flick, the flame went inside the shadow knight.


    Moments later, blue flames burned from the "eyes" of the knight as it immediately stood straight. S~ea??h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Hades observed the shadow knight, watching as the ethereal blue flames within its form flickered with an eerie light. It was stable, obedient, and followed his silent command like a marionette bound to its master.


    "Interesting..." he muttered, his gaze shifting to his open palm. He had tested his dominion over shadows and spirits, but he needed something more. Something to enhance his combat capabilities.


    He raised his other hand, focusing his divine essence. The darkness around him responded, writhing and converging into his palm. The black mass condensed, taking form¡ªlong, slender, deadly. A spear.


    But a mere shadow construct wasn''t enough. He needed to refine it, to make it as sharp and unyielding as divine steel. Reaching deep into his inherited knowledge, he infused the spear with divine energy, solidifying it.


    The weight was perfect. The balance¡ªflawless.


    Memories from his past life resurfaced. He had practiced Kali, the Filipino martial art specializing in blades, sticks, and spears.


    The techniques, the muscle memory¡ªit all returned as if he had never left his past life behind.


    He spun the spear in his hand, feeling its flow, its potential. Then, without hesitation, he lunged forward.


    A swift thrust¡ªprecise.


    A sweeping strike¡ªcontrolled.


    A spinning counter¡ªunstoppable.


    The shadow knight moved toward him, acting as an opponent. With a flick of his wrist, Hades maneuvered the spear with the same efficiency he once wielded a rattan stick.


    Each movement was sharp, refined¡ªlethal.


    A downward strike shattered the knight''s form into writhing shadows. It was weak, incomplete, but a step in the right direction.


    Hades exhaled, gripping the spear tighter.


    He wasn''t as strong as he would be in myth, but that didn''t matter.


    Power wasn''t just given. It was taken.


    He would forge his own path, shape his own legend.


    And when the war against Cronus comes, he would be ready.


    Hades took a deep breath. The first shadow knight had fallen too easily. It wasn''t enough of a challenge. He needed more.


    Raising his hand, he called forth the darkness once more. The shadows slithered and twisted around him, taking shape. One, two, three¡ªno, several knights emerged from the abyss, their forms flickering like dying embers before stabilizing into solid silhouettes.


    With another wave of his hand, he pulled forth lost souls from the afterlife, binding them to the shadows. The moment the blue flames ignited within their hollow eyes, the knights came to life.


    This time, they did not stand idly.


    They attacked.


    The first lunged at him with a crude shadow-forged sword, its speed surprising. Hades barely had time to raise his spear, parrying the strike.


    The force behind the blow rattled his bones, but he gritted his teeth and pivoted, redirecting the knight''s momentum before countering with a thrust.


    The spear pierced through the knight''s chest, dispersing its form momentarily before it reformed a few feet away.


    The second knight closed in from behind. Hades spun, using the motion to bring his spear up in a sweeping arc. The tip grazed the knight''s helm, sending it staggering, but before he could follow up, the third and fourth knights struck together.


    One slashed at his side, the other thrusting directly at his torso.


    Hades reacted on instinct, twisting his body and angling his spear to deflect both attacks. But he wasn''t fast enough¡ªhe felt the sting of a blade cutting into his shoulder.


    Not deep, but enough to make him hiss in pain.


    They were improving. Or perhaps, he was simply not good enough yet.


    "Again," he growled, tightening his stance.


    He charged, spear thrusting forward like a viper''s fang. A knight dodged, but he twisted his grip, using the shaft to bash it across the head.


    Another came from the side¡ªHades sidestepped, driving the butt of his spear into its torso before following up with a downward stab.


    The shadows dissipated, but they would return with his command.


    He moved fluidly, recalling the lessons from his past life. Kali was all about adaptability, precision, and control. He wasn''t just swinging a weapon¡ªhe was directing it with intent.


    A knight attempted a downward slash. Hades raised his spear horizontally, catching the blade before twisting and pushing it aside.


    In the same motion, he spun the spear in his hands and delivered a quick jab to its exposed flank, dispersing it.


    Three remained.


    Sweat dripped down his brow, but his movements were smoother now. He could feel the improvement, the slight increase in efficiency.


    The remaining knights advanced cautiously.


    He smirked.


    He lowered his stance, spear poised like a coiled serpent.


    "Come."


    With that, they attacked.

 Chapter 2 - 2: Siblings

    Six months later.


    Island of Crete, Mount Dikte.


    The Olympian siblings are resting under the shade of a tree grown by Demeter, discussing about their plans and any events that happened recently.


    "Prometheus have already sworn an oath that he would aid us in the war, that is one less Titan to worry about." Said Zeus, a mighty being who stood at 7ft in height, with a bulging muscular body that would put body builders to shame. He has a shoulder length blond hair, with sky blue eyes and chiseled face.


    "Unfortunately, Oceanus have decided to remain neutral in this war." Said Poseidon, similar to Zeus, he''s a mighty figure that stood at 7ft in height, with a more defined and muscular body than Zeus. He has a short, messy blue hair and striking emerald green eyes.


    "Most female Titans also chose to remain neutral." Said Hera, a regal woman whose divine beauty could eclipse the sun and moon. She has a long silver hair tied by golden wreath, with deep emotionless and calculative golden eyes. sea??h th§× n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Demeter.... Demeter didn''t join in on the conversation. She was merely sitting on the corner, gently caressing a flower she had planted.


    Demeter is a very beautiful and mature woman with long wavy golden honey colored hair and orange eyes. She is also very well endowed, with her Greek chiton emphasizing her great figure.


    "...Hades haven''t come out of his dwelling for six months, I''m getting worried." Said Hestia, staring at the cave that Hades used as a residence.


    Hestia is a beautiful young girl with long black hair and deep blue eyes. She''s quite short and petite, but is very well endowed, her figure not losing to Demeter at all.


    Zeus snorted, "Leave him be. As long as he doesn''t drag us down."


    He was annoyed with this brother of his who keeps to himself and does his own thing without even asking for his opinion.


    In Zeus'' mind, as the one who saved them, shouldn''t they consider him as their leader? Hades acting on his own just violates his sense of authority and leadership.


    "He''s a coward. All he does is hide in his cave!" Poseidon growled in anger, clenching his fist.


    "I''m sure he has his reasons," Hestia smiled, trying to calm her brothers.


    Hera''s cold eyes stared at Hades'' cave. Her face look thoughtful for a moment before she stood up, gaining the attention of her siblings.


    "I''ll go see him." She declared, startling her siblings. "We need all the help we can get if we want to win the war against the Titans."


    Zeus stood up, trying to stop her. "You don''t have to bother with him, we don''t need that coward''s help. I alone am enough!"


    Hera gazed at him coldly, "Move. Arrogance won''t help us win. If you alone is enough, then there would be no point in finding help."


    "Uh..." Zeus has no response. In the end, he can only step aside and let Hera walk towards Hades'' cave.


    Poseidon clicked his tongue, feeling distaste at possibly meeting that cowardly brother of his.


    The siblings watched as Hera neared the cave and stood at the entrance.


    Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the cave, her golden eyes narrowing as the light from outside faded into darkness.


    Immediately, a chill ran down her spine.


    The deeper she walked, the colder it became. The air was thick, heavy with an unnatural dread that sent shivers through even her divine form. Shadows twisted and shifted unnaturally along the walls, whispering in voices too faint to understand.


    She pressed forward, ignoring the eerie sensation clawing at her instincts. Hades had always been strange, but it seems like he became even stranger.


    Finally, after a long time of walking, she saw him.


    At the center of the cavern, amidst shattered stone and scorched earth, was Hades.


    His once short silver hair, the same color as hers, was now an unkempt mess, damp with sweat and clinging to his forehead.


    His chiton was tattered, revealing a body hardened by relentless training¡ªscarred, bruised, yet unmistakably stronger than before.


    He was panting, one knee on the ground, his left arm limp at his side. In his right hand, he clutched a black spear, its tip embedded in the cavern floor, barely keeping him upright.


    The ground around him was carved with deep gashes, and traces of lingering dark energy flickered like dying embers.


    She took a step closer. "Hades."


    His breathing hitched at the sound of her voice. Slowly, he lifted his head, his piercing steel-gray eyes locking onto hers.


    For a moment, Hera saw something that made her chest tighten.


    Exhaustion. Struggle.


    But beneath it all¡ªpower.


    Raw, untamed power simmering just beneath the surface, restrained only by sheer will.


    She had seen the might of Zeus and the force of Poseidon, but none of them can compare to this dreadful power radiating from Hades.


    Like an ant about to be crushed by a tsunami.


    That''s what it feels to be stared at by Hades.


    But then, that feeling vanished as Hades exhaled sharply, forcing himself to stand despite the clear strain on his body. He leaned against his spear, his grip tightening.


    "Hera¡­" His voice was hoarse, rough as if he hadn''t spoken in days. "What do you want?"


    Hera took in his state, the wreckage around him, and the oppressive aura lingering in the air. She crossed her arms. "Hestia is getting worried. You haven''t left your abode for six months."


    Hades scoffed weakly, "I''m training."


    Hera''s gaze swept over the cavern once more. The state made it look not just a training ground, but a battlefield entirely. It feels like a war has been fought here.


    "You need to rest," she stated.


    Hades snorted, though it sounded more like a dry rasp. "Not yet. I''m not that fragile"


    Silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant echoes of dripping water.


    Hera studied him carefully. Six months ago, Hades was overshadowed by both Zeus and Poseidon. Although his strength is far superior to her and her sisters, it is still below that of their brothers.


    But now...


    She exhaled, stepping closer, her expression unreadable. "Zeus and Poseidon think you''re a coward."


    Hades didn''t react. He simply turned away, pulling his spear from the ground. "Let them."


    Hera frowned. "Don''t you want to prove them wrong? Where is your pride and dignity as a god?"


    That made Hades pause. He looked over his shoulder, his eyes colder than before. "Pride and dignity is meaningless before power."


    Hera''s lips pressed together. "Is that so... Then you''re a fool."


    Hades blinked, caught off guard. "...What?"


    She took a step forward, "Gods rule not just through raw power but through the recognition of our supremacy. Our pride reinforces our status, ensuring that we are acknowledged as divine beings worthy of worship, respect, and obedience. A god who lacks pride is weak."


    Hades turned fully to face her, gripping his spear. "That is such a useless emotion. I don''t need to glorify myself for self satisfaction. Power is absolute, any humiliation will be erased by superior strength. You can feed that useless pride to the dogs."


    Hera narrowed her eyes, "For gods, pride and dignity are not mere emotions; they are fundamental aspects of our power, identity, and function within the cosmos. Without them, our influence weakens, our worship diminishes, and our divine authority crumbles. A god who loses pride risks losing everything¡ªincluding their place in the heavens. That''s why, you must not let anyone trample over your pride and dignity. Crush those who do so."


    Hades stared at her in shock and confusion. "...are you saying I should go and crush our brothers?"


    "No," she shook her head, "Just show them your superiority. After all, those who are inferior must follow those who are superior. That''s the natural order of the world. I followed Zeus simply because he is superior. But you are better than him, Hades."


    Yes, just like how Uranos ruled the cosmos. Followed by Cronus after him. They were all superior than their siblings so they naturally ruled the cosmos as the others can only bow their heads.


    Hades didn''t answer. He just stared at her, unreadable.


    Hera stepped closer, lowering her voice. "You''re stronger than before. I can see that. You are a better fit to be the leader than Zeus."


    "I have no interest in ruling the heavens or anything like that." He clenched his fists, "I want power. Power so great I could beat anyone."


    Hera tilted her head slightly, surprised by his answer.


    For a long moment, they simply stood there, the weight of unspoken words settling between them.


    Then, Hades sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. "I''ll come out and greet mother and Hestia from time to time. But I''ll stay here and train."


    "Very well." Hera nodded.


    A long silence stretched between them. Then, slowly, Hades straightened his posture, rolling his stiff shoulder.


    "¡­So?" He asked. "Do you need anything else?"


    "Nothing." She turned around to climb back up to the surface, but paused before looking over her shoulder. "Clean yourself up first. You look like a corpse."


    Hades let out an annoyed grunt as Hera stepped out, leaving Hades alone once more.


    For a while, he remained still, staring at the cavern wall.


    Then, with a deep breath, he tightened his grip on his spear.


    And hundreds of shadow knights emerged from the darkness.

 Chapter 3 - 3: Chaos and Rhea

    Although he promised to visit from time to time, it took Hades another month before he decided to come out of his cave.


    He got so engrossed in training and feeling himself get stronger that he completely forgot about the outside world.


    In fact, if he didn''t find fighting with the shadow knights useless as he can no longer get stronger through them, he would''ve chosen to train some more.


    Truthfully, he can no longer get stronger from fighting the shadow knights since Hera visited him, no matter how hard he tries.


    However, his training wasn''t without gains, as he managed to take a glimpse of ¡¸¡¡¡¹ , well he can''t quite say its name, so Hades simply referred to it as Chaos.


    From his brief contact, he learned that Chaos is a metaphysical location that acts as the "force" that exists at the top of all theories in the infinite dimensions, as well as the source of all events and phenomena in the universe.


    Chaos exists outside of time, it stores and archives information of all possibilities and events, past, present, and future, of the world.


    He managed to reach that place by his sheer will and thirst for power.


    Yes, his thirst for power was so great even his own limits were broken.


    Pain was irrelevant. Weakness was nothing more than a temporary state¡ªone he refused to accept.


    Every failure, every loss, every moment of agony only fueled the fire within him. He was not content with what he had. He did not seek power for the sake of some grand ambition¡ªhe just needed it, like a drowning man craving for air.


    To be strong was not a desire. It was an absolute necessity.


    There was no hesitation in his mind, no second thoughts. If the world denied him strength, he would rip it from the hands of the world itself.


    If fate tried to shackle him, he would shatter destiny and forge his own path.


    He would crawl through the abyss, bleed upon the battlefield, and suffer through torment if it meant grasping the power he sought.


    And even if he stood alone against the infinite, he would face it with nothing but his will¡ªunyielding, unbreakable, unstoppable.


    Because he was not meant to kneel.


    He was meant to conquer.


    Just like that, that metaphysical force that seems to restrict him shattered and he soon found himself in chaos.


    There was no sky, no ground¡ªonly an endless, shifting void that twisted in impossible ways. Colors that had no names bled into each other, forming and dissolving in patterns that defied sanity.


    Space was not space.


    Time was not time.


    Existence trembled, flickering between creation and oblivion.


    And then, he saw them.


    Colossal entities of nightmarish proportions drifted through the abyss, their sheer scale beyond even divine comprehension.


    Some had forms that flickered between flesh, shadow, and cosmic fire. Others were nothing but writhing masses of tendrils, each the size of galaxies, curling and unraveling like an eternal heartbeat.


    One creature turned.


    It had no face¡ªonly an abyss where a face should be, an ever-consuming void that devoured the light of dying stars. Within that void, countless eyes blinked in and out of existence, staring yet unseeing.


    Another behemoth loomed in the distance, its very presence warping space around it.


    Its gargantuan limbs¡ªif they could even be called limbs¡ªextended across realities, twisting dimensions like threads in a loom.


    Its voice was not a sound, but a concept¡ªan overwhelming pressure that crushed the mind with meaning beyond understanding.


    And yet, despite their unfathomable might, they did not acknowledge him. To them, he was less than a speck of dust drifting through the currents of Chaos, insignificant and unworthy of notice.


    Even now, those things were still on his mind.


    "Hades?"


    Hades snapped out of his thought hearing a gentle female voice called out to him.


    It was his mother, Rhea the Titaness of Motherhood. A beautiful woman that exudes this aura of gentleness and motherly love.


    She has long silky black hair tied in braids, wearing a white chiton that emphasized her great figure.


    Her eyes were mostly closed, and have this ever present smile on her face.


    Hades have never seen her open her eyes once.


    "Just thinking, mother." He said, continuing his walk with his mother whom he barely spent any time with.


    Rhea''s smile remained soft, patient, as she walked beside her son. She had always been a quiet presence, a figure of warmth in a world filled with cruelty and ambition.


    Hades had spent so long buried in training that he had almost forgotten what it felt like to simply exist without the weight of survival pressing down on him.


    They strolled through the mountain paths, the warm breeze carrying the scent of fresh earth and flowers. This was Demeter''s work¡ªlife blooming even in the hidden corners of the world.


    "You''ve changed," Rhea said after a moment, her voice as calm as the flowing river beside them.


    Hades glanced at her. "Have I?"


    She let out a soft chuckle. "You don''t hide from your siblings anymore. Before, you avoided them because you like to be alone. Now, you avoid them for a different reason."


    He remained silent.


    "Your aura¡­ it''s heavier now," she continued. "More refined. More dangerous."


    Hades exhaled, looking toward the horizon. "That''s a good thing, isn''t it?"


    Rhea stopped walking, turning to him fully. Her hands, warm and gentle, reached out to cup his face.


    "For the war? Perhaps. But for you? I''m not so sure." She tilted her head, as if searching for something behind his eyes. "Are you happy, my son?"


    Hades froze.


    Happy?


    The question was so simple, so painfully simple, that he had no answer. Had he ever thought about happiness? Since he arrived here, since he knew of what awaits him, his entire existence had been defined by survival, by preparing for the inevitable.


    The war was coming.


    His survival was all that mattered.


    Not to mention those creatures of horror he had seen, the various wars that will happen in the future thanks to his siblings was also lingering on his mind.


    He couldn''t rest peacefully knowing that one day, he might find his strength lacking and cannot resist whatever is to come.


    But as he looked into Rhea''s still-closed eyes, he knew that wasn''t the answer she wanted.


    So he gave her the only truth he could.


    "I don''t know," he admitted.


    Rhea sighed, brushing a stray strand of silver hair from his face, her touch lingering for just a moment longer before she let go.


    "You remind me of your father," she said softly, and Hades stiffened.


    He despised that comparison.


    "He was powerful," Rhea continued, as if sensing his tension. "But he was always looking over his shoulder, always preparing for an enemy, always afraid of losing what he had. He ruled everything but found no joy in any of it."


    Hades clenched his fists. "I''m not him."


    Rhea smiled again, but this time there was something sad in it.


    "Yes. Yes you aren''t." she whispered. "And I hope you don''t end up like him."


    They continued their walk in silence for a while, the rustling leaves and distant chirping of birds filling the space between them.


    The sun was beginning to set, casting golden hues across the mountains of Crete.


    Hades stole a glance at his mother. Despite everything, despite being the wife of a tyrant, despite being forced to give up her children to save them, despite knowing that war was on the horizon¡ªshe still carried that same gentle smile.


    How?


    "¡­You don''t resent him?" he finally asked.


    Rhea didn''t answer immediately. Instead, she stopped by a small stream, kneeling to let the cool water run over her fingers. "Your father?"


    Hades nodded. "After everything he''s done. To you. To us."


    Rhea exhaled softly, her expression unreadable. "Resentment¡­ is a chain, Hades. A heavy one."


    Hades frowned. "So you forgive him?" His voice came out sharper than he intended.


    Rhea shook her head. "No. But I refuse to let him define me. Or my happiness."


    She gazed at the flowing water, as if watching memories ripple beneath its surface. "Holding on to anger, to pain¡ªit makes you strong in the moment. But if you let it root too deep, it will consume you."


    Hades scoffed. "Strength is what we need right now."


    Rhea finally turned her head toward him, her eyes still closed but her presence felt.


    "And after the war?" she asked. "When you have all the power you seek, when you''ve conquered your enemies¡ªwhat then?"


    Hades opened his mouth, then shut it.


    He had no answer.


    "I saw you as a child, you know," Rhea continued, standing up. "Before he took you away. Before he...swallowed you and your siblings."


    Hades remained silent.


    "You were quiet. Observant. But you weren''t cold." She turned to face him fully, tilting her head slightly. "What happened to that boy?"


    He inhaled sharply. "He realized the world wasn''t kind."


    Rhea smiled, but this time it wasn''t a warm one. It was knowing. Sad.


    "You think strength is the answer to everything," she said.


    "It is."


    She shook her head. "No, my son. Strength is only a tool. The question is¡ªwhat will you use it for?"


    Hades tensed, his mind flashing back to the horrors he had seen in Chaos, the eldritch titans that paid him no mind, the sheer insignificance he had felt in their presence.


    And then to that memory where he was struggled as he was being swallowed by his own father.


    You ask what would he use his strength for?


    His fists clenched. The answer was simple.


    "To make sure I never feel powerless again," he finally said. S§×ar?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Rhea sighed, walking past him. As she did, she gently touched his arm.


    "I hope, one day, you find another answer."


    And with that, she left him standing there¡ªalone with his thoughts, staring into the setting sun.


    He remained still for a few moments, before clicking his tongue.


    "Sorry mother, but my answer will never change."

 Chapter 4 - 4: Domain

    Hades was back in his cave. Although the words of his mother did affect him, but he didn''t let it affect his training.


    He wanted strength. He wanted power. Happiness and anything else can come later once he obtained enough strength.


    For another six months, he trained with spear, swords, and unarmed combat, refining the martial arts Kali that he had learned in his past life.


    He learned it as a sport back in highschool, but now he had turned it into a deadly and practical martial arts that is used to kill enemies as fast as possible.


    He had refined his authority over darkness and shadow, causing his power to grow exponentially.


    He can summon up to ten thousand shadow knights now, each of them possesses strength comparable to Divine Spirits, with some having the strength of a Minor God.


    Speaking of, gods do have their own divine rankings.


    1. Demigods


    2. Divine Spirits


    3. Minor Gods


    4. Major Gods S§×ar?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    5. Elder Gods


    6. Supreme Gods


    7. Primordial Gods


    Currently, Hades possess the power of an Elder God. He only lacks a fundamental domain before he can completely reach the level of a Supreme God.


    In fact, if he utilized all of his powers, he can stand his ground against Supreme Gods.


    Cronus, their father, is someone at the level of a Supreme God. But with the help of his divine weapon, the scythe, he can effectively fight even weaker Primordials.


    As he is now, Hades is far too weak to even think of fighting Cronus.


    Still, he was far more powerful than his brothers. Even though all three of them are at the level of Elder Gods, there still exist a massive gap that puts him heads and shoulders above Zeus and Poseidon.


    If we put it on numbers, a level 100 is considered an Elder God, but a level 999 is also an Elder God.


    Hades, at this moment, is level 999, while his brothers are still at level 100.


    "...Guess it''s time to go out again," Hades stretched his muscles as he stood up. "Mother has called for all her children to gather."


    He fixed himself as he looks like a walking corpse.


    Using his divinity, he created clothes for himself and cleaned up. Really, he''s such a handsome man.


    His appearance is that of a tall and handsome man with a long, stylish silver-white hair that spikes up at various spots on his head.


    He wears a spiked choker necklace lined, and a bead-like earring on his left ear with many smaller piercings.


    His attire is shown to be quite formal and extravagant, with a collar that spans all the way to his upper chest, and badges decorated on the left and right side of his coat.


    Finally, he wears long white jeans and a pair of shoes filled with square patterns.


    Yes, he looks good. No, calling his looks as mere "good" is blasphemy to his divine form.


    Shaking his head, Hades stepped out of the cave, the bright sunlight momentarily forcing him to squint. He had spent so long in the darkness that the world outside felt almost too vivid, too alive.


    The air was crisp, the scent of fresh earth filling his lungs as he descended from his secluded dwelling. He didn''t have to go far as he saw his mother, Rhea, had already called all of her children to gather at the clearing below.


    As he arrived, the presence of his siblings was immediately noticeable.


    Zeus stood with his arms crossed, his ever-present arrogance barely concealed behind a mask of false indifference. His golden hair gleamed under the sun, and his sky-blue eyes flickered with poorly hidden disdain as he glanced at Hades.


    Poseidon, on the other hand, was less subtle. He scoffed, his emerald-green eyes narrowing as he looked Hades up and down.


    "So, you finally decided to show yourself," he muttered under his breath.


    Hades ignored him. He had long since stopped caring about his brothers'' opinions. If they wanted to measure strength through bravado, they were welcome to do so.


    He knew exactly where they stood in comparison to him.


    Instead, he turned his attention to their mother. Rhea stood in the center of the gathering, her serene presence commanding quiet respect.


    Beside her, a new figure emerged¡ªa woman whose aura was unlike anything Hades had ever encountered before.


    She was tall, regal, and breathtakingly beautiful. Her presence was overwhelming, as if the very ground beneath them recognized her authority.


    Her long, flowing black and green hair seemed to shift like waves of fertile land, and her deep purple eyes held an unfathomable wisdom. The very air around her felt older, heavier¡ªfilled with the weight of eternity.


    Rhea turned to her children, her expression gentle but firm. "I have called you all here because our war against Cronus is fast approaching. The Titans are strong, but we do not stand alone."


    She then gestured toward the woman beside her.


    "This is my mother, your grandmother¡ªGaia, the Primordial of Earth."


    A heavy silence fell over the gathering. Even Zeus, with all his arrogance, did not dare speak so carelessly now. They had heard of Gaia, of course. She was one of the oldest beings in existence, a direct manifestation of the world itself.


    Gaia smiled, but it was not the warm, motherly smile of Rhea. It was something ancient, something that reminded Hades of the horrors he had seen in Chaos.


    A being so old and powerful that even Elder Gods were like children in her eyes.


    "I have watched all of you grow," Gaia said, her voice carrying the weight of the world itself. "I have seen your struggles, your triumphs, and your ambitions. The time has come for you to take the next step in your journey."


    She looked at each of them in turn before finally resting her gaze on Hades.


    "You will need allies," Gaia continued. "And the greatest allies you can gain are those your father cast into the depths of Tartarus."


    Zeus furrowed his brows. "The Cyclopes and the Hecatonchires?"


    Gaia nodded. "Yes. Your father, Cronus, feared their power and imprisoned them in the darkest depths of Tartarus. But if you free them, they will fight alongside you in the war to come."


    Poseidon scoffed. "Easier said than done. If it were so simple, we would have done it already."


    Gaia''s expression remained unmoved. "That is why I have chosen the most suitable among you for this task."


    She turned fully to face Hades.


    "You."


    Silence.


    Zeus frowned. "Him?"


    Poseidon openly scowled. "You can''t be serious."


    "I can do it better!" Zeus declared.


    "I''m far more suited!" Poseidon retorted.


    Hades, on the other hand, remained still, his gaze unreadable. He was neither surprised nor particularly pleased¡ªhe was simply waiting for Gaia to explain.


    "I have been watching you, Hades," Gaia said, stepping closer. "You seek strength because you understand its necessity, not due to some pride nor desire to rule."


    Zeus narrowed his eyes, taking a few short glances at Hades. "And what does that have to do with anything?"


    Gaia ignored him, continuing to speak to Hades. "Tartarus is not just a prison¡ªit is alive, filled with horrors beyond mortal and even divine comprehension. A mere show of brute strength will not be enough to navigate its depths. It requires someone who understands the nature of darkness, of shadows, of the unknown."


    Her lips curled slightly.


    "And you, Hades, have already touched something far greater than many other gods cannot even understand."


    Hades'' eye twitched slightly.


    She knew.


    She knew about Chaos.


    Of course she does. Primordials are beings born from Chaos itself!


    Gaia tilted her head, as if peering into his very soul. "You have seen them, haven''t you?"


    Hades exhaled slowly. "Yes."


    The atmosphere became heavier, as if the world itself acknowledged his words.


    Zeus and Poseidon glanced at each other, confused. They had no idea what their grandmother was talking about, but they could feel the shift in presence.


    Gaia''s smile deepened. "Then you are the only one suited for this task."


    Hades crossed his arms. "And what do I gain from this?"


    Gaia chuckled. "Clever."


    She stepped forward, lowering her voice so that only he could hear.


    "If you succeed¡­ I will grant you a great domain."


    Hades'' eyes widened slightly.


    A great domain.


    The one thing separating him from the level of a Supreme God.


    The final step before he could truly claim his place as one of the strongest beings in existence.


    For the first time in a long time, a slow smirk spread across Hades'' lips.


    "Tartarus, huh?" he murmured.


    He looked up, locking eyes with Gaia. "Fine."


    And just like that, his path was set.

 Chapter 5 - 5: Underworld

    Tartarus.


    The pit of despair. The deepest part of the realm of the dead known as Underworld.


    It is not merely a prison¡ªit is a living nightmare, a place where reality twists into an unrecognizable hellscape, where time does not flow, and suffering is not just inflicted but engraved into the very essence of existence.


    To enter Tartarus is to step beyond the veil of sanity. S§×arch* The n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    And Hades, is about to venture it alone.


    "Are you ready?"


    Hades looked up, his eyes meeting with his grandmother''s, the Earth Primordial Gaia.


    Behind him, all his siblings were watching. Zeus and Poseidon looked dissatisfied, thinking that they are far more suited for this job than the one they deemed as coward of a brother.


    Hestia looked worried, being the closest one to Hades due to the two of them being the first two to be swallowed by their father.


    Demeter looked as serene as ever, as if she couldn''t care less what about Hades'' well being.


    After all, for her, crops are far more important than her own siblings.


    Hera simply stared with her ever present cold eyes. Her arms crossed, staring at Hades with a confident gaze. As if she believed that Hades could complete this mission without any uncertainty.


    "Let''s just get this over with," Hades took a step forward, his face betraying no emotion.


    Just then, his mother, Rhea, appeared before him. "Hades..."


    "Mother, you know I won''t back out."


    Rhea shook her head. Instead, she took out a horn-shaped golden basket and handed it to him.


    "Cornucopia?" Hades looked at the basket in bewilderment.


    Cornucopia is one of the symbols of Rhea, and later on also became one of Hades''. Was Rhea the one who gave Hades the ''horn of plenty?''.


    "Yes, I''m giving it to you." Rhea smiled, caressing his hair, "Take care of your self, my son."


    Hades accepted the Cornucopia, his fingers running over its golden surface. The horn, despite its divine nature, felt oddly heavy in his grip¡ªnot in weight, but in meaning.


    It was a gift, a blessing, a tether to his mother''s love, something warm before he plunged into the cold abyss of Tartarus.


    He didn''t say thank you. He didn''t need to. Rhea understood.


    Without another word, he turned to Gaia, his expression unreadable. "Open the way."


    Gaia nodded, raising her hand. The earth trembled. The ground beneath them split apart violently, a jagged wound carved into the fabric of the Earth, a deep abyss leading to the underworld.


    A foul wind erupted from the chasm, thick with the scent of decay and something far worse¡ªa formless dread that clawed at the edges of the mind.


    Hades stepped forward, standing at the edge. A normal god would hesitate. Even his arrogant brothers, who scoffed at him moments before, now wore expressions of unease.


    Zeus, arms crossed, scowled. "Are you sure you can handle this, brother?"


    Poseidon snorted, but there was no malice in his voice. "Try not to die. I''d hate to be stuck with just him."


    He gestured toward Zeus, earning an annoyed glare.


    Hades ignored them both. He looked to Hestia, the only one of his siblings who truly cared. She had taken a step forward, her fingers twitching as if she wanted to reach for him but knew better.


    She was afraid for him.


    "Hades¡­" she murmured.


    He gave her a small nod. "I''ll return."


    With that, he took a step forward¡ª


    And plummeted into the abyss.


    ****


    The fall seemed endless.


    Darkness swallowed Hades whole, the wind howling past his ears like the cries of lost souls. He remained still, arms crossed, unbothered by the sensation of descent. This was the path of no return, and he had already accepted it.


    Then, suddenly¡ªhis feet found solid ground.


    He landed gracefully on a vast, empty plain beneath a sky devoid of stars. The air was thick with a heavy, suffocating presence, as if the Underworld itself was watching him, waiting.


    A river of inky black water stretched before him, reflecting no light. Its surface was unnaturally still, disturbed only by faint ripples¡ªas if something just beneath the surface had moved.


    And on the other side of the river stood a lone figure.


    A woman.


    She was beautiful in a way that was unnatural¡ªeerie, haunting, yet undeniably captivating. Her long purple hair cascaded down her back, strands flowing as if caught in an unseen breeze. Her deep violet eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, their gaze filled with something ancient and unknowable.


    She wore a long, flowing black dress that shimmered like the void itself, and in her delicate hands, she held an ornate lamp, its flame flickering with a strange, otherworldly glow.


    The moment their eyes met, she smiled¡ªbut there was no warmth in it.


    "Welcome, son of Cronus," she said, her voice smooth and ethereal, echoing slightly as if layered with whispers.


    Hades remained impassive. "Who are you?"


    The woman tilted her head slightly, as if amused.


    "Hecate, Goddess of magic. Keeper of the gates of the Underworld." She raised her lamp slightly, the glow intensifying. "And I am the one who decides whether you may pass."


    Hades frowned. "I was sent by Gaia herself. I have no need for permission."


    Hecate chuckled softly. "Gaia may command the land, but I govern the passage between realms. Even the gods must obey the laws of the Underworld."


    The shadows around them twisted unnaturally, pulsing in response to her presence. There was power here. Ancient, deep, and unfathomable.


    Hades sighed. "I don''t have time for this."


    He took a step forward¡ª


    And the darkness reacted.


    The air itself became heavier, pressing down on him with an unseen force. From the ground, tendrils of black mist slithered toward him, curling like the fingers of a corpse, reaching for his legs.


    Hecate''s gaze sharpened. "Do not take me lightly, son of Cronus."


    For the first time since arriving, Hades felt something stir within him¡ªnot fear, but recognition.


    Hecate was strong.


    And she wasn''t going to let him pass so easily.


    But... Hades smirked.


    A challenge? In his own domain? Amusing.


    The oppressive weight of the Underworld''s darkness pressed upon him, seeking to bind, to judge, to deny his passage. But he was not just a guest in this realm¡ªhe was its future ruler.


    Hecate raised her lamp, and the shadows obeyed.


    "Prove yourself, son of Cronus," she commanded, her voice laced with divine authority. "If you cannot resist the darkness, you are not worthy of walking its depths."


    The shadows surged forward, writhing like a mass of living tendrils, lunging to swallow him whole.


    Yet, they never touched him.


    Instead¡ªthey stopped.


    The moment the darkness neared Hades, it trembled. Hesitated.


    Then, as if they are in the presence of its true master, it knelt.


    The tendrils of shadow, which moments ago threatened to consume him, slithered back, retreating to the ground like soldiers bowing before their king.


    Hades took another step forward, and the very air of the Underworld seemed to shift. The darkness did not resist him¡ªit welcomed him.


    Hecate''s eyes widened.


    She had expected resistance, a struggle, perhaps even a brief test of dominance. But what she saw was something far greater¡ªabsolute submission.


    This was no mere god wandering the Underworld.


    This was its master.


    Hades stopped just a breath away from her, his smirk never fading.


    "The darkness knows me," he said, his voice calm, yet carrying the weight of inevitability. "Because it is mine to command."


    For a long moment, Hecate remained silent. Then, slowly¡ªa smile formed on her lips.


    Not one of amusement.


    Not one of arrogance.


    But one of recognition.


    She lowered her lamp, her violet eyes gleaming with newfound respect.


    "At long last," she murmured, bowing her head slightly. "A king to rule this realm, has appeared."


    Then, gracefully, she knelt.


    Hades watched her for a moment before turning his gaze toward the path beyond.


    Tartarus awaited.


    The domain he was promised is just within arms reach.

 Chapter 6 - 6: Tartarus

    "The Tartarus?"


    Hecate raised an eyebrow as Hades told her his mission for diving into the depths of the earth and venturing in the Underworld.


    Currently, the two were walking on a completely dark path, with Hecate''s lamp barely lighting up the way.


    "Yes. We were about to go to war with Cronus, and Gaia asked me to free the Cyclops and the Hecatoncheires to help us."


    Hecate hummed, "Indeed, their strength isn''t any inferior to the Titans. Not to mention they can forge you your own Divine Weapons."


    Divine Weapons. As the name implies, is a weapon of divine nature. It allows one to access powers beyond their own, and amplify their domain and authority.


    A god with divine weapon can even be said to be invincible.


    Cronus was able to defeat Uranus due to his divine weapon, the Scythe. If it weren''t for that, then not even with Gaia''s help would Cronus be able to even kill his father.


    "...How do I get there?" Asked Hades.


    Hecate smiled, "I will take you. I told you didn''t I? I am the keeper of realms, so naturally I hold the keys to Tartarus as well."


    How convenient. No wonder she is considered as Hades'' trusted advisor who assists him in his duties as the ruler of the dead and the one assigned to guard the boundaries of underworld with her magical abilities.


    "However," Hecate paused, turning towards him, "I must warn you, Tartarus is a realm beyond comprehension. If you stay too long, you might go insane and lose yourself."


    Hades nodded. But he didn''t really took it seriously. Although Tartarus is dangerous, can it be more dangerous than those eldritch horrors he had seen in Chaos?


    "Also," she continued, "There is creature known as Campe who guards the prison cell of the Cyclops and the Hundred-Ones. You must be careful."


    Campe. If Hades remembered it correctly, it is half-woman half-dragon creature that not even Zeus can beat alone.


    He had to free the Cyclops and the Hecatoncheires and asked for their help before they managed to kill the her.


    But...


    Right now, Hades is stronger than Zeus. He''d better bang himself on the wall if he needed help to beat a single opponent that isn''t even a Primordial nor a Supreme God.


    "Don''t worry. If there is one thing I value more than power, it''s my life." Hades replied, chuckling in amusement.


    Hecate did not seem to find it funny.


    The two walked for what felt like an eternity, their steps echoing into the void. The path, though solid beneath their feet, seemed suspended in nothingness¡ªan expanse of darkness so deep it devoured all light.


    Even Hecate''s lamp, a beacon of divine magic, struggled to push back the consuming black.


    Finally, they arrived at the edge of an abyssal cliff, an expanse of empty air stretching out before them like the mouth of a great beast, ready to swallow all who dared to approach.


    Hecate stepped forward, raising her lamp high. The air trembled as she began to chant in a language Hades could not understand¡ªan ancient tongue that carried weight beyond mere words.


    Each syllable pulsed with raw divinity, resonating through the abyss.


    Then, with a final burst of her power, the void itself responded.


    A great distortion formed in the depths of the cliff, swirling into existence like the birth of a dying star.


    A hole darker than the void around it, deeper than any abyss known to gods or titans alike.


    It is the entrance to Tartarus.


    Hecate turned to him, her face unusually solemn. "This is your last chance to turn back."


    Hades met her gaze. "You know I won''t."


    She sighed, shaking her head with a small, almost amused smile. "Then I won''t waste my breath." sea??h th§× novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Hades took a step forward, standing at the edge. He could feel the pull of the abyss, like a whisper at the back of his mind, beckoning him into its depths.


    He turned his head slightly. "Thank you, Hecate."


    Then, without hesitation, he leaped into the void.


    Hecate observed as Hades was swallowed by the darkness. She remained still, waiting for when the king she had recognized to return.


    ****


    In the abyss, there was no sky, no ground, no sense of up or down. Hades couldn''t tell if he was falling down, or falling up. Yes, it doesn''t make sense.


    All he knows is that he fell through an endless void, his body weightless as the air around him screamed.


    The deeper he went, the more the darkness thickened¡ªnot just as an absence of light but as a presence, an entity, one that slithered into the cracks of his mind, whispering things in a language older than the gods.


    For hours¡ªdays¡ªcenturies¡ªhe fell. Time was meaningless here.


    Then, suddenly¡ª


    Impact.


    The ground caught him in a violent embrace, shifting like a living thing, groaning beneath his weight. The landscape before him was not rock, not soil¡ªbut something twisted, something unnatural.


    Mountains made of ribcages rose in the distance, their hollowed bones emitting low, resonant hums like mournful wails.


    The rivers were not of water but black sludge, bubbling and twisting with tormented faces that surfaced only to be dragged back down by unseen hands.


    And then there were the walls¡ªtitanic structures of writhing, pulsating flesh, adorned with eyes that never blinked and mouths that whispered in a thousand voices, calling his name.


    This was Tartarus.


    Hades exhaled, his breath visible in the frigid, lifeless air. This was where the Primordial of Sky¡ªUranus, locked away his fears.


    And he was here to free them.


    Without hesitation, Hades walked forward, his every step echoing through the twisted realm of Tartarus. The very ground beneath him writhed, shifting like a living organism, desperate to consume him.


    He could feel it¡ªthe abyss clawing at him, trying to drag him down, trying to sink into his mind.


    The whispers grew louder. Voices that weren''t voices. Screeches that carried words older than the stars. Promises of power. Threats of ruin.


    He ignored them.


    Hallucinations slithered at the edge of his vision¡ªfigures of the past, nightmares given form, crawling, reaching.


    He ignored them.


    Tendrils of darkness, hands made of suffering, creatures beyond comprehension¡ªall tried to seize him, claim him, devour him.


    He ignored them all.


    None of this could compare to what he had seen in Chaos.


    His divinity burned around him, a silent declaration that he would not be touched. He was not prey. He was not lost. He was not afraid.


    He passed countless prisoners¡ªtwisted, tormented souls, some whispering, others screaming, many simply staring with hollow eyes.


    But none were the ones he sought.


    Then, after what felt like an eternity, he found them.


    The Cyclops. The Hecatoncheires.


    Chained in agony, bound by divine shackles that pulsed with ancient power. Their massive forms hunched in defeat, their bodies marred by wounds that never healed.


    They had suffered for eons.


    Hades took a step closer¡ª


    And then he felt it.


    A presence.


    The air grew thick with raw, suffocating power. The ground cracked beneath him. A force of destruction unlike any he had faced before crashed against his very being.


    Then, she appeared.


    Campe.


    A towering woman, standing before him as if she had been expecting him all along.


    Her dragon wings spread wide, casting an imposing shadow. Twin horns curved from her head, framing her face like a crown. A long, sinuous tail flicked behind her, its very motion radiating uncontained violence.


    Her forearms and legs, scaled up to her knees, shimmered under the eerie light of Tartarus. Her claws, sharp enough to rend through divine flesh, flexed in anticipation.


    She was naked, her long crimson hair cascading down her back, her form as alluring as it was terrifying.


    Her eyes¡ªred as the deepest flames¡ªlocked onto his with amusement.


    A predator had found her prey.


    And she spoke, her voice a melody of destruction.


    "A god from overworld," she flicked her tail, causing the chaos around them to calm down, "What brought you here in the pits of despair?"


    Hades felt a chill ran through his spine. No, it isn''t out of fear. This is excitement. The excitement of finally finding someone to test his strength.


    That brief confrontation of Hecate had left him wanting more.


    He doesn''t know why he turned into some sort of battle maniac. But he really enjoyed exchanging blows with his opponents.


    Perhaps it was due to the influence of him once enjoying fighting with shadow knights before it got boring as he became too powerful.


    But now...


    That oppressive feeling.


    That destructive power.


    That overwhelming strength.


    He had found his match.


    The Cyclops and Hecatoncheires can wait.


    For now, he will satisfy his desire.


    After all, gods are selfish aren''t they?

 Chapter 7 - 7: The Battle

    Campe.


    A half-female half-dragon.


    A being of great power even gods are afraid of her. In the myths, even the mighty Zeus required help to defeat her.


    She possess enough strength to guard the Tartarus, which was overflowing with the worst existence in all of Greek mythology.


    And Hades is going to face her alone.


    Hades narrowed his eyes as Campe took a step forward, her presence alone making the very air crackle with energy.


    She was strong.


    Stronger than any of his siblings.


    And yet, he was undeterred.


    Without hesitation, he conjured a spear of darkness in his grasp, the weapon forming out of the abyss itself. Its jagged, obsidian-like surface pulsed with shadow, swallowing the faint light that dared to touch it.


    Campe smirked, revealing razor-sharp fangs.


    Then, she moved.


    Like a blur, she lunged, her claws swiping through the air with terrifying speed. Hades barely had time to react before he sidestepped, spinning his spear and thrusting it forward.


    A loud clang rang through the abyss as his weapon met her hardened scales. Sparks flew as her claws clashed against his spear, her raw power sending tremors through the ground beneath them.


    Campe roared, her tail whipping around with deadly force. Hades ducked just in time as the tail shattered the rock behind him, leaving a deep trench in the ground.


    She was fast¡ªfaster than he expected.


    But he was faster.


    Hades teleported, slipping into the shadows beneath Campe and reappearing behind her. His spear shot forward like lightning, aiming for the back of her skull.


    She twisted at the last second.


    A clawed hand caught the spear mid-strike. Campe grinned, her grip tightening¡ªthen with monstrous strength, she swung him like a ragdoll and hurled him through the air.


    Hades crashed into a crumbling mountain of ribcages, the bones shattering under the force of his impact. Dust and debris exploded outward, but he was already moving.


    Teleporting again, he reemerged beside Campe, driving his spear into her exposed ribs.


    The weapon sank in, shadows writhing along its length, trying to consume her from within.


    Campe snarled, grabbing his spear with both hands. Her body trembled¡ªthen with a feral roar, she tore the weapon out and shattered it in her grasp.


    Before he could react, her knee slammed into his gut.


    The impact sent him flying again, skidding across the charred ground.


    Hades gritted his teeth, his hand gripping the ground to halt his movement. Campe was already charging again, eyes glowing with madness.


    He raised his hand.


    Darkness erupted from the ground like an unholy storm, twisting and expanding like a living void. Tendrils of pure shadow lashed out, binding Campe''s limbs, constricting her with the force of a black hole.


    She roared, thrashing violently, but the darkness held strong.


    For a moment, Hades thought he had her.


    Then¡ª


    The entire abyss shook.


    A wave of raw power exploded from Campe''s form. The shadows holding her disintegrated instantly, and before Hades could react¡ª


    She changed.


    Her body expanded, muscles twisting, bones snapping and reforming. Her humanoid form stretched, elongated, her flesh replaced with crimson scales harder than divine steel.


    Her wings expanded from her back, massive and powerful, sending gusts of wind strong enough to flatten mountains.


    Her tail extended, slamming into the ground, causing the earth to rupture beneath her.


    The very air burned as her transformation completed.


    Before Hades now stood a colossal western dragon, her dark crimson scales shimmering under the eerie glow of Tartarus. Her eyes, filled with ancient fury, locked onto him.


    Then, she roared.


    The sound alone sent shockwaves rippling across Tartarus, strong enough to shake the prison itself.


    Outside of Tartarus, Hecate, standing at the cliff''s edge, felt the tremors. Her expression darkened.


    ''This power¡­''


    Back inside, Hades stared at the massive beast before him.


    If Campe was strong before¡ª


    Now, she was a calamity.


    But Hades only smirked.


    With a wave of his hand, the darkness around him twisted and swirled. From the abyss, figures emerged¡ªknights clad in pitch-black armor, their bodies composed entirely of living shadows.


    A legion of spectral warriors, their blades raised, ready to fight.


    Hades took a step forward, his own power growing.


    Campe wasted no time.


    The instant she completed her transformation, her massive wings flared open, sending a hurricane-force gust across Tartarus.


    Then, she struck.


    Her colossal claw came down like a mountain, aiming to crush Hades into dust.


    But he was already moving.


    With a flicker, he vanished into the shadows beneath him, slipping between the threads of existence itself.


    Campe''s claw struck the ground with such force that the land itself screamed. A shockwave rippled outward, splitting open the abyss, sending rivers of molten darkness cascading into the void. S~ea??h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Reappearing behind her, Hades spun his spear, hurling it with divine precision.


    The weapon, infused with his authority, turned into a bolt of pure darkness, piercing through Campe''s side.


    The dragon bellowed, twisting in pain.


    She retaliated instantly, her massive tail whipping toward him like a catapult of destruction. Hades barely had time to teleport again before it obliterated the area where he once stood, leaving only a crater in its wake.


    Raising his hand, he gave a silent command.


    His shadow knights surged forward, their blades cutting through the air like specters of death.


    They clashed with Campe, overwhelming her with sheer numbers.


    But the dragon was not so easily subdued.


    With a single beat of her wings, she sent the entire army flying, their bodies dispersing into the abyss.


    She opened her jaws, divine fire gathering at the core of her throat¡ªa fire not of ordinary flames but of raw destruction.


    A blast of draconic breath erupted forth, a tidal wave of crimson annihilation.


    Hades teleported just in time, reappearing above her, spear in hand.


    With a mighty swing, he unleashed a crescent arc of darkness, slicing through the flames, parting them like a blade through silk.


    But Campe anticipated it.


    Before he could react, she twisted her body and, with an impossible burst of speed for a being her size, lunged.


    Her massive jaws snapped shut around him.


    For a moment, there was silence.


    Then¡ª


    BOOM!


    A catastrophic explosion of dark energy erupted from Campe''s mouth, sending her reeling back, her maw shattering from within.


    From the black explosion, Hades emerged¡ªhis body wreathed in shadows, his form flickering between reality and something else entirely.


    His spear had evolved¡ªno longer merely an extension of his power, but something deeper.


    Hades landed, staring at the wounded Campe, who was already regenerating.


    This had gone on long enough.


    It was time to show her why he was to be the King of the Underworld.


    Darkness spread from his feet, but it was different this time.


    This was not mere shadow.


    This was something absolute.


    A concept.


    This was the physical manifestation of the concept darkness.


    Darkness is the absence of light. The absence of warmth. The absence of existence.


    A void deeper than Tartarus itself.


    Yes. Darkness is the "absence of existence".


    The landscape of the prison began to unravel. The mountains of bones, the rivers of black sludge, the wailing walls of flesh¡ªall of it was being consumed.


    Not in the way fire devours, nor in the way darkness obscures.


    This was erasure.


    Everything the abyss touched ceased to be, as if it had never existed in the first place.


    Campe realized it too late.


    She roared and lunged again, but her body¡ªher wings, her claws¡ªthey did not move.


    She looked down.


    Her limbs were dissolving¡ªno, not dissolving. Being forgotten by the world.


    Like a story erased from history.


    Hades raised his hand.


    The blackness surged forward, swallowing Campe whole.


    She roared one final time, thrashing, resisting¡ªbut it was futile.


    Within moments, she was almost gone.


    Not dead.


    Not defeated.


    Simply... gone.


    And then¡ª


    Hades stopped.


    With a wave of his hand, the void retreated, withdrawing its claim on Campe.


    Her body, though weakened, was whole again. She collapsed onto the ground, gasping, her massive frame trembling.


    Her crimson eyes, once blazing with unrelenting fury, now flickered with something else.


    Recognition.


    Fear.


    Submission.


    Hades stepped forward, his voice calm but absolute.


    "Submit."


    A shudder ran through Campe''s massive form.


    For an eternity, she had been the guardian of Tartarus, a force of destruction feared even by the gods. She had fought, she had slaughtered, she had ruled over the prisoners of this wretched abyss.


    Yet, in the face of this power¡ªthis absolute authority¡ªshe understood.


    She could not win.


    Slowly, painfully, the great dragon lowered herself, bowing her massive head to the God of the Underworld.


    Hades smirked.


    "That''s better."


    Then, in a motion both commanding and effortless, he leaped onto her back.


    Campe tensed, then relaxed, as his presence settled upon her.


    From the depths of Tartarus, a new legend was born.


    Not of a battle.


    But of a conquest.


    The future King of the Underworld now had a mount befitting his power.


    And the world above would tremble at the sight of him riding the dragon of Tartarus.


    Hades turned, his gaze now falling upon the chained prisoners he had come for.


    The Cyclops and the Hecatoncheires, once shackled in torment, now stared at him in awe.


    Hades smirked.


    "Shall we?"

 Chapter 8 - 8: The Return and Cronus

    Hecate was observing the entrance to Tartarus, her mind still occupied by that power that leaked out of the gate earlier.


    Although it couldn''t compare to the current ruler of Underworld, the Primordial of Night, Nyx¡ªbut its power is still something that an average god could stand against.


    But Hades isn''t an average god.


    The darkness of underworld bowed to his will. The shadows knelt in his presence.


    He is the rightful king of the realm of the dead.


    She is confident that he can come out unscathed.


    And just like what she had thought, the portal to Tartarus shook, and a massive creature that dwarfed mountains flew out.


    A dragon.


    It''s dark crimson scales gleamed eerily. It''s massive wings shook the air as it flapped. And its destructive aura causes the surroundings to tremble.


    Even so, Hecate remained calm.


    Not only because she is confident on her own strength, but also because she had long felt Hades'' presence on top of the dragon.


    Then, the dragon landed, the very land trembling from its weight.


    It lowered its head, and Hecate immediately saw Hades sitting on top of it.


    Moments later, Hades jumped down from the dragon''s head. And almost immediately, the dragon shrunk down, its form changing into a more humanoid shape.


    A beautiful, but savage looking woman with long crimson hair. A curvaceous and well endowed body that she proudly shows off, with her being completely naked.


    Her wings and tail flicked fiercely, and her horns shone with metallic glint.


    Hecate observed her for a moment, but soon lost interest and turned her gaze back to Hades. "I believe you''ve succeeded, son of Cronus?"


    "Yeah." Hades nodded, before looking over his shoulders.


    There. A massive hand extended from the cliff where the portal to Tartarus is. Soon, its whole body was seen, a massive figure with one eye crawled out of the abyss.


    A cyclops.


    It was soon followed by two other cyclops who also crawled out from the depths of underworld.


    Then, three more massive figured crawled up. This time, it was a creature with a fifty heads and a hundred arms.


    The hecatoncheires.


    All of them were children of Uranus whom he had thrown in the Tartarus because he feared them.


    "Congratulations." Hecate smiled, "Victory is now in your hands."


    Hades smirked.


    Indeed. Indeed it is.


    ****


    Back in Mount Dikte, months had passed since Hades had departed for Tartarus, and the unease among his family only grew with time.


    Rhea and Hestia paced anxiously, their eyes flicking toward Gaia, who remained indifferent, her cold expression betraying no emotion.


    Demeter had busied herself among the forest nymphs, planting trees and crops, showing no concern with whatever is happening around her.


    Hera, seated upon a throne of her own making, exuded an air of regality, her sharp eyes flickered with absolute certainty. Hades will return.


    Meanwhile, Poseidon and Zeus were nowhere to be seen, having chosen to spend their time indulging in the pleasures of the nymphs, seemingly unconcerned with their missing brother.


    Then, without warning, Gaia''s expression shifted.


    Rhea, ever attuned to the moods of those around her, noticed first. After all, her mother wasn''t one to have a change in expression without any reason.


    "Mother?" she called hesitantly. "Did something happen?"


    Hestia, too, straightened, her noble features tightening. Her eyes looking concerned and worried.


    "Is it Hades?" she questioned.


    Gaia opened her mouth to answer, but before she could, the air itself shuddered.


    A deafening tearing sound echoed through the mountain, as if reality itself was being torn asunder.


    The space before them warped, splitting open like a gaping wound, and from it emerged colossal figures¡ªsix in total.


    The first three were Cyclopes, their singular eyes glowing with the light of boundless power.


    The next three were the Hecatoncheires, their fifty heads shifting and their hundred arms twitching, radiating immense strength that sent tremors through the land with every step they took.


    They were led by another figure¡ªone that exuded a presence unlike any other.


    Hades.


    He stepped forward, his dark robes billowing around him, his expression unreadable. Power radiated from his form, a tangible force that made the air thick with the weight of his authority.


    And behind him, walking with a predatory grace, was Campe.


    Though now in a humanoid form, her savage beauty remained untouched. Her crimson hair fell in waves down her back, her eyes glowed with untamed ferocity, and her wings flicked as she surveyed those before her with a smirk.


    Silence fell over Mount Dikte.


    Hestia, relief washing over her features, was the first to step forward. "Hades!"


    Rhea let out a breath she hadn''t realized she was holding, though her gaze flickered warily to the monstrous beings that had followed him.


    Hera, after composing herself, spoke with her usual regal poise. "You return triumphant, brother. I take it your mission was a success?"


    Hades simply nodded before turning his gaze toward Zeus and Poseidon, who had just arrived, drawn by the disturbance.


    They both stood frozen, their eyes widening as they took in the sight of the monstrous beings beside him.


    Gaia couldn''t help but smiled seeing her children that were imprisoned by Cronus.


    "The war against Cronus is about to begin," Gaia announced, her voice carrying across the mountain. "And with them by our side¡ª"


    The earth trembled from her power. As if her words can moved the world.


    "¡ªwe will win."


    ****


    Mount Othrys loomed over the world like an indomitable fortress, its peaks cutting through the heavens like jagged blades.


    At its heart, deep within the grand hall of Titans, sat Cronus¡ªthe King of the Cosmos. His throne was carved from primordial stone, its surface engraved with ancient symbols of dominion and fate.


    In his grip rested his legendary scythe, its silver edge gleaming ominously as it distorted the air around it, bending time itself.


    Just then, the heavy footsteps of another titan echoed through the chamber as he entered, his massive frame casting long shadows against the towering columns of the hall.


    Atlas. The Titan god of Strength and Endurance. He was the one who instructed mortals in the concept of astronomy, which helped sailors in navigating the seas and farmers for measuring seasons.


    He knelt before Cronus, his expression grim.


    "My king, Campe has been defeated, the Cyclops and the Hecatoncheires have been freed from Tartarus."


    Cronus raised a brow. He knew of Campe''s strength. After all, he was the one who ordered that dragon to guard the cyclops and hecatoncheires.


    "Who freed them?" He asked.


    Atlas shook his head, "Forgive me. Hecate has reinforced her magic that guards the realm of the dead, we can''t get much information."


    Cronus exhaled sharply through his nose, his fingers tightening around the scythe. That damn witch. If she wasn''t so strong and tricky to deal with, he would''ve already annihilated her for going against him.


    "I see. And what of my children?"


    Atlas hesitated before answering, his voice laced with frustration. "We have yet to locate them. Rhea and our mother continues to hide them well."


    Cronus scoffed, his golden eyes narrowing. "Rhea has always been sentimental. She thinks her defiance will save them. It will not."


    Atlas shifted slightly, his expression darkening. "There is something else, my king. Prometheus... he has been acting strangely. He speaks in riddles and acts mysteriously. I suspect that he has turned against us."


    Cronus leaned forward, his gaze piercing. "I have noticed it as well. He has always been the most cunning among us. His mind moves like the tides, unpredictable and relentless. I should have cast him into Tartarus long ago."


    Atlas nodded. "If he has truly turned traitor, it would be wise to deal with him before he undermines us further."


    Cronus tapped his scythe against the stone floor, the sound reverberating through the hall like a death knell. "Not yet. Let him play his games. If he really did betray me, I will not grant him the mercy of death."


    He leaned back on his throne before continuing. "And what of Oceanus? Have you gained his support?"


    Atlas exhaled, hesitating for a moment before answering. "No, my king. Oceanus remains neutral, as he always has. He watches, waiting for the tides to shift in his favor. He is no ally of ours, but he is no threat either."


    Cronus clenched his jaw. Those damn siblings of his! They enjoyed his protection when he overthrew Uranus, but now, they can''t even offer any help!?


    Ungrateful swines! The lot of them!


    Noticing his anger, Atlas quickly added. "But I have brought you another ally, my king. Hyperion has agreed to stand with us. He will bring the power of the sun against our enemies."


    Cronus calmed down as a slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Hyperion... a welcome ally. He is proud, but he understands power. With him at our side, we gain an overwhelming force of destruction."


    The two Titans remained silent for a moment, the weight of the war pressing upon them like the weight of the sky. S~ea??h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Atlas shifted uneasily before speaking once more. "Do you truly believe they will challenge you, my king? That your children¡ªmere infants compared to our might¡ªwill rise against the Titans?"


    Cronus chuckled, but there was no mirth in his voice. "The Fates whisper of a prophecy, one that speaks of my downfall at their hands. But I am the King of the Cosmos, and I will not allow my own offspring to become my undoing."


    Atlas nodded. "Then we will crush them before they ever rise."


    Cronus remained silent, his mind calculating, his grip on the scythe unyielding.


    "Leave me," he finally ordered. "There is much to consider."


    Atlas bowed his head before turning and departing, his heavy steps fading into the distance.


    Alone in the grand hall, Cronus stared into the void beyond the mountain''s peak. He was the King of the Cosmos, the slayer of Uranus, the ruler of all that existed.


    And yet, for the first time in an age, he felt something unfamiliar creep into his bones¡ªsomething he had not known since his father had fallen before him.


    Doubt.


    Although he doesn''t know who freed the Cyclops and the Hundred-Ones, Cronus was sure it was one of his children.


    With Cyclops on their side, they must''ve already gotten their hands on Divine Weapons.


    And with Gaia''s influence, it is not too farfetched that they''d have an army capable of matching his.


    With all this, can he really win?


    No. He must win!


    His eyes gleamed in power and anger. How dare mere infants think of overthrowing him!?


    He stood up, power bursting out of his body.


    He will let them know that nothing can escape time.

 Chapter 9 - 9: The Primordial Sky

    The addition of the Cyclops and the Hundred-Ones on their forces causes massive increase on their morale.


    The Olympians and their allies threw a party to celebrate.


    Although, Hades wasn''t interested in participating.


    Instead, he appeared on the other side of the island of Crete, where he stood face to face with Gaia, who was standing on a cliff, watching the sunset.


    "I''ve done my part of the deal," Hades took a step forward. "It''s time for you to do yours. Give me my domain."


    Domain. It is what Gaia had promised to give him if he managed to release the Cyclops and Hecatoncheires from their imprisonment in Tartarus.


    Now, just what is domain and is it different from authority?


    Yes. It is completely different from authority.


    Authority is like having a torch¡ªyou can control the fire, but you need fuel to keep it burning. You can wield it skillfully, but others with stronger fire or different elements can extinguish or manipulate it.


    Domain is like being the perpetual sun that only needs itself to sustain itself¡ªyour fire burns because it is the natural law, and no external factor outside of other domain can take it away.


    In short, authority is influence, but domain is law. Authority allows a god to borrow power, while domain makes them the source of power itself.


    Hades himself already has a domain, which is the domain of darkness. But he needed something more. A more fundamental force that make up the world in a form of a great domain.


    Unlike normal domains, a great domain is a fundamental source of world''s existence. Without any of them, the world would cease to function properly and could lead to its destruction.


    "Don''t worry. I''ll give it to you." Gaia turned around and faced him, "Although, I wonder if you are willing to do what is necessary to take it."


    Hades frowned, "Of course I am. I need that domain to ascend to a higher level."


    Gaia nodded, levitating towards him until her face was only a feet away from his, "There are three methods to obtain a domain. First is to take a domain that is currently ownerless. Second is by devouring the god who owns a domain. And third is to transfer it through a ritual."


    "Are you going to give me an information about an ownerless domain?" Hades narrowed his eyes, "Because that is completely not what you said."


    Gaia shook her head, "Far from it. I am giving it directly to you. Of course, devouring me is out of question. You''d die if you try."


    "So a ritual then," Hades sighed, "Let just get this over wit¡ªwhy are you taking off your clothes?"


    Indeed. Gaia is currently half naked, having taken off her top, exposing her perky and firm chest.


    Gaia smiled, "Unlike the ritual done if both are the same gender, gods who are of different gender must undergo a tantric ritual to share or give away domain."


    "What kind of nonsense is that?" Hades looked at her in annoyance.


    Tantric ritual is pretty much a ritual that uses sexual activity in a ritual or yogic activity.


    "It isn''t nonsense." Gaia stated, her face completely serious.


    Hades has no words to say. He can only clenched his fist and look away in frustration.


    "Just... Just tell me how can I get other domains... "


    "So do you not find me appealing?"


    "I do. But I ain''t laying with my family."


    Gaia tilted her head, "How strange. We are both a man and a woman. I don''t get why being a family is a factor here."


    "It just does." Hades scratched his head, letting out a frustrated sigh.


    Gaia nodded as she put on her clothes, causing Hades to sigh in relief. "Very well. Though, know that the offer still stands."


    She opened her palm, and a projection of the "world" appeared, "Before I tell you, I am curious about one thing. Why are you in such a hurry to acquire a great domain? Once you win the war, the domains of the defeated titans are all yours for the taking."


    "I need power."


    Gaia nodded. She didn''t ask why. After all, power is something that almost every creature desires.


    "You are already powerful." She neared her face to his, "You deserve to be more arrogant and prideful with your strength than your brothers."


    Indeed. Zeus and Poseidon have such a great pride bordering extreme arrogance despite their power being far inferior to his.


    Yet Hades, despite having strength to completely trample his brothers at the same time, remain quite humble.


    "No," Hades shook his head, "My strength is still too feeble for me to get arrogant."


    He clenched his fist, staring at Gaia with burning desire for power, "That''s why I need strength. Strength so superior that I can be arrogant."


    Gaia stared at him for a few moments. Then, she let out a smile. "I have created many things, but I think out of all my creations, I like you the most, Hades."


    She dematerialized the map, and instead took out golden insignia, a circle with an arrow and a dot on the middle.


    "I wasn''t planning on giving it to anyone, since I might use it if I want to revive Uranus...but I think I''m willing to part with it now."


    "That is..." Hades'' eyes widened for a moment.


    "Uranus'' domain, the Primordial Sky." Gaia extended her hand, "Unlike your brother whose domain of sky is limited to the aspects of weather, this domain can command the skies and cosmos with heavenly influence, including all the aspects of the astrological, divine, elemental, mythical and cosmic powers."


    She handed it to him, and Hades carefully observed the symbol.


    Hades stared at the golden insignia, feeling the sheer weight of the power it represented.


    The moment his fingers grazed its surface, an overwhelming force surged through him¡ªvast, boundless, and eternal. It was as if the entire sky, the heavens themselves, were watching him, waiting to judge his worth.


    He gritted his teeth as the energy coiled around him, pressing into his very soul. This was different from his domain of darkness¡ªwhere shadows obeyed his will, bending and warping at his command.


    No, this was the sky, the cosmos, the celestial order itself. It was wild, untamed, and unrestricted. It was infinite.


    Gaia watched him intently, her expression unreadable. "Do you feel it? This is the domain of the Primordial Sky. It is not just power¡ªit is the foundation of the heavens, the force that governs all celestial existence. It is beyond the authority of gods; it is a cosmic truth."


    Hades clenched his fist around the insignia, feeling his body shake under the pressure of the primordial force. "It''s¡­ immense."


    "That is why you cannot take it on your own," Gaia said, stepping closer. "Uranus was a primordial being, his power was almost unrivaled. Even in death, his domain remains untamed. You are strong, Hades, but if you try to absorb this force recklessly, it will rip your existence apart."


    Hades looked up at her. "Then what do you propose?"


    Gaia lifted her hands, and in an instant, the very air around them shifted. The land beneath their feet trembled as an unseen force began to weave a barrier around them.


    A golden light surged from her palms, forming intricate, swirling patterns in the air, enclosing them in an ethereal cocoon of energy.


    "I will guide you," Gaia said, her voice steady and filled with an ancient authority. "I will bind this domain so that it does not destroy you upon contact. But the rest is up to you. You must assert your dominance over it."


    The barrier thickened, isolating them from the outside world. Winds howled within their enclosed space, golden streaks of lightning crackling in the air as the insignia pulsed with life.


    The weight of the cosmos bore down upon Hades, threatening to crush him where he stood.


    He exhaled slowly, steeling himself. "Then let''s begin."


    Gaia nodded, and with a flick of her hand, the insignia shattered into countless fragments of light, each piece carrying the essence of the Primordial Sky.


    The pieces swirled around Hades, embedding themselves into his body, searing into his very being.


    A roar of agony tore from his throat as the power flooded him. His veins ignited with celestial energy, his vision consumed by the endless expanse of the cosmos.


    Stars flickered in his mind''s eye, constellations forming and dissolving in an eternal cycle. He felt the pull of gravity, the swirling vortex of celestial storms, the infinite stretch of the sky that had existed since the dawn of time.


    "Do not resist it," Gaia instructed, her voice calm amidst the chaos. "You must bend it to your will. Make it yours."


    Hades clenched his fists, forcing himself to stand firm against the unrelenting force.


    He focused, reaching deep into himself, into the core of his being where his domain of darkness resided. S§×arch* The N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The void within him expanded, stretching outward, seeking to entwine itself with this new power.


    But the sky rejected him, repelling his presence like a foreign invader.


    Gaia narrowed her eyes. "You cannot treat it as you do darkness. Darkness is absence, submission, concealment. The sky is vast, unyielding, ever-expanding. You must claim it as your own, not consume it."


    Hades gritted his teeth. He had always been a ruler of shadows, commanding the unseen. But this¡­ this was different. He had to change. He had to become something greater.


    Drawing a deep breath, he extended his will¡ªnot to control, but to become. He envisioned himself not as a mere god wielding power, but as the very embodiment of the sky''s dominion.


    He let go of the instinct to suppress and instead allowed himself to rise, to ascend beyond mortal and divine constraints.


    And then, something clicked.


    The resistance faded, and the fragments of the Primordial Sky surged into him, not as a foreign force, but as a missing piece of his being.


    His body radiated with newfound divinity, his very presence shifting as if reality itself acknowledged his transformation.


    Gaia smiled as she sensed the change. "You have done it."


    Hades opened his eyes, and for the first time, they gleamed not just with the abyss of darkness, but with the endless expanse of the heavens.


    He flexed his fingers, feeling the boundless reach of his new power.


    He had ascended.


    He was no longer just the master of darkness.


    Now, he was also the master of the sky.

 Chapter 10 - 10: Bonding

    While Hades relished on his newfound power, his brothers were indulging on the company of nymphs as they drank liquor and danced with the music.


    Once they are satisfied, they immediately gathered around thr cyclops.


    "Greetings, friends. I am Zeus, the god of sky." Zeus introduced himself, puffing his chest with pride.


    "I am Poseidon, the god of the seas." Poseidon gave them a polite nod, crossing his arms, acting all indifferent and proud.


    "Arges."


    "Brontes."


    "Steropes."


    The three cyclops introduced themselves.


    Zeus leaned forward, flashing his most charming grin. "Truly, it is an honor to have such mighty beings on our side. Your strength is legendary, and with you by our side, our victory against the Titans is all but assured."


    Poseidon nodded, arms still crossed, though his voice held less enthusiasm. "Indeed. Your reputation precedes you. It is no surprise that Cronus locked you away¡ªhe feared you."


    The three Cyclops exchanged polite glances. Arges, the eldest, spoke first. "While we appreciate your words, we are not warriors. Our true strength lies in our craft."


    Brontes nodded in agreement. "We are blacksmiths before we are fighters. We can aid you best by forging weapons of divine power, tools befitting gods who wish to stand against the Titans."


    Steropes smiled slightly. "If you are to challenge Cronus and his brethren, you will need more than what you were born with. We shall forge weapons worthy of the battle ahead."


    Zeus and Poseidon''s expressions shifted, the gleam of ambition flashing in their eyes.


    "Weapons?" Zeus asked, intrigued. "What kind of weapons?"


    "Each of you shall receive a weapon tailored to your essence, your very domain," Arges explained. "A weapon that will not only enhance your power but make you a force to be reckoned with."


    Poseidon''s lips curled into a smirk. "I see. With such weapons, even Cronus will fall before us."


    Zeus, however, hesitated, a thought crossing his mind. "You say ''each of us.'' That includes all of us?"


    Steropes nodded. "Indeed. We shall craft a weapon for each of the Olympian siblings."


    Zeus and Poseidon''s expressions darkened slightly. Zeus was the first to voice his displeasure. "Forging weapons for Hades makes sense, but do we really need to waste resources crafting divine weapons for our sisters?"


    Poseidon scoffed. "They will not even be on the frontlines. What need have they for such weapons?"


    Brontes let out a deep chuckle. "Resources are no concern. While we were in Underworld, we have gathered an abundance of materials as we leave. We can forge without worry."


    Arges'' voice was firm. "Furthermore, weapons are not only for war, but also for protection. Do you believe your sisters should be left defenseless? The Titans will not discriminate when the battle reaches its peak."


    Zeus exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Fine, fine. If it is no burden, then do as you will."


    Poseidon sighed, clearly reluctant but unwilling to argue further. "Very well. Just make sure ours are the finest of the lot."


    Brontes chuckled again. "Worry not, young gods. By the time we are finished, your weapons will be legendary."


    And so, the deal was struck. The forge of the Cyclops would soon blaze to life, crafting the tools that would change the tide of war.


    ****


    The next day.


    The sun had begun its ascent, casting an amber glow over the Island of Crete as the six gods stood before the master craftsmen of their kind.


    The three Cyclopes¡ªArges, Brontes, and Steropes¡ªstood tall, their single eyes gleaming with determination. In their hands, they carried a dark golden ingot, the material found withing the depths of Underworld itself, gleaming with an eerie luster as if it contained the power of the realm of the dead.


    "Now," Arges spoke, his voice deep and steady, "each of you must infuse your divinity into this ingot. This will allow us to forge weapons that are perfectly attuned to your essence."


    Hades, ever the most composed, stepped forward first. Shadows coiled around his hand before he placed it upon the ingot.


    His power surged into the metal, causing its surface to darken further, flickering with an abyssal glow, as if the night itself had been melted and condensed into physical form.


    Poseidon followed, raising his hand as torrents of water and the salty scent of the sea enveloped the ingot.


    His power surged forth, mixing with Hades'' darkness, creating intricate swirling patterns across its surface, reminiscent of ocean waves beneath a moonless sky.


    Zeus stepped up next, electricity crackling between his fingertips. As he pressed his hand against the metal, divine lightning shot into the ingot, making it spark and tremble with raw power.


    Thunder rumbled in the distance, as if the sky itself had acknowledged his presence.


    Hestia, Demeter, and Hera exchanged glances before stepping forward together.


    Hestia''s warmth seeped into the metal, stabilizing the chaos with a gentle, enduring heat.


    Demeter''s essence caused the ingot to pulse with an earthy, nurturing energy, symbolizing the cycle of life and death.


    Hera''s power, regal and authoritative, shimmered over the metal, binding the conflicting forces together, ensuring that the weapons would be as magnificent as they were deadly.


    Brontes observed the ingot with an approving nod before lifting it with one hand. "The divinities within this ingot are powerful. It will take time to forge weapons worthy of gods."


    "How long?" Zeus asked impatiently, eager to wield his destined weapon.


    "Seven weeks," Brontes answered. "To forge divinity into metal is no simple task. You must wait."


    Zeus and Poseidon exchanged glances, clearly dissatisfied. Seven weeks felt like an eternity amidst a war where every second counted.


    However, even they could not argue against the master artisans of the divine.


    Brontes, Arges, and Steropes turned and disappeared into a cavern at the base of the mountain.


    The forge within roared to life, the echoes of their hammers already resonating through the stone.


    The gods could only wait, knowing that when the Cyclopes emerged, they would bear weapons that would shape the fate of the cosmos itself.


    Hades turned around, intending to return to his cave to train his new powers.


    However...


    "Hades, wait!" Hestia called out, grabbing his hand, stopping him.


    Hades turned to Hestia, his brows furrowing slightly. "What is it?"


    Hestia smiled, though her grip on his hand remained firm.


    "It''s rare for all of us to be together like this," she said gently. "Why not stay for a little while longer? We should have a family breakfast¡ªjust once."


    Hades hesitated. He had never been one for these sentimental moments, nor did he see the point of indulging in such gatherings when war loomed on the horizon.


    But Hestia''s gaze held a quiet insistence, one that made it difficult to refuse.


    "...Fine," he relented, sighing.


    Hestia''s smile brightened, and she quickly turned to the others. "Let''s prepare the meal together!"


    Under a large tree that Demeter had planted long ago, the gods gathered. Their mother, Rhea, sat at the base of the tree, watching them with a gentle smile, her presence radiating a quiet warmth.


    Hestia, Hera, and Rhea took charge of preparing the food, their movements fluid and natural.


    Demeter supplied fresh ingredients with a mere gesture, the ground beneath them shifting as fruits and grains sprang forth at her command.


    As they worked, Demeter sighed dramatically, turning her gaze towards her brothers.


    "Honestly, you three should help as well," she said, glancing at Hades, Zeus and Poseidon, who were leaning against the tree, doing nothing.


    Zeus smirked, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Come now, dear sister, would you really want me in the kitchen? A god of the sky should not be confined to such mundane tasks."


    Demeter rolled her eyes. "Oh yes, because lifting a loaf of bread is truly beneath you."


    Poseidon chuckled. "If you really need help, I can summon a wave to wash the fruits for you."


    Demeter shot him a look. "Don''t you dare. I don''t need my ingredients drenched in seawater."


    Hestia shook her head with an amused smile. "Just let them be. They''d only get in the way."


    Zeus placed a hand over his chest in mock offense. "I am deeply wounded, sister. Do you truly think so little of my culinary skills?"


    Poseidon, seated at the side, let out a quiet chuckle. "You don''t even know how to hold a knife properly." S§×ar?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Zeus turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "And you do?"


    Poseidon shrugged. "More than you, at least."


    Hades couldn''t help but snort in amusement, "...Children."


    Poseidon blinked, even Zeus raised an eyebrow.


    "What?" Hades frowned, noticing their looks.


    "So you can speak," Poseidon smirked, "This is the first time you actually joined in on our conversation... I was so surprised I can''t even get mad with you calling us children."


    "Indeed." Zeus nodded.


    Hestia looked towards them, "That''s a good thing, right? It means he''s starting to warm up to us."


    Hades clicked his tongue, grumbling.


    Rhea, who had been watching quietly, finally spoke. "Hestia is right. There may come a time when we will not have the luxury of sharing a meal together."


    Her words cast a brief shadow over the gathering, a reminder of the war looming over them.


    Hera was the first to break the silence, her tone lighter but carrying an undeniable weight. "Then we should make this meal memorable."


    Finally, after an hour, the meal was ready. The scent of freshly baked bread and roasted fruits filled the air, the result of Demeter''s harvest and Rhea''s skilled hands.


    Hestia, standing at the center, waved her hand over the bonfire, invoking her authority over the hearth. A warm, gentle flame flickered to life, casting a soft glow over the gathering.


    The moment she did, an undeniable sense of home settled over them, as if, for just a brief moment, they weren''t warriors preparing for war but simply a family sharing a meal.


    Zeus took a large bite of bread and hummed in approval. "I suppose even a god like me can admit that this is good."


    Poseidon smirked. "Don''t get used to it. We''ll be back to eating whatever we can find once the war picks up again."


    Demeter arched an eyebrow. "Maybe if you helped more, you''d have better meals more often."


    Poseidon simply grinned, unbothered. "That''s what I have sisters for, isn''t it?"


    Hera scoffed. "Unbelievable."


    Meanwhile, Hades remained silent for most of the meal, though he occasionally responded when spoken to.


    At one point, Poseidon turned to him. "Brother, how was your journey to Tartarus?"


    Hades hesitated before answering. "It is... quite the experience. The Underworld, or rather, Tartarus is unlike any place we''ve known. Those without a strong will might find themselves go insane, and that''s only if you stay there for a short while."


    Zeus smiled lecherously. "How about that dragon girl? Where is she? Where did you find her?"


    Hades shot him a look. "I suggest you don''t try anything funny. She''d rip your balls off like Cronus did to Uranus."


    Zeus grinned. "Oh, feisty. I think I like her even more."


    Hera narrowed her eyes at him. "I told you this so many times, do not tarnish the sacred marriage I blessed you and Metis."


    Demeter chuckled, "Hah! As if he can keep it in his pants!"


    Despite the lighthearted bickering, there was an undeniable warmth in the air¡ªsomething unfamiliar, yet not unwelcome.


    For a brief moment, there was peace.


    When the meal finally ended, the gods stood, the air between them feeling slightly lighter than before.


    They all knew that soon, they would return to war. But for this one moment, they were simply a family¡ªhowever fractured they may be.

 Chapter 11 - 11: Desmos

    Seven weeks later.


    The Olympians stood at the entrance of the cave, their gazes fixed on the dark maw of the mountain where the Cyclopes had been forging their weapons.


    The air was thick with anticipation, though it was clear that some were more eager than others.


    Zeus stood with his arms crossed, grinning confidently. "I can already tell¡ªmy weapon will be the most powerful of them all."


    Poseidon scoffed. "Oh please, brother. You might command the sky, but the seas are deep and vast. My weapon will be unparalleled."


    Zeus turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "We''ll see about that. The sky is far more deadlier than some salty water."


    Poseidon smirked. "We''ll see who laughs last when my weapon wash away the skies."


    As their argument continued, Hestia simply watched with mild curiosity, though she showed little excitement compared to her brothers.


    Hera, as always, remained unreadable, her stoic expression betraying no emotion.


    Demeter, on the other hand, hummed a soft tune, seemingly unbothered by the tension between Zeus and Poseidon.


    Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the heavy footsteps of the Cyclopes echoed from within the cave.


    Arges, Brontes, and Steropes emerged, their massive figures illuminated by the molten glow of their forge.


    Each of them carried a sacred artifact in their hands, radiating divinity and power beyond comprehension.


    Arges, the eldest, stepped forward. "It is done. The weapons we have forged are worthy of gods. With them, your power will reach new heights, and the Titans will tremble before you."


    A wave of silence fell over the Olympians as the Cyclopes began handing out the weapons, each crafted with divine precision.


    Brontes stepped forward, holding a delicate lotus flower made entirely of ethereal blue flames. It burned with a serene intensity, yet its warmth was not one of destruction, but of purification.


    "This is the Azure Lotus," Brontes declared. "It burns away evil, purifying all corruption in its path. It is not a weapon of destruction, but of renewal, meant for the goddess who keeps the hearth alight."


    Hestia cradled the lotus in her hands, feeling its gentle warmth. She gave a small, content smile.


    "Thank you," she said softly.


    Steropes approached Demeter next, presenting her with two curved sickles, one silver and the other gold. Their edges shimmered like the light of dawn and dusk.


    "These are the Twin Sickles of Harvest," Steropes explained. "One sickle reaps life, cutting down even the mightiest of foes. The other grants life, nurturing all that it touches. Life and death¡ªboth are within your grasp."


    Demeter traced her fingers along the sickles, sensing the immense balance within them.


    She nodded in approval. "Perfect."


    Arges then stepped toward Hera, holding up an ornate mirror framed in gold and obsidian. Its reflective surface seemed to ripple like water, distorting reality itself.


    "This is the Mirror of Dominion," Arges said. "It is a weapon of control. With your will, it can seal whatever is reflected into an alternate dimension, beyond the reach of even the Titans."


    Hera took the mirror, her face as composed as ever, though a glint of satisfaction flickered in her eyes.


    "A fitting gift," she murmured, running her fingers along its smooth surface.


    Brontes then turned to Poseidon, holding out a magnificent trident. Its prongs gleamed with the deepest hues of the ocean, and its entire structure pulsed with divine energy.


    "This is the Trident of the Sea," Brontes proclaimed. "It will amplify your authority, allowing you to command the very fabric of the seas. And with a single strike, it can split the earth and create fissures¡ªboth in the land and in space itself."


    Poseidon took the trident, feeling the boundless power coursing through it.


    He grinned. "Now this¡ªthis is a weapon worthy of the god of the seas."


    Zeus, watching impatiently, stepped forward. "Alright, my turn!"


    Steropes turned to Zeus, presenting him with a long, crackling bolt of divine lightning, pulsating with pure, unfiltered destruction. The very air trembled around it.


    "This is the Thunderbolt of Judgment," Steropes announced. "It is the wrath of the heavens made manifest. With it, you may call upon the full fury of the skies. It can erase anything from existence, or unleash a fury of storm to wreck the lands."


    Zeus grasped the thunderbolt, feeling the overwhelming energy surging within.


    His grin widened. "Magnificent. This is the power of a true king."


    Finally, Arges stepped toward Hades, holding out an obsidian crown, wreathed in shifting shadows. The moment it was revealed, the very light around it seemed to dim, as if the darkness itself was alive.


    "This is the Crown of Night," Arges declared. "With it, you may exist in another dimension, making yourself intangible, undetectable, and completely immune to any attack from this world. And should you choose to invoke its power fully, it will awaken the "Fear of the Dark", driving your enemies into such terror that their very minds will shatter."


    Hades reached out and took the crown, feeling the abyssal weight of its presence.


    Although it''s far better than the one in the myths, he was still a little disappointed as he finds it underwhelming.


    The Cyclopes stepped back, their work complete.


    "With these weapons, the tides of war will change," Brontes said. "Use them well."


    Zeus twirled his thunderbolt in his hand, grinning. "I''d say the Titans are about to have a very bad time."


    Poseidon smirked. "Let''s see who slays the most."


    Hades simply placed the crown upon his head, vanishing into the shadows for a moment before reappearing.


    Hestia sighed, tucking the lotus close to her chest. "Let''s just make sure we all return safely."


    "Alright!" Zeus exclaimed, "I''ll go and test the power of my weapon! Be right back!"


    With that, he flew away.


    "Mine too!" Poseidon followed suit.


    Hestia, Hera, and Demeter stared at each other, before deciding to test their own weapons as well.


    Hades remained for a few moments to observe the crown before he turned to follow¡ªonly to feel a heavy hand on his shoulder.


    He glanced back to see Brontes, his single eye solemn.


    "Stay a moment, Lord Hades," Brontes said. "There is something more for you."


    Curiosity flickered in Hades'' eyes. He cast a final glance at his departing siblings before following the Cyclopes into the depths of the cave.


    The air inside was thick with the scent of molten metal and divine energy, yet there was something else¡ªan undercurrent of something ancient, something that did not belong in the realm of the living.


    At the heart of the forge, resting on a pedestal of blackened stone, was a weapon unlike any other.


    A spear¡ªlong, sleek, and menacing. Its shaft was obsidian, absorbing all light that touched it. Barbs jutted from its tip, cruel and jagged, as though thirsting for flesh. S~ea??h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The very presence of the weapon seemed to distort the air around it, a silent promise of death.


    Arges stepped forward, his voice low and reverent. "This is Desmos, the Spear of Death."


    Hades narrowed his eyes, stepping closer, feeling an unnatural chill run through him. "You forged this?"


    Brontes nodded. "The divine weapons for you and your siblings were completed in three weeks. The last four were dedicated solely to Desmos. It is a weapon unlike any other."


    Steropes gestured toward it. "It holds a power to reverse causality. An attack by Desmos is not merely a attack¡ªit is an inevitability. Once Desmos name has been called, the cursed spear reverses the nature of causality, the meaning of "cause and effect" in the order of things, to make it so the cause of the ''lance being thrust'' comes from the effect of the ''opponent''s heart being pierced''."


    Hades'' gaze flickered in astonishment as he grasped the weight of their words.


    Arges continued. "Even if your target dodges or blocks, the spear will correct the course of reality itself to ensure the heart is pierced. And once it lands, it does not simply wound¡ªit devours. It feasts upon the very lifeforce of the one it strikes, draining them until nothing remains."


    Hades slowly reached for the weapon, his fingers brushing against the blackened surface. The moment he touched it, a pulse of energy surged through him¡ªa deep, abyssal power that resonated with his very essence.


    Brontes added, "It determines the opponent''s fate simply through its use, an always fatal move that pierces the heart with one thrust. It is an attack on destiny itself."


    "And there is more," Steropes added. "Desmos is not just a spear¡ªit is a key. With it, you may open the gates of the Underworld and even Tartarus itself. Should you desire, you can cast your enemies into the deepest abyss, where not even the gods may retrieve them."


    Hades exhaled slowly, lifting the spear, feeling its perfect weight in his grasp. A weapon like this was not meant for mere battle¡ªit was a judgment, a final verdict that no being could escape.


    "Why?" he asked, his voice quiet but firm. "Why make this for me?"


    The Cyclopes exchanged glances before Arges spoke. "Aside from our gratitute for freeing us. Also because of all the gods, you are the only one who will bear the weight of true judgment. Zeus will rule the skies. Poseidon will rule the seas. But you¡­ you will rule over what lies at the end of all things. You are the last arbiter, the one who must decide the fates of the dead. We forged Desmos so that no force¡ªnot mortal, not divine¡ªmay ever challenge your authority over death itself."


    Hades gripped the spear tightly. It was not just a weapon. It was a responsibility.


    A power that could turn the tide of any battle¡ªbut also a burden that no other god would bear.


    He let out a quiet chuckle, though there was no mirth in it. "Zeus and Poseidon will throw a fit if they find out about this."


    Brontes smirked. "Unfortunately for them, Desmos is a weapon meant only for the one who truly understands its purpose."


    Hades smirked, twirling the spear.


    "Thank you." He turned towards the cyclops, "This weapon will help me greatly."


    The cyclops merely smiled at him.


    "It is what you deserved."


    Hades nodded at them, before turning around to head towards the exit.


    Desmos.


    Finally, he got his hand on a satisfying divine weapon.


    With this, he is now confident on facing Cronus all by himself.


    Victory is all but assured.

 Chapter 12 - 12: Prometheus

    Desmos.


    The spear of death.


    The spear that can reverse causality, always aims the heart, can drain life force, and open the gates of underworld and Tartarus.


    A divine weapon of great power.


    Hades did a few thrusts and swings with the spear, and the space seems to tear apart with each strike.


    With a twirl, the spear vanished into the shadows.


    "That spear is seriously bad news, master." Said his mount, Campe.


    Hades smirked, "And that''s just makes it even better."


    He stretched his arms, feeling quite sore after his morning training.


    Just then, he felt a presence enter his cave. Turning his head, he saw Hera descending down from the stairs he had built(his training ground is underground).


    "Hera," Hades greeted, giving a nod. "What brings you here?"


    "They are planning on attacking Cronus." Said Hera. "They want you to come up with a plan with them."


    "Who? Zeus and Poseidon?" Hades raised an eyebrow, "That''s unlike them. I would''ve thought that they''d just storm through to Mount Orthys with their divine weapons."


    Hera let out a small smirk, before it quickly vanished.


    "Well," Hades took his clothes that he placed on the side and wore them, "Let''s see what plan they came up with."


    He turned towards Campe, "Stay here for a bit."


    Ccampe nodded, although looking a bit unwilling.


    Hades and Hera emerged from the cave into the open air, stepping into the sunlight that bathed the Olympian stronghold.


    The winds carried the scent of the mountain, and in the distance, they could hear the echoes of their siblings'' voices.


    As they approached, they saw Zeus standing in the center, arms crossed, lightning crackling faintly around him. Poseidon leaned against his trident, a confident smirk on his face.


    Demeter and Hestia stood nearby, listening intently.


    "You''re late," Poseidon teased, his emerald-green eyes gleaming. "Too busy admiring your new toy?"


    Hades scoffed, his expression calm. "Unlike you, I actually test my weapon before running into battle."


    Poseidon rolled his eyes but let it go as Metis, the consort of Zeus, spoke up.


    "We need a plan," she said. "Cronus side is powerful. Atlas, Hyperion, Iapetus, Coeus, and Crius are standing guard over Mount Othrys. Each of them commands a temple at the four cardinal points, with Atlas guarding the main gate of Cronus Temple."


    "That''s not including their children," Hera added. "Many of the Titans'' offspring will fight for Cronus."


    Even with the Cyclopes, the Hecatoncheires, and Prometheus on their side, they were still heavily outnumbered.


    The weight of the war pressed down on them.


    It was then that a soft yet firm voice spoke from the side.


    "You will not fight alone."


    The Olympians turned to see their mother, Rhea, standing gracefully, her presence exuding warmth and authority.


    "Themis has pledged her aid," Rhea continued, stepping closer. "She knows Cronus is doomed, and she will not oppose fate."


    At her words, Zeus''s expression eased slightly. "That''s good, but still not enough."


    Metis stepped forward. "We must outmaneuver them, not just overpower them."


    A silence fell over the group. Even with Themis and Prometheus, the numbers still leaned heavily in Cronus'' favor.


    Then, Hades spoke.


    "The gods of the Underworld will aid us."


    Everyone turned to him.


    "Hecate, Styx, Lethe, and others," he continued. "They are not Titans, nor are they Olympians, but they are gods. They owe their allegiance to the natural order of things, not to Cronus. And they will fight."


    Zeus''s blue eyes locked onto Hades''. "Are you sure?"


    Hades gave a small, knowing smirk. "They will follow me."


    At Hades'' words, the Olympians exchanged glances. For the first time since they had gathered, the overwhelming weight of the coming battle seemed lighter.


    Poseidon was the first to break the silence, grinning. "Now that''s more like it! With the Underworld gods on our side, we might actually stand a chance."


    Demeter, however, frowned. "Even so, our numbers are still smaller. Hyperion alone is a nightmare to face, and Iapetus is a warrior unlike any other."


    Metis nodded in agreement. "Even if we match their strength, we cannot fight a battle of attrition. They will wear us down."


    Hades glanced at her. "Then we don''t fight a battle of attrition."


    Metis tilted her head. "What do you mean?"


    Hades explained. "Instead of trying to overwhelm them, we target their leaders. If we remove Cronus'' strongest allies quickly, the rest will crumble."


    Hera''s eyes narrowed. "Easier said than done. Each of them has their own domain, their own power."


    "Which is why we don''t face them head-on," Hades added. "We take them down before they realize what''s happening."


    His plan was simple.


    First, have the most destructive god of all of them such as Hades and Poseidon focus on a narrow front, and use their power to quickly penetrate their enemy''s defenses.


    Other gods such as Zeus would provide air support to throw lightning down to bomb key objectives.


    Any history lovers would know that this strategy is similar to Blitzkrieg.


    A strategy so successful that even though almost a century have passed, some modern military training manuals still incorporate some of its designs.


    "We''ll end this war swiftly, and thoroughly." Declared Hades.


    The Titanomachy lasted for ten years according to the myths. But Hades absolutely has no interest on prolonging the war.


    He''ll end this, as swiftly as possible.


    ****


    Prometheus, the Titan of Forethought.


    He''s an ultimate trickster, a man whose loyalty is in victory. He can lie as easily as breathing, and can trick even the smartest of gods. S§×ar?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    His authority over foresight allows him to predict that the Olympians would win the war.


    So to secure his own safety and influence in the new Olympian regime, he chose to abandon the titans and join the winning side.


    Unlike Themis, the Titan of Justice, who joined Zeus because she wanted to end the tyranny of Cronus, Prometheus simply wanted to survive.


    Currently, he was on his temple, humming a tune as he observed the world beneath him.


    Prometheus is a tall man, standing at 8ft in height, with a slender build covered by a white chiton. He has a fiery red hair, and red eyes, shining in mischievous glint.


    He was sitting cross legged on the floor, his head resting on his right hand, while his left hand on his left leg.


    "You seem to be enjoying yourself."


    A deep, rumbling voice cut through the tranquil air of the temple.


    Prometheus didn''t even flinch. His red eyes flickered toward the entrance as his lips curled into a knowing smile.


    "Ah, dear brother, what a rare honor," he mused, his voice carrying a lazy amusement.


    Atlas stood at the threshold, a towering figure draped in bronze armor. His dark eyes held no warmth as he gazed down at his sibling.


    The weight of the sky itself seemed to press down upon him, yet he remained unwavering, his presence like an immovable mountain.


    Prometheus stretched his arms and yawned, unbothered. "To what do I owe this pleasure, Atlas? Surely, you didn''t come all this way just to admire the view with me?"


    Atlas remained silent for a moment, then stepped forward, his heavy footsteps echoing in the chamber.


    "I have no time for your games, Prometheus," he said coldly. "Tell me... are the rumors true?"


    Prometheus tilted his head, feigning innocence. "Rumors? Oh, you must be more specific, dear brother. There are so many."


    Atlas'' patience wore thin. "Are you a traitor?"


    The question hung between them like a drawn blade.


    Prometheus exhaled a small laugh before gracefully rising to his feet. He turned fully to face his brother, the ever-present smirk never leaving his lips. Slowly, he stepped closer, standing just a few feet away.


    "So what if I am?" he finally answered, his tone light, almost playful.


    Atlas'' expression hardened, his jaw tightening. "Then I will kill you."


    The air crackled with tension.


    A moment later, their auras exploded outward.


    The entire temple trembled under their power.


    Atlas'' presence was like the weight of the heavens itself crashing down¡ªan unstoppable force pressing against reality, making the very atmosphere suffocating. The sky outside darkened, as if the world itself bent under his authority.


    Prometheus, however, was unfazed. His own aura erupted in response, a burning heat that surged from the depths of the earth. The ground beneath them cracked as fiery veins of molten lava pulsed through the stone, the air thick with heat and mischief.


    The clash of their powers sent shockwaves across the land, splitting the clouds and making the very stars tremble.


    And then, as quickly as it began, it stopped.


    Both brothers knew the consequences of their battle¡ªGaia would not tolerate such recklessness.


    Atlas withdrew first, his eyes filled with cold fury. "This is your final warning, Prometheus. If I see you standing against us, I will not hesitate."


    Prometheus chuckled, brushing imaginary dust off his chiton. "Oh, Atlas, you wound me. Do you really think so poorly pf your brother? You talk as if I''m some unloyal and fickle guy."


    Atlas didn''t respond. He turned and left, the air still heavy with unspoken threats.


    Prometheus, still smiling, watched his brother go, utterly unbothered.


    He muttered to himself, his red eyes glinting. "Now, that was fun."


    Then, he returned to humming, as if nothing had happened at all.

 Chapter 13 - 13: Unexpected

    "So, at dawn huh?"


    Hera said softly, standing behind Hades who sat on a cliff, overlooking the seas. His silver hair fluttered with the wind, and his calm expression was emphasize by the gentle breeze.


    Hades nodded, "Yeah. We will strike from the west, attacking Iapetus'' temple. Although he is arguably the strongest out of the four, his army is the weakest."


    Iapetus. The Titan of Mortality. A master of spear similar to Hades.


    Once they defeated him and his army, they will head straight to Cronus'' temple and spread out in three directions; North, East, and South, to intercept and prevent Hyperion and the others from aiding Cronus.


    Currently, on the Olympians side, they had a total of 30 thousand demigods and divine spirits, and a total of 20 thousand lesser gods, a few hundred greater gods, and barely a dozen elder gods. S~ea??h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Iapetus has lest than a thousand gods and divine spirits on his side, as most were afraid of him and his domain.


    Hera stepped closer, her golden eyes reflecting the moonlight as she gazed at Hades.


    "Iapetus, huh? He won''t go down easily." Her voice was soft, but her words carried weight.


    Iapetus is someone to be feared. His domain is basically to "put an end" to things. Like turning immortals into mortals, ending their eternal life.


    That''s why he was feared.


    Gods can revive through some means, but once Iapetus killed you under his domain, you will really die with no way of revival.


    Hades smirked, tilting his head slightly. "You almost sound concerned."


    She scoffed, crossing her arms. "Concerned? Hardly. I said it didn''t I? I know of your strength. I am confident that you can come out of this war not just alive, but victorious."


    He chuckled, shaking his head. "I appreciate the trust, truly."


    The wind carried the scent of salt from the sea below. Hera''s gaze lingered on him for a moment, watching the way his silver hair danced in the breeze.


    "You always like to sit on a cliff to observe the horizon," she mused. "Is there any reason?"


    "It helps me think." His eyes, deep as the abyss, never wavered from the horizon. "You''re the one who always finds me, though."


    She smiled faintly, stepping beside him. "Maybe I just like watching you brood."


    Hades exhaled a laugh, his gaze turned towards Hera. "It''s not brooding. It''s strategizing."


    "Is that what you tell yourself?" she teased, arching an eyebrow.


    He turned his head, his eyes once again overlooking the horizon. "And what about you? Couldn''t sleep?"


    Hera hesitated, then admitted, "Maybe I just wanted to make sure our dear brother wasn''t drowning in his own thoughts."


    Hades smirked, leaning back slightly. "How considerate of you."


    Silence stretched between them, but it wasn''t uncomfortable. The kind of silence where words weren''t necessary, where the tension between them was as natural as the wind.


    Hera''s fingers twitched at her side, and for a moment, she almost reached out. Almost.


    Instead, she said, "Promise me you won''t do anything reckless tomorrow."


    Hades chuckled. "You know I can''t promise that."


    She sighed. "At least try, then."


    He tilted his head. "And if I don''t?"


    Hera''s lips curled slightly. "Then I''ll have to make sure that your recklessness doesn''t bring you harm."


    Hades grinned. "Is that your domain speaking? You almost sound like a worried wife."


    Hera almost stumbled at those words, but she remained composed, her face betraying no emotion.


    "You okay?" Hades raised a brow, looking worried.


    Hera nodded, acting calm and collected. "Yeah. No need to worry."


    "If you say so."


    They stood there a moment longer, the war looming in the distance, yet, for now, it''s just the two of them watching the sea and sky.


    ****


    The next day, dawn.


    Hades walked out of his cave, immediately feeling a bit overwhelmed by the sheer number of gods and divine spirits that arrived in Crete.


    "There you are."


    Hades turned his head and saw Hera along with Hestia and Demeter walking towards him.


    "What do you think?" Hera motioned at their army, "Impressive right? Zeus and Poseidon rallied all of them while you were training."


    "I didn''t even know there were this many gods." Hestia muttered, impressed.


    "I think I''m going to be overworked feeding this many people." Demeter looked exhausted, sighing in defeat just thinking of logistics.


    Zeus stood at the highest point of the makeshift war camp, his eyes blazing with power as he looked down upon the gathered army. His voice thundered across the land, carrying the weight of his authority.


    "My comrades! Today, we march toward our destiny! The Titans have ruled unchecked for too long, binding this world in their chains! But no longer! We will strike them down, and when the dust settles, we gods will reign supreme!"


    A resounding roar erupted from the assembled forces. Divine spirits, demigods, and lesser gods brandished their weapons, their cheers shaking the ground.


    On the shoreline, Poseidon stood among his warriors, his trident raised high. His voice was no less commanding than Zeus''.


    "The seas are ours! The land is ours! The skies will soon belong to us! Let the Titans come¡ªlet them try and stop us! We will drown them in their own blood!"


    Another cheer, fierce and unrelenting, echoed across the island.


    Hades stood with his sisters, Demeter, Hestia, and Hera. They observed their army, all bursting with great power.


    It was an impressive sight. This manpower is probably enough to rule the cosmos.


    It was then, the air around them suddenly twisted unnaturally.


    A deep, guttural tear in space formed in front of them. The sky darkened, the fabric of reality itself seeming to shudder as a figure stumbled through¡ªa woman with long black hair, her body covered in blood. She wore a blindfold, her breath ragged, her divine aura flickering.


    Her head tilted, as if looking around. When she spotted Rhea, she trembled, before falling down.


    The moment she collapsed, Rhea was already moving. She caught the woman before she hit the ground, her expression turning pale.


    "Themis!" she gasped.


    Themis, barely conscious, gripped Rhea''s arm. Her voice, though weak, was urgent. "We have been compromised! Cronus is coming¡ªhe knows where you are!"


    A chilling silence fell over the gathered Olympians. For a brief second, even the winds stopped.


    Then¡ª


    RRRRRIP!


    The sky above Crete split apart, as if something colossal had torn through the very essence of Gaia''s protective barrier.


    The air trembled.


    A sickening pressure settled upon them all.


    From the breach in the heavens, a figure descended.


    A towering god clad in dark robes, his presence alone enough to make even the bravest warriors hesitate.


    A wicked scythe gleamed in his grip, its blade exuding a sickly golden glow¡ªpowerful enough to sever the soul from existence.


    His voice was smooth, yet carried the weight of doom itself.


    "My children¡­ did you think you could escape me?"


    Cronus had arrived.


    And he was not alone.


    As Gaia''s barrier broke, it revealed Cronus'' army that completely blocked the sky.


    What had once been a vibrant dawn was now shrouded in darkness, swallowed by the sheer magnitude of Cronus'' army.


    Titans, divine spirits, and monstrous beings of unfathomable power filled the heavens. Their mere presence distorted reality, twisting the air into unnatural shapes.


    Hades clenched his fists. The Olympians had gathered an impressive force, but this¡­ this was something else entirely.


    Atlas stood at the forefront, his arms crossed, an immovable wall of power. His very existence made the air heavier, as if the sky itself was pressing down on them.


    Beside him, Hyperion burned like a second sun, his golden flames licking at the heavens. The Titan of Heavely Light radiated pure destruction, his presence turning night into day in an eerie contrast to Cronus'' suffocating darkness.


    Iapetus was there too, his spear resting at his side, his expression unreadable. The Titan of Mortality needed no display of power¡ªhis very existence was a silent promise of death.


    And behind them, an endless sea of warriors stretched as far as the eye could see. Thousands of Titans, lesser gods, and divine spirits stood in formation, each one exuding an aura strong enough to shatter mountains.


    Then, Cronus raised his hand.


    The air trembled.


    The gods of Olympus, the demigods, the divine spirits¡ªevery single one of them felt it. A pressure beyond comprehension, as if the weight of time itself was crushing down upon them.


    Some fell to their knees, gasping for air. Others staggered, their divine forms flickering under the overwhelming might of the Titan King.


    Zeus, standing at the highest point of the camp, gritted his teeth. Lightning crackled around him, his defiance evident. "You''re finally here, old man."


    Cronus chuckled, a deep, reverberating sound that sent chills through the battlefield.


    "And you are just as arrogant as I expected, my son." His golden eyes gleamed as he surveyed the Olympian forces. "You have gathered an army. Impressive. But not nearly enough."


    He slowly raised his scythe. The moment he did, the very concept of time seemed to fracture.


    The Olympian gods felt themselves slow, their movements dragged down by an unseen force. Even Zeus, despite his sheer willpower, felt his body grow sluggish.


    Cronus'' voice carried absolute certainty. "This little rebellion ends today."


    And with that, the Titans charged.

 Chapter 14 - 14: Light and Dark

    "This rebellion ends today!" Cronus pointed his scythe at the gods who rebelled against him as his army charged.


    However, just as Cronus'' army was about to strike, Hades exhaled softly. His fingers brushed against the black iron of his crown, and in that moment, the battlefield changed.


    Darkness.


    Not just the absence of light, but something deeper, more primordial. A void that swallowed all certainty, all courage, all reason.


    The sky turned black, not like night, but as if the very fabric of existence had unraveled, leaving behind an abyss that threatened to consume them.


    And then it rained.


    But it was no ordinary rain.


    Each droplet shimmered with an ethereal glow, blurring the space where it fell.


    It was fear given form, the primal dread that clawed at the soul, the terror of the unknown, of what lurked in the void.


    The moment it touched the warriors on Cronus'' side, they faltered. Some collapsed instantly, trembling, their divine auras flickering as their minds crumbled under the weight of their deepest nightmares.


    Others gasped for air, their knees buckling, their hands clutching their heads as if trying to tear the fear out of their own skulls.


    Even the mighty Titans hesitated.


    Atlas clenched his jaw, his muscles tensing as he fought against the unseen force.


    Iapetus, despite his unreadable expression, had stilled, gripping his spear so tightly that the metal groaned under his grip.


    Hades stood amidst the storm, his silver hair billowing, his eyes gleaming with abyssal power. He spoke, his voice reverberating through the battlefield.


    "You who stand against me¡­ do you fear the dark?"


    For a moment, silence reigned.


    Then, a single step echoed through the void.


    The darkness wavered.


    Another step.


    The fear, the suffocating weight of Hades'' power, began to shatter like fragile glass.


    A golden light flared, pushing back the abyss.


    A third step, and the night was no more.


    A man now stood in front of Cronus'' forces.


    He stood tall, his ten-foot frame rippling with divine strength, his body aglow with heavenly radiance.


    His short blond hair shimmered like molten gold, and his piercing eyes burned with pure, unyielding power.


    Every step he took drove the darkness back, as if his very existence rejected the concept of fear itself.


    Then, he raised his hand.


    Light exploded outward, a radiance so pure, so absolute, that the fear-laced rain evaporated instantly.


    The Olympian gods had to shield their eyes, their shadows stretching unnaturally as his divine presence overpowered the battlefield.


    "I believe you are Hades, eldest son of Cronus." He said, his voice like rolling thunder. "A god of the dark, hiding behind shadows and fear. But fear has no power over those who embrace the light."


    His aura flared, a golden inferno that set the sky ablaze. The trembling warriors of Cronus'' army straightened, their dread vanishing like a bad dream.


    This is the Titan of Heavenly Light, Hyperion.


    And he would not let darkness reign.


    "March bravely, soldiers." He declared, "As long as I am here, darkness and fear shall not consume your soul."


    With Hyperion leading them, Cronus'' army surged forward like an unstoppable tide.


    The fear that had once gripped them was gone, replaced by fervor, by a burning determination that only a warrior bathed in heavenly light could inspire.


    Titanic war cries shook the heavens.


    The ground trembled under the weight of their charge.


    The Olympian''s forces, once bursting with morale, now faltered as the overwhelming force of the Titans bore down on them.


    Even Zeus and Poseidon, despite their divine might, could not immediately rally their troops.


    The fear had shaken them too deeply, and now, the light of Hyperion only widened the cracks in their morale.


    The Titans struck like a storm.


    The first lines of the Olympian army shattered as divine spirits and lesser gods were torn apart by monstrous Titans.


    Spears, axes, and fists of unimaginable power crashed into them, reducing even powerful warriors to nothing more than dust and echoes.


    The battlefield was chaos.


    Zeus gritted his teeth, his eyes burning as he roared, "Stand your ground! We are the future of this world!"


    Poseidon raised his trident, his voice crashing like waves against rock. "Do not falter! We fight for freedom!"


    But their words could not reach the broken spirits of the Olympians.


    The onslaught was relentless.


    Zeus and Poseidon had no choice. If words could not restore their morale, then only raw power could.


    Lightning erupted from Zeus'' fingertips, as his Lightning Bolt appeared, splitting the sky in a web of destruction.


    Thunder roared as bolts rained down, incinerating hundreds of enemy forces in an instant.


    Poseidon responded in kind.


    The seas raged, rising into towering waves that crashed onto the battlefield, sweeping away entire legions of Cronus'' forces.


    Tidal waves of divine water turned the land into a churning ocean of destruction.


    But then¡ª


    A shadow loomed over Zeus.


    It was Atlas.


    The Titan of Strength and Endurance, the one who will one day bear the weight of the heavens.


    He moved like a mountain brought to life, his every step shaking the battlefield.


    "You will not go any further, whelp," Atlas growled. His massive arms flexed as he raised an enormous bronze club, one forged in the stars.


    Zeus barely had time to react before the club came crashing down.


    BOOM!


    A deafening explosion rocked the battlefield as Zeus barely dodged, the force alone sending him skidding back.


    Atlas stepped forward, his presence alone blocking Zeus from aiding their army.


    Poseidon moved to assist his brother¡ª


    Only for a chilling voice to stop him.


    "You should focus on yourself, God of the Seas."


    Coeus, the Titan of Wisdom and Intelligence, stepped forward, his piercing violet eyes cold and calculating.


    His presence was not as physically imposing as Atlas'', nor was it as blinding as Hyperion''s.


    Yet, there was something about him.


    An overwhelming, suffocating feeling.


    Poseidon felt as though every move he could make had already been predicted.


    "You think brute force will change the tide of this battle?" Coeus asked, his voice devoid of emotion. "Let me teach you, true power comes from those who use their intellect."


    With Zeus and Poseidon locked in battle, the Olympian forces lost their strongest pillars.


    The slaughter continued.


    Hera, Demeter, and Hestia were the only ones strong enough that are still able to fight. They stood at the frontlines, their divine power lashing out at the Titans who sought to end them.


    Hera, using her mirror, would seal the attacks thrown at her, and release it back to the attacker.


    Demeter, using her left sickle, would drain the lives of her enemies, and use the right sickle to heal her alloes.


    Hestia, without the need of her lotus, produces flames that burned with determination to protect her family and incinerated those who dared to get close to her.


    And yet¡ª


    It was not enough.


    Their forces were being overwhelmed.


    Rhea could do nothing but hold onto Themis, her expression torn between grief and fury. She wanted to help, but Cronus was observing her, preventing her from making any moves.


    Gaia, being a primordial, has certain rules to follow. Due to their overwhelming power, they cannot directly interfere with the affairs of the world.


    Hades, at this moment, remained still.


    And in front of him was Hyperion.


    The Titan of Heavenly Light gazed down at him, his radiant presence pushing back every ounce of darkness that Hades commanded.


    For the first time in this battle¡ª


    It was Hades who felt the weight of an overwhelming force.


    "You are strong," Hyperion admitted, his voice unwavering. "Stronger than most of my kin give you credit for."


    He raised his arm. S§×ar?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The sun itself seemed to pulse with his movements.


    "But strength alone does not make you win wars."


    The light grew brighter, enveloping everything in a golden blaze.


    Hades narrowed his eyes.


    Then, he took a step forward.


    And darkness met the light.

 Chapter 15 - 15: The Battle

    The battlefield split between light and darkness.


    Hyperion''s radiance turned the sky golden, his divine light pushing back the abyssal night Hades had conjured.


    Hades, standing unmoved, felt the weight of that celestial presence.


    This was not mere sunlight.


    This was the essence of heavenly light, a force that rejected shadows, that sought to burn away all that lurked in the dark.


    Hades exhaled.


    His fingers clenched, and the black mist surrounding him thickened, pulsing as though it were alive. The divine rain of fear that once blanketed the battlefield had vanished under Hyperion''s light¡ª


    But fear itself could not be destroyed so easily.


    It is not something one can get rid off by strength nor power. That is because fear itself is not a feeling, it''s an instinct.


    And no one can escape their instinct.


    Hyperion took a step forward. "Hiding in the dark will not save you, godling."


    Hades responded not with words, but action.


    He vanished.


    Or rather, the very concept of his presence melted into the darkness.


    A whisper of movement¡ª


    Then, Hades was behind Hyperion.


    His fingers curled into a clawed grip, and from the shadows, a long obsidian spear emerged, aimed for the Titan''s back.


    Hyperion did not turn.


    Instead, light erupted from his body.


    A shockwave of divine radiance blasted outward, forcing Hades to retreat, his form dissolving into the black mist once more.


    "You will not take me by surprise," Hyperion said. "The sun watches all."


    His golden eyes locked onto the mist¡ª


    Then, he raised his arm.


    A single point of light appeared above his palm, smaller than a spark, no larger than a grain of sand.


    And then¡ª


    It exploded.


    A sphere of pure heavenly fire expanded outward, swallowing everything in an instant.


    The golden blaze turned the battlefield into a second sun, evaporating darkness, melting the ground into molten rivers.


    But as the light faded¡ª


    Hades stood there, untouched.


    A barrier of pure void surrounded him, an abyssal dome that had swallowed the light before it could reach him.


    Then¡ª


    "Tell me, Titan of Heavenly Light..." Hades voice echoed through the dark dome, "what do you fear?"


    The darkness opened its eyes.


    A thousand spectral irises, violet and abyssal, flickered in the void behind Hades.


    They were not mortal eyes, nor were they divine. They were concepts, manifestations of every nightmare, every horror that lurked in the dark places of the world.


    This is the true power of his crown, the concept of "fear" given form.


    Hyperion frowned, a shiver running down his spine. "What is this?"


    "They are your fears, Titan." Said Hades, "and they will swallow you."


    With that, Hades lifted a single hand¡ª


    And the battlefield collapsed.


    The ground beneath them shattered as gravity distorted. The space around Hyperion blurred, stretching and warping as if reality itself rejected his presence.


    And then, from the abyss¡ª


    Hands emerged.


    Long, skeletal fingers made of pure darkness, clawing upward, reaching for Hyperion.


    They were not mere constructs.


    They were fear itself.


    The fear of death.


    The fear of the unknown.


    The fear of what comes after.


    They grasped at the Titan, seeking to pull him down into an eternity of nothingness as he struggled fiercely.


    "I...! Have...! No...! Fear...!" Hyperion roared.


    The sun pulsed, and in an instant, the shadows burned.


    The divine hands screeched as they were reduced to cinders, and Hyperion surged forward, his fist coated in solar fire. S§×ar?h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Hades moved, but it was too late.


    The punch connected¡ª


    A flash of golden fire enveloped him he was sent hurtling backward, smashing into a distant mountain, the impact shattering stone and sending shockwaves across the battlefield.


    Hyperion exhaled. "You are strong, but you cannot win."


    But from the rubble, a voice echoed.


    "Who decided that?"


    A pulse of darkness¡ª


    And Hades emerged, unscathed.


    His eyes burned with something deeper than rage.


    Something colder.


    "You keep yapping about light this, sun that." His voice was a whisper, yet it filled the battlefield. "But even the sun¡­ must bow to the darkness of the night."


    Darkness surged once more.


    And the battle raged on.


    ****


    Zeus ducked under Atlas'' swing, the Titan''s massive club shattering the rock behind him.


    Lightning crackled, and Zeus thrust his hand forward¡ª


    A bolt of divine thunder struck Atlas in the chest, sending the massive Titan skidding backward.


    But Atlas did not fall.


    He grinned.


    "You''re fast, little god," he rumbled, rolling his shoulders. "But speed is useless if you can''t even harm your opponent."


    He slammed his club into the ground¡ª


    And the earth rose.


    Jagged peaks of stone erupted beneath Zeus, aiming to skewer him¡ª


    He leapt into the sky, but Atlas was already there.


    The Titan launched himself upward, his club swinging in a wide arc.


    Zeus barely managed to block with his divine aura, but the sheer force sent him careening through the air.


    Atlas pursued, his laughter shaking the heavens.


    ****


    Poseidon twirled his trident, the air around him vibrating with the power of the ocean.


    Across from him, Coeus stood with an eerie stillness, his violet eyes glowing with an unnatural brilliance.


    "You rely too much on instinct," the Titan of Wisdom said.


    Poseidon scowled. "And you rely too much on words."


    With a flick of his wrist, Poseidon unleashed a tidal wave, the water twisting into razor-sharp tendrils aimed for the Titan.


    Coeus did not move.


    Instead, he lifted a single finger¡ª


    And the water froze.


    Not into ice, but into pure stasis, as if time itself had stopped the moment the wave touched Coeus'' divine aura.


    Poseidon''s eyes widened.


    Then, Coeus whispered:


    "I am Coeus, the embodiment of celestial axis. The axis in which the heavens revolve."


    And the frozen wave shattered into a thousand spears, all turning back toward Poseidon.


    "And you shall face the consequences of defying the heavens."


    ****


    High above the battlefield, where the chaos of war turned the land into ruin, Cronus stood, his arms held the scythe he used to cut his father.


    The King of the Titans observed the battle below, his eyes tracking every clash, every divine explosion of power.


    The Olympians were faltering.


    Even Zeus and Poseidon, the strongest among them, were being pushed back by the might of the Titans.


    Hades, however¡­


    Cronus narrowed his gaze. The eldest of his sons was proving to be more than just a challenge even for someone as powerful as Hyperion.


    Hades was holding his ground against the Titan of Heavenly Light. Not only holding his ground¡ªhe was forcing the Titan of Light into a deadlock.


    More than that, Cronus was sure Hades was still holding back. Perhaps he was reserving his strength?


    But why?


    Does he want to hide his trump cards until he fights him?


    Curious, curious.


    Cronus turned slightly, glancing at the Titan who had stood still behind him, his usually playful eyes was serious, and his blabbering mouth remained silent throughout the battle.


    "You are awfully quiet, trickster." Cronus'' voice rumbled like a distant storm. "Are you perhaps regretting your betrayal?"


    Prometheus blinked, his eyes shone with a mischievous glint.


    He doesn''t have an expression of guilt.


    Nor one of defiance.


    It was sly and unreadable¡ªa smile that hinted that he possessed knowledge only he knows.


    "I don''t know what you''re talking about, my lord." he said smoothly, his arms crossed. "I stand here beside you, as your faithful subject. If loyalty were a god, it would be me."


    Cronus snorted.


    The Titan of Time was no fool. He knew Prometheus was a liar, a schemer. But he also knew that the Titan of Foresight played the long game.


    He did not trust him.


    Yet, he did not press further.


    There was no need.


    Whether Prometheus would betray him or not means nothing, at the end of the day, he will be the one who will emerge victorious.


    Nothing escapes the clutches time.


    Prometheus took his eyes off Cronus and simply continued to watch the war.


    His eyes flickered, scanning the battlefield, lingering particularly on Hades.


    He studied the god of the underworld with the gaze of someone unraveling a riddle.


    Thoughtful.


    Silent.


    And unreadable.


    No one knew what was on his mind.

 Chapter 16 - 16: Scatter

    Hades and Hyperion stood apart, their divine auras clashing violently in the space between them.


    One was darkness incarnate, a god whose very presence warped the shadows.


    The other was the embodiment of heavenly radiance, his golden light rejecting all that was hidden, all that was unknown.


    "Fear is a powerful weapon," Hyperion said, his voice a deep, resounding force. "But fear crumbles before light. The unknown becomes nothing when illuminated."


    Hades didn''t respond. He simply lifted his hand. Shadows coiled around his fingers, forming jagged spears of pure void. He flicked his wrist.


    The spears shot forward, the air shrieking as they tore through space itself.


    Hyperion didn''t move.


    Instead, his body shined.


    A pulse of golden light erupted from him, so blinding that the darkness itself recoiled. The spears disintegrated mid-air, melting like ice before a scorching flame.


    And then, Hyperion moved.


    He crossed the battlefield in an instant, his fist wreathed in holy fire.


    Hades barely had time to react.


    BOOM!


    The first punch landed square in his chest.


    The force sent him flying back, crashing through the remnants of broken temples and shattered statues.


    The impact carved a deep trench into the earth as his body skidded across the battlefield.


    Hades exhaled sharply, staggering to his feet. It doesn''t hurt as much as he expected, but it did hurt.


    These titans are far stronger than he had initially thought.


    But, so what? He isn''t weak, either.


    He stretched out his hand.


    The sky darkened once more.


    And then¡ª


    It fell.


    Shadows rained down like spears, but they were different this time. They did not simply aim for Hyperion.


    They devoured.


    Each drop of darkness was an abyss in itself, a void that sought to consume all existence.


    Hyperion''s light clashed against it, but the more he burned, the more the darkness fed.


    Hyperion frowned.


    "How annoying¡­" he murmured.


    And then¡ª


    He raised both hands.


    Light exploded outward.


    It was not mere illumination.


    It was divine order.


    A force that banished all the darkness.


    The shadows shattered.


    Hades clicked his teeth in annoyance.


    Hyperion appeared before him once more. A fist wreathed in pure, burning divinity slammed into Hades'' face.


    The impact cracked the air itself.


    Instantly, Hades activated his crown. His body was covered in shadows, transferring him to another dimension where attacks couldn''t reach him.


    Hyperion continued, his movements relentless. A knee to the gut. A crushing elbow to the back. A golden boot slamming Hades into the ground.


    The world shook with every impact.


    Hades took a deep breath as he stood up from the ground, completely unharmed.


    Hyperion stood in front him, his radiance unchallenged.


    "You are really strong, Hades," Hyperion declared. "But your darkness cannot conquer the light."


    Hades'' fingers twitched.


    Then¡ª


    He smirked.


    "¡­Light?" he rasped, lifting his head slightly. "You think my domain is limited to darkness?"


    Hyperion frowned.


    And then¡ª


    The battlefield trembled.


    Not from an attack.


    Not from divine energy.


    But from something primal.


    The air became heavy, thick with a presence that should not be.


    Hyperion''s golden glow flickered.


    His heartbeat stilled.


    The Titans watching from afar suddenly shuddered.


    A new fear gripped the battlefield.


    Not the fear of darkness.


    Not the fear of the unknown.


    But the fear of something inevitable.


    A god not of mere shadows¡ª


    But of the Underworld.


    Of the realm where light had no meaning.


    Where divine radiance held no power.


    The place where all things¡ªTitans, Gods, Mortals¡ªwould one day fall.


    Hades exhaled slowly, lifting his head fully.


    And Hyperion saw it.


    The void behind his eyes.


    Not just absence, not just darkness¡ª


    But the end.


    Hyperion stepped back instinctively.


    But it was too late.


    The moment his foot moved, Hades struck.


    Faster than sight.


    Faster than thought.


    His fist, wrapped in the authority of the Underworld itself, slammed into Hyperion''s chest.


    A shockwave rippled outward.


    Hyperion choked.


    Not in pain.


    But in terror.


    His light flickered violently, struggling against a force that denied existence itself.


    Hades moved.


    He spun, delivering a crushing backhand to Hyperion''s face. The Titan staggered.


    Another strike.


    A spear of pure abyss shot through his stomach.


    And then¡ª


    Hades stood behind him.


    His hand gripped Hyperion''s neck.


    His voice was a whisper.


    "Fall."


    He pulled.


    Hyperion''s divine essence wavered, dragged downward, as if an unseen force was claiming him.


    For a moment, Hyperion saw it.


    The gates of the Underworld.


    A place not even Titans could escape.


    His fingers trembled. His light dimmed.


    His knees buckled.


    And then¡ª


    He collapsed.


    The Titan of Heavenly Light fell.


    Hades stood still, his breath heavy, his dark robes fluttered with the wind. His divine aura flickered, but his grip on his spear remained firm.


    Hyperion, the Titan of Heavenly Light, lay before him, motionless. The once-mighty titan groaned, his golden radiance reduced to mere embers, his chest rising and falling in labored breaths.


    Hades exhaled slowly. This was it. With Hyperion down, he could¡ª


    A shadow loomed over him.


    A massive hand wrapped around his throat.


    Hades'' eyes widened as he was lifted off the ground with overwhelming force.


    Atlas.


    The Titan of Endurance held him effortlessly, his grip like a vice, unyielding.


    "You fought well, Nephew," Atlas rumbled. "But your fight ends here."


    Hades clicked his tongue in annoyance, activating his authority over darkness, but before he could summon his power¡ª


    A sharp presence approached from behind.


    Boom!


    A colossal fist crashed into his gut.


    Hades was sent hurtling across the battlefield, his body crashing into the broken earth. Raising his head, he saw another Titan.


    Iapetus.


    The Titan of Mortality stood beside Atlas now, his knuckles still smoking from the impact.


    Hades barely had time to react before another presence descended upon him.


    Coeus, the Titan of Wisdom and Intelligence, landed with eerie silence, his sharp, calculating gaze locked onto Hades.


    From the other side, Crius, the Titan of Constellations, cracked his knuckles, divine power surging around him.


    One by one, the Titans surrounded him.


    The battlefield, once filled with clashing gods, was now eerily silent.


    Zeus was down.


    Poseidon had been struck unconscious.


    Hera, Demeter, and Hestia stood in the distance, their divine robes torn, their bodies trembling as they tried to hold their ground.


    The few remaining Olympian forces¡ªmere thousands now¡ªwere too exhausted to fight.


    Hades couldn''t help but show his annoyance, his expression dark.


    The war¡­ was lost.


    A chuckle echoed through the battlefield.


    It was Cronus.


    The King of the Titans watched from above, his scythe resting lazily in his hand.


    "How utterly tedious," he muttered. "This little rebellion of yours had some entertainment value, but now¡­ it''s simply boring."


    He sighed, raising his hand.


    "Let us be done with it."


    The air shuddered.


    The sky cracked.


    And then¡ª


    The world began to unravel.


    A monstrous storm of golden and violet light erupted from Cronus'' scythe.


    A temporal storm.


    Not merely destruction.


    Not merely death.


    A force that erased all that it touched¡ªreturning it to the time before it had ever existed.


    The battlefield itself began to disintegrate. sea??h th§× ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The bodies of the fallen vanished as if they had never been born.


    The very land beneath them faded into nothingness, unraveling like a tapestry being unwoven.


    Hera''s eyes widened in horror. "No¡­ what is this¡­?"


    Hestia staggered backward, staring at the storm. "It''s erasing everything¡­!"


    Demeter clenched her fists. "That sick bastard."


    Rhea trembled as she clutched Themis'' weakened form. Her lips parted in horror. "Cronus, you monster¡­ you''re erasing them from history itself!"


    The Titans and their forces retreated, backing away from the storm as it expanded.


    Hades'' fingers twitched.


    No.


    This wasn''t how it will end.


    Clenching his fist, he rose himself to his feet.


    Darkness erupted from his body, consuming the battlefield, swallowing everything in a void so deep that not even time should be able to reach it.


    "Come," he commanded, his voice cold, final. "To the Underworld."


    He could''ve defeated them. He could''ve won. He hasn''t used Desmos yet. He hasn''t used the true power of his darkness that he used against Campe. He hasn''t used the domain he got from Gaia.


    But if he insisted on continuing this war, no one from his side would''ve survived even if he won.


    The abyss spread, coiling around his allies, dragging them away from the storm¡ªaway from Cronus'' wrath.


    But¡ª


    The storm twisted.


    Space itself warped, its very coordinates distorted.


    Hades'' eyes widened.


    Something was wrong.


    The moment his darkness connected with the Underworld, a pull came from all directions.


    The coordinates¡ª


    They were shifting.


    His power was scattering them.


    No, no, no¡­


    Hades gritted his teeth, pouring everything into the abyss, trying to hold it steady.


    But the storm was too strong.


    It twisted even the foundations of reality itself.


    The moment they crossed into the Underworld¡ª


    Everything collapsed.


    ****


    Hades stumbled.


    The Underworld loomed around him, dark and vast.


    He had made it.


    But¡ª


    His gaze flicked around, scanning the area.


    His sisters¡ªHera, Hestia, Demeter¡ªstood nearby, shaken but alive.


    Rhea and Themis were there as well.


    Hundreds of gods and spirits who had fought for them had survived.


    But that was all.


    No Cyclopes.


    No Hecatoncheires.


    No Zeus.


    No Poseidon.


    The air felt hollow.


    Hestia turned, eyes confused. "Where are we?"


    Demeter whispered, her voice weak, "This place is depressing."


    Rhea''s hands trembled. "This is...the underworld?"


    Silence.


    And then¡ª


    Hades closed his eyes.


    What a miscalculation. The titans were far stronger than he anticipated. No wonder the Olympians took ten years before winning the war.


    Although he was confident on winning, but Cronus himself is a problem.


    When he finally opened his eyes, his gaze was cold, dark, unrelenting.

 Chapter 17 - 17: Poseidon

    Darkness.


    That was all Poseidon knew as he drifted in the void.


    He remembered the battlefield, the clash of gods and titans. He remembered Coeus¡ªhis overwhelming wisdom piercing through every attack, every strategy, every trick.


    His humiliating lost.


    And then, nothing.


    He was swallowed by Hades'' darkness.


    But perhaps something had gone wrong.


    A force beyond even divine control twisted time and space itself, he feels like his body was getting ripped apart.


    And then¡ªcold.


    The crushing weight of the deep.


    Water.


    An endless abyss.


    Poseidon''s unconscious body drifted through the ocean''s depths, swallowed by the vast unknown. His divine aura flickered, barely holding against the endless pressure.


    Just then, there was light.


    A soft, shimmering glow in the dark abyss.


    A figure approached.


    A woman with flowing teal hair, skin like polished pearl, and deep, curious eyes that shimmered like the sea itself.


    A nymph.


    She hesitated before reaching out, placing a gentle hand on his chest. Power surged through her fingertips, encasing him in a sphere of shimmering light.


    With a graceful motion, she guided him through the abyss, past coral forests and through underwater valleys, toward a magnificent structure hidden in the deep.


    A golden palace.


    ****


    Poseidon''s eyes fluttered open.


    The first thing he noticed was the ceiling¡ªvast, adorned with seashells and glowing corals, shifting with an ethereal light.


    The bed beneath him was unlike anything he had known¡ªwoven from kelp and embedded with pearls, yet softer than silk.


    He groaned, sitting up. His head still pounded from the battle.


    "You''re awake."


    Poseidon''s gaze snapped to the side. S§×arch* The n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Standing at the doorway was the same woman who had found him.


    She stepped forward, her movements fluid, almost as if the water itself responded to her presence.


    "Where am I?" Poseidon asked, his voice rough.


    She tilted her head slightly. "The palace of my grandfather, Oceanus."


    Poseidon froze.


    Oceanus.


    The eldest of the Titans. The boundless sea itself. The one who had chosen to stay out of the war.


    A Titan.


    Poseidon''s muscles tensed, but before he could speak, the nymph continued.


    "He wishes to meet you," she said. "He is waiting in the throne room."


    Poseidon''s sharp eyes narrowed. "And who are you?"


    She met his gaze, unwavering.


    "Amphitrite."


    A sea nymph¡­ and granddaughter of Oceanus.


    Poseidon hesitated. He was in enemy territory. If Oceanus chose to strike him down now, he had no allies here.


    But something in Amphitrite''s expression was¡­ calm. Not hostile.


    He exhaled, standing up. His body was still sore, but his divine power was slowly returning.


    "Fine," he said. "Take me to him."


    ****


    The palace corridors shimmered with bioluminescent light, the walls carved from coral and gold. Schools of fish darted past open archways, and sea currents flowed naturally through the halls, moving with the palace rather than against it.


    Then, the corridor widened.


    Poseidon stepped into a vast chamber, the water shifting around him like a gentle tide.


    At the far end of the room, seated upon a throne carved from the bones of leviathans and adorned with deep-sea pearls, was a figure that radiated power.


    Oceanus.


    His presence was overwhelming.


    His beard was long, flowing like waves in an eternal current. His skin shimmered with the depth of the sea, and his piercing eyes held the weight of ages.


    Despite his immense presence, there was something ancient, something¡­ steady about him. Unlike Cronus, who wielded power like a weapon, Oceanus'' power was calm, vast, and beyond comprehension.


    Poseidon clenched his fists, steeling himself.


    "You are awake," Oceanus said, his voice deep, resonant, like the rolling tides. "Good."


    Poseidon held his ground.


    "I did not expect to wake in a Titan''s home," he said cautiously.


    Oceanus studied him for a moment before giving a slight chuckle.


    "I suppose you didn''t."


    Poseidon felt Amphitrite glance at him before stepping back, allowing the two deities to face each other.


    Poseidon exhaled, taking a single step forward.


    "Why did you help me?" he asked. "I thought you want nothing to do with the war?"


    Oceanus regarded Poseidon with an unreadable expression before finally speaking.


    "I don''t. But I''m curius. Tell me, god of the seas¡­ what happened in the war?"


    Poseidon hesitated for a moment before straightening his posture. Even though Oceanus was a Titan, he remained neutral.


    And he can also be regarded as Poseidon''s superior.


    "We were ambushed," Poseidon admitted, his voice level. "Cronus struck before we could fully prepare. The battlefield was chaos. I fought a Titan called Coeus.... And I lost."


    For a moment, silence filled the chamber.


    Then¡ªlaughter.


    Deep, rolling laughter.


    "HAHAHAHA!"


    Poseidon stiffened as Oceanus'' booming voice echoed through the throne room.


    "You¡­ lost?" Oceanus repeated, still chuckling. "You, who possess a fragment of my authority over the sea¡ªthe strongest authority there is¡ªlost to a Titan like Coeus?"


    His laughter faded, his gaze hardening. "Unacceptable."


    Poseidon flinched slightly at the sudden shift in tone.


    Oceanus leaned forward, his presence growing more intense. "A god of the sea, defeated by a twig like Coeus. Do you understand how disgraceful that is?"


    Poseidon''s jaw tightened. His pride burned, but he could not argue. Coeus had defeated him. That was a fact.


    Oceanus scoffed. "You have the sea at your fingertips, and yet you let a Titan whose strength lies in wisdom and intelligence bring you down?"


    He shook his head in disappointment. "Pathetic."


    "...it''s not my fault!" Poseidon gritted his teeth, "He was reading all my attacks and countering them! He played me like a child! If I have the same strategic mind as that titan, I would''ve have won!"


    "You fool!" Oceanus bellowed, "You would''ve won if you had been strategic!? You could''ve won even if you''re an idiot! So what if you''re not strategic? So what if you rely on instinct? The seas aren''t meant to be logical! It is wild and untamed! You''re being outsmarted? Then drown him! Drown him in the depths of the sea! Make him feel the despair of getting pulled down into the abyss! What can an intelligent man do if they are being crushed by the wrathful waves of the ocean!?"


    Poseidon said nothing, his pride wounded, but he knew he couldn''t defend himself.


    Oceanus sat back, his sharp gaze never leaving Poseidon.


    "I already knew what happened," he said. "The creatures of the sea are my eyes and ears. I saw the battle unfold."


    Poseidon''s breath hitched slightly. "Then why did you have to ask¡­"


    He almost lied just to save himself from embarrassment.


    "Your brother, Hades, tried to save you all," Oceanus continued. "He used his darkness to bring you and the others to the Underworld. But the temporal storm messed with his coordinates. Which is why you''re here, in my domain."


    Poseidon exhaled sharply. So he had his brother to thank. If he didn''t try to save him, he would''ve been erased from history.


    Oceanus observed him for a moment before sighing. "Regardless, what''s done is done. You are here, and I have no intention of keeping you."


    Poseidon looked up at him warily. "Then what will you do?"


    Oceanus waved a hand dismissively.


    "Rest, recover. Once you''re healed, get off my territory." His eyes narrowed. "I will take you to the Underworld and reunite you with your siblings. But after that, I want nothing to do with this war."


    Poseidon remained silent for a moment before giving a nod.


    Oceanus leaned back into his throne, his piercing gaze never faltering.


    "Do not waste the power of the sea again, Poseidon. Next time, fight like you deserve it."

 Chapter 18 - 18: Zeus

    Zeus'' eyes snapped open. His body tensed instinctively, his breath coming in sharp gasps as he took in his surroundings.


    An old temple.


    The air was thick with the scent of incense, the stone walls lined with carvings depicting constellations and celestial bodies. Dim torchlight flickered, casting long shadows across the chamber.


    And then, memories flooded back.


    The war. The clash against Atlas. The sheer, overwhelming strength of the Titan that had crushed him despite the lightning bolt forged for him.


    He had fought with everything he had¡ªyet, in the end, he had been defeated.


    His fists clenched, frustration boiling in his chest. Damn it!


    Before he could dwell on it further, a presence filled the temple.


    Zeus stiffened.


    A figure emerged from the darkness¡ªa middle-aged man with a towering frame. His long, dark hair cascaded past his shoulders, and his eyes gleamed with the brilliance of distant stars.


    His presence was overwhelming, vast, as if his very existence stretched beyond the temple, beyond the world itself.


    A Titan.


    Zeus immediately pushed himself up, his body screaming in protest. His divine energy flared instinctively, crackling with barely contained lightning.


    The man smiled at the sight. "You''re awake."


    Zeus narrowed his eyes. "Where am I?"


    "My temple," the man answered simply. His voice was calm, almost amused, yet carried a weight that made Zeus wary.


    Zeus'' fingers twitched, ready to summon his lightning at a moment''s notice. "And who are you?"


    The man stepped forward, his aura shimmering like the night sky itself. "I am Astraeus," he said. "Titan god of stars and astrology."


    Zeus'' eyes widened slightly. He had heard of Astraeus¡ªa Titan of the celestial realm, one who had largely remained neutral during the war.


    His mind raced. Why would a Titan rescue me?


    "What do you want?" Zeus demanded, his voice edged with suspicion.


    Astraeus chuckled. "So guarded. As expected of someone who has lost a battle."


    Zeus'' jaw tightened.


    The Titan turned away, gazing up at the carved constellations adorning the temple''s ceiling. "I did not bring you here to harm you, if that''s what you''re wondering. My children just found you unconscious in front of their temple and I helped you."


    Zeus remained tense. "Why did you help me?"


    Astraeus finally looked back at him, his expression unreadable.


    "Because, young god, I have seen the stars shift," he said. "And they whisper of change." S~ea??h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Zeus scowled. "What does that even mean?"


    Astraeus merely smiled, offering no further explanation. His eyes, however, gleamed with something unreadable¡ªknowledge of something yet to come.


    "I can''t say. But what I will say," Astraeus continued, "is that you and the others owe your survival to your brother, Hades. If not for his quick thinking, Cronus would have erased all of you from history."


    Zeus'' fists clenched at the reminder. He had been too weak. Too slow. Hades had saved them all while he had fallen in battle.


    "Where are my siblings?" Zeus demanded, shaking off the self-loathing that clawed at him.


    "They are safe," Astraeus said simply.


    Relief flooded Zeus, but he didn''t let it show. He forced himself to his feet, ignoring the dull ache in his muscles. "Then I have no reason to stay."


    Astraeus arched an eyebrow as Zeus turned toward the exit. "Where do you think you''re going?"


    "Back to fight," Zeus said without hesitation.


    Astraeus sighed. "You truly are reckless."


    Zeus shot him a glare. "And what would you have me do? Sit here while my siblings fight and die?"


    "I''m saying that in your current condition, you won''t be fighting anyone¡ªnot Coeus, not Iapetus, and certainly not Atlas," Astraeus said, his tone firm but calm. "Atlas alone is second only to Cronus himself. If you couldn''t defeat him before, what makes you think you can now?"


    Zeus gritted his teeth. He hated hearing it, but he couldn''t deny it.


    Still, his pride burned too fiercely to acknowledge weakness.


    Astraeus studied him for a long moment before speaking again. "Stay here for a while. Recover. Train. When you are truly ready, then return to the battlefield."


    Zeus hesitated, his hands curling into fists. He wanted to go back. Every part of him screamed to return, to prove himself, to strike down the ones who humiliated him.


    But Astraeus was right.


    If he went back now, he would only be throwing his life away.


    Finally, he exhaled sharply. "Fine. But not for long."


    Astraeus smiled knowingly. "Of course."


    He then went towards the exit, turning his gaze towards Zeus. "You must be hungry. Come, follow me."


    Zeus followed Astraeus out of the temple, expecting to step into barren ruins or some remote sanctuary. What he saw instead made him freeze in his tracks.


    A lush farmland stretched before him, its golden fields swaying in the breeze. Trees bore ripe fruits, flowers bloomed in vibrant colors, and the scent of fresh earth and grain filled the air. It was a place brimming with life, almost as if Demeter herself resided here.


    "You look surprised," Astraeus chuckled.


    Zeus tore his gaze away from the scenery and scowled. "I didn''t expect¡­ this."


    Astraeus only smiled. "Not many does. Come."


    He led Zeus across the fields, past a wooden fence where a group of people were preparing a meal.


    Four men stood near a large table, their muscular forms radiating divine power, while a beautiful, mature woman with striking orange hair stirred a pot over an open flame.


    As they approached, Astraeus gestured toward the group. "Allow me to introduce my family. These are my sons¡ªBoreas, Notus, Zephyrus, and Eosphorus."


    Boreas is a man with fierce and violent look, with a muscular frame and shaggy black hair and blue eyes.


    Notus is a slender looking man with calm look, having a messy blond hair and black eyes.


    Zephyrus is a short and slender man with soft and feminine features, having a shoulder length orange hair and brown eyes.


    Eosphorus is a man with a pair of wings, with a bright golden hair and blue eyes, having a slender yet muscular physique.


    Zeus narrowed his eyes slightly as he observed them. He had expected them to be minor deities at best, but as he focused on their presence, his heart skipped a beat.


    Each of them¡­ was his equal.


    Perhaps, without the lightning bolt, a fight against any one of them would end in a stalemate.


    Astraeus then gestured toward the woman. "And this is my wife, Eos, Goddess of the Dawn."


    Zeus felt himself exhale sharply as his gaze settled on her. Eos was breathtaking. Her radiant beauty was almost hypnotic, her warm smile as dazzling as the morning sun.


    Long, orange hair that falls perfectly on her back, gentle and motherly features, a pair of mesmerizing blue eyes, and a well endowed body.


    "You''re back," she said to Astraeus, before shifting her gaze toward Zeus. "And you must be Zeus. I''m glad to see you awake. You were in terrible shape when my daughter brought you back."


    Zeus blinked. "Daughter?"


    Before anyone could answer, a golden light descended from the sky.


    A figure landed gracefully in front of them, her blonde hair shimmering like sunlight. Cold, calculating golden eyes, with a figure that would invoke the lust of any gods.


    Zeus nearly swallowed his tongue.


    She was¡ªwithout question¡ªone of the most beautiful women he had ever laid eyes on.


    But before he could even think about speaking, the sheer pressure radiating from her stopped him in his tracks.


    It was overwhelming.


    Cold. Emotionless. Absolute.


    Unlike Eos, who radiated warmth, this woman carried the presence of an unyielding force¡ªlike the inevitable break of dawn.


    Zeus could only stand there, stunned, as the woman''s icy gaze met his.


    "And this is my daughter, Astrea." Astraeus smiled, a proud smile. "She is the Goddess of Justice, Innocence, and Purity. Don''t let her cold look fool you, she''s the kindest goddess you''ll ever know."


    Zeus wasn''t listening, his eyes glued at Astrea.


    Yeah, he''d be in that state for awhile.

 Chapter 19 - 19: Three Years

    Underworld.


    "It seems like you have been thoroughly defeated, lord Hades."


    "...seems so."


    Hades sat on a throne, overlooking the depressing view of the realm of the dead. He had made a small temple for him to temporarily reside in while his mother and sisters, along with others whom he managed to brought with him tried to adjust to this place.


    Behind him, a shadowy figure flickered, and the figure of the Goddess of Magic, Hecate, was revealed.


    "Lord Cronus was far stronger than you anticipated?" She asked.


    "Yeah." Hades nodded, "Although I''m confident on winning against him, it would take too much time that my siblings, our army, and mother would''ve fallen before I could claim victory."


    "Ah, confident as ever." Hecate smiled. "So you escaped because your brothers are far too weak, is that it, lord Hades?"


    "Yeah, pretty much."


    "Then wouldn''t it be better for them to train for awhile before rallying your troops and start another war?"


    Hades thought over it for a moment, and nodded his head. "You''re right. Hecate, find the location of Zeus and Poseidon and inform them that we will meet up once again in three years, before that they must quickly learn to properly use their powers and get stronger."


    Hecate bowed, "as you wish."


    With that, she vanished through the mist.


    ****


    Zeus lay on the soft bed prepared for him by Astraeus, his hands resting behind his head as he stared at the ceiling.


    Despite the comfort, sleep refused to take him. His mind was restless, replaying the battle over and over¡ªthe moment Atlas overpowered him, the crushing weight of his failure, the helplessness he felt when he was struck down.


    But more than that, his thoughts kept drifting back to her.


    Astraea.


    The daughter of Astraeus and Eos.


    The moment she appeared, Zeus had been struck not just by her beauty but by the sheer pressure of her presence.


    She had barely spoken a word to him, yet her cold, detached gaze had sent a chill down his spine.


    She wasn''t like the other goddesses he had met¡ªshe was distant, untouchable, a star shining high above the world.


    And Zeus had always wanted what was just out of reach.


    ''I''ll make her mine,'' he thought with a smirk. ''Eventually.''


    Just as he was about to close his eyes, the air shifted.


    A thick mist seeped into the room, rolling in like a silent tide. The temperature dropped, the warmth of the room replaced by an eerie chill.


    Zeus'' instincts flared. His eyes snapped open, and lightning crackled around his arms as he immediately rolled off the bed, his feet touching the ground.


    His fingers twitched, ready to summon his lightning bolt.


    Then, from within the mist, a figure emerged.


    A woman.


    She was breathtaking in a dangerous, otherworldly way. Her dark hair cascaded like silk, her piercing gaze filled with knowledge far beyond her years.


    Power radiated from her like a storm waiting to break, yet it was contained, refined, unlike his own raw, untamed strength.


    Zeus tensed. "You dare appear before me, Zeus, the God of Sky!? Explain yourself before you earn my ire!"


    The woman''s lips curved slightly, not quite a smile, but something close. "I am Hecate, Goddess of Magic. A subordinate of Lord Hades."


    "Hecate?" Zeus narrowed his eyes. "Hades?"


    He did remember sometime ago that Hades mentioned about how underworld gods would help them.


    Hecate nodded. "I am here to deliver a message."


    A message?


    "What message?" Zeus asked, before shaking his head. "No, it doesn''t matter, I can ask him myself. You can come here, that means Hades knows where am I right? Take me to him."


    Hecate shook her head, "I cannot. Lord Hades instructed me to only tell you his message; ''We will meet up again in three years, before that, train yourself. You are far too weak to match any titans."


    His pride was immediately stepped on. After all, he hasn''t moved on from his lost, and someone he doesn''t know claiming to he a subordinate dare to say that to him?


    She dares?!


    A mere subordinate?!


    Zeus clenched his fist hearing that, "What did you say!?"


    He grabbed Hecate by the neck, his eyes flashing with lightning sparks as he glared at her.


    Hecate remained as stoic as ever, "Unhand me this instant, youngest of Cronus. Or do you not wish to keep your arms?"


    "Are you threatening me!?" Zeus tightened his grip on her neck, but the moment he did so, he immediately felt like he was swallowed by the abyss.


    He quickly retreated, staring cautiously at the woman who looked frail and harmless.


    She took out a lamp, and Zeus immediately took a fighting stance. However, contrary to his beliefs, the woman simply waved her hand as a mist once again enveloped her.


    "I have delivered the message. Farewell, oh ''mighty'' God of Sky."


    With that, she vanished, leaving Zeus alone feeling completely terrified.


    ****


    Poseidon lay on the bed Oceanus had provided for him, staring at the ceiling with a thoughtful expression.


    His body had recovered well, but his mind remained restless. The war, his loss to Coeus, and his current situation all weighed on him.


    But despite that, his thoughts kept drifting to her.


    Amphitrite.


    The sea nymph who had found him, cared for him, and treated his wounds.


    Her gentleness lingered in his mind like a calming wave, soothing yet impossible to ignore. She was unlike any woman he had met before¡ªkind, patient, and utterly devoted to the sea.


    "What a magnificent woman¡­" he mused, a small smirk playing at his lips. "How great would it be if she were to become my wife?"


    Just as that thought settled in his mind, the room shifted.


    A dense mist rolled in, unnatural and silent, curling around the room like living tendrils.


    The temperature dropped, and the once-serene atmosphere turned heavy with an ominous presence.


    Poseidon''s instincts flared. His fingers clenched, and with a thought, his trident appeared in his grasp, glowing with divine power.


    His eyes darted through the mist as he raised his weapon.


    "Who goes there?" he demanded, his voice firm. "Show yourself!"


    For a moment, the mist remained still. Then, as if answering his command, a shadow moved within it.


    A woman stepped forward, emerging from the swirling fog with an air of quiet authority.


    Her beauty was undeniable, but it was not the gentle kind like Amphitrite''s¡ªit was something far more dangerous.


    Her dark eyes gleamed with knowledge, and the very air around her thrummed with power.


    Poseidon tightened his grip on his trident, his divinity flaring up.


    "Who are you?" he asked sharply. "And what do you want?"


    The woman met his gaze without hesitation, unfazed by his presence. "I am Hecate, Goddess of Magic, a loyal subordinate of Lord Hades."


    Poseidon''s eyes widened in surprise. "Hades? Are you an underworld god." S§×arch* The Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Hecate nodded. "I am here to deliver a message."


    "Forget that! How is mother? Did Hades saved her?! What about our sisters!? Are they safe?!" Poseidon demanded, his divinity flickering with his emotions.


    Hecate remained as calm as ever, simply nodding at his questions. "Yes, Lady Rhea and your sisters are safe and sound. They currently resides within the underworld under the protection of Lord Hades."


    "Then take me to them!" Poseidon took a step forward, "You can come to me from the underworld, surely you can take me to the underworld."


    Amphitrite can wait. For now, they must quickly reeoup and gather their forces to fight against Cronus and his army.


    They can''t let Cronus get away with what he''s done.


    "I cannot do that." Hecate simply replied.


    "Why!?" Poseidon asked in frustration.


    "My job is merely to deliver a message," saod Hecate. "And I will lord Hades'' message for you is; ''We will meet up again in three years, before that, train yourself. You are far too weak to match any titans."


    Poseidon almost lashed out. Almost. But Oceanus words rung in his ears and he knew that pride would not help him in this situation.


    He was weak. That''s a fact.


    But still, it frustrated him.


    To have Hades tell him to his face about his weakness. It''s frustrating.


    "I have delivered the message. Farewell, God of the Sea. You are far more composed than your younger brother is."


    With that, she vanished, leaving Poseidon wondering if she also came to deliver the same message to Zeus, and what he has done to her.


    He clicked his tongue in annoyance as he sat down.


    "Three years... Train... "

 Chapter 20 - 20: The Sky

    Zeus sat on the steps of Astraeus'' temple, his golden eyes fixed on the vast night sky above.


    The stars twinkled in the darkness, shining like countless tiny flames against the void.


    He had always thought the sky was his domain, that he was meant to rule over it.


    And yet, tonight, it felt so distant¡ªso far beyond his reach.


    His fingers clenched into fists.


    ''I was too weak.''


    Atlas had crushed him. Despite wielding the mighty lightning bolt forged by the Cyclopes, despite the raw strength that should have set him apart, he had still lost.


    Hecate''s words only hammered that truth deeper into his soul.


    The way she had simply looked at him¡ªno attack, no magic, just a simple gaze¡ªand his body had frozen as though chained by an unseen force.


    He had never felt such paralyzing terror before. If he had faced someone like her in battle, he would have lost without ever lifting a hand.


    ''Damn it.'' His jaw tightened. ''If I don''t get stronger, I''ll never be able to stand against Cronus. Against Atlas. Against anyone who truly matters in this war.''


    He exhaled sharply, forcing the thought aside.


    "You seem troubled."


    Zeus flinched slightly, turning to see Astraeus approaching, his long, regal robes flowing like the night itself.


    His presence was calm, serene, yet undeniably vast¡ªlike the sky he presided over.


    Zeus scowled and looked away. "Leave me alone."


    Astraeus chuckled. "Brooding beneath my sky, staring up at my stars¡­ It''s hard not to notice. Let me guess¡ªyour mood has something to do with Hecate''s visit?"


    Zeus snapped his gaze to him, eyes narrowing. "How do you know that?"


    Astraeus smiled knowingly. "I know everything that happens under my sky."


    Zeus blinked, momentarily stunned. His sky? He, too, was a god of the sky¡ªhe should have that power. Yet, he had no such ability.


    His confusion must have shown on his face, because Astraeus let out a soft laugh. "There is more to the sky than simply blasting everything with lightning, young one."


    Zeus gritted his teeth but said nothing. For the first time, he truly began to wonder¡ªhow much did he not understand about the domain he was supposed to rule?


    Astraeus smirked as he watched Zeus scowl, his irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. "Come now, don''t look so serious. You remind me of a storm cloud¡ªalways rumbling, never listening."


    Zeus gritted his teeth. "You''re really getting on my nerves, old man."


    Astraeus chuckled. "Good. Annoyance breeds curiosity, and curiosity leads to understanding. Now, follow me."


    Before Zeus could respond, Astraeus raised his hand.


    Instantly, the world around them shifted. The sky blurred, stretching infinitely in all directions.


    The ground beneath Zeus'' feet melted away, and in the next moment, they stood in a completely different space.


    Zeus'' eyes widened as he took in the sight before him.


    They were surrounded by stars¡ªmillions, no, billions of them. Bright constellations sprawled across the cosmic expanse, some familiar, some completely alien.


    Enormous celestial bodies, burning with brilliant flames, floated in the distance. Strange, swirling masses of light and energy pulsed all around them.


    It was as if they had stepped beyond the mortal world, into the very heart of the heavens.


    Zeus swallowed hard.


    ''This¡­ this is the sky?'' S§×ar?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Astraeus turned to face him, a gleam of amusement in his eyes. "Tell me, Zeus¡ªwhat do you see?"


    Zeus hesitated, then answered. "Stars. Light. Fire. Floating rocks."


    Astraeus nodded. "Good. Now, let''s see what you can do with that knowledge. Come, spar with me."


    Zeus'' expression darkened. "Fine."


    He raised his hand, and in an instant, his lightning bolt materialized in his grip, crackling with untamed power.


    He leveled it at Astraeus, determination burning in his gaze.


    Astraeus, however, remained perfectly calm. He raised a single hand, and suddenly, the space around them shifted.


    The stars pulsed.


    A great wave of light surged from Astraeus'' body, and from the distant celestial spheres, great arcs of solar fire erupted.


    Blinding streams of plasma spiraled through the void, dancing at his command. The very fabric of space trembled.


    Zeus barely had time to react before Astraeus moved.


    A flare of burning light shot toward him. Zeus dodged, but another one followed immediately, then another.


    He raised his lightning bolt to counter, but the sheer heat of the solar flames forced him back.


    "Is this all?" Astraeus'' voice echoed through the vast expanse.


    Zeus gritted his teeth and retaliated. Lightning surged from his weapon, splitting through the darkness like a wrathful god''s judgment.


    But before it could even reach Astraeus, the very gravity around them shifted.


    Zeus'' eyes widened as his own lightning bent¡ªwarped¡ªaround Astraeus before dissipating into nothing.


    "What¡ª?!"


    Astraeus smiled. "I told you. There is more to the sky than just lightning."


    Before Zeus could respond, the stars themselves seemed to move.


    One moment he was standing, the next he was being dragged downward, crushed under an invisible weight.


    His knees buckled, and he gasped as his body felt like it was being pulled into the core of a dying star. The immense pressure pressed down on his chest, suffocating him.


    "Gravity," Astraeus said casually, as if he hadn''t just pinned Zeus to the ground with nothing but sheer force. "A fundamental power of the heavens."


    Zeus clenched his jaw, straining to lift his body. But Astraeus was far from done.


    Another flare of burning plasma shot toward him, engulfing him in searing heat.


    Zeus roared in pain as he struggled against the weight pressing down on him.


    His divine body resisted, but the power Astraeus wielded was beyond anything he had ever faced.


    Finally, with a flick of his wrist, Astraeus released the pressure. Zeus collapsed onto the ground, gasping for breath, his body covered in scorch marks.


    Astraeus stood over him, smiling in amusement. "You rely too much on your lightning, boy."


    Zeus glared up at him, panting. "Shut¡­ up¡­"


    Astraeus chuckled. "Come now, don''t look so defeated. You wanted to get stronger, didn''t you?"


    Zeus clenched his fists.


    Stronger.


    Yes.


    He had to get stronger.


    Astraeus extended a hand. "Then let me teach you what it truly means to rule the sky."


    Zeus stared at him for a long moment¡ªthen, reluctantly, he took his hand.


    He grunted as Astraeus pulled him to his feet. His body still ached from the overwhelming forces he had just endured, but his mind was racing.


    He looked at Astraeus warily.


    "Why?" Zeus asked, narrowing his eyes. "Why do you want to teach me? What do you gain from this?"


    Astraeus merely smiled, his gaze distant as if he were watching something far beyond what Zeus could perceive. "Because change is coming."


    Zeus furrowed his brows. "Change?"


    Astraeus gave a slow nod. "The world as you know it is shifting, young god. The balance of power that has ruled for ages is crumbling. Something new is on the horizon."


    He turned his gaze onto Zeus. "And you, along with your brothers, stand at the center of it."


    Zeus felt a chill run down his spine. He wasn''t sure what Astraeus meant, but something about his words unsettled him.


    He clenched his fists. "Then why not side with Cronus? He''s the one in power. If you''re so interested in this ''change,'' wouldn''t it be better to stand with the victor?"


    Astraeus chuckled. "You assume the victor has already been decided. The war is not yet over, Zeus."


    He crossed his arms. "Besides, I never said I support you or Cronus. I simply wish to see what happens next. For that, I want you to be prepared."


    Zeus frowned. "So I''m just entertainment to you?"


    Astraeus shook his head. "No. I''m offering you the chance to reach your true potential. You were born with authority over the sky, but all you do is throw lightning like a child wielding a club."


    Zeus scowled, but Astraeus continued.


    "I don''t expect you to master the sky on the same level as me¡ªnot yet, at least. But I can turn you into a true master of the heavens. One who can rule over the land and the seas." He smirked. "After all, what is a king of gods if he cannot control his own domain?"


    Zeus'' breath hitched at the words. King of gods? The very idea made his blood stir.


    He looked down at his hands.


    He had been defeated. Humiliated. He had always prided himself on his strength, but against Atlas, against Astraeus, against even Hecate, he had been powerless.


    He clenched his fists.


    No more.


    He lifted his gaze and met Astraeus'' eyes.


    "Fine," Zeus said. "Teach me."


    Astraeus'' smile widened. "Then let us begin."

 Chapter 21 - 21: The Sea

    Poseidon stood on a coral outcrop, gazing at the vast underwater kingdom of Oceanus.


    The currents wove through the towering coral spires like rivers in the sky, and bioluminescent fish shimmered in the deep blue expanse.


    Yet, despite the beauty around him, his thoughts were heavy.


    Hecate''s words echoed in his mind.


    "You were too weak."


    His grip tightened into a fist. She was right. He hadn''t even been able to defeat one titan.


    Coeus had crushed him with ease, and if not for Hades'' intervention, he would have been erased by Cronus'' storm.


    His authority over the seas, which he had once thought was absolute, had proven useless.


    ''I need to be stronger.''


    Just then, a gentle voice called out.


    "Are you alright, Lord Poseidon?"


    He turned and found Amphitrite standing before him, her sea-green eyes filled with concern.


    The sight of her never failed to stir something deep within him. Her presence was like the calm waves of a peaceful shore, soothing yet powerful.


    He forced a small smile. "I''m fine¡­ just thinking."


    She stepped closer, her long, flowing hair swaying in the currents. "Thinking about the war?"


    Poseidon hesitated, then nodded. "Yes."


    Amphitrite studied him for a moment before speaking again. "You seem troubled."


    Poseidon exhaled, running a hand through his hair, before clicking his tongue in frustration.


    "I feel useless,'' he admitted. "I wasn''t even able to defeat a single titan. My authority over the sea¡ªsomething I''ve always prided myself on¡ªwasn''t enough."


    He clenched his fist as his eyes darkened. "I don''t want to be this weak ever again."


    Amphitrite was silent for a moment before she reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm.


    "Strength isn''t just about power, Poseidon," she said softly. "You are not weak."


    Poseidon looked at her, his gaze searching hers. "Then why did I lose?"


    She smiled, but there was sadness in it. "Perhaps because you don''t yet understand the true nature of your domain."


    Poseidon frowned. "What do you mean?"


    Before she could answer, a deep, commanding voice echoed through the waters.


    "If you wish to become stronger, then you must learn from the source."


    Poseidon turned sharply.


    Oceanus stood before them, his towering form radiating an aura of authority that made even the ocean tremble.


    His deep blue eyes locked onto Poseidon with an intensity that made the younger god''s breath hitch.


    "Come," Oceanus said. "Let me show you what it truly means to command the seas."


    Poseidon''s eyes narrowed. "What do you mean by that?"


    Oceanus folded his arms, his gaze unwavering. "I am going to train you."


    Poseidon blinked, momentarily stunned by the statement. "Why?"


    Oceanus smirked. "Because I made a deal."


    Poseidon stiffened. "A deal? With who?"


    Instead of answering immediately, Oceanus'' gaze became distant, as if recalling something.


    ****


    The vast throne room of Oceanus was silent, save for the gentle hum of the currents flowing through the grand pillars.


    Then, without warning, a cold mist crept into the chamber, swirling unnaturally through the water.


    Oceanus'' eyes sharpened as he sat upon his throne. His presence alone was enough to make the ocean itself bow in reverence, but this mist¡­ it carried a presence that did not belong to his domain.


    Then, from within the fog, a figure emerged. A woman, cloaked in shadow, her eyes gleaming with an eerie light.


    Hecate.


    She bowed deeply. "Lord Oceanus."


    His expression darkened. When did gods and titans decided that they can intrude his domain whenever they want?!


    "You dare enter my domain unannounced?" His voice rumbled like an underwater quake. "Explain yourself before I erase you from my seas."


    Hecate, unfazed, smiled faintly. "I come bearing a message. Someone wishes to meet with you."


    Before Oceanus could demand further explanation, the mist thickened. Then, as if reality itself was being rewritten, a new figure strode forward from the depths of the fog.


    A tall, imposing man, clad in dark robes that seemed to swallow the surrounding light. His presence carried the weight of the inevitable, the cold certainty of death itself.


    Hades.


    His piercing gaze met Oceanus''.


    "Shall we talk?" Hades said, his voice smooth yet unyielding.


    However...


    The ocean suddenly trembled.


    An overwhelming, ancient power surged from Oceanus, the sheer weight of his divinity pressing against the very fabric of the Underworld God''s existence.


    The seas roared in response, currents shifting violently as if the ocean itself sought to drown out Hades'' audacity.


    "How bold of you," Oceanus said, his deep voice carrying the authority of the primordial seas. "To enter my domain uninvited, as if you were my equal."


    Hades did not flinch. He merely raised a hand, and from the abyssal depths of the mist, a black throne formed behind him. Without a word, he sat, his posture relaxed but commanding.


    He met Oceanus'' gaze with calm indifference.


    "I have a deal for you."


    Oceanus snorted. The pressure around them increased, the very water distorting under his might. "A deal? You think you can negotiate while in my waters?"


    The pressure intensified, threatening to crush Hades where he sat. But before it could even reach him, another force emerged.


    Hecate.


    A pulse of dark magic radiated from her as she stepped forward. Shadows stretched unnaturally, twisting and consuming the pressure that Oceanus exuded.


    The sea around them darkened, responding to her magic, swallowing the oppressive force whole.


    Oceanus narrowed his eyes. sea??h th§× nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    For a moment, silence filled the throne room as the two gods stared at each other, neither willing to yield.


    Then, Oceanus let out a low chuckle. Slowly, he withdrew his divinity, and in response, Hecate did the same.


    "I see¡­ I underestimated Cronus'' descendant." Oceanus leaned forward, a hint of curiosity in his voice. "You are far more than I expected."


    Hades smiled, tilting his head slightly. "Shall we talk now?"


    Oceanus leaned back into his throne, tapping his fingers against the armrest. "Very well. Speak."


    ****


    Poseidon frowned at Oceanus'' lack of response. "Hey, are you listening. What do you mean you made a deal? With who?"


    Oceanus merely waved a hand dismissively. "That is not your concern. You need only focus on what lies ahead. So? Do you wish to get stronger or not?"


    Poseidon''s grip on his trident tightened, his pride demanding he refused as he can donit himself, but before he could push further, a gentle hand rested on his arm.


    "Don''t worry," Amphitrite said softly, her eyes full of quiet reassurance. "My grandfather won''t harm you. This is a rare opportunity¡ªone that you shouldn''t waste."


    Poseidon hesitated, glancing at her, then at Oceanus, who stood waiting with an unreadable expression.


    After a moment, he exhaled and nodded. "Fine. I''ll go."


    A small smile graced Amphitrite''s lips before she stepped back, watching as Poseidon followed Oceanus deeper into the vast, endless ocean.


    The further they went, the darker it became.


    The light from the surface faded, consumed by the immense, crushing weight of the deep.


    The water grew colder, pressing against Poseidon''s body like an unseen force trying to drag him down.


    Finally, they arrived at a place where even the concept of light seemed foreign. There was nothing but infinite, oppressive darkness.


    Poseidon glanced around, his divine senses stretched to their limits, but even then, he could barely perceive anything.


    "What is this place?" Poseidon asked, his voice unnaturally quiet in the abyss.


    Oceanus turned to face him, his expression severe.


    "You call yourself the god of the sea, yet you know nothing of it." He gestured to the darkness around them. "The sea is more than waves and storms, more than the creatures that dwell in its shallows. The true sea is fathomless. It is cold. It is merciless. It is¡ª"


    Oceanus raised a hand.


    "The abyss."


    Before Poseidon could react, the ocean god made a simple gesture¡ªand the abyss swallowed him whole.


    Cold.


    Unfathomable, suffocating cold.


    Poseidon felt himself falling, the crushing weight of the deep pressing into his body, threatening to break him apart.


    The pressure grew unbearable, the very concept of breath stripped away, leaving only an all-consuming void.


    He struggled, but there was nothing to grasp onto. Nothing to fight.


    Just the abyss.


    Then...


    As suddenly as he had been swallowed by the abyss, Poseidon felt an unseen force yank him back.


    His body surged upward, breaking through the oppressive darkness, until he felt like he crashed onto solid ground, gasping for breath.


    He coughed violently, his hands pressing against the ocean floor beneath him as he knelt on all fours.


    His body trembled¡ªno, his very soul trembled from what he had just experienced.


    The overwhelming weight, the unbearable silence, the sheer nothingness of the abyss had stripped him bare.


    Poseidon slowly lifted his gaze. Oceanus stood before him, arms outstretched, his ancient eyes gleaming with something deep and unreadable.


    "This is what the sea truly is," Oceanus declared. "Not the crashing waves, not the tides that kiss the shores, not the tempests that mortals fear."


    "The sea is the abyss. The abyss is the unknown. And all creatures instinctively fears the unknown."


    Poseidon swallowed, his body still shaking from the experience. Yet, beyond the fear, beyond the exhaustion, something else burned within him.


    Determination.


    Determination to be stronger.


    "I will teach you," Oceanus continued, his voice unwavering. "I will show you what it means to be the true overlord of the sea. The depths, the currents, the darkness¡ªthese will be a powerful weapon for you to win against anyone."


    He extended his hand toward Poseidon.


    Poseidon stared at the offered hand. He was Poseidon, god of the sea. He had thought he understood his domain, thought he had already grasped the full extent of his power.


    But compared to what he had just faced, he was nothing more than a fool playing in the shallows.


    Gritting his teeth, he reached up and grasped Oceanus'' hand.


    "Good," Oceanus said with a knowing smile, pulling him to his feet. "Then let us begin."

 Chapter 22 - 22: Plants and Fire

    Underworld.


    Demeter let out a groan of frustration, watching as the small sprouts she had carefully planted withered and crumbled into dust.


    She knelt, running her fingers through the lifeless soil, only to find it dry, almost brittle, as if it rejected life itself.


    "This place is awful," she muttered, stomping her foot. "Not even a single blade of grass can survive here! How does my brother live in such a miserable place?"


    She pouted, crossing her arms. The idea of spending an eternity in the Underworld, surrounded by cold stone and lifeless terrain, made her shudder.


    "Um..."


    A soft, hesitant voice broke through her thoughts. Demeter turned, her golden eyes locking onto a young woman standing a few steps away.


    She had long, flowing green hair that shimmered like river reeds, and deep emerald eyes that glowed faintly in the dim underworld light.


    She fidgeted slightly, shifting her weight as if unsure of herself.


    "Who are you?" Demeter asked, tilting her head in curiosity.


    The woman bowed her head slightly, her voice gentle. "I am Minthe, daughter of the river god Cocytus. I serve here in the Underworld."


    Demeter blinked. "Cocytus¡­? The river of wailing?"


    She looked Minthe up and down, noting how different she seemed from the bleak, sorrowful waters her father represented. "And what do you want with me?"


    Minthe hesitated before clasping her hands together, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I have long been fascinated by the idea of plants and flowers. We have nothing like them here. I was wondering if I could observe you while you work¡­ if that''s alright."


    Demeter''s eyes widened. "You''re interested in plants?"


    Minthe nodded eagerly, though her expression remained shy.


    For a moment, Demeter simply stared at her. Then, in an instant, her frustration evaporated, replaced by unrestrained excitement.


    "Finally! Someone who understands!" She grasped Minthe''s hands with a bright grin, squeezing them as she practically beamed. "We can water plants! Or harvest fruits! Or even talk about any hot guys! Like my dear brother Hades!"


    Minthe immediately turned red in embarrassment. "N-No! I don''t dare think about lord Hades like that! Lord Hades is...lord Hades is..."


    Demeter looked at her with a raised brow, before a wide grin broke out of her face. She doesn''t need to be a goddess of love to know what Minthe feels about her brother.


    "You like Hades?"


    Demeter almost laughed outloud seeing smoke literally come out of Minthe''s head as her face turned as red as a tomato.


    "I...I..." Minthe tried to say anything, but words are getting stuck in her throat.


    In the end, she can only lower her head.


    "Fufufu~," Demeter laughed teasingly.


    After she had her fun, she decided to finally stop teasing the poor nymph. "Alright, calm down. Let''s just talk about plants. Like, did you know some plants, like orchids, mimic female wasps to lure male wasps to pollinate them?"


    "Really?" Minthe''s eyes lit up, her embarrassment moments ago completely forgotten. S~ea??h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Yep!" Demeter nodded, "So let''s start planting! There are many more interesting things about plants that I will personally teach you!"


    Minthe blinked in surprise, but before she could react, Demeter suddenly deflated, her excitement fading into a dramatic sigh.


    "Except¡­" she groaned, motioning to the lifeless ground, "this place is completely hopeless! The soil rejects my power, the air is stagnant, and there''s no sunlight. How am I supposed to grow anything?"


    Minthe looked down, biting her lip.


    "I... I don''t know. But¡­" she hesitated, then looked up with hopeful determination, "maybe we can figure it out together?"


    Demeter stared at her for a moment before breaking into a soft smile. "You really mean that?"


    Minthe nodded.


    Demeter exhaled, brushing a stray lock of orange hair from her face. "Alright, fine. I guess I could use the company. Let''s see if we can force some life into this wretched place."


    Minthe''s lips curled into a small, genuine smile. "I would like that."


    And with that, the two of them knelt together before the barren soil, two unlikely allies in a realm that had never known life.


    ****


    The Grand Fortress of Pluto, is a titanic, floating bastion of gothic architecture, suspended in the void at the very heart of the Underworld.


    Built by Hades himself, it is a grim and imposing structure, eternally wreathed in ghostly mist and dimly illuminated by the eerie glow of spectral lanterns.


    Its foundation is forged from obsidian and soulstone, a material infused with the whispers of the dead, making the walls pulse faintly as if breathing.


    Towering spires adorned with sharp, menacing gargoyles pierce the oppressive sky, each one carved in the likeness of legendary beasts that once roamed the realm of the dead.


    The outer gates, massive and wrought from black iron, are engraved with the names of every soul that has ever passed into the Underworld, their voices murmuring in an eternal, mournful chorus.


    Inside, the fortress is a labyrinthine palace of endless halls, shadowed corridors, and great chambers, each echoing with the memories of the past.


    The Throne Hall, where Hades presides, is an awe-inspiring cathedral of death, its ceiling an endless night sky dotted with spectral constellations.


    A river of stygian fire flows beneath the grand staircase, illuminating the throne¡ªa towering seat carved from the bones of fallen titans, pulsing with dark power.


    At its highest point, the Ebon Spire rises above all, a lone tower from which the Lord of the Underworld can gaze upon his entire dominion.


    From here, he commands the passage of souls, ensuring that no spirit escapes and no god intrudes without his will.


    And at the heart of this castle, lies a grand hall where Hestia built her hearth.


    At this moment...


    Hestia knelt before the grand hearth she had built at the heart of Hades'' castle, gently stoking the flames with practiced ease.


    The warm glow flickered across the gothic stone walls, casting long shadows that danced like whispers of forgotten souls. Yet, for all the bleakness that surrounded them, this place¡ªthis fire¡ªfelt like home.


    The Underworld had been cold and desolate when they first arrived, but since she had placed her sacred flame within these walls, something had changed.


    The wandering souls, once aimless and tormented, now found a strange peace in its warmth. They lingered near the castle, as if drawn by an instinctual need for comfort.


    Hestia didn''t mind. This was her purpose¡ªto bring warmth where there was none.


    Behind her, two figures sat comfortably on plush chairs near the hearth: her mother, Rhea, and the Titaness Themis.


    Themis, ever the picture of composed wisdom, sipped from a cup of herbal tea, while Rhea stretched out with a contented sigh, relishing the warmth of the flames.


    "I must say," Rhea mused, brushing a strand of silver hair from her face, "your hearth is truly remarkable, Hestia. I never imagined the Underworld could feel¡­ cozy."


    Hestia smiled, her golden eyes twinkling in the firelight. "The hearth is the heart of every home. Even in the Underworld, it can make a difference."


    Themis hummed in agreement, setting down her tea. "It is remarkable, indeed. The souls that wander these lands seem calmer, as if your fire soothes them."


    Hestia tilted her head. "I suppose it does. Warmth isn''t just physical¡ªit''s a feeling, a sense of belonging. Even the dead deserve that."


    Rhea reached over and affectionately patted Hestia''s knee. "You always were the kindest of my children."


    Hestia chuckled softly. "You say that as if it''s a bad thing."


    "Not at all," Rhea said, shaking her head. "But speaking of children, dear¡­ have you ever considered having your own?"


    Hestia nearly dropped the poker she was using to tend the fire. "M-Mother!"


    Themis chuckled behind her tea cup, amused by Hestia''s flustered expression. "Oh, Rhea, let the girl breathe."


    "What?" Rhea shrugged, a playful twinkle in her eye. "I''m simply curious. You are a beautiful young goddess, Hestia. Any god would be lucky to have you."


    Hestia sighed, rubbing her temples. "I''ve already made my vow, Mother. I have no interest in marriage."


    Rhea waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, vows, shmows. You''re still young. You may change your mind one day."


    Hestia huffed, crossing her arms. "I sincerely doubt that."


    Themis smirked. "You know, Rhea, not every woman dreams of marriage. Hestia has found her purpose in tending the hearth and keeping the peace among the family. It is a noble calling."


    Hestia shot her a grateful look. "Thank you, Themis."


    Rhea sighed dramatically. "Fine, fine. But I''d still like grandchildren someday. I have to live through someone now that my days of childbearing are over."


    Hestia groaned. "Perhaps you should ask Demeter, then. She''s far more likely to settle down than I am."


    "Oh, I intend to," Rhea said matter-of-factly. "But you were here first, so you get the lecture first."


    Hestia rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. Despite her mother''s teasing, it was comforting to share such lighthearted moments.


    They had been through so much¡ªongoing war, loss, exile¡ªyet here they were, gathered around the fire, speaking of love and family as if they weren''t being hunted down by Cronus.


    It felt¡­ normal.


    And in the Underworld, normal was a rare and precious thing.

 Chapter 23 - 23: The Anomaly

    In the dimly lit chamber of his fortress, Hades sat at the head of a long stone table, his fingers steepled in thought.


    Across from him sat Hera, her sharp golden eyes narrowed in concentration, and beside her, cloaked in ever-shifting shadows, was Hecate.


    The air was thick with tension as they discussed the next phase of their war against Cronus.


    "We have lost the first battle," Hades began. "Atlas alone nearly crushed Zeus. The Four Pillar Titans are far stronger than I anticipated. So for now, our best course of action is to weaken them through calculated strikes¡ªhit their supply lines, sabotage their strongholds, and target their commanders one by one, and retreat immediately."


    Hera nodded. "Guerilla tactics. It makes sense. Cronus'' forces are vast, but they''re not invincible. If we can starve their armies and pick them apart before they regroup, we stand a better chance when we finally face them in open battle."


    Contrary to popular beliefs. Gods do starve. Just like mortals. The more they use their divinity, the faster they get hungry.


    It is because their body needed a "source" to replenish lost divinity, and most of the time, that source comes from foods and drinks.


    For powerful gods, they can directly get that source from their domain and even mortal faith. But lower gods don''t have enough mortal worship to rely on faith to replenish their divinity, so they must eat.


    At this moment, Hecate stood up as she said her piece.


    Her voice was smooth yet firm. "The best way to do that is by moving in the shadows. My magic can hide our forces, allowing them to strike without being detected. But we must be patient¡ªeach attack must count. We must not let Cronus and his forces react."


    Hera frowned, glancing around the chamber. "That''s assuming we even have the time. Are we truly safe here, Hades? What if Cronus decides to break through into the Underworld? He has done that before when he broke through Gaia''s barrier."


    Hecate scoffed, her lips curling into an amused smile. "That is impossible."


    Hera arched a brow. "And why is that?"


    Hecate leaned forward, her presence exuding quiet confidence. "Because Nyx is here."


    Hera''s expression faltered slightly at the name.


    "The Primordial of the Night?"


    Hecate nodded. "Not even Uranus or Gaia dared to challenge her. Cronus, for all his strength, is no different. As long as Nyx watches over the Underworld, no force from the outside can invade."


    Although Primordials cannot directly interfere in worldy affairs, but invading one''s domain is a completely different matter.


    Hades had remained silent during this exchange, his crimson eyes thoughtful.


    Nyx¡­ a being far beyond even the Titans, a force as ancient as the cosmos itself. He had never met her, but the knowledge that she guarded the Underworld gave him an unexpected sense of security.


    Maybe one day he would have the time to visit her.


    Still, he pushed the thought aside. There were more pressing matters to attend to.


    Turning to Hecate, he asked, "Have you located our remaining allies?"


    Hecate nodded. "I have. They are scattered but alive."


    "Where?"


    "Most of them are in Prometheus'' territory, the others are in hiding while some were already captured or killed."


    Hera''s brows furrowed. "Prometheus? Can we still trust him? When the titans ambushed us, he just stood there and watch."


    "We can." Hecate confirmed. "I have observed him for awhile. But for now, he has made it appear as though he has captured our allies, hiding them under the guise of imprisonment. They are safe, at least."


    Hades nodded. "Good. Hecate, I want you to coordinate with Prometheus and bring the other gods on our side who are in hiding to Prometheus, do it one by one without Cronus noticing. Be subtle. If he suspects anything, all of Prometheus'' efforts will be for nothing."


    Hecate bowed her head. "Understood."


    Hades leaned forward. "And what of Cronus himself? What are his movements?"


    Hecate''s expression darkened. "He is spreading his army far and wide, seeking to annihilate the remnants of the rebellion. He is not consolidating his forces but rather scattering them in pursuit of those who resist him."


    Hades nodded. "That will be his downfall. The more he spreads his forces, the more vulnerable his supply lines become. We will exploit this."


    He then turned to Hecate once more. "Summon the Underworld River Gods. I need to speak with them."


    Hecate inclined her head. "As you wish, my lord."


    With that, she dissolved into mist, vanishing from the chamber.


    Hades turned back to Hera, his expression unreadable. "This war will not be won in a day. But if we play this right¡­ we may just have a chance."


    Hera crossed her arms, her lips curving into a confident smirk. "Then let''s make Cronus regret underestimating us."


    ****


    Earth, Prometheus Temple.


    Prometheus sat upon his throne, humming a soft, almost cheerful tune as the golden rays of the setting sun bathed his temple in a warm glow.


    His fingers idly played with a bright golden apple, the smooth skin glistening in the light. He took a slow, deliberate bite, savoring the taste.


    It was almost amusing how the gods he had chosen to side with had just suffered a devastating loss, and yet, here he was, completely at ease.


    Not because he was indifferent¡ªno, far from it. It was because he had already foreseen countless possibilities.


    And all those possibilities, the Olympians always emerged victorious.


    And yet¡­


    His sharp, piercing eyes flickered as his thoughts wandered to him.


    Hades.


    The god he had just met for the first time in person, and that was when Cronus ambushed them in Crete.


    That god was not supposed to be that strong. He was not supposed to wield such power, nor was he supposed to claim the remnants of Uranus'' domain.


    In every vision Prometheus had ever glimpsed, Hades had always been formidable, but never beyond comprehension.


    He was always just below Zeus. He has never been more powerful than Zeus.


    And what''s up with that spear he had hidden? It completely defies reason. Not even Cronus'' scythe radiates that much power.


    So what had changed?


    He had attempted to peer into the threads of Hades'' fate, to see what had altered the course of the inevitable.


    And that was when it happened.


    The moment his divine sight reached toward that particular thread, he found himself falling.


    Falling into an abyss unlike any he had ever encountered.


    An endless void, cold and silent, where time lost meaning. And within that abyss, there were eyes.


    Countless, grotesque, unblinking eyes, staring straight into his very being.


    He could not move. Could not breathe. Could not think.


    His divine essence screamed, writhing under the sheer, overwhelming weight of those gazes.


    It was as if something¡ªsomething incomprehensible¡ªwas aware of his intrusion and had chosen to watch him in return.


    He had seen horrors beyond mortal or even divine understanding, glimpsed the wretched depths of Tartarus, and even peered into the void of Chaos itself.


    But nothing¡ªnothing¡ªhad ever filled him with such absolute, paralyzing despair.


    It was as if he had become an insect, trembling beneath the gaze of an unknowable predator.


    Prometheus awoke from that vision gasping, his body drenched in sweat, his divine mind scarred.


    Even now, the memories clawed at the edges of his mind, creeping into his dreams, filling his nights with whispers and shifting, watching things.


    Hades was not simply a god. S~ea??h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    He was an abnormality.


    An Anomaly.


    Hades is an entity whose very existence warps the natural order, distorting the flow of fate itself.


    Unlike ordinary mortals, gods, or even cosmic deities, He is a convergence point of destiny, where all possibilities collapse and reshape around them.


    He is both bound to fate and yet defy it, an impossible paradox that the universe itself cannot fully comprehend or control.


    He is a force that embodies the impossible coexistence of fate and free will.


    He is not chosen nor created¡ªhe simply exist, and by existing, he reshape the destiny of all things.


    His influence cannot be predicted, controlled, or erased, for he is the beating heart of change itself.


    For that, Prometheus decided to give him an appropriate nickname.


    "The First-Class Singularity."


    Prometheus let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as he finished his apple and carelessly tossed the remaining core aside.


    For someone who could see the course of fate so clearly, it was almost exhilarating to find someone who could escape his sight.


    A being whose very existence warped destiny itself.


    "Truly," he murmured to himself, "what an interesting fellow."


    Rising to his feet, Prometheus strode toward the temple''s open balcony, his sharp gaze fixed upon the horizon.


    Three years.


    That was all the time left.


    Three years before the war would reach its climax.


    Three years before the ruler of the cosmos would be decided.


    The fire-bringer smiled, the wind brushing through his hair.


    A storm was coming.


    And he would be there to witness it all.

 Chapter 24 - 24: Three Years

    The dense forest was eerily silent, save for the frantic rustling of leaves and the hurried footsteps of a group of lesser gods fleeing through the undergrowth.


    Their breaths came in ragged gasps, eyes wild with terror as they darted between the thick trees, their bodies battered and bruised.


    "This is bad," one of them hissed, sweat dripping down his face. "How the hell did we end up running into her of all people?"


    "Our luck is cursed," another panted, clutching a wound on his arm. "They said she wasn''t supposed to be anywhere near this battlefield!"


    "Shut up and keep running! If we stop now, we''re dead!"


    But before they could take another step forward, she appeared.


    A figure stood in their path, blocking their escape.


    A woman¡ªno, a beast in the shape of a woman.


    Half-naked, her muscular, yet beautifully sculpted body gleamed with the blood of her previous victims.


    Long, wild crimson hair cascaded down her back, framing her strikingly sharp face. Her eyes, glowing red like molten fire, locked onto them with the cruel amusement of a predator toying with its prey.


    And then there were her other features.


    Dark, obsidian-like horns curved backward from her forehead. Large, draconic wings stretched from her back, flexing as if eager for the hunt.


    A long, scaled tail swayed behind her, the sharp tip dripping with fresh blood. Her clawed fingers twitched, itching for more carnage.


    She licked her lips, fanged teeth flashing as she took a slow, deliberate step forward.


    The fleeing gods froze.


    One of them, trembling so violently he could barely form words, whispered her name.


    "C-Campe¡­ The Dragon of Hades¡­"


    The instant her name was spoken, Campe''s grin widened into something monstrous.


    "Good," she purred, her voice like silk laced with poison. "At least you know who''s about to kill you."


    And then, she moved.


    A blur of red, black, and gold.


    Blood sprayed across the trees as her claws ripped through flesh and bone like paper.


    One god barely had time to scream before her tail lashed out, piercing straight through his chest.


    Another tried to summon his divine power, only for Campe to grab his head and crush it in her grip.


    The remaining gods turned to flee¡ªonly to find her already in front of them.


    "No, no, no," she murmured, tilting her head playfully. "You don''t get to run."


    A flick of her claws.


    More screams. More blood.


    Within moments, the forest was silent once more.


    Campe stood amidst the carnage, rolling her shoulders as she exhaled in satisfaction.


    "Ahhh¡­ That was fun."


    As she relished on the slaughter she had just committed, a woman suddenly stepped into the clearing, her expression calm yet sharp with displeasure.


    It was Hera, the Goddess of Marriage and sister of Hades.


    She looked around at the carnage Campe had left behind¡ªthe shredded corpses, the torn limbs, and the still-warm ichor staining the forest floor.


    Her golden eyes settled on Campe, who stood amidst the massacre with a satisfied smirk, her crimson hair clinging to her skin from the blood that splattered across her face and body.


    Hera sighed. "You should''ve at least left one alive, Campe. We could have questioned him." sea??h th§× N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Campe let out a snort, stretching her wings lazily as she gave her a smirk, "Not my problem. I''m not your soldier, and you''re definitely not my boss."


    She rolled her shoulders, flicking the blood off her claws. "Besides, just because you act like the Queen of the Underworld and rule it alongside lord Hades doesn''t mean you actually are one."


    Hera''s expression remained unreadable, her eyes cold and calculative as she observed the dragon girl.


    "Perhaps not now," she admitted, "but one day, I might be."


    Campe''s smirk faltered, her red eyes narrowing dangerously. A low growl rumbled in her throat. "Tch. I''d rather Hades make Hecate his queen than you."


    Hera met her glare with unwavering serenity.


    "At the end of the day," she said smoothly, "that decision lies with Hades."


    Campe clenched her jaw, clearly annoyed but not willing to push the argument further. Her wings twitched in agitation, but she didn''t say anything.


    Hera turned away, already walking toward the edge of the battlefield. "Come. We need to return to camp. The real battle is yet to come."


    Campe scoffed but followed, shaking off the last remnants of blood from her claws. "Yeah, yeah. Just try to keep up, ''Your Majesty.''"


    Hera ignored the jab, her mind already focused on what was coming next.


    As they walked through the dense forest, the scent of blood still clinging to Campe, Hera turned her gaze to the dragon-woman.


    "I assume you''ve taken care of Point A as well?" she asked.


    Campe let out an amused snort, flicking her tail.


    "Who do you think you''re talking to?" she retorted. "Of course I did. And just like these fools, I left none alive."


    Hera exhaled slowly, suppressing her frustration.


    "I suppose I should have expected that," she murmured, but let the matter rest. There was no changing Campe''s nature.


    They continued in silence, the dense forest gradually thinning as they approached their destination.


    Soon, they stepped into a secluded grotto, hidden from prying eyes. The scene before them was one of controlled chaos¡ªhundreds of gods and divine spirits stood fully armed, their expressions grim yet resolute.


    Some were sharpening weapons, others practicing spells, while groups of warriors conversed in hushed tones. The tension in the air was almost suffocating, but it was laced with determination.


    As Hera and Campe made their way through the camp, the guards stationed at the entrance immediately straightened, offering deep bows in respect.


    Hera gave them a nod of acknowledgment before continuing on toward the heart of the encampment¡ªthe command post.


    Inside, they found Themis and Hades standing over a large stone table, a detailed map of the battlefield spread before them. Hades'' piercing gaze lifted the moment they entered, settling first on Campe.


    "Did you complete your mission?" he asked, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable weight of authority.


    Campe placed a clawed hand on her hip, bowing slightly.


    "I did," she confirmed. "Both targets have been eliminated. No survivors."


    Hades gave a single nod of approval. "Good."


    He then shifted his attention back to the map. "With that, our preparations are complete."


    He placed a hand over the map, his fingers tracing strategic points. "We can begin the next phase."


    "We have finally isolated Iapetus," he continued. "With the positions we''ve secured, we can strike him without fear of reinforcements."


    Themis nodded, her expression impassive. "Zeus and Poseidon have also completed their preparations. Even if the Titans notice the attack, they will ensure no one interferes."


    Hera listened intently but found herself lost in thought. Three years ago, after their crushing defeat, the gods had scattered, left to lick their wounds in hiding.


    At the time, she had thought it would take a miracle just to recover their strength.


    And yet, somehow, Zeus and Poseidon had managed to do more than just grow stronger¡ªthey had gathered an army.


    In the three years since their loss, they had rallied numerous gods and divine spirits to their cause.


    Some had been disillusioned with Cronus'' rule, others had simply been waiting for an opportunity to rebel, and still, others had been inspired by Zeus'' unwavering ambition and charisma.


    Whatever the case, what had once seemed impossible had become reality.


    Hades, for all his foresight and cunning, had also underestimated them. He had anticipated that Zeus and Poseidon would hone their strength in isolation, preparing for a rematch against the Titans.


    But building an army? That was a development even he hadn''t expected.


    Still, he didn''t let his surprise show. Instead, he nodded slowly.


    "Then everything is in place. We move on Iapetus immediately."


    ****


    Far away, on Mount Orthys.


    Cronus reclined on his grand obsidian throne, his fingers drumming against the armrest in a slow, deliberate rhythm.


    The massive hall of his temple on Mount Orthys, lined with towering columns and illuminated by a golden, ethereal glow, was eerily silent¡ªsave for the steady voice of Atlas delivering his report.


    "My king, three of the four Pillar Titans have suffered repeated assaults," Atlas stated, his powerful frame rigid with discipline. "Their territories have been harassed and destabilized for months now. Crius has lost key outposts, Coeus'' supply lines have been severed, and Iapetus has been completely cut off."


    Cronus exhaled sharply through his nose, his golden eyes narrowing. "And Hyperion?"


    Atlas hesitated for a moment before answering. "Still wounded from his battle with Hades three years ago. Though his domain remains untouched, he has yet to fully recover."


    Cronus leaned forward slightly, his grip tightening on his throne.


    "Hmm," he hummed. "Those children of mine. All this effort, all this desperation from a bunch of beaten mongrels clinging to their foolish ideals."


    He let out a low chuckle. "It''s nothing more than the futile struggle of a dying insect. Yet, even insects can be an annoyance, it seems."


    He considered, for a moment, launching a full-scale attack¡ªgathering the might of his forces and crushing the remnants of the rebellion once and for all.


    With his power, it would be simple. A single, decisive strike to end this ridiculous farce.


    And yet¡­ he did not move.


    His fingers ceased their drumming, and a slow, dangerous smirk spread across his face.


    Prometheus.


    Cronus knew that the Titan of Foresight was watching him.


    Always watching.


    The very moment he showed even the slightest carelessness, even the smallest crack in his composure, Prometheus would pounce like a vulture, exploiting it with ruthless precision.


    That one¡ªno matter how harmless or loyal he pretended to be¡ªwas the most dangerous being in this entire war.


    Cronus'' smirk faded as he exhaled slowly, reclining once more into his throne.


    "Let them continue their pitiful resistance," he decided. "Iapetus, Krios, and Coeus can handle it themselves. If they fail, then they were never worthy of standing by my side to begin with."


    Atlas bowed his head slightly. "As you command, my king."


    Cronus waved a hand dismissively. "Go. Continue monitoring the situation. I will act when I deem it necessary."


    Atlas turned and strode from the throne room, his heavy footsteps echoing against the grand marble floor.


    Cronus remained still, staring into the distance, his mind already weaving new strategies.


    Let them struggle.


    Let them believe they stand a chance.


    When the time came, he would crush them beneath his heel¡ªutterly and without mercy.

 Chapter 25 - 25: Iapetus

    Iapetus sat rigidly on his grand stone throne, his fingers gripping the armrests so tightly that cracks began forming on its surface.


    His sharp, steely eyes burned with frustration as he glared at the flickering torches lining the temple walls.


    For months now, his lands had been under constant assault by the Olympians and their rebel forces.


    His men were being picked off one by one, their strongholds crumbling under an enemy that never stood still.


    Whenever he attempted to mount a counterattack, the bastards had already melted away into the shadows, vanishing before his forces could strike back.


    It was an infuriating game of cat and mouse, and Iapetus was beginning to feel like the mouse.


    His teeth clenched as a thought crossed his mind¡ªif only Prometheus wasn''t so indifferent about this war.


    With his foresight, they could have easily rooted out the enemy''s hiding place and crushed this insurrection before it grew into the festering wound that it had become.


    Instead, Prometheus sat on the sidelines, pretending to be neutral, while their enemies ran rampant.


    Iapetus let out a harsh exhale, his fury simmering just beneath the surface.


    Standing before him, his son, Menoetius, knelt on one knee, his own expression grim.


    The Titan God of Violent Anger had always been known for his explosive temper, but even now, he managed to hold himself in check in front of his father.


    "What of our request for support?" Iapetus finally demanded, his voice cold and sharp.


    Menoetius frowned. "Crius and Coeus are facing the same problem as us," he answered. "Their territories are also under siege, and they cannot spare any forces to assist."


    Iapetus growled under his breath. "And Hyperion?"


    "Still recovering," Menoetius replied, his voice edged with irritation. "He has gathered all of his forces around his temple to ensure his own safety. His lands remain untouched, but he refuses to act until he''s fully healed." sea??h th§× N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Iapetus slammed his fist onto the armrest, causing the entire temple to tremble.


    "Cowards! Do they not see that if we keep letting the Olympians gain ground, we will be backed into a corner?! We should be taking the fight to them, not sitting in our fortresses like frightened children!"


    Menoetius remained silent, knowing better than to add fuel to his father''s anger.


    Just then, hurried footsteps echoed through the temple.


    A divine spirit, one of Iapetus'' messengers, rushed inside, breathing heavily as he dropped to one knee before the Titan.


    "My lord! Urgent news!"


    Iapetus'' eyes snapped toward him, his frustration sharpening into a deadly focus. "Speak."


    The divine spirit swallowed, still catching his breath. "There has been a breach in the western stronghold. The enemy forces¡ª"


    Before he could finish, Iapetus shot to his feet, his divine aura surging through the temple like a violent storm. "What?!"


    Menoetius'' own energy flared, his fists clenching. "That stronghold was heavily fortified! How did they get past our defenses?!"


    The divine spirit lowered his head. "We¡­ we don''t know, my lords. The garrison was wiped out before they could even send word. The few who survived spoke of shadows moving through the walls, striking before they could react."


    Iapetus'' fury burned hotter. Shadows¡­


    This wasn''t just another skirmish. This was the work of someone dangerous. Someone who knew how to bypass even the most fortified positions.


    His mind immediately went to one name.


    "Hecate," he muttered darkly, his voice laced with venom.


    Menoetius'' expression darkened at the mention of her name.


    Iapetus turned back to the divine spirit. "What of the attackers? Where are they now?"


    The divine spirit hesitated. "They vanished after the attack, my lord. As if they were never there."


    Iapetus'' jaw tightened, fuming.


    However, before he could think of his next move, another divine spirit burst into the hall, panting heavily.


    His expression, however, was not one of fear¡ªbut urgency.


    "My lord! We have found it!"


    Iapetus'' eyes, which had been burning with frustration just moments ago, suddenly sharpened with interest.


    "Found it?" His voice was low, dangerous. "Found what? Be specific."


    The divine spirit bowed his head. "Yes, my lord. The base of operations of the rebels. We have finally located them."


    The tension in the room shifted instantly.


    Menoetius'' grin widened into something almost feral.


    "About damn time," he muttered, his fingers curling into fists. "I''m getting bored of all these cat and mouse games."


    Iapetus took a slow step forward, his towering figure radiating power.


    "Continue," he ordered, his voice brimming with barely contained excitement.


    The divine spirit straightened himself. "A minor god of silence¡ªone of our informants¡ªmanaged to track some divine spirits loyal to the rebels. He followed them without being detected and discovered their hideout. They are concealed within a secluded grotto at the very border of your territory."


    Iapetus'' lips curled into a dark smile. "How reliable is this information?"


    "Very. The god is still there, my lord. He has been watching them carefully and has confirmed significant activity. The rebels are gathered in large numbers, preparing for something."


    Menoetius let out a sharp, eager laugh. "Hah! And here we were, chasing shadows, while the rats built a nest right under our noses."


    Iapetus exhaled through his nose, his excitement growing. "Then this is our chance. We will end them tonight."


    He turned abruptly, his divine aura surging, shaking the very foundations of the temple. "Summon every available force. I want the armies ready to march within the hour. We will crush them in one decisive strike."


    The divine spirits quickly bowed and rushed out of the hall, their footsteps echoing as they hurried to fulfill his command.


    Menoetius was practically vibrating with anticipation.


    "Shall I lead the vanguard?" he asked, his grin stretching wider.


    Iapetus turned to him, his expression unreadable for a moment before he smirked. "No. You will lead the main force. We are not simply harassing them this time¡ªwe are annihilating them. I want no survivors."


    Menoetius'' grin widened further, his crimson eyes gleaming with the promise of bloodshed.


    "Finally," he growled. "No more games."


    Iapetus stepped forward, his fists clenched.


    "For three years, they have hidden, striking from the shadows like cowards." His voice rumbled like distant thunder. "For three years, they have mocked us with their insolence."


    He extended a hand, divine energy crackling around his fingers. "But tonight, we will make them regret ever defying the Titans."


    Menoetius slammed a fist into his palm. "Let''s burn their little grotto to the ground."


    With that, the temple erupted into a frenzy of movement as the Titan God of Mortality and his forces prepared for war.


    ****


    In the depths of an alternate dimension, a place of darkness and shadow, stood a fortress, and within its secluded chamber shrouded in eternal darkness, Hades stood alone.


    The air was thick with the weight of his divinity, an oppressive presence that seemed to consume even the faintest light.


    Before him, hovering above a jagged obsidian pedestal, was a crystal ball swirling with shadows.


    Reflections of distant figures flickered within its depths¡ªfigures belonging to the forces of Iapetus.


    His cold, calculating gaze was locked onto the minor god of silence, the spy who had unknowingly walked straight into his web.


    Hades watched as the god remained hidden at the edge of the grotto, his wary eyes scanning the movements of what he believed to be the gathered Olympian rebels.


    The fool had no idea that what he saw was nothing more than an illusion.


    Hades allowed himself the faintest smirk. It is all going according to plan.


    At this very moment, Iapetus was surely assembling his armies, blinded by his own arrogance, believing that this was finally his chance to crush the resistance.


    But Hades had orchestrated every step of this dance. The "rebels" in the grotto were not his actual forces. Every single one of his people had already been hidden, simply waiting for a signal to strike.


    What remained in there were his shadow knights¡ªhis personal army of spectral warriors forged from the deepest abyss of the Underworld and his dominion over darkness and shadows.


    Their forms had been altered by Hecate''s sorcery, their appearances indistinguishable from the true rebels.


    They moved, they spoke, they breathed, all as if they were real. Even the minor god of silence, with all his skills in espionage, had not sensed the deception.


    Hades exhaled softly, watching as the crystal ball flickered. He knew exactly what would happen next. Iapetus would rally his forces, gathering everything he had for a single, decisive strike.


    He would march into the grotto with all the confidence of a conqueror, expecting to deal a fatal blow.


    After all, Iapetus is an impulsive and arrogant titan who can''t stand humiliation. And all these months has been nothing but humiliation for him.


    But he will soon know that what awaits him aren''t rebels waiting to be slaughtered, but predators waiting for their prey.


    The instant the Titans launched their assault, the illusion would shatter. The shadows would rise, the knights would descend, the rebels would rage, and the real war would begin.


    And Hades¡­ he would be waiting.


    Alone in the suffocating darkness, he whispered to himself, his voice barely more than a breath.


    "Tonight, a Titan falls."

 Chapter 26 - 26: Mist

    Beneath the crimson sky, Iapetus stood atop a raised obsidian platform outside his grand temple, overlooking the vast army assembled before him.


    Titans, gods, and divine spirits alike stood shoulder to shoulder, their weapons gleaming under the dimming light of dusk.


    The air crackled with tension, with anticipation, as they awaited the words of their commander.


    Iapetus raised his arm, and silence fell over the gathered forces. His eyes blazed with fury as he surveyed his soldiers.


    Then, in a voice that shook the very earth, he spoke.


    "Brothers! Sisters! Warriors of the old gods! Too long have we tolerated these parasites!" His voice thundered across the battlefield. "These ungrateful wretches who dare call themselves gods! These mongrels who spit in the faces of the very beings that birthed the cosmos! Who twist fate to their favor and believe themselves worthy of the throne!"


    The army roared in agreement, their rage fanned like flames upon dry wood.


    "For three years, they have gnawed at us like vermin, scurrying in the dark, hiding behind tricks and cowardice. But no more!" He clenched his fist, his divine aura surging outward, sending shockwaves through the gathered forces. "Tonight, we rip them from their holes! Tonight, we remind them that they are nothing! That they exist only because we allow it!"


    The soldiers howled, slamming weapons against shields, their cries of anger and anticipation shaking the heavens.


    Iapetus extended his arm towards the distant horizon. "No more shall they whisper rebellion in the shadows! No more shall they sully the name of the Titans! We will descend upon them like the great storms of old! We will show them what true gods are!"


    Menoetius, standing at the forefront, clenched his fists, his body trembling with barely restrained excitement.


    Iapetus turned to him, his eyes blazing. "Menoetius! Lead the charge! Tear through them like wildfire!"


    The Titan of violent anger let out a savage grin, his eyes glinting with bloodlust. "With pleasure, Father."


    Without hesitation, Menoetius exploded into motion. He shot into the sky with such force that the very air screamed in protest, a thunderous sonic boom echoing through the land as he became a crimson blur against the heavens.


    The army below followed, their roars of war turning into a deafening chorus as thousands of divine beings launched into the sky, their weapons glinting like falling stars.


    Their march was silent yet swift. Like shadows of death, they moved across the vast lands, encircling the secluded grotto where the Olympians had hidden.


    Their numbers stretched across the horizon, forming an unbreakable siege.


    And then, as they peered into the grotto from the cliffs above, they saw them. The rebels.


    Hundreds of gods and divine spirits gathered, their weapons ready, unaware of the doom looming over them.


    A triumphant grin curled on Menoetius'' lips. "They''re done for."


    He stared at his soldiers and raised his hand, "SLAUGHTER THEM! LEAVE NONE ALIVE!"


    The moment Menoetius roared, the battlefield erupted into chaos. The Titans'' forces descended like a tidal wave upon the rebels, who barely had time to register what was happening before they were torn apart.


    Screams filled the air¡ªagonized, desperate, hopeless. The rebels scrambled to form a defense, but it was meaningless.


    The Titans'' soldiers struck like executioners, cutting them down with cruel efficiency.


    Blades sank into flesh, spears impaled bodies, and divine ichor painted the earth in shimmering gold.


    Menoetius relished in the slaughter. He tore through his enemies with his bare hands, ripping limbs from bodies, crushing skulls between his fingers.


    He laughed as he hurled a struggling divine spirit into the air and punched a hole through their chest before they could hit the ground.


    The rebel gods were weak¡ªpathetic.


    They fought with desperation, not conviction, and that was why they would die.


    One god, bloodied and barely standing, raised his sword in a last-ditch effort to strike him.


    "Die! You Titan scum!"


    Menoetius grabbed the weapon mid-swing, shattering the blade in his grip before grabbing the god''s throat and squeezing.


    "You could''ve lived a long life, but you chose to rebel." Menoetius grinned as he tightened his grip.


    The rebel thrashed, his hands clawing at Menoetius'' wrist, but his strength was fading.


    The next moment, his eyes dimmed, and his struggles soon ceased.


    Menoetius dropped the lifeless body and stepped forward, crushing it beneath his foot as he turned to find his next prey.


    It took less than an hour.


    The last rebel fell, his dying scream cut short as a Titan impaled him from behind.


    Silence followed. The once-secluded grotto, once filled with the hope of resistance, was now a field of corpses.


    Menoetius stood amidst the carnage, chest rising and falling with exhilaration. He was covered in divine ichor¡ªsome his own, but mostly that of his enemies.


    He lifted his bloodstained fist into the air and bellowed, "THIS WAR HAS ENDED! THE REBELS HAVE BEEN ANNIHILATED!"


    The soldiers roared with him, raising their weapons, cheering in savage triumph.


    The rebels were no more.


    But then¡ª


    The sky bled.


    The cheers died in their throats as the heavens shifted, twisting into an unnatural crimson hue.


    The air thickened, turning heavy and oppressive, as if reality itself had been distorted.


    A feeling of dread gripped even the mightiest among them.


    Menoetius'' eyes widened. ''A bounded field? Here? But how?''


    A bounded field is a geographical form of magic whereby one knits a boundary line of magical energy around a space to separate its inside from the outside, cutting off and isolating that space from the outside world and then imposing an effect on the inside, or the boundary line itself.


    Menoetius could feel it¡ªthe space around them sealed off. There was no escape. The field extended too far, too wide. It was a bounded field unlike any other.


    Trapping this many divine beings at once was something only one entity in the cosmos was capable of.


    "No¡­ it can''t be¡­" he murmured, his fists clenching.


    Then, the sky darkened further, and from the bloodstained heavens, she descended.


    A lone figure, clad in flowing black, as if the very night had woven itself into her gown. Her presence was undeniable.


    Hecate.


    The Goddess of Magic, Crossroads and Ghosts. Even before she joined Hades in this war, she was feared for her ability known as magic that she had developed.


    An ability to create a phenomenon through the use of energy that is different from divinity, that is magic.


    She hovered in the air, her ethereal form bathed in a soft, eerie glow, her eyes unblinking.


    In one hand, she held a lamp, its purple flame flickering ominously. The other hand rested at her side, but her fingers twitched slightly¡ªlike a puppeteer, preparing to move her strings.


    Her gaze swept across the battlefield, and she smiled.


    It was not a smile of joy.


    It was not a smile of mercy.


    It was a smile that sent chills through every divine being present.


    Menoetius swallowed.


    He knew then¡ª


    They had been played.


    ****


    Back in his temple, Iapetus sat upon his throne, his fingers drumming against the armrest.


    His confidence was absolute.


    This operation would be a complete success.


    The war would end tonight, and the rebels would be nothing more than an unpleasant memory.


    He leaned back, exhaling in satisfaction.


    "It''s over."


    The rebel forces should''ve already been annihilated now.


    But...


    "What is?"


    Those words were uttered, calm, almost casual, but they sent a chill down Iapetus'' spine.


    His smirk vanished.


    His eyes darted around the temple, scanning for the source, and at that moment, thick purple mist had seeped into the room.


    It slithered along the marble floors, curling around the pillars, creeping up the walls.


    His once-grand hall, illuminated by sacred torches, now flickered in dim, eerie light.


    He stood abruptly, summoning his divine power to dispel the fog, but it did not move¡ªit did not even waver.


    It was not ordinary mist.


    It was something far worse.


    Then, a figure emerged.


    From the thick, cloying darkness, Hades stepped forward.


    His presence was subdued, his form clad in his usual black robes, but there was an undeniable weight to him¡ªa pressure that made the very air tremble.


    His expression was calm and serene, but his gaze¡­ his gaze held a glint of something inexplicable, something dangerous.


    Iapetus'' instincts screamed. Something had gone terribly wrong with the attack.


    But he was a Titan¡ªone of the Four Pillars.


    He did not flinch, nor did he show any sign of losing his composure.


    He straightened his posture, adopting a cold, unaffected demeanor. His voice was steady as he said, "If it isn''t my nephew, Hades¡­ to what do I owe this unexpected visit?"


    Hades did not answer immediately. Instead, he took another step forward, his fingers idly tracing the mist around him as though he had all the time in the world.


    Then, he spoke, his voice smooth¡ªalmost amused.


    "I''ve long coveted your domain, Iapetus," he said lightly, as if discussing the weather. "The dominion over mortality. And now¡­ I think I''ll take it for myself."


    A beat of silence.


    Then, Iapetus laughed. sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    A deep, resounding chuckle that echoed through the mist-covered temple. He shook his head, eyes gleaming with disdain.


    "You think you can just take my domain?" he scoffed.


    His fingers twitched, and his spear materialized in his grip¡ªtall, jagged, crackling with divine energy. He spun it once, then leveled the sharp tip at Hades.


    "If you want it so badly, then come and take it."


    Hades stopped walking.


    Then, he smiled.


    A slow, playful smile¡ªone that did not reach his eyes.


    The shadows behind him shifted, coiling unnaturally as something black and formless began to rise.


    Then, in a single fluid motion, Hades lifted his hand¡ªand summoned his own spear.


    It was made of pure darkness, an obsidian construct that seemed to drink the light around it.


    The spearhead gleamed with a razor-thin edge, and the space around it warped.


    Hades twirled it once, then took a step forward, lowering into a stance.


    "Very well." he said. "Shall we begin?"

 Chapter 27 - 27: Infinity

    Menoetius stood frozen in place, his eyes wide with disbelief as the tide of battle shifted in an instant.


    One moment, his forces were victorious, tearing apart the last remnants of the rebel army. The next, they were the ones being slaughtered.


    Out of thin air, thousands of rebels emerged.


    They did not rush out from hiding, nor did they arrive late to the battle¡ªthey simply appeared, as if reality itself had deceived them.


    The soldiers he had once dismissed as dead were now standing, but they were not the same.


    Their bodies were shadows¡ªformless yet solid¡ªtwisted into humanoid shapes. Their eyes burned with blazing purple flames, the only light in their darkened forms.


    And they moved without hesitation, cutting through his forces with merciless efficiency.


    Menoetius watched, rage boiling in his chest as his once-proud army fell apart.


    "What the hell is this!?" he roared.


    His soldiers screamed as the shadowy figures and the rebel forces tore into them, their divine flesh shredded like mere paper.


    Some tried to fight back, but it was useless. The moment they killed one shadow, another would appear and attack them, while a rebel god would kill them.


    Others attempted to flee¡ªthey did not get far.


    One by one, they were cut down, their divine essence absorbed into the very things that killed them.


    Menoetius gritted his teeth, feeling a divine amount of anger and hatred. His rage needed an outlet, or he might explode.


    His glowing eyes snapped to Hecate, who stared at him with her impassive gaze.


    She floated above them all, serene and composed, watching the slaughter as if she had orchestrated it from the beginning. Sear?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "YOU! DAMN YOU HECATE!"


    With a deafening boom, Menoetius launched himself into the sky, his body blazing like a meteor.


    He shot toward Hecate at terrifying speed, he summoned an axe and raised it high¡ªintending to split her in two.


    Hecate did not flinch.


    She simply snapped her fingers.


    And suddenly, the world around them vanished.


    Menoetius blinked.


    Moments ago, he was in the battlefield. Now, everything was dark. Empty. Silent.


    There was no sky, no land, no battlefield¡ªonly endless, boundless nothingness.


    He was still facing Hecate, still poised to strike her down. She stood calmly, her black dress flowing in the unseen wind, the faint glow of her lantern casting eerie shadows in this void.


    But something was wrong.


    He tried to move, but he couldn''t.


    No, it wasn''t that he was frozen. He could still feel his body, still feel his limbs moving forward. Yet he wasn''t getting any closer.


    It was as if... as if the space between them stretched endlessly. He couldn''t get close to her no matter how much he tried.


    Menoetius'' breath hitched. His grip on his axe tightened as frustration set in.


    "What¡­ what is this?!"


    Hecate''s gaze was indifferent as she spoke.


    "A simple spell."


    Her voice was soft, almost amused, as she explained.


    "It is called Infinity¡ªa magic that stretches the concept of ''distance'' between me and my target to infinity."


    Menoetius snarled. "What nonsense are you talking about!?"


    He swung his axe. It should have split her in half. But instead, his attack never reached.


    It was right in front of her. Yet infinitely far away.


    "What the hell!?"


    "You and I may appear to stand in the same space," Hecate continued, tilting her head. "But no matter how much you struggle¡­ no matter how much you try¡­ you will never reach me."


    Menoetius'' breathing grew heavy, his frustration boiling over. He roared, swinging his axe again and again, putting all his divine strength into each blow.


    None of them landed.


    Hecate merely watched, unimpressed.


    Then, she raised her free hand.


    "Enough."


    Her lantern flared.


    A new kind of magic spread through the void¡ªancient, oppressive, terrifying.


    Menoetius felt something change.


    The darkness around them warped. No, it wasn''t just the darkness¡ªit was the very nature of the world itself.


    "Let me show you the truth. The primordial hell that was before there is."


    The stars vanished.


    The laws of reality shattered.


    In their place, a vision took form¡ªa place before creation, before order, before the heavens and the earth were split apart.


    It was hell.


    A world where there was no land¡ªonly an endless expanse of fire and poison.


    "This is the origin of the concept of the land of the dead used in all pantheons."


    Where blazing magma and scorching gas churned, creating an atmosphere where even the strongest divine beings would suffocate and burn.


    A place where ice and fire coexisted in chaos, where the very air could freeze your lungs yet boil your flesh at the same time.


    A planet in its primordial state¡ªbefore Genesis.


    Hecate''s voice echoed like a divine decree.


    "Khaos Aidees."


    The world ruptured.


    The void shattered.


    Menoetius barely had time to react before it swallowed him whole.


    He did not scream¡ªthere was no time.


    The moment it touched him, his very existence unraveled.


    His divine body eroded into nothingness. His consciousness collapsed into the abyss.


    And then, he was gone.


    ****


    The battlefield was drenched in golden ichor.


    The ground, once firm and untouched, was now a broken wasteland of scattered limbs, torn armor, and charred corpses.


    The air reeked of burnt flesh and despair.


    And at the center of the carnage, stood Campe.


    The woman hailed as the Dragon of Hades.


    Her long crimson hair was slick with divine blood, clinging to her pale, flawless skin.


    Her piercing red eyes burned with exhilaration, reflecting the flames that still licked at the bodies of her victims.


    She grinned, revealing her feral and sharp tooth, as she ripped a god in half with her bare hands, his final scream barely escaping his throat before it was drowned out by the wet sound of his body splitting apart.


    Any gods or titans she had set her eyes on didn''t even bother trying to fight, they immediately abandoned all hope of resistance and fled.


    "Pathetic," Campe chuckled, her voice dripping with amusement. "These are the great soldiers of the current ruler of cosmos?!"


    With a lazy wave of her clawed hand, she whipped her tail around, sending a wave of razor-sharp winds that severed fleeing gods in half.


    "AAAHHH!"


    Ichor sprayed like rain, staining her already blood-soaked body.


    One of the surviving gods, a warrior with golden armor and a twin-bladed spear, stood his ground.


    His body trembled, but he refused to run.


    Campe''s grin widened. Finally, someone with guts. He''s weak, but at least he actually dare to stand up.


    The god took a deep breath, his divine aura flaring.


    "Death to the rebels!" He screamed, his spear burned with white-hot light as he lunged toward her, his movements a blur of speed and precision.


    Campe laughed in delight.


    She moved with inhuman grace, dodging his strikes as if she were dancing. Each attack that could have severed her head or pierced her heart was met with nothing but empty air.


    "You''re fun!" she purred. "But you''ll burn just the same."


    Before he could react, she opened her mouth¡ª


    A torrent of hellfire erupted.


    He knew, at this moment, he is going to die. But he remained firm, his eyes burning with determination.


    "HAIL CRONUS! KING OF COSMOS!"


    The golden warrior screamed as flames of pure destruction engulfed him. His armor melted in seconds, his skin peeled away like wax, his bones glowing red before turning to ash.


    When the fire died, nothing remained.


    "I don''t know your name, but I acknowledge your spirit as a warrior."


    Campe let out a satisfied sigh, stretching her arms before turning her gaze back to the battlefield.


    There was no one left.


    Her army stood victorious, their war cries shaking the heavens.


    "THE ENEMIES HAVE FALLEN! VICTORY IS OURS!"


    "DEATH TO CRONUS! HAIL THE OLYMPIANS!"


    The rebel gods and divine spirits roared in unison, weapons raised high, the glow of their divine forms flickering against the destruction around them.


    Their enemies had been slaughtered to the last.


    The Titans'' forces had been eradicated.


    Just as the cries of triumph reached their peak, the space above them twisted.


    The shadows stretched unnaturally, forming a vortex of darkness, and from within, a lone figure emerged.


    Hecate.


    She descended like a phantom, her black dress billowing against the ethereal wind. The lamp in her hand flickered with an eerie glow, casting ghostly shadows over the battlefield.


    Her eyes swept across the celebration, but there was no trace of emotion on her face.


    She landed silently beside Campe, who was still licking golden ichor from her fingers.


    "You''re late," Campe smirked, not bothering to look at her. "Was that brat too much for you?"


    Hecate remained silent.


    She wasn''t paying any attention at Campe.


    She was staring at the distance.


    A dark mist loomed beyond the battlefield¡ªa silent omen of the battle still yet to be fought.


    Her voice was quiet, but filled with something heavier than the battlefield of corpses behind her.


    "Hades..."


    He had gone to fight Iapetus alone.


    And Hecate could feel it.


    The battle between gods was about to reach its climax.

 Chapter 28 - 28:

    The temple shook as Hades and Iapetus charged at each other.


    There was no fanfare. No declarations of war. No grandiose displays of power.


    Just pure combat.


    Instinctively, the two recognized each other as a warrior and a fellow master of spear.


    Naturally, their pride as spear master would like for them to prove who between them is superior.


    The sound of their spears clashing against one another sent shockwaves through the massive chamber, the force alone splintering the stone pillars that held up the temple''s ceiling.


    Iapetus, the Titan of Mortality, was a warrior of brute strength and overwhelming force.


    His spear struck like a comet, each thrust meant to kill in one decisive blow. His movements were swift but heavy, each one carrying enough power to tear through mountains.


    Hades, however, was a shadow in motion.


    He danced around Iapetus''s relentless attacks with inhuman grace, his footwork impeccable, his spear an extension of his will.


    Unlike Iapetus, who struck with the full force of a Titan''s wrath, Hades was precise, calculative, and deadly.


    At their level, this is a fight where single misstep meant death.


    And neither was willing to be the first to fall.


    Their spears met again, the impact shattering the ground beneath them. The shockwave ripped through the temple, blasting apart ancient walls and sending debris flying in every direction.


    Iapetus smirked.


    "You fight well for a whelp," he growled, pushing against Hades'' spear with overwhelming strength. "Honestly, I have long since been interested in fighting you ever since I saw you three years ago."


    Hades'' expression remained unreadable as he twisted his spear, deflecting Iapetus''s power to the side and immediately countering with a thrust aimed at his throat.


    Iapetus barely managed to parry, but Hades was already moving.


    A quick step forward. A low spin. A slash aimed at Iapetus''s ribs. A series of combinations thay would surely kill any less skillful gods.


    But Iapetus dodged just in time, feeling the cold wind of the passing spear graze his skin.


    For the first time in millennia, the Titan of Mortality felt something unusual.


    Excitement.


    Iapetus let out a booming laugh. "This is fun! We are both the same, truly! You understand the importance of skill than rely on your divinity!"


    He lunged forward, his attacks becoming faster and sharper. Each strike was meant to kill in one hit, if one was even a millisecond late in dodging, the attack would surely kill them.


    Yet Hades matched him blow for blow.


    The temple crumbled around them, each clash of their spears sending cracks through the marble floors, collapsing statues, breaking through ancient ceilings.


    The battlefield was becoming a ruin, and yet, neither warrior slowed down.


    Their fight was an art of destruction. A symphony of chaos.


    A fight of pure skills and mastery without having to rely on their own divinity.


    Iapetus lunged again, thrusting his spear forward with terrifying speed.


    Hades tilted his head to the side, narrowly avoiding it. In a blur of motion, he retaliated, his spear slicing through the air like a whisper of death.


    Iapetus blocked. Barely.


    The force of Hades'' attack sent a powerful shockwave through his arms. The impact alone left deep cracks along the Titan''s spear, the divine metal groaning under the force.


    It was at this moment when Iapetus realized something.


    Hades wasn''t just defending.


    He was testing him.


    Iapetus narrowed his eyes. "You''re holding back."


    Hades gave a small smirk. "So are you."


    Iapetus smirked in return. "Indeed. But I''ve gotten curious, do you mind if I ask something?"


    "Ask away." Hades shrugs, he doesn''t mind a small talk with an opponent worthy of respect.


    Just Iapetus'' skill with spear is enough for Hades to respect him.


    "Why do you participate in this war? Underworld is completely under Nyx''s watch, not even Cronus dared to step foot there. As its king, surely your authority would even be as great as Cronus. So why do you fight?"


    Hades gazed at Iapetus, his expression unreadable. The battlefield around them was shrouded in mist and shadow, the remnants of their power already twisting the world in unnatural ways.


    The question hung in the air, heavy and demanding, but Hades did not rush to answer.


    He thought back to the beginning.


    At first, he had fought simply to survive. He and his brothers were thrown into this war not by choice, but by necessity.


    Cronus would never allow them to live freely. That much had been clear from the moment they were born.


    So he sought strength.


    But strength alone was not enough.


    When Hades was recognized as the king of Underworld, a land of death and and darkness, a realm where none dared to step foot on, he had finally tasted what it feels to have power and authority.


    For him, the underaorld was not a prison.


    It was a throne.


    A throne where he reigned absolutely.


    Nyx, the Primordial Goddess of Night, ruled the deeper abyss, but she did not interfere in the affairs of the Underworld.


    And so, within its boundaries, Hades held a power that rivaled even Cronus himself.


    Yet, despite that power, despite the security of his domain, he still fought.


    Why?


    The answer was simple.


    Hades exhaled slowly, gripping his spear as his gaze hardened.


    "Because Cronus does not deserve to rule."


    Iapetus raised a brow. "Is that all?"


    "That is enough." Hades stepped forward, the ground beneath him cracking under his presence. "I have no grand ambitions to rule the cosmos. I have no desire to conquer. But I refuse to acknowledge an incompetent tyrant who fears his own children."


    The sky above them rumbled, responding to the fury beneath his calm words.


    "Cronus is weak."


    Hades'' voice was cold, sharp as the edge of his spear.


    "Not in strength, but in mind. He rules through fear, not through wisdom. He devours his own kin, not out of necessity, but out of cowardice. He does not lead¡ªhe hoards power like a child afraid of the dark. And that is why he must be cast down."


    Iapetus studied him for a long moment. Then, he let out a low chuckle.


    "Hah... interesting."


    The mist around them stirred as Iapetus lifted his spear once more. His golden eyes gleamed with something between amusement and acknowledgment.


    "Then show me, Hades." His grin widened. "Show me the strength to drag a king from his throne."


    Hades'' eyes burned with abyssal fire.


    "I intend to."


    And with that, they clashed once more.


    Iapetus feinted left, then instantly twisted his spear to strike from the right. S~ea??h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Hades dodged, stepping back, but Iapetus was already there¡ªclosing the distance, forcing Hades into a corner.


    "You are fast, but not fast enough!" Iapetus roared.


    His spear came down with the force of a meteor¡ª


    Hades caught it.


    Iapetus'' eyes widened in shock as Hades grabbed his spear with one hand, stopping the attack completely.


    For a moment, everything was still.


    "You''re kidding..." Iapetus smiled wryly, "Even Atlas couldn''t resist that..."


    Then...


    Hades retaliated.


    In one fluid motion, he twisted his body, bringing the blunt end of his spear up and smashing it against Iapetus'' jaw.


    The impact sent the Titan crashing through the temple walls, breaking through stone, metal, and marble like paper.


    Iapetus tumbled, rolling through the debris before coming to a stop. His vision swam, the taste of ichor filling his mouth.


    Slowly, he wiped his lips and looked at his hand.


    He was bleeding.


    The realization made him pause. It had been a long, long time since anyone had managed to wound him without the use of divinity.


    He looked up.


    Hades was already standing before him.


    His spear pointed directly at the Titan''s throat.


    "Yield," Hades said simply.


    Iapetus stared at him.


    Then, he grinned.


    "Not yet."


    Iapetus rose to his feet, rolling his shoulders. The bones in his body cracked and reset, his injuries healing instantly.


    Hades didn''t move.


    He simply watched as Iapetus'' form began to change.


    The air grew heavier.


    The light in the sky dimmed, as if something dark and ancient was awakening.


    Iapetus smirked as he lifted his spear.


    "I''ll admit," he said, his voice gaining an unnatural weight. "You surprised me. You are strong, Hades. Stronger than I expected."


    The wind howled around them as a dark aura began to rise from Iapetus'' body.


    "But without our divine power, this battle will never end. So let us cast aside these mortal chains and fight as we were meant to."


    His eyes glowed with golden fury.


    Hades tilted his head slightly.


    For a brief moment, he seemed to consider it.


    Then, he closed his eyes.


    When he opened them again¡ª


    They burned with the abyss.


    Dark mist poured from his body, creeping across the ruined battlefield like a living entity.


    The shadows twisted and danced unnaturally, forming shapes of writhing creatures, whispering voices in a language older than time itself.


    Iapetus'' smirk widened. "Finally."


    Hades raised his spear. "Then let us begin."


    And then¡ª


    The world exploded.

 Chapter 29 - 29: Desmos

    The battlefield trembled as two titanic forces collided.


    Hades and Iapetus moved like shadows and lightning, spears clashing in bursts of sparks that tore apart the temple walls around them.


    Each strike sent shockwaves rippling through the mist-filled chamber, cracking the ground and causing ancient pillars to crumble into dust.


    Iapetus, the Titan of Mortality, was a warrior who had stood at the dawn of time. His every movement was precise, brutal, and absolute.


    His spear cut through the air with a terrifying sharpness, slicing through space itself.


    Hades met him head-on, weaving through the titan''s attacks with effortless grace, his own spear a weapon of pure abyssal darkness.


    The two warriors fought without hesitation¡ªnot as gods, but as killers.


    Iapetus'' spear lashed out in a deadly arc. Hades ducked, the tip grazing the air where his throat had been a second before.


    He countered immediately, his spear surging forward, wreathed in darkness.


    Iapetus barely twisted out of the way. The shockwave alone sent him skidding back.


    He smirked.


    "Not bad, King of the Dead," he said, rolling his shoulders. "But you do realize, don''t you? Even a god like you can die by my hands."


    Hades remained silent, his expression unreadable. His grip on his spear tightened.


    Iapetus grinned wider.


    "I am thr Titan Of Mortality. Just one hit. One hit." He raised his weapon, the air around it shimmering with an eerie glow. "If I strike you once, your immortality shatters. If I strike you twice, you die. Forever."


    Hades'' gaze darkened.


    He had known of Iapetus'' authority. The Titan was death incarnate¡ªnot of the natural, gradual kind, but of the brutal, irreversible end.


    His spear did not merely wound. It imposed absolute mortality upon his target, stripping away any chance for survival and resurrection.


    A lesser god would have hesitated. A lesser god would have feared.


    Hades only stepped forward.


    "Try it."


    And with that, they clashed again.


    The impact of their battle sent shockwaves through the planet.


    From the outside, the entire temple seemed to writhe in agony. The very foundations cracked, and the mist covering the battlefield turned into a raging storm.


    Massive stone pillars crumbled into dust as their divine power clashed, shattering reality itself within the temple walls.


    Far away, the rebel gods could feel it. Hecate, Campe, and the others paused in their victory, turning their gazes toward the ruined temple where Hades fought alone.


    Hecate narrowed her eyes.


    "That fool..." she muttered.


    Campe, still covered in the ichor of fallen enemies, let out a sharp laugh. "He''s enjoying himself."


    The gods exchanged glances. Some wanted to rush in. Others knew better.


    A battle of this scale was beyond interference.


    Inside the temple, Hades dodged another lethal strike by a hair''s breadth.


    The spear whistled past his ribs, and the moment it did, he felt it¡ªthe tearing sensation of his divine essence unraveling just from being near the attack.


    Iapetus wasn''t bluffing.


    Hades leaped back, landing lightly on a fractured column. He exhaled.


    "So this is the power of the Titan of Mortality."


    Iapetus smirked, spinning his spear before planting it into the ground. The earth beneath them split open in deep, jagged cracks.


    "What''s the matter?" Iapetus taunted. "Starting to regret facing me alone?"


    Hades scoffed. "Hardly."


    Without warning, he surged forward.


    Iapetus barely had time to react. Hades was fast. Too fast. His movements were impossibly smooth, as if he were slipping through the gaps of the world itself.


    His spear lashed out, and Iapetus barely raised his weapon in time to block.


    A second too late¡ª


    The tip of Hades'' spear carved across the titan''s cheek, drawing golden ichor.


    Iapetus'' eyes widened slightly.


    Hades did not stop. He pressed forward, spear moving like a serpent, each thrust and slash a perfect balance of aggression and precision.


    Iapetus gritted his teeth, barely managing to block each attack.


    Then, Hades shifted.


    In an instant, he was behind him.


    Reacting quickly, Iapetus spun¡ªand Hades jerked back just in time as Iapetus'' spear nearly grazed his chest.


    The tip whistled past him, carving into the air¡ªand Hades felt it.


    The searing pain of his own divine essence unraveling.


    His eyes widened slightly.


    Iapetus grinned.


    "One hit."


    The wound wasn''t deep. But it didn''t need to be. The authority had taken effect.


    Hades was now mortal.


    The realization hit him as the temple rumbled violently. His power remained intact, but his body was now just like any other warrior''s.


    He could die.


    And Iapetus only needed one more strike to ensure that he did.


    The Titan smirked. "Well, that evens things up, doesn''t it?"


    Hades was silent.


    For a long moment, the two warriors simply stared at one another.


    Then¡ª


    Both of them took a step back.


    A mutual understanding passed between them.


    Hades rolled his shoulders, his spear vanishing back into the shadows. His expression remained unreadable, but the air around him had shifted.


    Iapetus smiled, his eyes gleaming.


    "No more playing around, then?"


    Hades exhaled.


    "No more playing around."


    The ground beneath them began to crack apart.


    The mist thickened, turning black. The very air shuddered under the weight of something far more terrifying than before.


    And then¡ª


    They unleashed their divine power.


    The entire world shook.


    Hades exhaled slowly.


    In his right hand, a spear formed from the void itself began to materialize.


    Its shaft was as dark as the abyss, pitch black and jagged, with barbs running along its length.


    The tip pulsed with something deeper than magic, deeper than divine power¡ªsomething that did not belong in this world.


    It was spear crafted to him by the cyclops.


    Desmos.


    Iapetus stilled. His eyes sharpened, narrowing in recognition of what this was.


    Death.


    That spear was dangerous.


    He could feel it in his very essence. It was not a mere weapon¡ªit was a concept made real. A force that did not simply kill, but erased.


    Hades lifted the spear, letting the darkness of the Underworld coil around it like living shadows. His voice was calm, steady.


    "Iapetus, you are the first opponent worthy enough to witness this spear. Be honored."


    Iapetus smirked. "I''m flattered."


    Without another word, they moved.


    The world shattered beneath their speed.


    One moment, they stood apart. The next¡ªtheir spears clashed.


    The force of their collision sent shockwaves rippling through space, tearing through earth and sending walls crumbling into dust. The air itself twisted violently, forming a storm of pure chaos.


    Iapetus struck first. His spear blurred forward, aiming for Hades'' throat.


    Hades tilted his head¡ªjust barely. The tip of Iapetus'' spear skimmed past his skin, cutting through strands of his silver hair.


    Hades retaliated. Desmos lashed out in response, its barbed tip cutting through space itself.


    Iapetus twisted his body, dodging by a hair''s breadth, but the aftershock of the attack sent cracks racing through the temple floor.


    It was a dance of death.


    Every strike from Iapetus carried absolute lethality¡ªhaving already been hit once, just one more hit woule ensure his death.


    But Desmos was something beyond mere destruction.


    Hades knew that if even a scratch landed, the spear''s curse would take effect. And once its name was called, fate itself would be undone.


    Neither could afford to take a single hit.


    Iapetus lunged. His spear blurred forward, its speed breaking the sound barrier.


    Hades sidestepped, his body a blur of motion¡ªthen countered.


    Desmos came down in a brutal arc.


    Iapetus brought his weapon up to block¡ª


    But the moment Desmos made contact¡ª


    The world twisted.


    A deep, unnatural distortion spread from the impact point, as if reality itself was being rewritten. A black curse surged outward, seeking to consume anything in its path.


    Iapetus jumped back immediately, his instincts screaming at him.


    His spear¡ªone forged at the dawn of time¡ªwas corroding.


    For the first time, Iapetus frowned.


    "That spear¡ª"


    Hades smirked.


    "Desmos is no ordinary weapon."


    The shadows around him deepened, swirling like living entities.


    "Once its name has been called, Desmos will show its true power."


    Iapetus'' eyes sharpened. His grip on his weapon tightened.


    "What is it?"


    Hades exhaled.


    "A cursed spear that strikes destiny and aims for the heart, a spear that reverses causality."


    The words resounded through the Underworld.


    Iapetus'' expression finally shifted.


    He understood now.


    The spear did not simply strike a target. It struck destiny itself.


    A weapon that ensured its attack had already landed before it was even thrown.


    It was a cursed spear that devoured any who had been pierced by darkness.


    A weapon that "struck" before it was "aimed."


    The striking stance was merely a formality as the spear had already pierced the target.


    Hades raised Desmos.


    The world went still.


    "Strike and pierce, Desmos!"


    The moment the name was spoken, the spear became something more.


    The moment it was aimed, it had already pierced.


    Iapetus barely had time to react, or rather, Iapetus doesn''t have any chance to react.


    Darkness surged forward.


    His instincts screamed at him to move. He twisted his body, his spear lashing out in defense¡ª


    But Desmos had already struck.


    The black spear pierced his chest.


    Straight through the heart.


    The Titan froze.


    Time itself seemed to stop.


    There was no pain. No sound.


    Only a terrible, inescapable certainty.


    Iapetus slowly looked down. Golden ichor dripped from his lips.


    His hands trembled as he reached for the spear impaling him¡ªbut his fingers passed through it like smoke.


    The wound was already done. The future had already been written.


    Iapetus chuckled, his voice rough.


    "So... this is how I die."


    Hades stood before him, expression unreadable.


    Iapetus exhaled.


    "Good... Good. I''m glad." sea??h th§× N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Hades'' eyes narrowed. "Why?"


    Iapetus smiled, his golden eyes dimming.


    "Because I die by a warrior''s hands."


    There was something genuine in his voice.


    Hades stared at him for a long moment.


    Then, slowly, he stepped forward.


    Desmos vanished from Iapetus'' chest, its work complete.


    The Titan swayed, his body already fading.


    Hades raised his hand, fingers curling into the empty air.


    His voice was steady.


    "I will now take your Authority."


    Iapetus chuckled, "Very well. Take it."


    The moment those words were spoken¡ª


    Hades brought down his hand.

 Chapter 30 - 30: The Fall of A Titan

    The cosmos itself trembled.


    It was a subtle shift at first¡ªa ripple through the fabric of the world. Then, like a great wave crashing upon the shore, the very balance of existence was thrown into chaos.


    Something fundamental had changed.


    A Titan had fallen. S§×arch* The NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    And not just any Titan¡ªIapetus, one of the four Pillars.


    His Authority, once an immovable force that defined the world, had vanished...no, not vanished, but stolen.


    The other Titans felt it.


    Iapetus has been stripped of his domain and died.


    On mount on Orthys, inside Cronus'' temple.


    Cronus'' fingers froze mid-tap against the armrest of his grand throne.


    His eyes narrowed, his face darkned as he felt the death of Iapetus and his stolen domain.


    For the past three years, the war had been an irritation, a nuisance that he allowed to exist because he found amusement in the struggle of his wayward children.


    But now...


    Now, he felt it.


    The undeniable truth that one of his Pillars had crumbled. The war he treated as nothing more than an entertainment has finally become a threat.


    The children he thought of nothing more than a group of cats turned out to be a group of tigers, and they have bit his arm off.


    He gripped his scythe, the very air around him twisting under the weight of his growing rage.


    "Hades¡­"


    His voice was a whisper, yet it carried through the vast halls of Mount Othrys.


    He knew, out of all his children, that his eldest son was the most dangerous. Not only does he have all Underworld gods under his command, his own strength is also nothing to scoff at.


    Three years ago, he effortlessly defeated and gravely injured Hyperion, and he would''ve done the same to Atlas and the others had Cronus not intervene.


    Although he said it at that time that he got bored of their resistance, truth is he doesn''t want Hades to show his power or the war will surely tip on the Olympians favor.


    Cronus let out a slow breath, then stood from his throne, his divine presence expanding, suffocating.


    "It seems I have allowed this war to continue for too long."


    A flick of his wrist, and a portal of golden mist appeared before him. Without another word, Cronus stepped through, vanishing from sight.


    He will win this war, no matter what the cost.


    He had fought for this throne he so rightfully deserve, and no one, not even his sons, will take this seat.


    ****


    Far from Cronus'' throne, Atlas stood guard outside the grand temple, his colossal form rigid as the weight of the sky pressed down upon his shoulders.


    He felt it.


    The shift of power.


    The absence of his father.


    His grip on his massive club tightened.


    Iapetus¡­


    For all his arrogance, his father had been a warrior. Someone feared for his skills and mastery over countless weapons, but mostly spears.


    He was one of the Titans who supported Cronus when he raised the flag of rebellion and fight off the Primordial of Sky, Uranus, the previous King of the Cosmos.


    Iapetus is a competent, and powerful general.


    And now he was gone.


    Atlas gritted his teeth. The implications were clear. If the Olympians were strong enough to kill a Pillar, then they were no longer simply rebels.


    They were now a legitimate threat.


    A threat that must be eradicated.


    "I should''ve killed them three years ago!"


    But there was no time for regrets now. The Olympians have become such a dangerous force that there is no need to hesitate and just destroy them.


    He turned, his booming voice echoing through the halls of Cronus'' fortress.


    "Mobilize the legions!"


    Titans, gods, and divine spirits alike rushed to obey, scrambling to prepare for war.


    They knew, that the real war is about to begin. The war to decide the true king of the cosmos.


    ****


    Inside his temple, Coeus sat in quiet contemplation, eyes closed with his legs cross, surrounded by an endless expanse of ever expanding bookshelves.


    But suddenly, the world seems to have trembled, causing Coeus to abruptly open his eyes.


    "Iapetus¡­ is dead."


    The words left his lips before he could stop them. He had felt it. The connecting they shared as members of the Four Pillars that supported Cronus.


    For a moment, he remained still, his mind racing.


    This¡ªthis is not possible.


    He had calculated countless possibilities, such as the Olympians growing in strength. He had foreseen their rebellion lasting years.


    He had even calculated a possibilities where a Pillar had fallen.


    All which he had already prepared countermeasures.


    But he had never calculated a Pillar, much less Iapetus, falling so soon.


    Which means something or someone outside of his calculations have decided to intervene, which threw off every possibilities he had thought of.


    He couldn''t help but curse. If only Prometheus was more invested in this war than he is now; acting all bored and indifferent.


    His foresight would certainly be useful now than just his own prediction base on the limited information they have.


    Coeus stood, his divine robes shifting like the night sky.


    There was no time to hesitate. If a titan has fallen, then they must hurry up and eliminate the rebellion before they can cause more damage.


    With a wave of his hand, he called forth his messengers, divine spirits who bowed before him, awaiting orders.


    "Inform the rest of the Pillars. The Olympians must be crushed before the scales tip further in their favor."


    The spirits vanished, rushing to carry out his decree.


    Coeus turned back to the endless expanse of books, his fingers trailing over a particular book.


    He needed to come up with more countermeasures soon.


    He doesn''t want to go to a war completely unprepared.


    ****


    Far to the south, in the temple of the stars, Crius stirred.


    For the first time in centuries, the constellations trembled, as if a great change occured that disrupted the order of the cosmos.


    His connection to the heavens had been severed¡ªno, not severed. Changed.


    His brother''s light had been snuffed out.


    Crius'' expression darkened.


    Though he was not as warlike as Iapetus, though he did not revel in destruction like his kin, he understood what this meant.


    The Olympians were no longer an insignificant rebellion.


    They were now ''enemies'' of Titans who actually pose a threat and not just annoying children.


    With a single movement, Crius raised his staff to the heavens.


    The stars above shifted in response.


    The cosmos was preparing for war.


    ****


    And then there was Hyperion.


    The once-proud Titan still sat upon his golden throne, his form weakened, his wounds from his battle with Hades still not fully healed.


    But even in his weakened state¡ªhe felt it.


    His brother was dead.


    A Titan¡ªa Pillar¡ªwas gone.


    Hyperion let out a slow, ragged breath, his skin glowing faintly.


    For a moment, silence filled his temple.


    Truthfully, ever since he had fought Hades and was thoroughly humiliated, he had already expected this day would come.


    Only he knew the depths of Hades'' power, after all he personally fought him.


    His fingers curled into fists, his nails biting into his palms.


    Iapetus is his brother, and he should''ve avenged him. But Hyperion wasn''t interested in any of that.


    If it was before, then maybe.


    But after experiencing the power and skills of Hades, he has been far too afraid to participate in this war.


    Yes, he''s a coward.


    But he''d rather live as a coward than get banished to Tartarus.


    ****


    Across the cosmos, the Titans and gods who are allied with Cronus began to move.


    Legions were summoned. Divine spirits were mobilized. Armies were prepared. They were now going all out to eliminate the rebellion.


    The fall of Iapetus was not just a loss.


    It was a declaration.


    The Titans would no longer tolerate the rebellion.


    They would strike with everything they had.


    The war had truly begun.


    ****


    Hades stood still as a vast, overwhelming force washed over him.


    It started as a whisper¡ªa fragment of something ancient and powerful, slipping into his very essence like a drop of ink into water. Then, in an instant, it became a flood.


    A divine force unlike anything he had ever felt surged into his being.


    Iapetus'' Authority.


    It coiled around his soul like invisible chains, rewriting the very nature of his existence. It was foreign, yet familiar.


    He could feel it¡ªthe power of Iapetus, the Titan of Mortality.


    A domain that governed the very nature of death and finality. The power to sever.


    To strike a being once and make them vulnerable. To strike them twice and erase them forever.


    Hades exhaled slowly, adjusting to the sudden weight of his newfound dominion.


    His body thrummed with energy, as if he had become something more than he was just moments ago.


    He flexed his fingers, and for a brief moment, his shadow rippled unnaturally.


    The world itself seemed to acknowledge the change.


    The mist that covered the temple shifted.


    The torches flickered.


    Even the very air felt heavier.


    It was his now.


    All of it.


    The Authority of Mortality.


    The legacy of Iapetus.


    Hades let out a deep chuckle, his crimson eyes gleaming in the dim light of the temple.


    In the end, it was almost poetic.


    A Titan of Mortality, slain.


    His Authority, taken.


    And the one who took it? The future ruler of the dead.


    Hades glanced down at Iapetus'' lifeless form, his smirk widening.


    "You were strong, I''ll give you that."


    His voice was smooth, laced with quiet satisfaction.


    "I will offer you my respect and gratitude, as a warrior. I will make sure you will enjoy the afterlife."


    Hades turned away from the corpse, rolling his shoulders as his divinity stabilized.


    He relished the feeling.


    Power, truly is, addictive.

 Chapter 31 - 31: Uranus

    The battlefield reeked of blood and burned ichor. The remnants of a recent skirmish lay scattered, divine corpses slowly dissipating into energy.


    Zeus stood among his soldiers, his chest rising and falling steadily as he observed the aftermath. Another victory. A small one, but a victory nonetheless.


    The guerrilla warfare that his brother, Hades, came up with was incredibly effective and had been going well.


    Hit fast. Disappear faster


    Their small raids had worn down Crius'' forces, forcing the Titan''s army into a defensive position.


    Zeus stared at his joyful soldiers and ordered.


    "Alright, quickly ret¡ª"


    A pulse.


    A great tremor in the divine tapestry of the cosmos.


    Zeus froze. He felt it, like a star shifting in the sky, something had changed in the order of the universe.


    Then, realization dawned on him.


    He raised his head to look at the direction where Iapetus'' temple was at, and instantly, he knew the cause of this shift.


    The death of a Pillar Titan, Iapetus. By the hands of his brother, Hades.


    A moment of silence stretched across Zeus'' ranks, and then¡ª


    Laughter.


    Pure, unfiltered laughter.


    The gods and divine spirits under his command howled in amusement.


    "Those arrogant bastards finally got what was coming to them!" one god laughed, slapping his knee.


    "A Titan has fallen. And not just any Titan¡ªone of Cronus'' pillars!" another added.


    "Lord Hades actually did it. The Titan of Mortality is dead!"


    Their voices were filled with triumph, their morale skyrocketing at the revelation.


    Zeus let out a short chuckle, rubbing his chin.


    "Well, well..." He crossed his arms, amusement flickering in his lightning-filled eyes. "Looks like my dear brother isn''t just sitting back and watching. He''s moving forward, just like I expected."


    He wanted to order his soldiers to prepare for a banquet. But before he could say more...


    The sky darkened.


    A deep, starry void swallowed the heavens above, and suddenly, the battlefield was no longer basked in the glow of the sun.


    Instead, it was illuminated by countless constellations.


    The stars themselves shimmered ominously, forming ancient celestial patterns that pulsed with divine energy. S§×arch* The n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Zeus'' smile faded.


    His men stiffened.


    A great power descended upon the battlefield.


    And then¡ªhe appeared.


    Crius.


    The Titan of Constellations.


    Tall and draped in robes that flowed like the night sky itself, his body seemed to be carved from the cosmos.


    His presence was suffocating, his gaze filled with ancient knowledge and cold fury.


    Behind him, thousands of gods and divine spirits stood ready for war.


    All armed.


    All eager for blood.


    Zeus'' forces instinctively took defensive positions, their earlier laughter vanishing.


    Crius gazed at them, his expression cold and emotionless. Then, he spoke, his voice was deep and reverberated like the echoes of the universe itself.


    "It seems you already knew," he said simply, his eyes locking onto Zeus. "Iapetus has fallen, and I will make sure that will be your first and final victory."


    A gust of divine pressure rolled through the battlefield, making the very ground tremble.


    Zeus, however, smirked.


    He cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders as small sparks of lightning danced along his skin.


    "So dramatic," Zeus mused, a grin forming on his lips. "I was just thinking¡ªI needed a real test after three years of training."


    He clenched his fists, and thunder rumbled across the battlefield.


    Crius narrowed his eyes. "You have no chance, child."


    The Titan raised his hand, and the constellations above shifted.


    A storm of stars began to descend upon Zeus and his forces.


    Zeus'' grin widened.


    "Let''s see about that, old man."


    And with a crack of lightning, the battle erupted.


    ****


    Poseidon stood at the forefront of his army, his trident resting lazily on his shoulder.


    Behind him, thousands of gods and divine spirits stood ready, their weapons gleaming under the dark, turbulent sky.


    They had been marching, searching for any Titan forces to engage. And now, they had found them.


    Or rather, they had found him.


    Coeus.


    The Titan of Intellect and the Keeper of the Celestial Axis.


    Tall and imposing, his eyes gleamed with ancient wisdom and cold calculation.


    Unlike the powerful Iapetus, the wrathful Crius or the fiery Hyperion, Coeus was always the quiet one, the thinker.


    The one who always makes plan and act behind the scenes.


    His mere presence sent a ripple of unease through Poseidon''s troops. This was the Titan who had crushed Poseidon three years ago.


    But this time, things were different.


    This time, Poseidon was stronger.


    A smirk stretched across Poseidon''s face as he lifted his trident and pointed it directly at Coeus. "Finally, you''re here. I''ve been waiting for this moment."


    The Titan remained motionless, his expression indifferent as he observed Poseidon with those cold, analytical eyes. "Have you now?"


    Poseidon''s grip on his trident tightened, his divine power flickered.


    "Three years ago, you humiliated me. But today¡­" His smirk widened. "I''m going to pay you back."


    Coeus tilted his head slightly, his voice calm, almost bored. "Only a fool would keep repeating the same thing, expecting a different outcome."


    The words were like a dagger twisting in Poseidon''s pride. He remembered the last battle well.


    How Coeus had outmaneuvered him. How the Titan had played with him like a child floundering in the deep sea.


    Poseidon hated that memory.


    His eyes darkened with resolve. "And only a coward would stop trying after failing once."


    With a loud boom, Poseidon stomped his foot against the ground.


    The entire battlefield shook violently.


    Cracks split the earth beneath him, and from the broken land, water gushed forth in massive torrents, flooding the area.


    The Titan army took a step back as the terrain began to shift in Poseidon''s favor.


    A battlefield of dry land? That wasn''t going to happen. Within seconds, the ground was submerged under an expansive ocean.


    Poseidon''s smirk widened as he lifted a hand, feeling the power of the sea pulse through him. "Let''s see if you can outthink a god who controls the battlefield itself."


    Coeus remained unimpressed. He raised a single hand, and the skies responded.


    The clouds split apart, revealing the endless stars above.


    The constellations shifted, and in an instant, the battlefield was bathed in a mysterious blue light.


    Poseidon''s army tensed.


    Gravity itself changed.


    The gods standing on the water''s surface suddenly felt their bodies become heavier, as though the very fabric of space was pressing down on them.


    Some fell into the ocean, struggling under the immense weight. Others gritted their teeth, trying to resist the force.


    Poseidon''s grin faltered for a second as he felt the shift in cosmic balance.


    ''Damn it. I forgot Coeus wasn''t just an intellectual Titan. He was the Titan who understood the celestial laws of existence itself.''


    Coeus lowered his hand slightly, and the gravitational force pressed even harder.


    Poseidon, however, only grinned wider.


    "Not bad," he admitted, his muscles straining slightly against the increased weight. "But you''re still underestimating me."


    The waters beneath him suddenly rose violently, twisting into massive, serpent-like forms.


    Poseidon slammed his trident into the ocean, and the waters surged forward, racing toward Coeus and his army like an unstoppable tidal wave.


    The Titan merely sighed. "Predictable."


    With a wave of his hand, the stars above shifted again, and the waters that had been surging forward suddenly...


    Stopped.


    Frozen.


    Suspended in midair as if time itself had halted them.


    Poseidon stared, eyes narrowing.


    Coeus finally smirked. "Your waters are impressive. But they mean nothing if I refuse to let them move."


    Poseidon''s grin never wavered. Instead, he laughed. "We''ll see about that, you shitty old man."


    He lifted his trident, and lightning cracked across the stormy sky.


    The battlefield was about to explode into chaos.


    ****


    ****


    ****


    A dark and endless corridor stretched infinitely in all directions, void of light, void of warmth. A place outside the realm of gods, beyond the grasp of Titans, beyond the perception of mortals.


    Here, time held no meaning.


    The path beneath Cronus'' feet felt neither solid nor ethereal¡ªit simply was. And as he walked, he felt as though he had been walking for eternity.


    But he did not stop.


    His golden eyes burned with purpose, his cloak billowed behind him despite the absence of wind. The silence was suffocating, the weight of this realm pressing on him like an invisible force.


    Yet, he pressed forward.


    And finally, he reached the end of the path.


    There, in the depths of this forsaken abyss, a figure was bound.


    A man.


    No, something far greater than a mere man.


    A colossal, ancient being sat motionless, his body wrapped in countless chains, each shackled to a different pillar that stretched endlessly into the void.


    His skin was like cracked stone, his once-mighty form weathered by time and punishment.


    But even in this wretched state, his mere presence warped the space around him.


    And then, Cronus took a single step forward.


    His voice was calm, yet there was an undeniable weight behind it.


    "Greetings, Father."


    For a moment, nothing happened.


    Suddenly, the old man''s eyes flickered to life.


    A deep, immeasurable blue, like the endless sky before the birth of the stars.


    His gaze pierced through Cronus, ancient and unknowable, carrying the weight of a being who had once ruled before time itself had meaning.


    Uranus.


    The First Ruler. The Primordial Sky. The one who had birthed the Titans¡ªand the one who Cronus had cast down with his own hands.


    And the one who cursed Cronus to bear the same fate as him.

 Chapter 32 - 32: The Stars and The Sky

    "Disappear with the clap of thunder!!"


    The battlefield trembled as Zeus unleashed his fury.


    A roar of thunder tore through the skies, and in the next instant, a torrential storm of lightning rained down upon the Titan''s army.


    Columns of divine electricity struck the ground, reducing entire squadrons of divine spirits to ash. The air crackled with power, the very sky illuminated with the overwhelming might of Zeus.


    Crius, the Titan of Constellations, raised his hand, summoning his own celestial power.


    From the night sky, the constellations themselves began to move.


    Luminous lines of divine energy connected the stars, forming giant celestial beasts¡ªUrsa Major, Leo, and Draco¡ªwho descended onto the battlefield, roaring as they charged toward Zeus'' forces.


    Crius narrowed his eyes as he observed the storm-wreathed god before him.


    Three years ago, this boy was nothing. A mere insect. A child pretending to be a god. But now...


    Now, this child was a threat.


    Zeus'' strength had grown exponentially, his divine aura so thick that the air itself felt heavier around him.


    Crius gritted his teeth.


    "Just how are you able to grow to this extent, you whelp..."


    Zeus grinned, his eyes crackling with electricity. "As the ruler of skies, isn''t it given for me to grow this strong? Besides, the way you use your authority is terrible. I know someone far better than you at doing it."


    The Titan''s lips curled into a slight frown.


    He knew someone better than him? That''s impossible. He was chosen to be a Pillar Titan simply because he was one of the strongest.


    When it comes to his domain, there was no one who can match him.


    Wait.


    There is one.


    Astra¡ª


    Zeus appeared right in front of him.


    "What¡ª?!" Crius barely had time to react before Zeus grabbed his face in one swift, violent motion.


    The impact shattered the air, a sonic boom rippling through the battlefield as Zeus launched himself upward, dragging Crius along with him.


    The Titan''s body whipped through the air like a ragdoll, the force of Zeus'' grip distorting the space around them.


    Crius struggled, but Zeus'' grip was like an unbreakable vice.


    In mere moments, they broke through the clouds.


    Then, they went past the troposphere.


    Higher¡ªhigher¡ª


    Until they reached the boundary of the world.


    The exosphere.


    A place where no mortal, no lesser god could exist.


    Where the earth''s laws of reality began to crumble, and only the most powerful of gods and Titans could withstand the divine pressure.


    A place once ruled by the Promordial God, Uranus, but has long since become unstable after his "death".


    Crius'' body hovered in the void, the stars of the cosmos shining around them, an endless sea of constellations and celestial wonders.


    Zeus released his grip, letting Crius float in the void.


    Then, he crossed his arms and smirked.


    "If we fought down there, it would''ve been bad for my troops." His eyes glowed like miniature suns. "But here? We can go all out."


    Crius remained silent.


    His celestial eyes studied Zeus, his mind racing. ''How did he do that? How did he grab me¡ªhow did he move so fast that I couldn''t even react? Just what sort of training did he went through to be this strong?''


    Crius clenched his fists. Then, slowly, he began to smile. "Interesting. You said you know someone whose authority is better than mine? What a coincidence, I happen to know one too. He''s just way too recluse that I completely forgot about him."


    Zeus cracked his neck, "Is the one you''re talking about has a really sexy wife and breathtakingly beautiful daughter?"


    "Last I heard, yes."


    "Then we''re probably talking about the same person."


    Crius smirked maliciously, "Good. I happen to have a score to settle with that guy."


    The stars around them shimmered.


    Constellations shifted.


    And the Titan of Constellations let out a slow, exhaled breath.


    "Come at me, God of Thunder." His voice carried the weight of an entire cosmos. "Let us see how much did you learn from him."


    "Oh, I will show you alright."


    Zeus smirked, extending his arm to the side and grpped the emtpy space, a beat later, his divine weapon, Thunderbolt appeared on his hand.


    Electricity danced along his skin, his fiery eyes gleaming with divine energy. The mere presence of his power caused ripples in the cosmic fabric.


    Crius, the Titan of Constellations, remained still, his expression unreadable. His body pulsed with the power of the stars, and his celestial robes fluttered as the constellations behind him shifted and aligned.


    Then...


    A spark.


    In a single instant, Zeus moved.


    The sound of a deafening thunderclap echoed through the void as he disappeared, a streak of golden lightning tearing through the darkness of space.


    Crius'' eyes widened.


    "Fast!"


    He barely had time to react.


    BOOM!


    A fist wreathed in divine lightning crashed into his jaw, sending him hurtling backward. The impact sent shockwaves through space, distorting the very stars.


    Crius gritted his teeth as he twisted in the air, regaining control.


    "You really are strong." Crius admitted, rubbing his jaw.


    Zeus grinned. "Naturally. I am the god of sky, the King of the Gods."


    Crius narrowed his eyes. "You really are arrogant for a mere godling."


    Zeus didn''t deny it.


    He is arrogant. So what? He has enough power to be arrogant!


    With a flick of his wrist, the Thunderbolt hummed with power, crackling with lightning so intense that it burned through the fabric of reality.


    And then, with a grin, he threw it.


    The moment he did, the very space ignited, turning into a storm of divine flames and plasma. The Thunderbolt pierced through space itself, distorting the constellations as it roared toward Crius.


    The titan reacted instantly.


    The stars around him shone brighter, and in an instant, they rearranged¡ªforming a barrier of pure celestial energy in front of him.


    Zeus'' attack struck, and the cosmos screamed.


    A deafening explosion of light erupted as the Thunderbolt collided with the celestial barrier. The very fabric of space-time rippled, and countless stars were extinguished in the resulting shockwave.


    Crius gritted his teeth.


    "The power behind his strikes... It''s absurd!"


    But he wasn''t done yet. The Titan''s eyes burned with cosmic fire.


    "Don''t you dare underestimate a Titan!"


    The moment he said that, the constellations shifted again.


    The stars behind him merged, forming something massive¡ªa celestial spear forged from the very essence of the cosmos.


    Crius grabbed it, eyes glaring viciously at Zeus as he hurled the spear towards him.


    The moment it left his hand, the spear shattered space itself.


    Zeus'' eyes widened.


    The attack was faster than anything he had ever seen.


    But, he had fought fast enemies before.


    So, he reacted.


    Lightning erupted from his body, and he twisted, dodging at the last possible second.


    Or so he thought.


    The moment the celestial spear passed him, space itself rippled and bent¡ªand suddenly, the spear was behind him, curving toward his back.


    "What the hell?!"


    Surprised, he wasn''t able to react as the spear pierced through his side, burning with the cold fury of a thousand stars.


    "GAAAHH!" Zeus screamed, ichor spilling into the void.


    Crius smirked. "Hurts doesn''t it?"


    Zeus gritted his teeth. His wound burned, but¡ªHe had felt worse. The pain of humiliation and defeat that burned him three years ago was far worse than what he''s feeling now.


    With a savage roar, he clenched his fist, and the lightning around his body exploded outward, turning the darkness of space into a sea of golden thunder.


    The cosmic spear disintegrated.


    And Zeus charged again.


    This time, Crius was ready.


    They clashed, lightning against stars, god against Titan.


    Each strike shattered stars, each movement distorted space.


    Zeus was fast.


    Crius was precise.


    Zeus aimed to overwhelm.


    Crius aimed to endure.


    Lightning burned through the cosmos as Zeus swung his Thunderbolt, the power behind each strike causing the heavens to tremble.


    Crius dodged and countered, striking with the precision of a master, his celestial spear weaving through the storm like a shooting star.


    Zeus'' muscles screamed with pain.


    Crius'' endurance began to falter.


    They were evenly matched.


    But then, Zeus decided to end it. He took a deep breath, ignoring the pain, ignoring the exhaustion.


    And he summoned everything he had.


    "Let''s see if you can handle this!"


    Crius felt it before he saw it. The stars began to tremble. The constellations shifted uncontrollably. And the cosmos itself seemed to bend under Zeus'' will.


    Then...


    A solar storm ignited.


    "The old man was annoying, but he''s really a great teacher." Zeus grinned as the solar storm burned with cosmic fury.


    The sky is more than just lightning and rain.


    Crius'' eyes widened in horror.


    The fabric of space was burning. Countless solar flares erupted, twisting and writhing like serpents of fire.


    A storm of pure, raw energy, fueled by the might of a thousand dying stars, descended upon him. Sear?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Crius tried to escape¡ªbut it was too late.


    The storm swallowed him whole.


    For a moment, he could feel it.


    The heat of a billion suns. The weight of the cosmos crushing him.


    And then, nothing.


    Crius, Titan of Constellations, was gone.


    Erased in the storm of Zeus'' making.


    The battle was over.


    But, Zeus himself was barely standing.


    His body was covered in wounds, his divine ichor drifting into space. His breathing was ragged, his vision blurred.


    He staggered in space, panting.


    "Damn it... that took more out of me than I thought..."


    But, he had won.


    And as he stared at the fading remnants of Crius...


    He grinned.

 Chapter 33 - 33: The Sea and Axis

    A vast ocean stretched endlessly, swallowing the remnants of land, the sky itself darkened by the sheer volume of water that Poseidon had conjured.


    His trident gleamed with divine power, pulsating with the rhythm of the sea, while titanic waves crashed around him, forming a roaring aquatic storm that threatened to erase all in its path.


    Poseidon stood in the center of the storm, his skin shimmering under the eerie glow of the water. His eyes glowed green, filled with the might of the boundless ocean.


    Across from him, Coeus remained completely calm.


    Despite being at the center of an enemy''s domain, the Titan of Intelligence showed no sign of panic.


    His hair floated gently around him, his piercing gaze studying everything; Poseidon''s stance, the way the water moved, the speed at which the tides shifted.


    Everything.


    He was calculating. Analyzing.


    It was then, Poseidon raised his trident.


    The ocean responded.


    A massive column of water surged upward, carrying entire islands with it, the sheer pressure enough to crush any being caught within.


    Coeus remained unfazed.


    "He controls the sea well... but he thinks like a brute. Same as three yeara ago." With a slight movement, he tried to fly up, intending to escape the rising ocean.


    But Poseidon had predicted that.


    The sea swallowed him whole.


    Millions of tons of water crashed upon Coeus, dragging him into the abyss of Poseidon''s domain.


    Poseidon grinned. "Got him."


    But then, something changed.


    Even through the crushing water, even in the depths of the abyss¡ªCoeus did not struggle.


    Instead, he sighed. "I really don''t want to do this because it makes me feel like a brute. But I must end this fight as soon as possible."


    His eyes burned.


    Then, he activated his other authority.


    The ocean trembled.


    Poseidon felt it immediately. "What the¡ª?!"


    The water split apart.


    It wasn''t Poseidon who willed it.


    The sea itself rebelled against its master.


    The impossible had happened¡ªthe entire battlefield, the endless ocean that Poseidon had created, was being torn asunder.


    Poseidon barely had time to process his shock before the world suddenly tilted.


    Gravity itself shifted, and Poseidon was flung backward.


    "The hell!?"


    The force was immense.


    The sky itself turned sideways, and for a moment, it was as if the very laws of nature had been rewritten.


    Poseidon''s feet scraped against the newly exposed seabed, his trident digging into the ground as he tried to steady himself.


    But it was useless.


    The entire planet was shifting.


    "What... what the hell is this power?!"


    Then, winter arrived.


    A deafening howl of icy winds erupted from the heavens, so fierce that it carried the cries of nature itself.


    The sea, Poseidon''s domain, his greatest weapon, froze instantly.


    A single moment.


    That was all it took.


    The endless ocean that had once swallowed the battlefield was no longer an ocean.


    It was an expanse of ice.


    Poseidon stood, his body tense, his breath visible in the freezing air.


    His hands trembled. It wasn''t because of the cold, but he was in shock.


    This wasn''t normal ice. This was a divine phenomenon. Even as the Lord of the Seas, Poseidon felt it, his power was being suppressed.


    "How...?"


    Coeus finally spoke.


    "I control the Celestial Axis. The very foundation of movement, gravity, and the cycles of the world. With a thought, I can tilt reality itself, command the seasons, and dictate the forces that govern the universe."


    His voice was calm¡ªalmost bored.


    "My brothers like to make fun of me because I always prefer fighting with my intellect, but I really don''t want to look like a brute."


    His eyes glowed as he took a step forward. "But this time I really don''t have any choice, you godlings have really become such a threat that must be eliminated immediately."


    Another tilt.


    Poseidon stumbled as the world shifted again, his balance thrown off by the erratic changes in gravity.


    It wasn''t just the battlefield¡ªthe planet itself was Coeus'' weapon.


    Poseidon gritted his teeth.


    "So this is the power of a Titan¡­"


    He had trained for three years, endured countless hardships, pushed himself beyond his limits.


    And yet¡ª


    Here, standing before him, was a being who wasn''t even breaking a sweat.


    The realization angered him.


    "Tch¡­"


    He slammed his foot into the frozen ground, shattering the ice beneath him.


    "Alright then," Poseidon growled, his voice echoing through the vast, frozen wasteland. "A fight of brute force? Let''s see how you handle this!"


    The frozen ocean quaked as Poseidon lifted his trident, and immediately the earth trembled.


    Poseidon''s trident struck the frozen ground, sending violent tremors across the battlefield.


    The sound of cracking ice echoed like a chorus of destruction, and in an instant, the once-solid expanse of frozen ocean began to fracture apart.


    Coeus, still standing tall, narrowed his eyes. "An earthquake?"


    A second later¡ªBOOM!


    The ground shattered like glass beneath his feet.


    The titan immediately realized Poseidon''s intent.


    "So you''re more than just child playing with water."


    Massive chasm-like cracks spread across the frozen battlefield, swallowing chunks of ice into the black abyss below.


    The world quaked violently, and everything was shifting¡ªnot from Coeus'' celestial axis, but from Poseidon''s raw destructive power.


    Coeus adjusted his stance, focusing on counteracting the sudden instability.


    But Poseidon wasn''t done.


    "Hah! I''ve used my authority over the sea so much everyone forgot I am also the God of Earthquake!"


    With a mighty heave, he swung his trident, and the ice immediately exploded.


    "I AM POSEIDON! THE EARTH SHAKER!"


    Coeus was forced to leap back as the ground beneath him erupted into a geyser of water, surging toward the heavens like a tidal wave.


    Poseidon smirked, watching the Titan move.


    "I will not let what happened three years ago to happen again. This time, I will crush you."


    With a powerful leap, he rushed toward Coeus, spinning his trident with masterful precision. The air boomed from his sheer speed, and in a blink, he was face-to-face with his opponent.


    "Try keeping up with this!"


    Poseidon unleashed a rapid barrage of thrusts, each blow powerful enough to shatter mountains. His movements were fluid, like the waves of the ocean, yet each strike carried the weight of an earthquake.


    Coeus dodged, parried, countered, but Poseidon kept pressing forward.


    For the first time in their battle, Coeus struggled.


    Poseidon was getting faster. Stronger.


    Coeus'' calculations, which once predicted the fight''s flow with absolute certainty, were failing.


    He gritted his teeth, raising his arms, a celestial barrier materialized around him, shimmering with divine energy.


    Poseidon''s trident slammed into it, and it shattered instantly.


    Coeus'' eyes widened. ''Ridiculous! How was that possible!?''


    Poseidon didn''t give him time to recover.


    The god of the sea roared, stomping his foot on the ground...


    BOOOOM!


    A massive tremor sent shockwaves rippling through the ice, causing entire sections of it to collapse into the abyss below.


    Coeus, despite his power, was thrown off balance for half a second.


    Half a second too long.


    Poseidon seized the moment.


    He launched forward, swinging his trident in a devastating arc aimed straight for Coeus'' chest.


    Coeus barely had time to react. He shifted the celestial axis, trying to redirect Poseidon''s momentum, but Poseidon had already accounted for that.


    With a brutal twist, Poseidon slammed his foot onto the ice and stopped himself mid-charge¡ªusing the sudden halt to amplify the force of his next strike.


    CRACK!


    The blow sent Coeus flying.


    He crashed into the frozen sea, the ice around him cratering upon impact.


    Poseidon laughed.


    "What''s wrong, oh mighty Titan? You''ve gotten sloppy! Is it because you can no longer find any chance of winning in this fight?"


    Coeus slowly rose from the wreckage. His expression was still as calm as ever. "Not in the slightest."


    He exhaled, his eyes flickering with new resolve.


    "I had hoped to avoid this," Coeus admitted. "But I can see now¡ªyou are not an opponent I can defeat with restraint."


    Poseidon narrowed his eyes.


    "What, you saying this isn''t even your final form?"


    Coeus lifted his hand, and the heavens themselves responded.


    The sky twisted. The constellations above shifted out of alignment.


    Poseidon felt a pull, a gravitational force far greater than anything he had felt before.


    "I will no longer hold back." Coeus'' voice was calm, yet absolute. "I will show you the full extent of my authority."


    Poseidon braced himself.


    Then, the world tilted again.


    But this time, it wasn''t just the battlefield.


    It was everything.


    Poseidon felt it¡ªhis sense of direction shattering, his weight shifting in unnatural ways.


    One moment, he was standing¡ªthe next, he was falling.


    But falling where?


    It was impossible to tell. The axis of reality had been completely severed.


    Poseidon gritted his teeth.


    "DAMN IT! I''LL CRRUSH EVERYTHING HERE THEN!"


    With a roar, he slammed his trident downward, and...


    BOOOOOOM!


    A massive earthquake erupted from beneath him, sending shockwaves so powerful that they forced reality to stabilize for a split second.


    That was all Poseidon needed.


    He shot forward like a torpedo, weaving through the collapsing space, aiming straight for Coeus.


    Coeus reacted immediately, sending a wave of gravitational force to crush Poseidon mid-flight.


    But Poseidon kept going.


    He spun his trident, cutting through the gravity like a blade through water.


    "For someone with such a powerful domain, you have no idea how to use it at all! So much for your intelligence!"


    And in the next instant¡ª


    Poseidon threw his trident. S§×ar?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The divine weapon pierced through Coeus'' gravity field, heading straight for him.


    Coeus barely dodged, but Poseidon was already moving again.


    He slammed his foot down, and the battlefield trembled once more.


    Cracks spread beneath Coeus'' feet.


    And then, water erupted from below.


    A hidden reservoir of the ocean Poseidon had buried beneath the ice¡ªhad just been released.


    It engulfed Coeus completely.


    For the first time, Coeus looked genuinely surprised.


    Poseidon grinned. "If someone who actually knows how to fight were to have your authority, even I''m not confident on winning."


    The ocean dragged Coeus down, deeper, deeper into the abyss.


    Coeus struggled, shifting the celestial axis, trying to break free, but it was too late.


    Poseidon had sealed his fate.


    "You lose."


    Coeus'' eyes burned one last time, before the darkness soon consumed him.


    The titan vanished into the abyss, lost to the endless depths of the sea.


    Poseidon exhaled as he clutched his side.


    Before spitting out a mouthful of golden ichor.


    The shift in reality earlier completely messed up his innards, and he was sure all of his internal organs were either destroyed, or severely damaged.


    If he didn''t force himself to hold on, he would''ve died then and there.


    But for now, he had won.


    And that''s more than enough.

 Chapter 34 - 34: The Beginning of The End

    Hades sat atop the ruined debris of Iapetus'' temple.


    He was staring at his hand, clenching and opening it, feeling the newfound power that courses through his being.


    The power of Iapetus is something he had long since coveted. The power of turn immortal into martal. To put an end to eternity.


    The wind howled, carrying the scent of destruction. He could feel the pulse of the world shifting¡ªthe balance of power tilting in their favor.


    He had felt the death of Crius and the defeat of Coeus, leaving only Hyperion as the last Pillar Titan that can still participate in this war.


    But Hades was sure that the wounds he suffered from him three years ago is still affecting him at this very moment.


    "Now, only Atlas is left before we can get to Cronus."


    Suddenly, a dark purple mist swallowed the temple.


    Hades simply stared at it, knowing full well whose power this mist belongs to.


    Just then, sea of divine power erupted around him as Hecate, Campe, and thousands of gods and divine spirits materialized from the mist before it dissipated.


    Hecate stepped forward first, her eyes glowing with respect and reverence. "Lord Hades."


    Campe followed beside her, her scarlet hair flowing like liquid fire, her barely covered form drenched with blood. She licked a smear of golden ichor from her fingertips, grinning viciously.


    The gods and divine spirits knelt before Hades, their voices echoing across the ruined battlefield.


    "All hail Hades! Slayer of Iapetus, Lord of the Underworld!"


    Hades remained silent for a moment, his piercing eyes scanning the kneeling warriors.


    These were underworld gods who had sworn allegiance to him after seeing his power. All of them were once under the command of many superior underworld gods.


    But after Hades gained full control of Underworld, all of them now serve under him.


    Hecate, standing before him, gave a small, knowing smile.


    "It is time," she said. "With the defeat of three Pillar Titans, Cronus'' forces are surely in chaos. The titans feel their impending doom. We must strike now and end this war once and for all."


    Campe flicked her long, jagged claws, ichor dripping from their tips. "Mount Othrys will be drenched in blood soon enough. Just say the word, and I''ll carve my way through their defenses."


    Hades exhaled slowly and stood. The air trembled around him. He turned his gaze toward the horizon, toward Mount Othrys, the seat of Cronus'' rule.


    He could see it¡ªthe monstrous fortress of the titans standing tall, defiant against the inevitable.


    His fingers curled into a fist. S§×ar?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Then we move. Call the Underworld River Gods," His voice was steady, absolute. "We march for Mount Othrys. This war ends with Cronus'' fall."


    Hecate nodded, then raised her hands, weaving magic through the air.


    Her voice echoed across the land, through rivers, mountains, and the depths of the Underworld itself, conveying the orders of Hades.


    In different parts of the underworld, where the Five Underworld River Gods stood at the ready, Hades orders echoed.


    The King has spoken.


    And none dared to disobey.


    ****


    The Underworld trembled as the war drums of the gods echoed through the vast expanse of the land.


    The Titans, once unchallenged in their rule, now faced the inevitable end of their dominion.


    Hades had spoken.


    And the Five Underworld River Gods have responded.


    Each of them, bound to the rivers they governed, heard the call as if Hades himself had whispered directly into their souls.


    This was not merely just a war¡ªit was a reckoning.


    Now was the time to prove their worth, their loyalty to the true ruler of the Underworld.


    ****


    Acheron stood at the edge of a ruined battlefield, his bronze armor stained with blackened ichor.


    The River of Pain, his domain, flowed behind him¡ªits cursed waters carrying the agony of those who had perished without honor.


    At the sound of Hades'' command, Acheron''s golden eyes narrowed with fierce determination.


    He had always been a warrior first, a deity second. His domain did not just represent pain; it embodied the strength to endure it.


    He clenched his fist around his massive, twin-pronged spear, then turned toward the thousands of divine warriors under his command¡ªbeings forged in suffering, yet unyielding.


    "The time has come," Acheron said, his voice deep and unwavering. "We have bled. We have endured. Now, we fight."


    His soldiers roared, pounding their shields in a rhythmic thunder, their weapons glinting under the blood-red sky.


    Acheron smirked.


    "For Lord Hades. For the Underworld."


    With that, he turned, leading his army forward. The ground split beneath their march, the weight of destiny pressing upon them.


    ****


    Far across from Acheron, where the winds carried the anguished cries of the damned, Cocytus stood upon a vast, frozen wasteland.


    The spirits of the forsaken wandered aimlessly, their voices a chorus of eternal grief.


    Cocytus exhaled slowly, his breath turning to frost in the air.


    "Loed Hades has called," he murmured. His voice was quiet, almost melancholic. "And we shall answer."


    A lone soldier approached, kneeling. "Lord Cocytus, shall we move?"


    Cocytus turned his piercing, ice-blue eyes upon his followers¡ªspirits clad in darkened steel, their very bodies encased in layers of eternal frost.


    They did not flinch from his gaze.


    They had all suffered. They had all lost. But now, they would fight.


    He lifted his spear of frozen despair, its edge crackling with ice.


    "Pain has already shaped us. Now, let it shape the Titans'' end."


    At his command, the frozen land itself split open, releasing an icy mist that swallowed his army whole.


    As they moved forward, the temperature of the battlefield plummeted, the chilling embrace of Cocytus spreading death and silence.


    ****


    A sea of flames raged as Phlegethon stood upon a blackened battlefield, his very presence radiating unbearable heat.


    His river burned with divine fire, a punishment for those who dared defy the laws of the Underworld.


    Phlegethon grinned savagely. He could feel it, the power shift, the changing tides of war. The end of the Titans and the rise of the Olympians.


    "Our king commands," he bellowed, his voice a roaring inferno. "And the Titans shall burn!"


    His army, composed of flame-clad warriors and divine spirits whose very souls had been forged in his molten waters, erupted in cheers.


    The ground beneath them glowed red-hot, melting into lava from their sheer presence.


    Phlegethon raised his massive, burning greatsword, letting its flames stretch toward the heavens.


    "I am the edge of the blade! I am the cut that ends foes! I am the wrath that topple armies! My brothers! Will you fight with me!?!"


    "FIGHT!"


    "FIGHT!"


    "FIGHT!"


    Phlegethon grinned, "I feel your faith brothers! But it must be stronger! You are sons of flames! Warriors of Hades! You call yourselves champions of the King of Underworld! He calls upon you now to lend me your WRATH! Lend me your HATE! Lend me your FIRE!"


    He took a deep breath, "PRAISE HIM!"


    "PRAISE HADES! KING OF UNDERWORLD!"


    "PRAISE HADES! KING OF UNDERWORLD!"


    The army of Phlegethon moved like a rolling wildfire¡ªunstoppable, ravenous, and fueled by their loyalty to Hades.


    ***


    In a realm of mist and stillness, Lethe watched as the message of Hades resonated through her waters.


    Unlike the others, she did not raise her voice or call upon her warriors with grand speeches.


    She did not need to.


    Her presence alone was a command.


    The thousands of divine spirits under her command were silent, their expressions empty, unreadable.


    They had long since forgotten fear. Forgotten hesitation. Forgotten weakness. Now, they were simply cold, emotionless warriors that absolutely obeys every commands of their leader.


    Lethe, her silver hair flowing in the mist, raised a single hand. The air around her shimmered, the very fabric of reality warping.


    "We go," she whispered.


    Without a single sound, her forces vanished into the mist¡ªsilent, unseen, yet inevitable.


    ****


    Styx stood at the very edge of her domain¡ªthe blackened river upon which even the gods swore unbreakable oaths.


    She gripped the hilt of her sword, its blade dark as the void, forged from the very essence of her waters.


    Her warriors¡ªthe most disciplined, the most unwavering¡ªstood at attention. There were no cheers. No words needed to be spoken.


    They had already sworn themselves to Hades.


    And a vow made upon Styx was unbreakable.


    She lifted her blade. "For the Lord of the Underworld."


    The warriors of Styx stepped forward, their formation flawless, their purpose absolute.


    ****


    Across the world, the Five Underworld River Gods moved as one.


    Acheron''s unstoppable tide of warriors, Cocytus'' silent storm of death, Phlegethon''s raging inferno, Lethe''s ghostly army of forgotten souls, and Styx''s unyielding force of sworn warriors.


    They converged toward a single point¡ªMount Othrys.


    Hades stood, waiting for them.


    His dark cloak billowed as he gazed upon the towering Mount Orthys along with the grand temple of Cronus.


    Dark purple aura flickered around him, causing ripples in space.


    Hecate stood beside him, her lamp glowing eerily. Campe grinned in excitement, her claws twitching in anticipation.


    They could all feel it.


    The end was near.


    The Age of the Titans was crumbling.


    And Hades will be the one to end it.

 Chapter 35 - 35: The Beginning Of The End(2)

    Zeus groaned as he opened his eyes. His body felt surprisingly light, as if the weight of exhaustion had been stripped from him.


    He blinked, adjusting to the golden rays of sunlight filtering through the fractured clouds.


    Slowly, he sat up, only to see a familiar figure kneeling beside him.


    Demeter.


    She held her twin sickles, their curved edges gleaming with faint traces of divine energy. The aura of healing still lingered around her hands, the last remnants of her divinity fading into the air.


    "You''re awake." Demeter exhaled in relief. She wiped a bit of sweat from her brow, but her expression remained calm and composed.


    Zeus flexed his fingers, rolling his shoulders.


    He felt rejuvenated. Like he wasn''t just pushed to his limits in a battle.


    "What happened?" He asked, his voice still raspy from the previous battle.


    "You passed out." She replied, "I guess Crius is too much for you to handle without suffering grave injuries."


    Zeus hummed. Indeed, he had pushed himself to the absolute limits and only come out on top because of the power taught to him by Astraeus.


    "What''s the situation?"


    Demeter stood, her sharp hazel eyes meeting his. "Hades has already made his move. He called his forces and is heading straight toward Mount Othrys. The final battle is about to begin."


    Zeus narrowed his eyes. Hades didn''t waste any time.


    Well, of course he wouldn''t. Hades was always the one who acted with precision, he wasn''t one to delay things that can be done on the moment.


    Lightning crackled around Zeus as he pushed himself to his feet, shaking off the lingering soreness from his body.


    "Then there''s no time to waste," he declared, stretching his arms as sparks of electricity danced across his fingers. "We''re heading there, too."


    Demeter nodded. Zeus thought that despite how she always look so carefree and having flowers for brains, she was always so reliable.


    Just then, Zeus turned to fully take in their surroundings, and that was when he finally noticed the sheer number of warriors around them.


    Thousands upon thousands.


    Not just his own legion of gods and divine spirits, but Demeter''s forces as well.


    The air was thick with power, a living storm of divine energy waiting to be unleashed.


    Their gazes were locked onto him¡ªwaiting for his command.


    Zeus let out a slow breath. This was it.


    The moment before the decisive battle.


    Zeus stepped forward, placing himself atop a large rock to overlook the gathered warriors.


    "Listen well!" His voice boomed like thunder, silencing the murmurs among the ranks.


    "We have fought. We have bled. And we have lost many of our brothers and sisters in this war. The Titans believed they could hold their rule forever, that their power was absolute."


    His eyes burned, scanning the faces of every god and divine spirit present.


    "But they were wrong!"


    A murmur spread through the army, growing louder with every second.


    "We have proven them wrong! With every battle, we have taken back what was stolen from us! With every strike, we have shown them that their time is over!"


    His voice surged, filled with the fury of a storm.


    "Hades has called his forces. He marches toward Mount Othrys at this very moment. The end of the war is here! And we will not be left behind!"


    The warriors roared. Shields pounded against the ground. Weapons clashed in anticipation.


    Zeus raised his hand, lightning crackling violently in his palm.


    "No more waiting! No more hiding! We will tear through the Titan ranks, break through their gates, and bring down Cronus himself!"


    The sky above them trembled. The wind howled. The very air burned with divine energy.


    "We march to victory! We march to history! We march to the end of this age!"


    The army exploded with cries of war. Some raised their weapons to the sky. Some slammed their fists against their chests, declaring their undying loyalty.


    Zeus lowered his arm, turning to Demeter, who was smirking slightly.


    "You certainly know how to rile them up," she said.


    Zeus grinned. "Of course. They need to believe in something bigger than themselves. That''s what leaders do."


    Demeter shook her head. "Then lead them, brother."


    Zeus stepped forward, his body glowing with divine power.


    "My soldiers¡ªmove out!" Sear?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    And like a crashing storm, they marched.


    ****


    Poseidon sat on a massive boulder, his trident resting across his knees. His chest rose and fell heavily, his divinity nearly drained after the grueling battle against Coeus.


    The battlefield around him was eerily silent now. The remnants of frozen ocean and shattered earth were all that remained of their clash.


    The sky was still fractured, a testament to the sheer power that had been unleashed here.


    Just then...


    Poseidon''s exhaustion vanished in an instant as he felt it.


    A surge of divine energy, like an unrelenting tidal wave sweeping across the land.


    The Underworld forces were on the move. Hades and his legions were marching towards Mount Othrys.


    Then, another presence.


    Lightning crackled in the distance. The sky rumbled, Zeus waa following after Hades and heading towards Mount Othrys.


    Poseidon could feel his brother''s power, unmistakable and vast, surging forward like an unstoppable storm.


    Demeter''s essence was there too, steady as the spring, guiding their legions with unwavering resolve.


    Poseidon exhaled sharply, gripping his trident as he forced himself to his feet.


    His soldiers, the gods and divine spirits under his command, were already gathered around him. Some were injured, others weary, but their eyes burned with determination.


    They were waiting for his command.


    A smirk appeared on his lips, as rolled his shoulders.


    "It seems like those brothers of mine didn''t wait for me, huh?" He chuckled, though his tone was edged with irritation. "Typical. They probably think they can win this without me."


    The soldiers around him smirked, shaking their heads.


    "Lord Poseidon, what are your orders?" one of them asked, stepping forward.


    Poseidon''s smirk widened.


    "Isn''t it obvious?" He stabbed his trident into the ground, causing the very earth beneath them to tremble. "We''re heading to Mount Othrys. If my brothers are going to bring down Cronus, then I sure as hell won''t be left behind."


    The warriors erupted into cheers.


    "OFF WITH CRONUS'' HEAD!"


    "LET THE TITANS FALL!"


    Just then, a powerful aura approached.


    A legion of gods and divine spirits appeared from the horizon, moving with disciplined precision. Their banners fluttered in the wind, their divine power pulsing in perfect unison.


    At their forefront, a lone figure stood, her presence regal and commanding.


    Hera.


    Her long, flowing hair cascaded behind her like a river of silver, and her piercing eyes were sharp as a blade.


    Her divine mirror, the divine weapon crafted by the Cyclops themselves, floated around her.


    Poseidon turned to face her fully, eyes narrowing. "Hera."


    She regarded him with a calm, calculating gaze. "Poseidon."


    The air between them was heavy with unsaid words.


    But there was no need for speeches.


    No need for declarations.


    They both knew why they were here.


    Poseidon glanced at her weapon, watching as the mirror glowed faintly, reflecting something even he couldn''t comprehend. "I guess we''re bringing all our forces to Cronus?"


    Hera simply nodded. "Aside from Hestia, who remained with mother in the Underworld, all of us are here. There is no point in holding back any longer. The Titans must fall."


    Poseidon chuckled, twirling his trident. "Naturally. Let''s make sure to tear them down and make them kneel before us."


    Hera said nothing, but her eyes flickered with something dangerous.


    Poseidon shivered, knowing full well just how dangerous this woman is. She might not be as strong as him, but he will definitely suffer if he pissed her off.


    And then, without another word, they marched.


    Side by side.


    Legions upon legions of gods and divine spirits thundered forward, their footsteps shaking the heavens.


    The fall of the Titans is nigh.


    ****


    At the foot of Mount Othrys, the very heart of the Titan''s dominion, a lone figure sat atop one of the ancient, colossal stairs leading up to the mountain''s peak.


    Atlas.


    His massive form was draped in gold and obsidian armor, each plate engraved with constellations, shifting and burning like the cosmos itself.


    His face was unreadable, his expression locked in stoic contemplation.


    In his right hand, a monstrous club, "Pelasgian Omen", was buried deep into the cracked stone below him.


    The weapon pulsed with power, distorting the very air around it. Gravity wavered, space twisted, as if the very presence of Atlas threatened to crush reality itself.


    And behind him, a force unlike any seen before.


    Tens of thousands of gods and divine spirits stood in perfect formation. Their golden armor gleamed under the dim light, each soldier adorned with the sigil of the Titans.


    Their spears were raised, shields locked together, their presence alone enough to make the very sky tremble.


    Their gazes were unwavering, their divine energy thrumming like a single, unified heartbeat.


    Atlas did not need to look back at them. He could feel their resolve.


    This was the final line. The last, unshakable wall of the Titanomachy.


    Mount Othrys must not fall.


    Atlas exhaled slowly, his grip tightening around his club.


    He could feel it.


    A storm of divinity, approaching from the horizon like an apocalyptic tide.


    The rebels were coming.


    Hades. His Underworld legions, commanded with ruthless precision. A force of death itself, unrelenting and absolute.


    Zeus. His thunderous legions, burning with the very essence of the sky. The prodigal son, the storm of change.


    Poseidon. His armies of the seas, crashing forward like an unbreakable tide, carrying the weight of the deep with them.


    And now¡ªHera, Demeter, and countless others.


    All of them marching towards here, all with the same intent to bring an end to the current order.


    Atlas sighed.


    "So here they come."


    He slowly rose to his feet, the mountain itself groaning under his weight. His armor crackled with divine might, and his presence alone sent a crushing pressure through the air.


    One of his captains stepped forward, clad in black iron, his spear resting against his shoulder. "Lord Atlas, shall we prepare for engagement?"


    Atlas did not answer immediately.


    He turned his gaze to the clouded horizon.


    In the far distance, a wall of gods surged forward, their banners high, their power undeniable.


    Atlas slowly lifted his club, resting it over his shoulder.


    "Hold the line," he commanded, his voice as deep and immovable as the world itself. "Let them come. Let them crash against us like waves against the cliffs."


    His eyes burned with determination.


    "And then¡ª"


    He tightened his grip.


    "We will break them."

 Chapter 36 - 36: You Traitorous Brother

    A force of tens of thousands of divine warriors; gods, divine spirits, and divine beings, stood assembled before the towering stairs of Mount Othrys.


    Their combined divinity surged across the battlefield like a rising tide, the sheer force of their presence making the very air tremble. Sear?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    At their forefront stood the mightiest of them all.


    Hades, Lord of the Underworld.


    Zeus, the God of Thunder.


    Poseidon, the God of the Seas.


    Hera, the Goddess of Marriage.


    Demeter, the Goddess of Harvest.


    And behind them, their legions¡ªtheir banners raised high, their weapons gleaming with divine might.


    At the top of the stairs, waiting in silent defiance, was Atlas.


    The Titan of Endurance sat motionless, resting his colossal club on the ground. His eyes burned with quiet intensity as he gazed down at the approaching army, his armor radiating raw power.


    Despite the overwhelming numbers before him, he remained unshaken.


    On either side of Atlas stood Adanus and Lelantos, two formidable titans, their strength second only to the Four Pillar Titans.


    Adanus, the Titan of Unyielding Force, whose mere presence made the ground quake. His arms were crossed over his chest, his crimson armor etched with the scars of countless battles.


    Lelantos, the Titan of Stealth and the Unseen Wind, stood with his greatbow resting against his shoulder.


    His form flickered like a mirage, his power making him nearly imperceptible. His cold gaze locked onto the approaching gods with quiet calculation.


    The two titans could feel the weight of what was coming.


    But none spoke.


    And at this moment, Hades took a step forward.


    With that single movement, the world cracked.


    A massive shockwave erupted across the battlefield, flattening the ground beneath him and sending tremors through the air.


    The sky above darkened, as if reality itself struggled to bear the weight of the moment.


    Atlas slowly stood, lifting his club onto his shoulder. His expression remained unchanged, but his golden aura flared to life, colliding with Hades'' dark energy.


    The heavens split open.


    Mountains crumbled.


    The earth screamed as the two forces clashed.


    It was as if the cosmos themselves rebelled against their existence.


    Adanus gritted his teeth. Even for him, the pressure was immense.


    Lelantos clenched his fist, his form flickering, barely holding his ground.


    A moment later, both titans stepped forward, their combined energy reinforcing Atlas'' aura, just to counteract Hades'' mere presence.


    For a brief moment, the battlefield teetered on the brink of oblivion.


    They stared at each other, their eyes conveying more than mere words.


    Eventually, as if coming to an understanding, they retracted their power.


    The world stabilized. The sky remained cracked, but the immediate threat of destruction had passed.


    Atlas rolled his shoulders, as if shaking off the weight of Hades'' power. His eyes locked onto the Lord of the Underworld.


    "You can pass." His voice was calm, unwavering.


    The Olympians stiffened in surprise, but Hades remained still.


    Atlas exhaled slowly.


    "There is no point in trying to stop you," he admitted. "We cannot beat you."


    He then raised his club and stabbed it into the ground.


    "Instead, we will defeat your siblings and your army. Then, we will march to aid lord Cronus." His gaze swept across the Olympians before him. "And when that happens¡­ you will fall."


    Hades stared at him, and simply ignored his words, then without sparing another glance, his black cloak billowing behind him as he ascended the ancient, crumbling stairs of Mount Othrys.


    Each step he took sent ripples of dark energy through the stone, and the oppressive aura surrounding him forced the Titan''s soldiers to instinctively move aside, their very instincts screaming at them not to stand in his path.


    None dared to block his way.


    A faint mist flickered behind him, almost imperceptible.


    Hecate had vanished into a veil of purple smoke, silently following him. Though unseen, her presence remained, a specter of sorcery lurking just beyond the edge of perception.


    Atlas watched them go, his eyes narrowing, hesitating. He wanted to stop Hecate, but doing so would take too much time and would injure him.


    So in the end, he made no move to stop them.


    Instead, he turned his attention back to the Olympians.


    His golden aura surged, twisting the air around him as he pointed his colossal club forward.


    "You will not take another step further." Then, like a signal, he roared, "DEATH TO THE REBELS! HAIL CRONUS!"


    "DEATH TO THE REBELS! HAIL CRONUS!"


    The moment his words rang out, the Titan''s army roared, tens of thousands of gods and divine spirits erupting forward like an avalanche of destruction.


    Their weapons blazed with divine energy, their armor gleaming under the fractured sky.


    Zeus and Poseidon did not hesitate.


    "DEATH TO CRONUS! MY SOLDIERS! PUSH FORWARD!"


    The army of gods behind them roared as they threw themselves at the opposing side.


    Zeus threw his arm forward, and the very sky split apart. Thunder roared in response to his will, as massive bolts of lightning came crashing down upon the Titan''s army.


    Poseidon stomped his foot, and the ground shattered. Cracks spread like veins, and from them erupted torrents of seawater, an entire ocean conjured from nothing, crashing into the enemy ranks with the force of a divine tsunami.


    It was chaos.


    The two colossal armies clashed, and the very land trembled beneath them.


    Campe, standing among the frontlines, threw her head back and laughed.


    "I HAVE WAITED FOR THIS!" she roared, her crimson hair billowing in the storm of divinity. "I''LL BURN YOU ALL TO CINDERS!"


    In the next instant, her body began to twist, her limbs stretching, bones cracking as she morphed into her true form.


    A massive red dragon, her scales gleaming like molten fire, erupted into existence.


    Her wings, large enough to blot out the battlefield below, unfurled with a single movement, and with a single sweep of her tail, she sent dozens of Titan soldiers flying.


    With a guttural growl, she exhaled, and a storm of fire swallowed the battlefield whole.


    Among this chaos, the key battles began.


    Adanus, the Titan of Unyielding Force, turned as Demeter approached him, her two sickles glowing with divine light.


    The ground cracked beneath them, the force of their power twisting the battlefield itself.


    Lelantos, the Titan of the Unseen Wind, remained still as Hera stepped forward, her divine mirror floating in orbit around her.


    They stared at one another for a brief moment, their divinities colliding. Lelantos'' form flickered, shifting between reality and illusion, but Hera remained as composed as ever.


    "You won''t be hiding from me," she declared, as her mirror shimmered, revealing every possible movement he could make.


    Meanwhile, the Five Underworld River Gods, leading their own elite legions, pushed forward, their sights set on Cronus'' temple.


    They don''t want to waste time fighting here, they must assist their king as soon as possible!


    The armies of the dead surged, their war cries echoing like a chorus of the damned.


    As the battlefield burned around them, Atlas turned to face Zeus and Poseidon.


    The two Olympians stood before him, their weapons crackling with divine might.


    Atlas exhaled slowly, shifting his colossal club. His body radiates power, so much so that even Zeus and Poseidon doubted if they can win this alone.


    "I hope you two are prepared," he said, his voice like rolling thunder. "Because you won''t leave this battlefield alive."


    Zeus hid his worries and simply smirked. "We''ll see about that."


    Poseidon twirled his trident, the air around him warping with power. "Let''s find out who breaks first."


    However...


    Before Zeus and Poseidon could advance, a massive wall of fire erupted between them and Atlas.


    The inferno roared, its flames twisting and crackling like a living entity, casting an eerie golden glow across the battlefield.


    From the heart of the flames, two figures emerged.


    Prometheus walked forward first, his ever-present sly smirk playing at his lips.


    His eyes flickered mischievously, a stark contrast to the weight of the situation.


    Beside him, his brother, Epimetheus stood silently, his gaze more hesitant, but his stance unwavering.


    Zeus and Poseidon halted in their tracks, turning to them.


    Prometheus stretched his arms out in mock exasperation. "Oh, so cool. Look at you two, all fired up for battle. You''d think you''d at least give me a chance to have some fun first."


    Poseidon huffed. "Prometheus. This isn''t the time for your jokes."


    Prometheus chuckled, unfazed. "It''s always time for my jokes. That''s what makes me, me."


    Zeus narrowed his eyes. "Then why are you here? Go take your jokes elsewhere, you sly loach."


    Prometheus'' grin widened. He jabbed a thumb toward Atlas. "I''ll handle the big guy over there. You two go on ahead. You''ve got bigger fish to fry¡ªnamely, our dear old king."


    Poseidon hesitated for a moment, glancing at Atlas, whose golden eyes remained locked on Prometheus.


    But Zeus, without any hesitation, simply nodded.


    "Understood. Don''t die."


    Prometheus placed a hand over his heart, mockingly touched. "Aw, look at you, all worried about me."


    Zeus and Poseidon wasted no more time. In a flash of light, they shot forward, leaping past the burning wall and continuing their march up the stairway to Cronus.


    As soon as they left, Prometheus turned his full attention to Atlas.


    "So," he greeted, rocking back on his heels. "Been a while, hasn''t it, dear brother?"


    Atlas remained seated, his colossal club still stabbed into the ground beside him. His gaze did not waver.


    "Prometheus." His voice was deep, steady, like a mountain speaking. "You traitor."


    The flames around them died down, but the air remained thick with tension.


    "I will give some chance, leave. Or I will be force to end you." Atlas stated.


    Prometheus laughed. "Oh? And miss out on this? Come on, Atlas, I can''t let you go around messing with the natural order. You know how I feel about that."


    Atlas exhaled through his nose.


    "The natural order?" His fingers tightened around his club. "You know better than anyone that there is no natural order. Only power."


    Prometheus shrugged. "Exactly. And right now, the Olympians are the ones with power. So, here I am. Keeping things balanced."


    Atlas'' eyes narrowed. "You can''t defeat me."


    Prometheus gave a mock bow. "Oh, believe me, I know."


    "Then why appear before me!?" The ground trembled beneath his foot, his towering form casting an overwhelming shadow over Prometheus. "Are you mocking me!?"


    Prometheus grinned, rolling his shoulders. "Of course not, oh brother of mine. It''s just that, I don''t have to beat you."


    Epimetheus, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke. "We only need to keep you busy."


    Atlas tilted his head, then let out a low, amused snort.


    "Keep me busy? Are you two qualified?" he rumbled.


    Prometheus cracked his knuckles. "Let''s see, why don''t we?"


    Atlas laughed, before giving a nod.


    "Then, let''s find out. You traitorous brother!"

 Chapter 37 - 37: 3v1

    Atlas gripped his colossal club and swung it with terrifying force.


    The air screamed as the weapon carved through it, descending upon Prometheus and Epimetheus like an executioner''s blade.


    The ground beneath them fractured and crumbled, the sheer weight of his attack sending shockwaves rippling through the battlefield.


    Prometheus barely managed to dodge, rolling to the side as the club obliterated the stone steps where he had stood a moment ago.


    Dust and debris exploded into the air, but there was no time to recover, Atlas was already moving.


    Epimetheus, slower than his brother, wasn''t as lucky. The impact sent him flying backward, crashing through the ruins of an ancient temple.


    A deep gash tore across his chest, divine ichor seeping through his wounds. He gritted his teeth and pushed himself up, but his entire body ached from just that one blow.


    "Damn it," Epimetheus coughed. "This is ridiculous!"


    Prometheus, leaping away from another devastating strike, let out a breathless chuckle. "I did warn you, brother. Atlas is strong."


    "No, you didn''t!" Epimetheus growled, stumbling back to Prometheus'' side. "You just dragged me into this! You said we can keep him busy! You liar! I shouldn''t have believed you!"


    Atlas charged forward, his movements deceptively fast for someone of his size.


    Each step cracked the earth beneath him, sending out quakes that threatened to topple the surrounding structures.


    "You two are nothing but insects," he rumbled, his voice as heavy as the mountains he carried in myths yet to be written. "I expected more from you, Prometheus. You always did think yourself clever."


    Prometheus smirked, wiping dust from his brow. "Oh, I am clever. That''s why I''m still alive."


    Atlas swung again, the club crashing down with enough force to shatter the entire stairway leading up to Mount Othrys.


    The impact sent shockwaves tearing through the battlefield, causing Olympian and Titan alike to stagger as the ground beneath them buckled.


    Prometheus and Epimetheus jumped in opposite directions, barely escaping death.


    But Atlas was relentless.


    He was no mindless brute swinging blindly, he was precise, methodical. Every strike forced them to move exactly where he wanted them, slowly boxing them in.


    Epimetheus, panting, wiped sweat and ichor from his brow. "Prometheus, tell me you have a plan."


    Prometheus grinned. "Of course I do."


    Epimetheus narrowed his eyes. "Is it actually a plan, or are you just stalling until we die?"


    Prometheus laughed. "Can''t it be both?"


    Epimetheus groaned. "I hate you."


    "Join the club," Prometheus quipped.


    But despite his usual bravado, Prometheus knew they were in deep trouble.


    Atlas was overpowering them in every way. The Titan''s sheer strength and endurance were unlike anything they had ever faced.


    They weren''t just fighting against a warrior, they were fighting against a force of nature.


    Atlas didn''t slow down. He lifted his club one-handed, its divine weight making the air around it tremble.


    "You cannot defeat me," he stated, his voice ringing with absolute certainty. "You are not warriors. You are fools who meddle in things beyond you."


    He swung again.


    This time, Prometheus knew they couldn''t dodge.


    "Epimetheus!" he shouted.


    His brother didn''t hesitate.


    With a grunt, Epimetheus thrust his hands forward. A barrier of divine energy materialized in front of them, crackling with raw power.


    It was a desperate defense, but it wasn''t enough.


    The moment Atlas'' club slammed into the barrier, the force shattered it instantly. The explosion of energy sent both brothers flying, tumbling across the battlefield like ragdolls.


    Prometheus hit the ground hard, coughing up ichor. His vision blurred for a moment, his entire body screaming in protest.


    Epimetheus was worse off. He had taken the brunt of the attack, and now he lay motionless, struggling to breathe.


    Atlas strode toward them, unbothered.


    "You are done."


    Prometheus, still dazed, struggled to push himself up. His smirk was gone.


    Atlas lifted his club for the final strike. The very sky seemed to darken, as if dreading the force of the blow.


    Prometheus forced himself to move. Even if they were outmatched, even if they were doomed¡ªhe wasn''t about to die lying down.


    He summoned fire in his hands, divine flames roaring to life.


    Atlas brought the club down...


    BOOM!


    A colossal pillar of fire erupted between them, colliding with Atlas'' club and halting its descent. The flames surged wildly, forcing Atlas to step back for the first time.


    Epimetheus, barely conscious, had lifted his hand, his divine energy feeding the fire.


    Prometheus grinned seeing him. "You''re not done yet?"


    Epimetheus, eyes half-lidded, gave him a weak smirk. "Of course not. You''d be dead without me."


    Prometheus laughed. "Well, yeah. But that''s nothing new."


    Atlas, watching them, finally exhaled. "Persistent insects."


    His eyes darkened, and for the first time in the fight, his full power surged to the surface.


    The air itself warped. The battlefield trembled.


    Prometheus'' smirk faded.


    Atlas was done playing around.


    "You should have run when you had the chance," the Titan said. "Now, you die." sea??h th§× N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Prometheus and Epimetheus exchanged a glance.


    It was at this moment, that they knew, they fucked up.


    But still, they stood their ground.


    Because even if they were outmatched, they weren''t going to let Atlas win. At least, not easily. They just have to stall for time until the Olympians are done with their fight.


    "Death to the traitors." Atlas took a step, his club shining in golden light as he prepared to swing.


    And as Prometheus and Epimetheus prepared to counter...


    They felt it.


    A divine power shooting towards Atlas.


    Atlas barely had time to react before an invisible force slammed into his chest, sending him crashing through stone pillars and ruins.


    His massive body tore through the battlefield like a meteor, leaving a trail of devastation in his wake.


    The impact caused the ground to tremble, knocking several soldiers off their feet.


    Prometheus and Epimetheus, still catching their breath from their near defeat, whipped their heads around to see a newcomer.


    Standing tall, her presence radiating divine authority, was Themis, the Titaness of Divine Law and Order.


    Her piercing eyes locked onto Atlas as she descended gracefully onto the battlefield, her white robes fluttering despite the chaotic energy swirling around them.


    "Themis?" Prometheus breathed, wiping blood from his lips.


    Epimetheus stared, eyes wide. "What are you doing here?"


    Themis lifted her hand, and the very air around them hummed with divine power.


    "The Titan''s tyranny ends today," she declared. Her voice, calm yet firm, echoed across the battlefield like a divine decree.


    Prometheus grinned, his eyes flickered with divine light. "Just in time."


    "Don''t get distracted, Atlas won''t fall from something like that." said Themis.


    And to prove her words, Atlas emerged from the rubbles.


    His armor was cracked, and his brow furrowed in irritation, but he was far from beaten.


    Dust and debris rolled off his massive frame as he stood up, gripping his club tighter.


    He rolled his shoulders, the bones cracking loudly, and narrowed his glowing eyes at Themis.


    "And here comes another traitor," he stated coldly.


    Themis remained unfazed.


    Atlas snorted. "It doesn''t matter if there are three of you. You will all fall just the same."


    With a roar, he charged once more.


    Prometheus reacted first, raising both hands as a massive wave of fire erupted from his palms.


    The inferno roared toward Atlas, but the Titan swung his club with inhuman speed, dispersing the flames as if swatting away smoke.


    Epimetheus, still recovering, gathered divine energy into his fists and charged alongside Themis. The two flanked Atlas from opposite sides, forcing him to split his attention.


    Themis, moving with grace and precision, lifted her hand, and golden chains of divine law erupted from the earth, attempting to ensnare Atlas.


    "Tch!" Atlas leapt into the air, dodging the chains as they coiled like serpents around the battlefield.


    He flipped midair and came down with a devastating strike, his club slamming into the ground¡ª


    BOOM!


    A shockwave rippled outward, tearing apart the land, sending dust and divine debris flying.


    Prometheus and Epimetheus shielded their eyes, while Themis stood her ground, unwavering.


    But before Atlas could follow up¡ª


    CRACK!


    A golden barrier of divinity materialized between him and Themis, blocking his strike. The impact sent out a burst of light, forcing Atlas to stagger back.


    Prometheus saw his chance. "Epimetheus, now!"


    Epimetheus, despite his exhaustion, summoned all his strength and slammed his fists together.


    A burst of raw divine energy exploded outward, colliding into Atlas'' exposed side.


    Atlas grunted, skidding back, but he remained standing.


    Atlas narrowed his eyes at Themis, realizing she was the biggest threat.


    With a growl, he lunged toward her, swinging his club with terrifying force.


    But Themis was prepared.


    With a mere flick of her wrist, the battlefield shifted.


    Atlas'' feet suddenly sank into the ground, as if the very earth had turned to liquid.


    His eyes widened. "What¡ª?"


    "Judgment," Themis intoned. "The land itself rejects you. It will drag you down to the depths of Underworld."


    Atlas roared, forcing his way free, but Prometheus was already on him, flames swirling around his fists.


    Prometheus punched forward, a blast of divine fire erupting straight at Atlas'' chest.


    Atlas crossed his arms, blocking it, but the force still sent him skidding back.


    Epimetheus followed up immediately, smashing a boulder-sized chunk of divine energy straight into Atlas'' jaw.


    CRACK!


    The impact sent Atlas staggering, ichor dripping from his mouth.


    But the Titan refused to fall.


    The three warriors pushed Atlas back, fighting with everything they had.


    Prometheus danced around him, launching flames and quick attacks, dodging just before Atlas could counter.


    Epimetheus fought more recklessly, using brute force to batter Atlas with pure, physical powert.


    Themis remained controlled, using her divine authority to subtly manipulate the battlefield, disrupting Atlas'' balance, creating barriers, and binding his movements whenever possible.


    Despite their efforts, Atlas refused to go down. His strength was relentless, his will unyielding.


    And yet, for the first time, he was being pushed back.


    Prometheus, breathing hard, grinned. "Looks like you''re not invincible after all, Atlas."


    Atlas gritted his teeth, wiping the ichor from his lip.


    "You think you''ve won?" he rumbled. "I am Atlas. The Titan of Strength and Endurance! I will never fall!"


    He had fought for countless ages, borne the weight of the heavens on his shoulders, and crushed warriors beneath his might.


    Across from him, Prometheus wiped blood from his mouth, his usual cheeky grin replaced with a grim expression.


    "Oh my me, you''re ridiculously overpowered," he muttered, shaking his aching hands. "I swear, I feel like we''ve barely done anything to you."


    Epimetheus, standing beside him, grimaced. His arms trembled from the sheer force of their battle.


    "He''s not unbeatable," Themis said, her voice resolute. "We have the advantage now. He''s tired, and we have him outnumbered."


    Atlas snorted. "Tired? Outnumbered? You think exhaustion and numbers is enough to stop me?"


    He slammed his club into the ground, and a seismic wave tore through the battlefield, sending Prometheus and Epimetheus stumbling backward.


    Themis held her ground, divine barriers forming around her like rippling golden rings, absorbing the force.


    "I will not be defeated," Atlas declared, lifting his club high. "I will crush you all."


    With a roar, he swung his weapon, tearing through the battlefield with a devastating arc.


    Prometheus barely dodged, rolling to the side before launching a spiraling inferno straight at Atlas'' face.


    BOOM!


    Atlas staggered, momentarily blinded. Epimetheus used the opening, rushing in with a burst of divine energy, slamming his fist into Atlas'' ribs.


    CRACK!


    Atlas grunted in pain.


    Themis followed up immediately, lifting her hand as golden chains of divine law erupted from the ground, wrapping around Atlas'' arms and legs, tightening like vipers.


    "Yield, Atlas," she commanded. "It''s over."


    Atlas growled, muscles bulging as he fought against the divine bindings.


    "No," he hissed. "I refuse to fall!"


    And then...


    The air shifted.


    A terrifying wave of power erupted from Atlas'' body, the sheer force of it sending Prometheus, Epimetheus, and Themis flying backward.


    BOOOOOM!


    Prometheus skidded across the battlefield, coughing violently. Epimetheus crashed into a pile of rubble, groaning. Themis landed on her feet, but even she looked slightly shaken.


    Atlas rose again, eyes blazing like twin suns.


    "I WILL END THIS!" Atlas'' voice shook the very air, and suddenly, golden energy began coalescing around him.


    The heavens rumbled, the battlefield quaked, and then, a colossal beam of energy erupted from his form, pure destructive force hurtling toward the three warriors.


    Prometheus, Epimetheus, and Themis barely had time to react.


    "STOP HIM!" Themis shouted.


    All three countered at once.


    Prometheus raised his arms, summoning an all-consuming inferno, fire burning so hot it turned space itself to ash.


    Epimetheus gathered every last ounce of his power, shaping an unstoppable divine force, condensing it into a single, devastating counter-strike.


    Themis lifted both hands, calling upon the very foundations of divine law, forming a massive sigil of golden light, a power strong enough to defy even the Titans.


    Their powers collided with Atlas'' blast.


    The battlefield erupted in an explosion so massive that the entire war seemed to halt for a moment.


    Light. Fire. Power. The world itself trembled.


    Atlas roared, pushing forward, unwilling to give in.


    Prometheus gritted his teeth, his arms burning from the sheer strain.


    Epimetheus felt his bones crack, but he refused to yield.


    Themis stood firm, her golden power flickering.


    The three of them, against Atlas.


    The clash lasted only moments, but to them, it felt like eternity.


    And then...


    Atlas faltered.


    His power wavered.


    The combined force of Prometheus'' flames, Epimetheus'' divine strike, and Themis'' divine law¡ªfinally overwhelmed him.


    "RAAAAAAGH!"


    With a final explosion, Atlas'' beam shattered.


    The blastback sent him hurtling through the air, crashing into the ruins behind him.


    Silence engulfed the battlefield.


    A beat later.


    Prometheus staggered forward, breath ragged. "I think we did it."


    Epimetheus collapsed to one knee, exhausted. "You think?"


    Themis walked forward slowly, watching as Atlas lay there¡ªmotionless.


    His massive chest heaved with labored breaths. His armor was shattered, his divine essence flickering. His club lay forgotten beside him.


    He was defeated.


    For the first time in his existence, Atlas had fallen.


    Prometheus wiped sweat from his brow, exhaling shakily.


    "Finally¡­ about time," he muttered.


    Themis looked down at Atlas, her expression unreadable.


    "It is over Atlas," she said.


    Atlas grunted, chuckling weakly.


    "Hah¡­ So this is how it ends." He exhaled heavily, staring up at the sky. "It seems¡­ even I have limits."


    Prometheus tilted his head. "You don''t sound that upset about it."


    Atlas gave a small, tired smirk. "Perhaps¡­ I always knew it would come to this."


    Epimetheus, finally catching his breath, leaned back against a broken pillar.


    "Well," he sighed, "we actually did it. We beat Atlas."


    He closed his eyes. He knew, once this war was over, he will receive his judgment.


    And there was no escaping that.


    Themis remained silent for a moment. Then, she turned toward the battlefield.


    "This war isn''t over yet."


    Prometheus followed her gaze, eyes narrowing as he observed Mount Othrys. "All that''s left is Cronus."


    Themis and Epimetheus nodded, thinking of the clash that would decide the fate of the cosmos.

 Chapter 38 - 38: Sickles and Mirror

    On the other side.


    Adanus smirked, rolling his shoulders as he stared down Demeter.


    "You should''ve stayed out of this, goddess," he taunted. "Fertility? Harvest? You think that means anything in war? You''re nothing compared to your brothers. Nothing but a feeble caretaker."


    Demeter did not react.


    Her eyes remained calm, her expression stoic as she tightened her grip on her twin sickles.


    The blades, each shaped like a crescent moon, shimmered under the dim sky, exuding a strange, paradoxical energy.


    One blade radiated nourishment, warmth, and growth, capable of granting life to the most lifeless soil.


    The other blade pulsed with decay, famine, and ruin, capable of draining life itself.


    Her aura flared, but unlike the oppressive and suffocating darkness of Hades, the raw destructive force of Zeus or the crushing depth of Poseidon, hers was¡­ different.


    It was not a storm, nor an earthquake.


    It was the slow, unstoppable force of nature. The cycle of life itself.


    Adanus'' smirk faltered slightly.


    Demeter finally spoke, her voice as cool as the autumn wind. "You talk too much."


    Then¡ªshe moved.


    Adanus barely had time to react.


    Demeter closed the distance in an instant, her sickles slashing in a deadly arc. He barely dodged, the tip of one blade grazing his armor...


    And where it touched, his divine metal rusted.


    Adanus'' eyes widened. "What¡ª?!"


    But Demeter did not stop.


    She twisted, her movements fluid as a dancer, her sickles slicing through the air with frightening precision.


    Golden vines erupted from the ground, seeking Adanus like living snakes.


    Adanus gritted his teeth, leaping back as he swung his warhammer down, shattering the vines to dust. The ground cracked beneath the force of his blow.


    But the moment he destroyed them, more vines sprouted in their place, each stronger, thicker, deadlier than the other.


    "Tch!"


    He jumped back again, narrowly avoiding another slash from her sickles. He felt the pull of her draining blade, a cold sensation creeping up his arm even though it hadn''t touched him directly.


    "Your weapons¡­" Adanus growled, landing on his feet. "They can steal life...?"


    Demeter tilted her head slightly. "Not just that, they can give life as well."


    She swung her left sickle, and the battlefield bloomed.


    A sea of golden flowers erupted around them, radiating divine energy. Adanus'' boots sank into the soft ground as the earth pulsed with life, regenerating Demeter''s strength.


    Adanus scowled. "Enough!"


    He slammed his foot into the ground, and the earth shuddered violently. Massive spikes of rock jutted out from below, destroying the flowers in an instant.


    But Demeter was already moving.


    A single leap, and she appeared above him.


    Adanus'' instincts screamed at him, but he was a second too slow.


    Her sickle sliced across his chest.


    For the first time in their fight, Adanus let out a pained grunt.


    Golden energy burst from the wound, draining his divine essence. His muscles felt heavier, slower.


    She had taken something from him.


    Adanus staggered back, glaring at the wound. It was already closing, but the effect remained. He could feel his energy slipping.


    Demeter landed gracefully, her expression still unreadable.


    "I expected more from someone who stood beside Atlas," she murmured. "I guess Hades'' training really did make me so much stronger."


    Adanus growled. "Don''t get arrogant! I am a Titan! I will not lose to a mere godling!"


    He roared, unleashing a shockwave that shattered the battlefield. Rivers of molten rock erupted from the ground, incinerating everything in sight.


    The very air trembled from the force of his divine power.


    Demeter remained unmoved.


    She raised a single hand, and in instant, the volcanic fury halted.


    The molten earth cooled. The raging flames flickered and died. The battlefield that Adanus had scorched¡­ regrew.


    Greenery sprouted from the ashes.


    Adanus'' breathing became ragged. "You¡ª"


    Demeter vanished.


    And reappeared right in front of him.


    Adanus barely had time to react before her sickles flashed again.


    One slashed across his arm¡ªdraining him further.


    The other cut into his side¡ªsending a burst of life energy outward, feeding the battlefield, making it grow even stronger.


    Adanus roared in frustration, swinging his warhammer wildly.


    He missed.


    Demeter was already behind him.


    And then, she stabbed her sickle into his back.


    Adanus stiffened. His mouth opened in a silent gasp.


    He could feel it.


    His divine power¡­ it was leaving him.


    His once unbreakable body trembled. His strength, fading. His power, vanishing.


    Demeter whispered into his ear. "All things wither, Adanus. Even Titans."


    She pulled the sickle out, and Adanus collapsed to his knees.


    His body felt like stone, heavy and unmovable. He struggled to lift his arms, but they would not respond.


    The once-mighty Titan, the warrior who had fought under Cronus for eons, now kneeled before a goddess he had mocked.


    He looked up at her, struggling to form words.


    Demeter simply watched silently.


    Then, she turned away.


    Adanus'' head slumped forward, his vision fading.


    The last thing he saw was golden flowers blooming around him¡ªlife springing from his defeat.


    And then, darkness.


    ****


    On the other side of the battlefield.


    Lelantos smirked as he vanished from sight. Hera raised an eyebrow as she crossed her arms, curious about this ability similar to her brother''s.


    The moment his form faded into nothingness, his voice echoed through the battlefield like a whisper in the wind.


    "What will you do, goddess? You can''t fight what you can''t see."


    Hera remained still, her piercing eyes staring forward with an unyielding composure. Her divine mirrored orbiting around her.


    Lelantos moved swiftly, faster than thought. His dagger materialized for mere instants as he struck at her from behind.


    ''Got you!'' He grinned in triumph.


    But before the blade could connect...


    Clang!


    Hera''s floating mirror spun into position, effortlessly blocking the attack.


    Lelantos clicked his tongue and vanished again.


    Then, he attacked from the left.


    Clang!


    Her mirror blocked the strike.


    Then from above...


    Clang!


    From below...


    Clang!


    Lelantos gritted his teeth. No matter where he struck, her divine mirror intercepted him. It''s almost seem like she''s completely invincible.


    ''The hell is up with that mirror!?''


    Hera remained completely still. Her arms still crossed. Her gaze still fixed forward, unbothered.


    "How long do you plan to hide, Lelantos?" she asked, her voice carrying the weight of a queen.


    Lelantos sneered from the shadows. "Hide? I''m not hiding. I''m hunting."


    His laughter echoed all around her.


    "So what if I can''t hit you? It''s not like you can hit me either. As long as I remain completely invisible, I can always attack you whenever, wherever I want. Like this!"


    He attacked again. Much faster than before.


    Clang!


    But just like the other times, the mirror completely blocked every attacks.


    "That damm mirror!"


    Lelantos intensofied his attacks. But no matter how much force he used...


    Clang! Clang! Clang!


    Every attack was blocked, the mirror remaining completely unscathed.


    Hera almost let out a yawn. Only her OCD of being a regal queen and a refined lady prevented her from doing so.


    Lelantos'' smirk faltered slightly as he retreated to take a breather. No matter how much he attacks, he couldn''t hit her.


    For now, he should recover and wait until she lowers her guard and strike.


    But at that moment, Hera tilted her head slightly.


    And her eyes locked onto him.


    Or rather, right into his eyes.


    The moment their gazes met, Lelantos'' entire body stiffened, a chill went down his spine as something impossible had occurred.


    It is something so absurd he had never once consider it. And so when it happened, he was completely terrified.


    She could see him.


    Even in his absolute invisibility, she saw him.


    Hera smiled, a small, faint, and emotionless smile.


    Lelantos'' heart pounded.


    He instantly retreated, vanishing even deeper into the void.


    He was breathing heavily.


    The invisibility he was so proud of was actually seen through.


    "No," he shook his head, "That''s not possible. It''s just a fluke. I''m sure."


    But then...


    A cold whisper brushed against his ear.


    "A fluke, huh?"


    His breath caught.


    And without any second thoughts, he vanished, not his invisibility, but he disappeared due to his speed. He ran away quite fast.


    However, before he can safely retreat, shadows erupted from the ground, latching onto his limbs.


    "What¡ª?!"


    The shadows warped, turning into dark chains that wrapped around him, coiling around his arms and legs, pulling him down.


    His eyes widened in pure shock. "How¡ª?! Since when do you have authority over darkness?!"


    Hera stepped forward, her eyes calm.


    "Even if no one acknowledges it," she said smoothly, "I do consider myself the Queen of the Underworld. And as the Goddess of Marriage, I can borrow the authority of my king, which is Hades. After all, husband and wife shares everything together."


    She and Hades weren''t married yet, they weren''t even in relationship. But she consider him her husband, and that is more than enough for her authority to take effect.


    As the Goddess of Marriage, she can borrow whatever her husband has. Be it his authority or power.


    Of course, this domain of hers is limited only to one person. Her domain over marriage would not allow her to trample over the beauty of marriage by being unfaithful.


    So for the rest of her life, she is bound to Hades.


    Lelantos struggled against the chains, but they were infused with the very essence of the underworld itself.


    And just then, Hera''s mirror turned, facing him directly


    The smooth, polished surface shimmered.


    "Let me tell you," Hera started, "My mirror doesn''t block attacks. It seals whatever I want inside it, and I can released whatever is sealed inside back to the outside world."


    As she said that, the mirror glowed, and before Lelantos shocked and terrified look, released every single one of his sealed attacks.


    All at once.


    A storm of divine energy erupted from the mirror, unleashing the full force of every dagger strike, every invisible slash, every sneak attack he had thrown.


    Lelantos screamed.


    The very attacks he had once aimed at her now struck him instead.


    His own power¡ªturned against him. His body divine body was being torn and ripped to shreds, and yet, the attack showed no sign of stopping.


    Lelantos was sure that his attacks wasn''t this many.


    "Oh, I forgot to mention. I can reseal those attacks, and released it back. Basically, as long as I have divine power left, this attack would rain on you for eternity."


    Just like that, Lelantos suffered pain and torment like nothing he had ever experienced before.


    And when the divine storm finally faded...


    Lelantos was now nothing more than a pile of grounded divine meat.


    His once-proud invisibility¡­


    Rendered useless. S§×arch* The N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    His once-unmatched stealth¡­


    Crushed.


    His life...


    Gone.


    Hera walked past him, not even sparing his grounded corpse another glance.


    She had no need for words.


    Her actions had spoken loud enough.

 Chapter 39 - 39: Sky and Underworld, Time and Magic

    The temple of Cronus loomed before Hades, its mere presence warping reality itself.


    Hades strode forward, the weight of the underworld following in his wake. The air around the temple of Cronus was thick with distortion, rippling as if time itself was rejecting his presence.


    The temple was a realm outside of time¡ªa place where moments stretched into eternity or vanished in an instant.


    For any lesser god, simply existing here would be a death sentence.


    But Hades was unmoved.


    The swirling vortex of chaotic time parted before him, unable to touch him. His footsteps echoed in defiance, each step dragging reality back into order.


    He continued forward until he arrived at a massive hall.


    At the far end, seated upon a towering throne carved from the bones of forgotten ages, was Cronus.


    The Titan King sat in unmoving silence, his gaze like an abyss. His scythe rested at his side, its blade pulsing with the power to sever existence itself.


    For a long moment, neither of them spoke. They merely locked eyes, observing the powerful being in front of them.


    Then, Cronus smiled.


    "Welcome, my son."


    Hades didn''t return the greeting.


    Instead, he raised his gaze slightly, staring at Cronus seated above him. His expression darkened.


    "Come down," he said, his voice carrying an edge of command. "I don''t like it when people stand above me."


    Cronus chuckled.


    "As arrogant as I expected." he mused, but he did as requested.


    The Titan King stood, descending from his throne, each step slow and deliberate. The hall trembled.


    The moment Cronus reached the final step, standing level with Hades, the god of the underworld spoke again.


    "Now speak, Titan."


    Cronus tilted his head, an amused glint in his ageless eyes. "I have always found you different from your brothers, Hades. Not only because of your strength, but your motivation."


    He gestured vaguely to the temple around them. "You already have your own domain, your own kingdom. The underworld belongs to you. You do not need to fight for more. So why are you here?"


    His gaze narrowed.


    "Do you seek to be the king of the cosmos?"


    Hades let the question hang in the air for a moment before answering. "I seek only one thing. It''s nothing grand, really."


    His aura darkened, shadows stretching unnaturally from his form.


    "I simply want to destroy anyone who believes they can stand above me."


    Cronus observed him carefully. "A simple motivation. But unnecessary. If that is all you desire, then why not leave? I will not interfere with your underworld."


    Hades shook his head. "I do not find you worthy to sit on that throne, so I will pull you down, even if you refuse to interfere with my domain."


    Cronus'' expression remained calm, but a faint flicker of amusement touched his lips.


    "How arrogant." His voice was smooth, like a blade against silk. "You speak as if the ruler of the cosmos must first receive your approval."


    Hades'' eyes burned with cold authority.


    "It is only natural." His tone was absolute. "Because I am the most superior."


    For the first time, Cronus'' smile faded.


    Silence fell between them¡ªa silence heavier than the weight of time itself.


    Then, Cronus tightened his grip on his scythe.


    "Then come, Hades."


    A pulse of time energy erupted from Cronus'' body, distorting reality.


    "Let us see if you can prove your superiority."


    "There is nothing to prove," Hades took a step forward, "I do not seek nor require your approval. But come, I will let you have a taste of my power."


    "...very well."


    The moment Cronus moved, the temple of time shook.


    He swung his scythe, its blade humming with the power to sever existence itself.


    Hades raised his hand, and the underworld answered.


    A great black barrier erupted before him, formed from the very fabric of the afterlife. Cronus'' scythe struck it, and the barrier cracked, splitting apart like glass, but it had done its job¡ªHades had already moved.


    In an instant, he appeared behind Cronus, his hand wreathed in divine power.


    "I expected more."


    He swung his fist, but Cronus twisted just in time.


    The Titan vanished in a blur of movement, appearing above Hades, his scythe slashing downward.


    A tear in space formed, stretching from the heavens to the depths of Tartarus.


    Hades, however, did not move. He raised his hands, and the shadows surged.


    Dark tendrils shot from the abyss, wrapping around Cronus'' scythe and dragging it off-course.


    In the same breath, Hades raised his palm, and a black spear of concentrated death formed.


    He hurled it.


    Cronus barely twisted in time, but the spear still grazed his shoulder¡ªand time itself warped where it passed.


    "You are really strong, Hades." Cronus said, brushing his hand over the wound. "Stronger than I anticipated."


    He met Hades'' eyes, and for the first time, a shadow of uncertainty passed over the Titan''s face.


    Can he really beat him?


    Hades hummed. "Have you only realized it now?"


    "Tch," Cronus clicked his tongue, "Guess I have no choice. I will end you here, even if I have to swallow my pride."


    The Titan King slammed his scythe to the ground, and a terrible tremor shook the world.


    The temple of time, already distorted, began to crack apart.


    And then...


    A figure emerged.


    Chains¡ªcountless and ancient¡ªwrapped around his colossal body, pinning him to the fabric of reality itself. His presence was so vast that it felt like the sky itself had gained form.


    The very air froze, heavy with overwhelming power.


    Hades narrowed his eyes. His domain over Primordial Sky stirred, reacting to the figure''s presence.


    ''Uranus?'' Only that being can cause such reaction to his domain. S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Cronus turned to face him, his looking annoyed and angry.


    "Father." Cronus'' voice contained seething hatred, as if the very act of calling him was incredibly painful. "As we have agreed, I will do as I have sworn to you if you defeat an enemy for me."


    He pointed his scythe at Hades, "That enemy is there. Kill him. And I will grant you what we have agreed."


    The bound figure, Uranus, said nothing at first.


    Then, he turned his gaze toward Hades. His eyes were like the endless cosmos. He studied the god of the underworld, his expression unreadable.


    Then, he spoke. "I can feel my domain within you."


    His voice was like the wind that had existed before time.


    "Did Gaia give it to you?"


    Hades, ever composed, gave a single nod. "She did."


    Uranus hummed.


    The chains binding him groaned¡ªand then, they loosened.


    Piece by piece, they unraveled¡ªuntil he stood, free.


    Cronus stepped forward, triumphant. "Now, Father¡ª"


    "I know." Uranus cut him off, his eyes not leaving Hades. "Then, I would like to see if you are worthy of it."


    Hades grinned. "Why do you people like to say things like that as if I needed your approval? You''re the one who needs to prove yourself to me. Let me see if you are worthy of me using that domain."


    "Hmm," Uranus smiled, "Then, observe if I''m worthy or not."


    The moment Uranus moved, the very air screamed.


    A hand, vast and cosmic, surged toward Hades¡ªit was not merely flesh but the manifestation of the boundless sky itself.


    Hades'' eyes narrowed.


    With a flick of his wrist, the world beneath them shattered.


    The earth itself split open, revealing an endless abyss¡ªthe domain of the dead.


    From that abyss, countless skeletal arms, forged from divine essence, erupted forward, grasping for Uranus'' outstretched hand.


    But, the sky could not be bound.


    The arms of the underworld barely slowed Uranus as he tore through them, his movements faster than thought.


    Hades side-stepped as the force of Uranus'' fist obliterated the space where he stood.


    A massive rupture split through existence.


    Everything distorted, as though reality itself had been peeled open like torn cloth.


    Hades did not hesitate.


    The void behind him churned¡ªand then, in a burst of godly might, he stepped through it.


    He emerged above Uranus, his palm outstretched.


    The sky darkened.


    And a massive black storm of darkness and destruction, forged from the Underworld itself, rained down upon Uranus.


    But the Primordial Sky only smiled.


    "You seek to drag me down?"


    With a single exhale, Uranus dispersed the storm, the entire sky bending to his will.


    Hades, however, had already anticipated this. He appeared behind Uranus in an instant.


    His voice was low as he said. "No. I''m merely testing how much you can withstand."


    Then, he struck.


    A punch laced with the power of the Underworld crashed into Uranus'' back.


    And for the first time...


    The Sky staggered.


    ****


    Meanwhile, as Uranus and Hades battled, Cronus wanted to interfere, intending to end Hades at this moment.


    However...


    A shadow twisted into existence before him, stopping him on his tracks.


    Hecate stood there, her form wrapped in shifting purple mist.


    "I believe you were going somewhere," she mused, her voice eerily calm.


    Cronus'' eyes flashed. "You intend to stop me?"


    Hecate tilted her head. "No. I intend to erase you."


    With a wave of her hand, the space around Cronus distorted.


    Countless purple chains, laced with forbidden magic, erupted from the ground.


    They lunged for Cronus, attempting to bind him, but the Titan King reacted instantly.


    His scythe lashed out, slashing through them with absolute precision.


    A single swing, and the entire spell was undone.


    Hecate, however, did not seem concerned.


    She lifted her hand¡ªand suddenly, the chains that had been severed reformed behind Cronus.


    And then, they struck.


    They coiled around his arms, his legs, his torso¡ªbinding him mid-air.


    Cronus let out a small scoff. "Is this all?"


    Then...


    Time reversed.


    In the blink of an eye, the chains unraveled, undoing themselves as if they had never existed.


    Hecate furrowed her brows.


    Cronus grinned.


    "You forget who I am, witch."


    With that, he attacked.


    His scythe swung¡ªfaster than the concept of speed itself.


    But, Hecate was gone.


    No, she had never been there in the first place.


    Her form flickered, revealing that she had only been an illusion.


    Cronus'' eyes widened.


    And then, from the shadows behind him, Hecate whispered into his ear.


    "You forget who I am, Titan."


    With that, she struck.


    A blast of pure chaotic magic erupted, sending Cronus crashing through the walls of his own temple.


    However...


    As if the world itself rejected such outcome, everything reverted back.


    From the shadows behind him, Hecate whispered into his ear.


    "You forgot who I¡ªwhat?" Hecate''s eyes widened slightly.


    Cronus smirked, as he turned around and brought his scythe down, intending to cut her in half.


    Hecate however, reacted quickly and retreated. But it was too late, a deep and long wound run from her right shoulder to her stomach, golden ichor gushing out like a waterfall.


    Cronus rested his scythe over his shoulder, "Come on, witch. Make this more interesting for me."


    Hecate narrowed her eyes.


    This fight is really going to be troublesome.

 Chapter 40 - 40: Sky, Sea, Magic, and Time

    The ruins of the temple trembled as Hecate''s eyes narrowed at Cronus. Dark purple aura flared up from her body, forming into thick mist, as she prepared to launch an attack.


    She lifted her hand, and the mist swirled, glowing with immense destructive energy.


    Without a word, she unleashed it.


    A barrage of destruction magic¡ªraw, unfiltered, and absolute¡ªrained down upon Cronus.


    Each blast was powerful enough to erase existence itself, the very fabric of reality screaming as it twisted under the force of her magic.


    But Cronus?


    He merely waved his scythe.


    Time itself unraveled.


    Before the attacks could even reach hum, they ceased to exist¡ªas if they had never been cast in the first place.


    Cronus exhaled, unimpressed.


    "Your power, magic was it? It is indeed formidable, but do you not understand?" His eyes gleamed. "I wield time itself."


    Then, he swung his scythe again.


    The world froze.


    The entire battlefield stilled, everything locked in a single moment of time.


    Hecate, was frozen in place.


    Cronus stepped forward, studying her.


    "It is over." His voice was calm, almost disappointed. "No matter how powerful you are, you are still bound by the laws of time. Even gods cannot move beyond it."


    But then...


    A crack formed in the stillness.


    A faint glow pulsated from Hecate''s body.


    And then...


    The world shattered.


    Time...


    Collapsed.


    Cronus'' eyes widened in shock as the frozen world around them broke apart like fragile glass.


    And there stood Hecate, breathing heavily. Her eyes burned with exhaustion, but she remained standing, her aura still flaring with power.


    Cronus was silent for a moment.


    Then, he smiled.


    "Interesting." He stepped forward, eyes gleaming with curiosity.


    "How did you do it?" he asked. "How did you escape my time lock?"


    Hecate, still panting, simply glared at him.


    She did not answer.


    Cronus chuckled. "Ah, I see. A trick you do not wish to share? No matter, I''ll figure it out soon enough."


    He lifted his scythe once more.


    "Let us continue, Witch of the Crossroads."


    As he was about to attack, his eyes narrowed as he felt two oppressive presence arriving.


    Then, with a roar of thunder, Zeus came down from the heavens, lightning coiled around his body.


    And with a shake of the earth, Poseidon emerged from the ground, bringing forth water that was released from below.


    They stood in front of Hecate, who was still showing signs of exhaustion.


    They stared straight at Cronus'' eyes.


    The sky crackled with lightning, the earth rumbled as if the sea itself was roaring beneath the ground.


    "Never thought I''d see the day you''d look so defeated." Zeus joked, chuckling at Hecate.


    "Guess Cronus was too much for you huh." Poseidon joined in.


    The two of them have been insulted and looked down on by Hecate before. They couldn''t even argue because Hecate was powerful and has never been defeated, but now, they can have a little payback.


    "...shut it." Hecate took a deep breath, as her body finally recovered.


    Cronus let out an annoyed grunt, rolling his shoulders.


    "You two should have stayed where you were," he muttered. "No matter. I''ll end you all at the same time."


    He took a step forward, his mere presence distorting time itself.


    Then, right before their eyes, he vanished.


    With a speed faster than even time, he was already in front of them.


    And, with a blur of movement, a deadly arc of his scythe flashing toward them.


    Zeus and Poseidon''s instincts screamed as they moved to block.


    Hecate also erupted layers upon layers of defensive magic, intending to stop the attack.


    But pain erupted across Zeus and Poseidon''s bodies before they could even react.


    Golden ichor sprayed into the air.


    Zeus clutched his side, Poseidon staggered back, a deep gash running across his chest.


    Hecate''s eyes widened in horror.


    "Damn it," she cursed, hands glowing with magic as she rushed to heal them.


    Cronus smirked.


    "Futile." His voice was casual, almost mocking. "That was attack I sent to the past. The act of swinging is merely a formality, I have already cut you down before I even attack you."


    Zeus gritted his teeth. "Tch¡ªthis bastard¡­!"


    Poseidon wiped the blood from his mouth, eyes cold. "Annoying ability."


    Hecate finished healing them, though sweat dripped from her forehead.


    "Be careful," she warned. "We don''t know how much control he has over his domain."


    Zeus and Poseidon exchanged a glances, and nodded at each other.


    A sudden boom of energy erupted as they unleashed their divine weapons.


    Zeus'' Lightning Bolt crackled with golden arcs of destruction.


    Poseidon''s Trident gleamed with the might of the endless ocean.


    Cronus chuckled.


    "Come, then." He spread his arms. "Show me your worth."


    Zeus struck first.


    A pillar of lightning erupted from his hand, tearing through the air like the judgment of the heavens.


    At the same time, Poseidon thrust his trident forward, summoning colossal waves that rose like living titans, aiming to swallow Cronus whole.


    BOOM!


    The battlefield shattered.


    Mount Othrys quaked, the very foundations of the Titans'' stronghold trembling beneath the force of the attack.


    But Cronus merely smiled.


    With a single step, he vanished.


    In an instant, he was behind them.


    His scythe swung.


    Zeus barely twisted in time to raise his lightning bolt, blocking the attack, but the force sent him crashing through mountains.


    Poseidon reacted instantly, spinning his trident in a defensive arc, creating a barrier of divine water.


    Cronus'' scythe cut through it effortlessly.


    A thin line of gold appeared on Poseidon''s cheek before the pain even registered.


    Hecate raised her hands, chanting a powerful spell.


    Endless streams of shadow hands emerged from the abyss, trying to pull the Titan King into depths of Underworld.


    But Cronus merely lifted a finger.


    The hands decayed.


    Time itself had been reversed, returning them to their unformed state.


    Cronus turned to her. "Impressive, but futile."


    Hecate did not falter. "We''ll see about that."


    Zeus returned with a roar, flying through the air, his entire body wreathed in thunder.


    "DIE!"


    A titanic lightning bolt descended. The very sky tore apart from the force.


    Cronus raised his hand, and caught the lightning bolt with his bare fingers.


    Time froze around him, the golden arcs of divine destruction held in place like a painting.


    Then, with clench of his fist, he shattered it.


    The entire world seemed to crack as Zeus'' attack was unmade.


    Poseidon attacked next, using the sea itself as a weapon.


    Torrential waves rose from nowhere, forming into serpentine dragons of water, their maws snapping at Cronus with the force of an ocean storm.


    But Cronus simply laughed.


    With a flick of his scythe, time unraveled the waves¡ªreturning them to harmless mist before they even reached him.


    Zeus and Poseidon panted, sweat dripping from their foreheads.


    This¡­ this was absurd.


    Hecate clenched her fists. "Give me some time, I have a spell that might work on him."


    Zeus wiped blood from his lips. "Tch¡ªfine. How long do you need?"


    "As much as you can give."


    Poseidon nodded. "Leave it to us."


    Zeus and Poseidon rush towards Cronus.


    Zeus summoned the wrath of the heavens, a lightning so intense it could incinerate stars.


    Poseidon called forth the roar of the abyss, a tidal force capable of drowning entire realms.


    The battlefield exploded.


    The sheer force of the attack split the land apart, entire mountains disintegrating from the sheer power unleashed.


    For a moment, it seemed like even Cronus could not withstand it.


    But then, a slow, deep chuckle echoed through the destruction.


    Cronus stepped out of the ruined landscape.


    Unscathed.


    His smirk widened.


    "Not bad."


    Then, with a flick of his scythe, the world reversed.


    Everything they had just done, the destruction, the attacks.


    All of it was undone.


    Zeus and Poseidon staggered, eyes widening in horror.


    "What¡­?" Zeus gasped.


    Poseidon clenched his fists. "Damn it¡­ He reset everything¡­"


    Cronus let out a slow, amused breath. "Do you understand now? I am, inevitable."


    He spun his scythe once, and the sound of it alone made the world itself tremble.


    Poseidon and Zeus gritted their teeth, feeling hopelessness and despair.


    They can''t think of a way to win against him.


    "It is time..."


    Just then, Hecate step forward, her eyes gleaming with ancient power as her voice rang out in a chilling incantation.


    "Let me show you the beginning. The world before there is."


    The air twisted.


    The very fabric of existence screamed as an ancient force stirred.


    A massive rift tore open before her, revealing something beyond comprehension.


    A hellish world¡ªone that had existed before time itself had meaning.


    A place of pure destruction and entropy.


    A land where the planet had been naught but searing lava, endless oceans of fire, and storms of toxic gas.


    Where the atmosphere was so dense and thick with primordial chaos that even gods would perish upon setting foot.


    It was the planet''s form before Genesis.


    A time before the earth, before the sky¡ªbefore even the Titans themselves.


    And Hecate unleashed it.


    A flood of crimson fire, molten storms, and abyssal gases surged forward like the breath of a forgotten god.


    The very air ignited, space warped and burned, and the battlefield itself began to erode from existence.


    Cronus'' eyes narrowed.


    He could feel it.


    This was not an attack bound by time.


    It was something beyond his domain.


    Something from a world where even his authority did not exist.


    For the first time, his smirk faltered.


    "Hmph¡­" He gripped his scythe tighter.


    The inferno of pre-creation surged toward him, hungry, consuming. S~ea??h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    But Cronus did not step back.


    Instead, he raised his scythe high, and swung.


    A single golden arc of power erupted from the blade, but instead of cutting the flames, instead of undoing the spell, he tried to cut the concept itself.


    To sever this hell from reality.


    The world trembled.


    For a moment, time and space warped violently.


    The battlefield erupted into chaos, as if reality itself was trying to decide what should exist.


    But, the hell of pre-creation was not so easily cut.


    The flames surged, twisting around his attack, pressing closer, threatening to consume even Cronus.


    His expression darkened.


    "I see¡­ So this is the power of the witch of the crossroads."


    With those words,


    The hell swallowed him.

 Chapter 41 - 41: The End Of Time

    "...so, did that do him?" Zeus questioned.


    "...you know, now that you said that, he''s going to come out alive right?" Said Poseidon.


    "Is that how it works?"


    "Yes."


    True to his words, the earth rumbled as from the depths of the burning chaos, he emerged.


    It was Cronus.


    His form was ruined.


    Skin, muscles, even his divine essence had been corroded, burned away. The fire of pre-creation had ravaged him.


    His once majestic golden body was now a charred ruin, blackened and crumbling.


    His skull was partially exposed, his ribs visible beneath the torn remains of his divine flesh.


    But his eyes¡­


    His eyes still burned with power.


    He was alive.


    "I told you so!"


    "Shut up!"


    Zeus and Poseidon did not hesitate. Despite their bickering, they moved faster than light.


    This was their chance. Cronus was gravely injured, and now it is possible to kill him.


    Lightning roared in the sky, and the sea howled in fury.


    Zeus raised his bolt.


    Poseidon''s trident spun in his hands.


    The air trembled as they lunged forward, weapons glowing with divine destruction.


    "DIE! CRONUS!


    But¡ª


    "STOP!!"


    Hecate''s voice pierced the battlefield like a dagger.


    A voice filled with panic.


    Zeus and Poseidon flinched. For a single, crucial moment, their instincts screamed at them, and without hesitation, they retreated.


    And just in time.


    A single pulse erupted from Cronus'' body.


    A pulse of pure, undiluted authority.


    The very concept of time shattered.


    The ground crumbled, not into dust, but into non-existence.


    The air withered.


    Mount Orthys shook as reality itself was unmade. S~ea??h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The place where Zeus and Poseidon had stood a moment ago¡­was erased.


    The very matter of the world had decayed to its most primal form¡ªreturning to the void before creation.


    Zeus and Poseidon stared in horror.


    And before their eyes...


    Cronus'' ruined body¡­ was healing.


    Instantly.


    Skin, flesh, and divine essence regenerated at terrifying speed. The exposed skull vanished, the burned muscles reformed.


    In mere seconds, Cronus stood before them, fully healed.


    And his power seems to have become even stronger than before.


    He stared at them, and laughed.


    A deep, resonant chuckle that echoed across the battlefield.


    He rolled his shoulders, flexing his restored body, as he let out a smirk.


    "That was close." His eyes gleamed with amusement as he lifted his scythe. "If I were anyone else, that attack would have erased me entirely."


    He turned his gaze toward Hecate.


    "You impress me, Witch of the Crossroads."


    Hecate''s breath was ragged.


    Her hands trembled.


    What¡­ What had she just witnessed?


    That magic wasn''t supposed to be something anyone can survive, much less heal from. It reduces their very being before existence itself!


    So why, why is he alive, and why has he gotten so much stronger!?


    Zeus and Poseidon''s eyes narrowed.


    "¡­What did you do?" Zeus demanded.


    Cronus chuckled.


    Then, he tilted his head.


    "Simple." His voice was laced with mockery. "I destroyed the future where I died, and selected a parallel timeline where I survived."


    A silence fell over the battlefield.


    Zeus, Poseidon, and Hecate stiffened.


    Their minds raced.


    Their expressions darkened.


    Deatroyed...the future? Select a timeline where he survived?


    That... shouldn''t be possible.


    Hecate was the goddess of magic.


    Poseidon ruled the seas.


    Zeus commanded the sky.


    And yet, none of them could comprehend what Cronus had just done.


    A technique beyond logic.


    Beyond cause and effect.


    Something beyond the "Fates". An ability to interfere with destiny, something not even the strongest of gods could escape.


    Cronus smirked at their expressions.


    "Ah, I see. You don''t understand."


    He raised his scythe¡ªhis divine weapon, the symbol of his absolute rule over time.


    "Then allow me to enlighten you." His golden aura expanded, warping the space around him. "You see, I am Time itself. I do not exist as a mere moment. I exist in the past, the present, and all possible futures¡ªall at once."


    He gestured at his perfectly healed body.


    "That means I can reach into my own future¡­ and alter it to whatever I desire."


    Zeus gritted his teeth.


    Poseidon''s grip on his trident tightened.


    Hecate felt cold sweat run down her back.


    Cronus smiled wider.


    "Every timeline where you won...I will destroy it, and create a new one where I emerge victorious!"


    Hearing those words, despair loomed over Hecate, Zeus, and Poseidon.


    How could they defeat someone who could see the future, and alter it to whatever he desires?!


    Do they even have a chance to win?


    At that moment, when despair was about to root itself in their hearts, five immense auras descended upon the battlefield.


    The air shifted, the earth groaned, and even the warped flow of time seemed to momentarily pause.


    Then, five figures landed besides the Hecate, Zeus, and Poseidon.


    They are the five underworld river gods!


    Phlegethon, the River of Fire, his presence a raging inferno, the heat of his soul capable of melting divine steel.


    Cocytus, the River of Wailing, whose essence carried the sorrow of every soul who had ever suffered.


    Acheron, the River of Pain, his aura a crushing weight that brought even gods to their knees.


    Lethe, the River of Forgetfulness, an existence so eerie that her mere presence threatened to erase thoughts and memories.


    Styx, the River of Oaths, her divine presence an embodiment of unbreakable bonds and divine law.


    Cronus smirked, eyes gleaming with amusement as the river gods arrived, "Ah¡­ I foresaw this as well."


    Phlegethon''s flames roared. "The hell do you mean you foresaw this?"


    It was Hecate who answered, her fists clenched. "¡­Be careful. He can see and alter the future."


    The five river gods stiffened, their eyes widening.


    Cronus let out a low chuckle. "So, even the great rivers of the Underworld tremble before time?"


    Before they could react, he twirled his scythe, then, he vanished, reappearing in front of Acheron in an instant.


    His scythe swung downward¡ªa strike not aimed at the present, but at the moment at the past, where Acheron had already been struck.


    Even if he dodged, he will still get cut.


    Acheron knew this, so he didn''t bother trying to defend. Instead, he decided to counter.


    His aura exploded outward, a tidal wave of suffering and agony that clashed with Cronus'' authority.


    The air trembled as their powers warred.


    But in the end, Acheron paled in comparison to Cronus, and was being overwhelmed.


    Then, just as Acheron was about to be defeated, Phlegethon roared.


    A pillar of flames erupted beneath Cronus, engulfing him in fire hot enough to turn gods to ash.


    But Cronus did not burn.


    He had already seen this outcome and altered, creating a future where he was not harmed.


    Just like that, the fire vanished before it could consume him.


    "Futile."


    With a golden blur, Cronus appeared behind Phlegethon, scythe already swinging.


    However, a fraction of a second before the attack landed, Lethe whispered.


    Her voice was echoing through the abyss, and a shroud of nothingness descended over Cronus.


    The Titan of Time faltered.


    For the first time in countless eons, his mind went blank.


    Forgot what he was doing.


    Forgot his own attack.


    Forgot where he stood.


    Immediately, the Titan King stumbled.


    And in that instant, Cocytus struck. The River of Wailing raised his hand, and a wave of sorrow and suffering surged forward, a tide of divine torment so overwhelming that even Cronus staggered under its weight.


    For a moment, just a moment¡ªthe Titan King felt pain.


    His eyes flickered.


    Just then, Styx moved.


    Runic symbols emerged from the ground, binding the Titan King, sealing his movements.


    "Zeus! Poseidon!" Hecate called out, not wanting to waste this opportunity.


    At her call, Zeus and Poseidon did not hesitate and prepared their strongest attack.


    The heavens screamed.


    The sea roared.


    Zeus'' power that he had learned from Astraeus, the Solar Storm, crashed down on Cronus from above, while Poseidon''s trident summoned a primordial flood of crushing force.


    A direct hit.


    The explosion shook the very foundation of Mount Othrys.


    The sky turned white with the force of the impact.


    The battlefield trembled.


    The Five Underworld Gods, Zeus, Poseidon, and Hecate all observed.... And despair immediately came crashing down on their souls.


    Cronus¡­


    Still stood.


    His body was burned, broken, and bruised. But he was not defeated.


    His eyes narrowed.


    And then, he smiled.


    His form shimmered, and in an instant, his injuries vanished.


    His wounds had never happened.


    Because in this timeline he had altered, he was never injured.


    He had rewritten his own fate.


    "I underestimated you lot." Cronus chuckled, twirling his scythe.


    The Five River Gods immediately braced themselves.


    Hecate, Zeus, and Poseidon quickly stood their ground.


    There is no time for despair. They must win! No matter what!


    Cronus smirked.


    "Very well. Let us continue."


    Zeus gritted his teeth before he let out a roar, his authority causing the sky to darken as he sent a hail of lightning.


    Poseidon and the others followed suit, attacking Cronus with all their might!


    The air trembled under the weight of clashing divinities.


    Lightning flashed across the battlefield, illuminating the war-torn land with blinding brilliance.


    The ocean roared, its waves crashing violently against the fractured ground. Fire raged like an unchained beast, consuming everything in its path.


    Their combined powers were enough to shake the very foundation of the cosmos.


    Yet, Cronus¡ªsmirked. He had seen this all, and just as he had seen, he will always win.


    Hecate''s eyes flickered.


    She turned her gaze toward Lethe and Styx.


    A silent conversation took place.


    A mere exchange of glances.


    They understood.


    No words were needed.


    In the midst of the battle, with Cronus pressing forward with overwhelming force, they initiated their plan.


    Zeus'' divine lightning fell like an endless storm, each bolt carrying enough power to annihilate lesser gods.


    Poseidon''s trident sliced through the air, summoning tidal waves that crashed against Cronus like mountains collapsing.


    Cocytus unleashed a wave of sorrow, the suffering of countless souls concentrated into a single devastating force.


    Acheron''s power of pain struck like an invisible fist, pressing down upon Cronus with the weight of millennia of suffering.


    Phlegethon''s flames of judgment erupted, a torrent of divine fire intent on consuming the Titan King.


    And yet, Cronus deflected them all.


    His scythe cut through their attacks like they were mere illusions.


    Time bent around him.


    It was as if every strike against him had already failed before it was even made.


    But Hecate was watching.


    Waiting.


    Then, the moment came.


    Lethe moved first.


    With an eerie whisper, she called upon her authority¡ªthe power to erase memories.


    A shroud of forgetfulness enveloped Cronus.


    For the briefest of moments, the Titan King forgot about Styx.


    A fraction of a second.


    But that was all they needed.


    Styx acted.


    Her power¡ªthe authority of unbreakable oaths and divine curses¡ªwrapped around Cronus like chains forged from the very fabric of the cosmos.


    She imposed a restriction upon him.


    For the first time, Cronus'' authority over time was sealed.


    It was only for an instant.


    But that instant was all they needed.


    "NOW!"


    Hecate''s voice rang out.


    Zeus descended like a storm, his divine lightning forming a spear of pure destruction.


    Poseidon thrust his trident, summoning an oceanic vortex that could drown the heavens themselves.


    Cocytus unleashed a wail of despair, his power tearing through existence itself.


    Acheron''s pain-infused strike crashed down with the force of every agony the universe had ever known.


    Phlegethon''s flames erupted, hotter than the core of the earth, seeking to burn Cronus down to nothingness.


    The sky turned black.


    The earth shattered.


    Mount Othrys quaked as if the world itself was breaking.


    It was truly a strike that could''ve destroyed the cosmos.


    And yet...


    And yet Cronus still stood there.


    Untouched.


    Not a single scratch on him.


    Their most powerful combined attack had failed.


    "You are all naive." Cronus'' voice was calm, almost amused.


    The gods and river deities stared in shock.


    How?


    HOW?!


    Hecate''s mind raced.


    Had Styx''s curse not worked? Had Lethe''s power failed?


    Cronus smirked. "Did you truly believe I would not foresee this?"


    Their blood ran cold.


    "I knew Lethe would make me forget.


    I knew Styx would attempt to bind me.


    I knew you would all attack me at that exact moment."


    Their eyes widened in horror.


    He had already rewritten fate itself.


    Before their plan had even begun¡ªhe had already changed his own future.


    The attacks they thought would land had already been erased from history.


    He never needed to defend.


    Because in the future he had foreseen, he had never been harmed to begin with.


    Hecate clenched her fists. "This is¡­ absurd."


    "Hahahaha!"


    Cronus'' laughter echoed across the battlefield, a chilling sound that carried the weight of absolute certainty.


    "You have fought well," he said, his voice cold and measured. "But this is where your struggle ends."


    He raised his scythe, and the air around them distorted. The very fabric of time trembled beneath his will. The gods felt their futures unraveling¡ªtwisting, breaking.


    And then¡ªthe slaughter began.


    Cronus moved faster than thought, faster than fate itself.


    A blur. A shadow of death.


    He appeared before Acheron first, his scythe already slicing through the god''s chest before he could react. Acheron gasped as golden ichor spurted from his mouth.


    "Suffering?" Cronus whispered. "Let me teach you the true meaning of pain."


    With a vicious pull, he tore Acheron apart, limb by limb, ripping through divine flesh as if it were parchment.


    Cocytus was next.


    The god of lament let out a furious scream, ice encasing his hands as he lunged at Cronus, trying to freeze the Titan''s very essence.


    Cronus merely smiled.


    With a flick of his scythe, Cocytus'' body shattered into countless frozen fragments, his divine soul breaking apart like fragile glass.


    Phlegethon burned hotter than ever, his entire being becoming a raging inferno. The flames of judgment raged across the battlefield, consuming everything in their path.


    But Cronus simply stepped forward, unharmed.


    And then, with a casual sweep of his hand, he extinguished Phlegethon''s fire¡ªerasing it from existence.


    The river of fire collapsed, his flames snuffed out like a dying ember.


    Lethe and Styx tried to retreat.


    But it was useless.


    Cronus appeared behind them.


    Before they could even react, he drove his arm through Lethe''s back, his hand emerging from her chest. The goddess gasped, her authority dissolving into nothingness as Cronus crushed her heart in his grip.


    Styx glared at him as she launched forward, her divine power surging, attempting to bind him once more.


    But Cronus only chuckled.


    With one effortless motion, he swung his scythe¡ªand beheaded her.


    The river gods were gone.


    Their bodies lay broken, lifeless.


    Their divine essence fading into the abyss.


    Zeus and Poseidon stood frozen, horror gripping them as they watched their allies fall one by one.


    Cronus turned to them, his face a mask of cruel amusement.


    "And now, my dear sons¡ª" he said, stepping toward them. "It''s time to put an end to this rebellion."


    Zeus roared in defiance, hurling his thunderbolt with all his might. A spear of divine lightning tore through the battlefield, illuminating the sky with godly fury.


    Poseidon followed suit, summoning a colossal tsunami, his trident guiding the crushing waves toward Cronus.


    But it was meaningless.


    Cronus swung his scythe.


    Reality itself broke apart.


    Zeus'' thunderbolt shattered in midair, its energy dissipating into nothingness.


    Poseidon''s trident cracked, then snapped in two, its power severed from its master.


    Zeus and Poseidon barely had time to register what had happened¡ª


    Before Cronus appeared between them.


    With one precise motion, he drove his scythe through Zeus'' chest.


    Blood erupted from the king of the gods'' mouth as he looked down in disbelief.


    And then¡ªCronus ripped him in half.


    Poseidon''s eyes widened in horror.


    "NO¡ª!"


    Before he could react, Cronus'' scythe whipped through the air, and the sea god felt his body being torn apart, his divine form split into two halves.


    Their severed bodies collapsed, lifeless.


    The battlefield fell silent.


    Cronus turned to the last remaining god.


    Hecate.


    The witch goddess stood alone, surrounded by the corpses of her allies.


    Cronus thought she would looked devastated, helpless! But she looks so calm. As if she haven''t witnessed her allies getting torn apart by him.


    And then, she let out a smile.


    Cronus narrowed his eyes.


    "You smile?" he asked, tilting his head. "Even now?"


    Hecate chuckled softly.


    "I was simply waiting," she whispered. "For this moment."


    Before Cronus could react, his entire body froze.


    A surge of unbreakable power enveloped him¡ªhis authority, his control over time, was suddenly gone.


    His eyes widened.


    "What¡ª?"


    And then, before he could even process what had happened, a burst of divine energy exploded from behind him.


    Zeus.


    Poseidon.


    Alive.


    And their weapons¡ªwhole.


    ''Illusions!? Were the ones I killed mere illusions!?''


    With all their might, they drove their divine weapons straight through Cronus'' chest.


    "Urgh¡ª!?"


    Pain.


    For the first time in eons¡ªCronus felt intense pain.


    Zeus'' thunderbolt burned his insides, crackling with divine power.


    Poseidon''s trident pierced through his back, its godly waters rushing through his veins like poison.


    And then...


    Acheron rose from the ground, his body completely unharmed, his authority of suffering surging forward.


    He intensified Cronus'' pain.


    Cocytus, perfectly safe, let out a wail of anguish, his frozen hands grabbing onto Cronus'' soul, freezing it from within.


    Phlegethon''s flames ignited once more, consuming Cronus'' flesh.


    The Titan King gasped.


    This¡ªthis was not what he had foreseen.


    This was not supposed to happen.


    His power flickered.


    His vision blurred.


    How?


    How had he not seen this?


    His gaze locked onto Hecate.


    "You¡ªWhat did you do!?"


    She grinned.


    "You have been fighting an illusion, Cronus." she whispered. "Ever since the River Gods appeared, you have already fallen into my trap."


    Cronus bared his teeth. "I see every infinite timeline. There is no path, no possible outcome where I fall to a mere illusion!"


    Hecate chuckled softly, shaking her head. "You''re right."


    Cronus'' body tensed.


    "Which is why," she continued, "I put you under an illusion in every single one."


    A silence, vast and unrelenting, swallowed the battlefield.


    Cronus'' breath caught in his throat.


    "What?"


    Hecate took a step closer, her presence exuding the undeniable weight of inevitability.


    "The moment you laid eyes on me," she said, her voice like silk woven through fate itself, "I cast a spell that wove its way across time itself. A magic that ensures whomever looks at me will fall under an illusion. Across all timelines. Across all futures. Across all possibilities."


    She gestured to the battlefield, to the gods standing before him, to his own ruined body.


    "You never saw the truth."


    Cronus'' hands clenched into fists. "Lies!" His voice cracked through the air like a broken storm. "Even if you deceived me, I could''ve seen through it! My power would''ve destroyed every futures where I''m under an illusion!"


    Hecate merely smiled.


    "You''re correct again."


    Cronus narrowed his eyes.


    "So I ensured you forgot."


    A chill ran down Cronus'' spine. Something was wrong.


    His mind¡ªhis memories¡ªthey wavered.


    "What did you do?" he whispered.


    Hecate''s eyes gleamed with knowing.


    "As the goddess of crossroads, I stand at the intersection of fate. I can interact with it, change it in subtle ways. I asked Lethe to make you forget just one timeline."


    Cronus felt something shift within him, a deep, yawning emptiness where a piece of his power should have been.


    "What timeline?" he demanded.


    Hecate exhaled, the air around her rippling as she spoke the words that sealed his fate:


    "The timeline I was trying to reach."


    Cronus'' mind raced.


    No. No, that was impossible.


    Yet¡ªwhy couldn''t he remember?


    The one thread in time he had failed to see. The one possibility that had slipped from his grasp.


    His own future.


    The future where he lost.


    The future where he was killed.


    His heart pounded, the weight of realization crashing down upon him like an unrelenting tide.


    Hecate raised her hand.


    "And then," she whispered, "I made sure you could never alter it."


    Dark energy crackled through the battlefield as the binding placed on him glowed.


    Styx.


    The river goddess, her eyes burning with unshakable resolve, extended her hand.


    The weight of divine law pressed down upon him, smothering his once-unstoppable might.


    And then¡ªHecate spoke the final words that shattered him completely.


    "This is no longer the future, Cronus."


    She leaned in, her voice barely a whisper¡ªbut absolute.


    "This is the present. And your ability to alter the future, no longer applies here."


    Cronus gasped.


    The truth hit him like a falling star.


    The gods. The battlefield. His own ruined body.


    This was not some illusion, not some trick of fate he could rewrite.


    This was reality.


    And he had already lost.


    "Finish him." Hecate declared.


    Zeus and Poseidon roared as they pushed their divine weapons and ripped him in half.


    Golden ichor spewed out, staining the gods with the blood of the once mighty Titan King.

 Chapter 42 - 42: Primordial Sky, Underworld

    The heavens trembled. The cosmos itself seemed to hold its breath.


    Hades and Uranus clashed, their battle shaking the very foundations of existence.


    "You are strong, child." Uranus admitted, "Tell me your name."


    Hades tilted his head, his brow raised, confused as to why he asked such useless question. But he decided to humor him, this is his "grandfather" after all.


    "Hades, God of the Underworld?"


    Uranus flinched for a brief moment, "...God of Underworld? Nyx allowed you to call yourself that?"


    Hades shrugs, "Must be my charm. I''m simply irresistible."


    "...no matter," Uranus raised his hands, "I will end you all the same."


    The sky warped under Uranus'' presence, his authority over the Primordial Sky commanding the boundless forces of the universe itself.


    "You''re not worthy," Hades attacked.


    As they clashed, the stars realigned, the winds shifted, and space itself bent to Uranus'' will.


    Yet Hades was relentless.


    With every attack, he forced Uranus back, shattering the firmament with each strike. His power, his domain over the underworld, seeped into the battlefield, twisting the very laws of life and death.


    But then¡ªUranus'' eyes burned with newfound resolve.


    He knew that if he continued like this, losing was inevitable.


    "Enough," he said, his voice resonating across all of creation. "...Godling, no, God of Underworld. I acknowledge your power. Now, I shall show you the true power of the Primordial Sky!"


    The sky darkened, an unfathomable presence weighing down upon existence itself.


    The stars flickered, dimming as though cowering before their progenitor. The winds howled, obeying his silent command.


    The fabric of reality twisted as Uranus'' true power awakened.


    "I am the primordial sky, the boundless firmament," he intoned, his voice merging with the heavens. "All forces in the cosmos¡ªheed my call!"


    The universe obeyed.


    Galaxies spiraled around him, their orbits bending to his will. Gravity itself turned against Hades, trying to pull him apart.


    The air thickened, constricting like an invisible chain. Light wove itself into spears, piercing through the battlefield. The very concept of sky became a weapon.


    For the first time in the battle, Hades faltered.


    The crushing weight of Uranus'' absolute authority bore down upon him. He clenched his teeth, his godly form trembling under the strain.


    ''So this is...the primordial sky...''


    Hades also possessed this authority. However, no matter how much he tried, he couldn''t yet command it to his will, so he never really used it.


    Perhaps because the primordial sky itself still acknowledged Uranus as its master, and deemed him to be unworthy.


    Uranus'' lips curled into a smirk. "You have power, Hades, but I am the heavens themselves. Your domain, your very existence, is but a speck beneath me."


    Hades glared at him, his eyes burning with unyielding will.


    "Is that so? Then let me see how high the heavens is!"


    He raised his hand, and the cosmos shuddered.


    A weapon materialized¡ªa pitch-black, barbed spear radiating an ominous aura. The mere presence of it distorted reality around them, showing how it was no ordinary weapon.


    Desmos.


    A weapon forged by the Cyclops, a divine spear that could reverse cause and effect, and a curse that devours the life of whoever it was hit.


    Uranus'' eyes narrowed. "That spear..."


    Hades gripped Desmos tightly, its presence warping fate itself.


    "You like it? You are the second opponent who have witnessed this weapon, so be honored."


    With that, he attacked. S§×ar?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Desmos tore through space, its tip aimed straight for Uranus. The moment it was thrown, time seemed to twist¡ªreality itself struggling to keep up with its existence.


    Uranus commanded the cosmos to stop it. Stars aligned, the winds howled, gravity reversed¡ªbut none of it mattered.


    Because Desmos did not follow the laws of the universe.


    It had already struck its target before it was thrown.


    Uranus barely managed to dodge, but even as he evaded, wounds appeared on his body. Blood spilled into the heavens. The cause had already been set¡ªthe effect was merely catching up.


    Uranus grimaced. "You reversed causality..."


    Hades smirked. "Didn''t see that one in your grand vision of the cosmos, did you?"


    Just then, Uranus noticed the dark curse eating away his life, coming from the wound caused by the spear.


    "A curse huh," Uranus simply flicked it away, breaking the curse.


    Hades raised an eyebrow, surprised that he can just casually shrug off a curse of that level.


    Uranus'' gaze darkened. "Such a powerful curse, if it was anyone else, then they would''ve been helpless... but I am not so easily defeated."


    The sky roared.


    He raised his hand, and the cosmos answered.


    The heavens split open, revealing an endless abyss of celestial power. The sheer energy of the universe''s birth erupted from the tear in reality, a force that predated gods themselves.


    At this moment, the Primordial Sky unleashed its full might.


    Then, Uranus struck. A beam of light erupted from his hands with a force so great it was as if a new universe was created.


    Hades didn''t hesitate. He lunged forward, Desmos in hand, calling forth the power of the depths of the world.


    He released a dark purple beam of power that clashed with Uranus'' attack.


    The heavens and the underworld collided.


    Their contact sent shockwaves through existence. Entire constellations were erased and reborn in an instant. Space cracked like shattered glass.


    Uranus bent the forces of the universe itself, trying to ensnare Hades in absolute inevitability¡ªbut Hades was fighting back, as if the underworld itself is defying the will of heaven.


    Then, the two equally powerful opposing power exploded, sending fissures in reality, causing space itself to get shredded like a piece of paper in a blender.


    Then, Hades launched himself to Uranus, his spear on hand, intending to fight him in close combat.


    Uranus wasn''t one to be undone, summoning a sword made of the forces in cosmos, he clashed with Hades!


    Hades fought with precision, each strike a death sentence before it was even made.


    Uranus countered with overwhelming force, bending all of creation to shield himself.


    Their battle transcended realms. It was no longer a mere fight¡ªit was a battle of existence itself.


    One would stand.


    One would fall.


    And the cosmos would never be the same.


    "Honestly, I''m surprised." Hades admitted, "I didn''t take you for someone who can fight with weapons."


    "I existed before time, what do you think?"


    "I''m curious about your skills."


    With that, Hades lunged forward, Desmos gleaming with its eerie, reality-defying power. Every thrust bent fate, every swing rewrote causality.


    But Uranus, the primordial sky incarnate, would not fall so easily.


    "Why would I fight you with weapons when my domain is far superior!?"


    With a mere gesture, the cosmos obeyed his will. Gravity twisted violently, space folded over itself, and time froze and shattered in endless loops.


    Celestial storms raged, burning with primordial fury.


    "You are indeed strong, stronger than any other Primordials," Uranus admitted, his voice merging with the sky itself. "But... I was once the King of Cosmos."


    With that, he lifted his hand.


    The heavens collapsed.


    The weight of the sky¡ªthe sheer force of all existence above¡ªdescended upon Hades like a mountain crashing down from eternity.


    The pressure was suffocating, as if the entirety of creation was trying to crush him into oblivion.


    Hades'' knees bent. His bones groaned under the infinite pressure. But he grinned.


    "You know why Underworld is below the sky?" He asked, rhetorically, "Because the sky needed something to hold it up."


    Darkness erupted beneath him.


    The abyss of the underworld, the primordial force of death itself, rose like a tidal wave, crashing against the sky.


    Infinity split in half¡ªone side an endless, crushing firmament, the other a yawning, consuming abyss.


    The two fundamental forces clashed.


    Hades forced himself upright, Desmos humming with ancient power.


    "Strike and pierce, DESMOS!"


    He lunged, aiming straight for Uranus'' heart. The spear had already struck its target before Uranus could react...


    ...or so it seemed.


    Uranus exhaled.


    The stars shifted.


    Hades suddenly found himself ten steps behind where he had just been. His attack had never happened. His reality had been rewritten.


    "You control death," Uranus said, his voice calm, ancient. "I control everything before it."


    Hades narrowed his eyes.


    This was dangerous.


    Desmos could alter causality, but Uranus'' authority rewrote the state of existence itself. He had undone Hades'' attack before it was even conceived.


    "You''re proving to be more troublesome than I thought," Hades muttered, tightening his grip on his spear.


    Uranus smirked. "Flattery will not save you."


    Then, he raised both arms.


    The cosmos collapsed and expanded in a single moment.


    Planets were born and died.


    Galaxies erased themselves from history.


    Reality wavered.


    And then¡ªa single, massive celestial blade formed in Uranus'' grasp, forged from the very fabric of the sky itself. A weapon of creation, meant to cut down destruction itself.


    Hades exhaled sharply. "Now that¡­ might actually kill me."


    Uranus swung.


    A divine slash tore through space, carving a wound into the heavens. The force of the swing alone ripped apart the battlefield. The underworld''s abyss howled in protest, resisting annihilation itself.


    Hades had no time to dodge.


    Instead, he met the attack head-on.


    Desmos thrust forward.


    The moment the celestial blade and Desmos met, time and reality ruptured.


    A paradox unfolded¡ªcause and effect reversed, rewritten, erased, and restored simultaneously.


    Hades vanished.


    For a brief moment, Uranus felt victory.


    But then...


    A deep, mocking chuckle echoed behind him.


    Uranus turned, eyes widening.


    Hades stood where the celestial blade had first been formed.


    Desmos had rewritten reality once again.


    Instead of Uranus cutting him down, the cause had been reversed¡ªHades had transported himself back to the moment before the attack was even created.


    And in that instant, Desmos was already inside Uranus'' chest.


    The sky god gasped, his divine ichor spilling into the void. The cosmos staggered.


    Uranus gritted his teeth, glaring at the spear embedded in his form. "You..."


    Hades exhaled, his expression victorious. "That''s checkmate, old man."


    But Uranus.... he grinned.


    "You think so?"


    And the sky collapsed upon itself.


    The moment Uranus was struck, the heavens themselves retaliated. The very fabric of creation lashed out, obeying its master.


    Hades barely had a moment to react before he was engulfed in an infinite storm of destruction.


    "Farewell, son of Cronus."

 Chapter 43 - 43: The Final Battle(1)

    Uranus observed as Hades was swallowed by the storm of destruction he had thrown at him.


    It was an attack with the power of a supernova, not even Cronus himself would dare to take it head on.


    Uranus knew Hades was strong, but he doubted that he could take that attack and not lose half of his body.


    However...


    From the ashes of the storm, from the crumbling wreckage of the cosmos itself, Hades emerged.


    Unharmed.


    A smirk curled his lips, his eyes gleaming with amusement. His jet-black robes swayed, untouched by the destruction that had just raged around him.


    "That all you got?" he asked, rolling his shoulders. "I was expecting more from the Primordial Sky."


    Uranus observed him, as if stunned by the fact that he was completely unharmed.


    But then...


    A deep, rumbling laugh filled the void.


    Hades merely raised a brow, confused as to why the Primordial of Sky was laughing at this situation.


    He was expecting him to let out shouts of disbelief.


    Uranus stood above, floating in the firmament, his massive form stretching across the heavens themselves.


    His radiant body crackled with celestial energy, the very essence of the sky bending and twisting at his will.


    "Hah! You truly are something, Hades," Uranus said, his voice weaving through space like an unbreakable law. "You have my praise. I acknowledged that power, from this moment, you are worthy to stand before the heavens!"


    Hades scoffed. His grip on Desmos tightened. "I don''t need your acknowledgment."


    Uranus grinned.


    Then, he raised his hand, and stars rained from the heavens.


    Each one was a world born and dying in an instant, collapsing under its own gravity before reforming into an even more destructive force.


    These were not mere celestial bodies.


    They were the heart of creation itself, burning with an eternal fire that had given birth to gods and mortals alike.


    They fell like divine spears of judgment.


    Hades didn''t move.


    Instead, shadows stretched.


    A chasm of darkness yawned open behind him, vast and endless, a consuming void that swallowed the stars whole.


    Not a single explosion followed. Not a single light escaped.


    Uranus'' attacks simply ceased to exist.


    The Primordial Sky narrowed his eyes.


    Hades chuckled. "My domain is the abyss itself, old man. Your stars mean nothing to me."


    Then, the air shifted.


    "Well, let me test this new power I obtained."


    A depressing, and gloomy aura radiated from Hades. It was an aura unlike his control over the underworld, unlike his manipulation of darkness.


    It was something far more terrifying.


    It was Death.


    Or rather, it was certain death.


    Uranus'' eyes widened. This power... He knew of this. He had felt this when his sons rebelled against him eons ago!


    Hades spun Desmos in his grip. The weapon pulsed, carrying the weight of an absolute law.


    "One strike," Hades murmured, "and you lose your immortality."


    The words sent a chill through the heavens.


    Uranus'' expression darkened.


    "Two strikes," Hades continued, his voice calm, deadly, "and you die."


    Yes. This is the power that belonged to his son, Iapetus, the Titan of Mortality. A power to turn immortal into mortals. A power to bring death to the undying!


    A power that should have died with the Titan.


    A power that could kill even a primordial.


    Hades vanished.


    Uranus barely reacted in time¡ªspace folded, and the sky itself twisted around him, shifting his form elsewhere.


    A blur of shadows streaked past where he had just been.


    Desmos sliced through empty air.


    Hades clicked his tongue. He was a breath too slow.


    Uranus gritted his teeth. He had faced many opponents in his long existence, but it was only at this moment that he had felt death so close.


    Not even when Iapetus, the original owner of that authority, was able to make him feel like this.


    If Hades struck him even once, he would no longer be immortal. There would be no chance of revival nor would he be able to heal.


    If Hades struck him twice¡ªhe would die. Vanish into the void. Never to think. Never to feel.


    For Uranus, this was no longer a battle of dominance.


    This was a battle for survival! And he will make sure he will be the one to survive!


    Uranus clenched his fists.


    The sky roared in response.


    Galaxies fractured.


    Time bent.


    The very fabric of existence twisted as the sky god unleashed his full power. The primordial force of the heavens itself surged to his command, seeking to erase Hades before he could land a single hit.


    But Hades only smiled.


    "Do better than that gramps!" Hades responded, unleashing a beam of darkness that reduces all creation to the void!


    The two forces clashed for only mere moments before it exploded, shaking the foundation of the universe!


    Hades blinked, and immediately noticed that Uranus seems to have run away.


    He smirked.


    "You can''t run forever, old man."


    And, with a flash of purple light, he vanished.


    It only a mere second, and he immediately caught up with Uranus.


    A blazing path of destruction tore through the cosmos.


    The two gods moved faster than light, streaking across the endless void, leaving annihilation in their wake. Stars exploded. Planets shattered. Galaxies collapsed.


    The universe trembled.


    Uranus, fleeing to the edge of existence, did not look back.


    He had never run from anything before. Never in all his eons had he known fear. And yet, the god behind him¡ªthe one who wielded mortality itself as a weapon¡ªwas something even he could not fully comprehend.


    It was fine if it was just that, but Hades'' powers defies reason. Even without relying on external means, it''s no problem for him to face primordials and come out victorious.


    He''s simply a monster!


    "For an old man, you sure can run fast!" Hades grinned, not stopping for event a beat as he followed after the primordial of sky.


    Shadows stretched across the fabric of reality, consuming everything in their path.


    Nebulas, dying suns, entire star systems¡ªthey all vanished into the abyss as he passed by them.


    Just then, Uranus stopped, having reached the edge of the universe.


    Hades also stopped, standing a lightyear away from Uranus.


    "You forced me..."


    The Primordial Sky roared.


    With a single motion, he ripped apart entire galaxy clusters, condensed their mass into violent spheres of energy, and hurled them back at Hades.


    A thousand supernovas detonated at once.


    Their light bathed the cosmos in fire.


    "How weak."


    Hades merely raised his hand, and Darkness swallowed the cosmic inferno in its entirety.


    There was no explosion. No sound.


    Only emptiness.


    Uranus'' eyes narrowed.


    "Has his understanding over his authority reached to such terrifying degree?"


    Hades smirked, seeing the helpless and confused look on Uranus face.


    "Darkness is the absence of existence," he said. "Not hard to understand, is it?"


    Uranus gritted his teeth. Not hard? Not even the Primordial of Darkness and Shadow, Erebus, mastered that authority as much as you!


    "Nothing can escape darkness," Hades continued, "not even light."


    Three years ago, Hades'' authority over darkness was completely supressed by Hyperion''s authority over heavenly light.


    He couldn''t even exert half of his powers at that time.


    So during those three years, he had trained and trained until his authority has become so overwhelming it can swallow all of existence.


    "Don''t blink, or you''ll die."


    With that, he vanished.


    A heartbeat later, he reappeared before Uranus, Desmos in hand. The barbed spear gleamed with absolute finality.


    Uranus eyes widened as he twisted his body, barely able to dodge. However, the tip of the spear still grazed his shoulder, and for the first time in eternity, he felt pain.


    "That was one strike, be thankful I can''t activate Desmos while making use of my authority."


    Uranus jumped back, maintaining a lightyear of distance from Hades.


    He must avoid getting struck once again, or he''d surely perish. He must end Hades now or else...!


    "Primordial sky, heed my call!"


    The entire universe responded to his will.


    The heavens themselves bent. The cosmic balance shifted.


    Uranus'' form shrank, compressing into something far more dangerous.


    His once incomprehensible, celestial body condensed into a humanoid shape, standing at 180cm.


    His skin was now obsidian black, like the endless void, adorned with an armor woven from the very fabric of the universe.


    Stars and galaxies revolved within it, as if the cosmos itself resided within his body.


    This was Uranus at his peak.


    A being who was once hailed as the King of Cosmos.


    Hades merely grinned. "Now we''re talking..."


    He raised his hand.


    The Underworld trembled.


    The gates of the dead flung open.


    A pulse of pure, infernal energy surged through him.


    His entire body ignited in black-purple flames.


    The power of the Underworld. S~ea??h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    A power from the depths where all existence will end up at the end of their time.


    The power of the dead. The spirits.


    And Hades absorbed them all into his body, causing his appearance to undergo massive change.


    His form was now a walking inferno, a being of pure destruction, his very existence a blasphemy against the divine order.


    Two gods.


    One clad in the endless heavens.


    One wreathed in the flames of the abyss.


    Their eyes met.


    Their auras collided, tearing apart space and time.


    Then¡ª


    They charged.

 Chapter 44 - 44: The Final Battle(2)

    The universe screamed.


    Hades and Uranus fought with pure strength, as if they decided to settle the fight with brute force.


    Reality itself twisted, reshaped, distorted, unable to withstand the sheer force of their battle. The very order of the cosmos shifted with each blow exchanged.


    There was no divine weapons.


    There was no reality bending attacks.


    No grand displays of godly authority.


    This was pure, raw combat.


    Two gods. Two fighters. Two unstoppable forces¡ªclashing with nothing but their own bodies.


    Fists flew like meteors.


    Kicks struck like collapsing stars.


    Their golden ichor splattered across the cosmos, forming entire nebulae in their wake.


    With every impact, black holes formed and collapsed, entire galaxies shattered, the boundaries of existence wavered.


    And yet, neither backed down.


    Hades snarled, his flaming body moving with inhuman speed.


    His fist struck Uranus'' jaw with such force that space itself cracked, the shockwave rupturing entire solar systems.


    Uranus countered, his own star-forged knuckles driving into Hades'' ribs, sending him careening through thousands of light-years in an instant.


    But Hades did not stop.


    He halted mid-flight, using the very force of Uranus'' strike to propel himself forward.


    He blurred back into close range, shoulder-checking Uranus so hard the god of the sky coughed golden ichor.


    The heavens trembled.


    Uranus retaliated, launching a flurry of punches¡ªso fast they distorted time itself.


    Hades blocked some. Endured the rest.


    Their forms became blurs, indistinguishable from the very fabric of existence itself.


    Then...


    A fist. A single, perfect strike to the stomach.


    Hades'' knuckles dug deep into Uranus'' gut.


    For the first time in their battle¡ªUranus staggered.


    And in that instant¡ªeverything changed.


    Hades'' eyes gleamed. He had felt it. That moment of weakness. That infinitesimal fraction of a second where Uranus lost control.


    And that was all he needed.


    He moved like a demon unleashed.


    A second punch to the ribs¡ªcracking Uranus'' cosmic armor.


    A third to the sternum¡ªforcing the sky god to wheeze.


    Hades stepped in, pressed forward, never letting up.


    A savage right hook to the face. Uranus'' head snapped to the side.


    A thunderous knee to the abdomen. Uranus lurched forward.


    A brutal elbow to the back. Uranus collapsed onto one knee.


    Hades stood above him, his flaming body illuminating the darkness of space.


    He grinned.


    "What''s wrong?" Hades taunted, voice filled with amusement. "The almighty Primordial Sky¡­ losing to me in a fistfight?"


    Uranus growled, his fingers digging into the fabric of the universe itself. He tried to rise, but Hades'' foot slammed onto his shoulder, pinning him down.


    Uranus'' armor cracked further.


    The cosmos itself shuddered.


    "You¡­" Uranus muttered, voice strained.


    He couldn''t believe it. He was Uranus. The first sky. The primordial force of the heavens. The father of the cosmos.


    He had seen gods rise and fall. He had seen entire pantheons crumble before him.


    And now, here he was¡ªon his knees before Hades.


    Hades chuckled, his foot pressing down harder. "You keep acting all cocky earlier, look what happened. You''re down on your knees."


    He leaned down, his burning purple eyes locking onto Uranus''. "Oh mighty primordial of sky, how does it feel to fall?"


    Uranus gritted his teeth.


    "I never understood where your arrogance came from." Hades shook his head, "Me? From my strength. I have enough power that I let it get to my head. How about you?"


    He slammed his foot, pressing Uranus down to his head, "Strength? You''re not as strong as me. Domain? You''re not that unique. A former king? What''s there to be proud about? I really don''t see why you''re so arrogant."


    Then¡ªHades punched down.


    His fist slammed into Uranus'' face.


    The sky god''s head whipped back, shattering his helmet.


    Hades grabbed him by the collar of his ruined armor and threw him through space.


    Uranus'' body tumbled, crashing through the very fabric of reality, leaving a trail of destruction across the cosmos.


    Hades pursued.


    Before Uranus could even recover, Hades appeared above him, raising his fists high.


    Then¡ª


    He brought them down.


    A double hammer-fist!


    It slammed straight to his chest, creating an impact like an explosion of a universe.


    Uranus plummeted.


    He smashed into the core of a collapsing star, his form consumed by the supernova''s explosion.


    Hades paused, his arms crossed on his chest as he observed the exploding star.


    Then, from within the inferno¡ª


    Uranus rose once more.


    He was battered. Broken. His armor was in ruins. His celestial form flickered.


    But his eyes still burned with fury.


    "HADES!" he roared.


    The cosmos answered. Reality bends to his will.


    Hades laughed.


    His flames burned hotter.


    "Good," he said, cracking his knuckles. "I was starting to get bored."


    "THEN LET ME ENTERTAIN YOU!"


    Uranus lunged.


    His movements were wild, frenzied, desperate. He attacked like a mad demon, his strikes carrying the raw fury of the heavens.


    Stars ignited and died in the wake of his fists. Space bent and shattered beneath his power.


    But Hades?


    Hades stood firm.


    Like an unmovable titan, he blocked, dodged, and countered every attack with terrifying ease.


    His eyes not leaving Uranus, looking almost bored.


    Uranus swung his fist, and Hades easily caught it.


    Uranus lashed out with a kick, and Hades parried with his forearm.


    Uranus tried to grab him, and Hades twisted, breaking free with a counterpunch that cracked the sky god''s ribs.


    The cosmos screamed under their relentless exchange.


    Fist met fist.


    Power clashed against power.


    "Hahaha!" Hades laughed, enjoying this moment.


    He doesn''t know why, but he was enjoying this battle. He wasn''t expecting this, truly.


    Since when did he become such a battle junkie, he wonder?


    Well, now that he thought about it. He did enjoy fighting with Iapetus. He also enjoyed fighting Hyperion. He also enjoyed fighting Campe.


    All those time, he could''ve crushed them...but he chose to hold back.


    Was it because he was enjoying the fight, and wanted it to extend?


    Yes, maybe that''s why.


    "Come! Show me more of what you can do, Uranus!"


    Uranus gritted his teeth. He wanted to fight back, but every second that passed, he keeps faltering, he keeps getting weaker.


    But Hades... He was still powerful, still a force beyond comprehension.


    Uranus had fought for too long. Struggled too hard. And yet he was losing.


    And now, even after getting strength from the cosmos itself, he was still unable to gain an advantage. S§×arch* The n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    His movements grew sluggish. His attacks, once precise and overwhelming, were now just a step too slow.


    Hades noticed.


    And he grinned.


    "You can feel it now, don''t you?" he taunted, sidestepping another reckless punch. "That weakness crawling into your bones. That exhaustion creeping into your soul."


    Uranus snarled, but his breaths were ragged. His body trembling.


    He refused to accept it¡ªrefused to believe it.


    But the truth was undeniable.


    He was at his limit.


    Hades'' grin widened. "This is where it ends."


    He raised his hand.


    Darkness swelled in his palm, spreading outward, swallowing all light, all existence.


    Uranus stiffened.


    This was no ordinary darkness. Not even Erebus gave him this feeling. It''s as if he''s staring right into the eye of the abyss.


    It was dangerous. It was inevitable.


    "Darkness is the absence of existence," Hades stated, "I''ve said it to you before, didn''t I?"


    Darkness is a conceptual force that devoured existence itself.


    For darkness was not simply the absence of light.


    It was the absence of all things.


    To be consumed by it meant more than death.


    It meant erasure.


    It meant never having existed at all.


    "This is what you can do once you have reached the pinnacle of this domain."


    Uranus'' eyes widened.


    "Tell me Uranus... Do you fear the dark?"


    With a roar, Uranus summoned every ounce of his remaining strength, his body burning with the final remnants of his authority.


    The heavens themselves raged.


    Celestial storms erupted. Supernovas exploded. Reality itself wept under his will.


    But Hades?


    Hades simply lowered his hand.


    The darkness expanded.


    And everything stopped.


    The stars went out.


    The cosmos fell silent.


    The universe seems to have ceased to exist.


    Uranus'' body froze.


    He could feel it.


    The darkness was already devouring him.


    He struggled, tried to resist, but it was like fighting against something that wasn''t even there. Like trying to battle the void itself.


    His arms began to fade. His body was unraveling.


    And then, for the first time in his eternal existence¡ª


    Uranus felt fear.


    At the same time, he felt an undescribable amount of anger at himself.


    He lost? To a mere godling?


    He can''t accept this outcome!


    He glared at the God of the Dead... And smirked.


    Yes, he''s going to die anyway, then he might as well annoy this opponent of his.


    Taking a deep breath, he declared, his voice echoing throughout the cosmos.


    "Hades! King of Underworld! This power, I acknowledge it. From this moment, I hereby declare, you are worthy to stand beyond heaven!"


    Hades felt his cheek twitch. This old guy really wants to annoy him till the end.


    "You are really an annoying, senile old man," Hades clicked his tongue.


    Then, with a flick of his wrist¡ª


    He closed his hand.


    And Uranus, was gone.


    Not dead. Not destroyed.


    Erased.


    As if he had never existed in the first place.


    The darkness receded.


    The universe breathed again.


    Hades stood alone in the void, his flaming body flickering as he exhaled.


    The battle was over.


    And he had won.

 Chapter 45 - 45: The End Of An Era

    The winds howled across Mount Othrys.


    A gathering of gods, divine spirits, and warriors of legend stood at the summit, their gazes fixed on the distant battlefield.


    There was no movement, no sound¡ªonly breathless anticipation.


    Among them stood Zeus, Poseidon, Hecate, Hera, Demeter, Prometheus, Epimetheus, Themis, Campe, and the Five Underworld River Gods.


    They had all fought, bled, and struggled to reach this moment.


    Now, they waited.


    Waited as the final clash unfolded.


    Waited as Hades and Uranus battled in the abyss beyond the heavens.


    From start to finish, they had watched.


    They had witnessed Hades'' unyielding advance, seen Uranus'' desperate retaliation, felt the very fabric of existence tremble as the two deities reshaped the cosmos with their power.


    They held their breaths as Hades used the absolute power of his darkness to defeat the once almighty king of cosmos.


    Then...


    The sky shook.


    No, not just the sky.


    Everything.


    The primordial heavens themselves trembled and cracked as an unseen force rippled through the universe.


    The universe weeped, as if mourning the loss of its once master.


    Yes. Uranus has fallen.


    A sudden, suffocating silence fell upon the world.


    The gathered gods stood frozen.


    Had it truly happened?


    Had the overlord of the sky¡ªthe first ruler of the cosmos¡ªtruly been defeated?


    For a moment, no one spoke. No one moved.


    The silence stretched, pressing down on them.


    And then¡ª


    A roar erupted.


    A deafening, earth-shattering cheer.


    "We have won!"


    "HAIL HADES!"


    "PRAISE THE KING OF UNDERWORLD!"


    The words rang through Mount Othrys like a thunderclap.


    Zeus threw his fists into the air, his lightning crackling around him.


    Poseidon let out a victorious shout, his trident raised high.


    Hecate closed her eyes, exhaling sharply before allowing a rare smile to grace her lips.


    The Five Underworld River Gods bellowed their triumph, the echoes of their voices shaking the mountains.


    Hera, Demeter, Themis, Prometheus, Epimetheus, and the rest of the rebel gods stood together, reveling in the moment.


    The Titans were no longer the overlords of the cosmos.


    The war, which had torn the heavens and earth apart, was finally over.


    And they had won.


    ****


    On Hyperion''s temple.


    The Titan of Heavenly Light opened his eyes, as he felt the cosmos trembled.


    Even from the farthest reaches of the world, Hyperion felt it.


    A cry¡ªnot of a man, not of a god, but of something far greater. A cry that reverberated through time itself, shaking the very order of existence.


    It was the cry of the Primordial Sky.


    Uranus was dead.


    So was Cronus.


    And with their fall, so too did the last vestiges of the Titans'' dominion over the cosmos crumble.


    Hyperion sighed.


    He sat alone on his throne, feeling lonely and lamenting the end of such ''glorious'' era.


    "¡­So, this is how it ends," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.


    The final battle had come and gone, and he had not been there.


    He should have been.


    As one of the Pillar Titans, one of the four great pillars of the Titanomachy, it had been his duty to stand beside his brothers. To fight, to resist, to uphold the order they had once built.


    But he hadn''t.


    Instead, he had remained here, watching from afar.


    He did not participate, because for three years since his defeat, he haven''t gotten over his ''trauma'' of Hades.


    He lifted his hand slightly, flexing his fingers. The motion was slow, strained. His body, once brimming with celestial power, still bore the lingering scars of that battle. S§×ar?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Scars that ran deeper than flesh.


    That battle against Hades¡­ it had changed him.


    He still remembered it vividly.


    The darkness. The endless abyss that had swallowed everything. The spear that had torn through his divine form.


    The chilling, suffocating presence of the Underworld King who had no hesitation, no mercy, no doubt.


    The battle had ended with Hyperion''s defeat. He had barely escaped with his life.


    And from that moment on¡­ something within him had fractured.


    The once-unshakable Titan of Heavenly Light had been consumed by shadows.


    And so, when this final war erupted, when Cronus and the last Titans made their final stand, Hyperion had hesitated.


    He had wanted to fight. His pride screamed at him to fight.


    But he had been unable to move.


    He clenched his fists now, glaring at his own hands as if they betrayed him.


    "¡­How pathetic," he muttered.


    The battle had raged on without him, and now, it was over.


    The Titans were defeated.


    Hyperion turned his gaze toward the horizon, where he could see the flickering remnants of divine power still lingering in the air.


    The Olympians would rule the cosmos soon.


    What would they do to him?


    Would they hunt him down, like the rest of the Titans? Would they drag him in chains to kneel before the new rulers of the world?


    Perhaps.


    But Hyperion was tired.


    If this was the fate he had brought upon himself by refusing to fight, then so be it.


    He had no more will to resist.


    "Maybe," he murmured to himself, "this is the punishment I deserve."


    The Titan of Heavenly Light sighed once more, the last remnants of the past era fading with the winds.


    ****


    Atlas sat alone at the foot of Mount Othrys, his body battered, his strength all but drained.


    His once-proud golden armor was cracked and stained with divine ichor. His club, which had led countless battles, lay broken at his side.


    The battle had been ruthless.


    He had fought with everything he had, leading the last remnants of the Titan army in a desperate stand against the Olympians.


    But in the end, even his might was not enough.


    He had fallen.


    Defeated by Themis, Prometheus, and Epimetheus¡ªhis own kin.


    And now, as he sat there, struggling to breathe, he felt it.


    The shaking of the universe.


    The sky screamed. A terrible, deafening cry¡ªone that shook the very foundation of the cosmos.


    Atlas froze.


    He knew what it meant.


    The Titans had lost.


    Cronus, the Titan of Time, has fallen. And along with him was Uranus, the Primordial Sky, who had also died.


    The war was over.


    Atlas lifted his gaze, staring at the ruins of his once-great army.


    His soldiers, the last warriors of the Titans, lay scattered around him, barely clinging to life.


    Some groaned in pain, some stared blankly at the ground, and some did not move at all.


    He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms.


    This was his failure.


    As their leader, he had promised them victory. He had stood at the front, commanding them to fight, urging them to push forward.


    And now?


    Now, they lay in ruin.


    Atlas exhaled slowly, lowering his head.


    What would the Olympians do to them?


    Would they execute them all? Would they chain them in the depths of the Underworld, doomed to suffer for eternity?


    He hoped not.


    His soldiers had fought because he led them. They had followed him because they believed in him.


    They did not deserve to suffer for his failures.


    "If anyone must be punished," Atlas murmured, voice hoarse, "let it be me."


    That is his duty.


    The duty of a leader.


    For his subordinates...


    He will shoulder even the heavens.


    ****


    The winds of Mount Othrys carried with them the echoes of victory.


    A battle that had shaken the very fabric of existence had finally ended. The primordial sky had fallen, and with it, so too had the last remnants of the Titans'' dominion over the cosmos.


    And now, through the rippling darkness, a figure descended.


    Hades.


    He stepped forward, emerging from the abyss, his black robes billowing in the winds of a dying battlefield.


    His golden ichor still stained his hands, the last remnants of his battle against Uranus.


    His eyes flickered with an unreadable emotion as he took in the sight before him.


    They were all waiting for him.


    And then¡ª


    A roar of celebration erupted.


    "HADES!"


    The gods and divine spirits cheered, their voices shaking the mountains as they welcomed the god of the dead.


    Zeus and Poseidon were the first to reach him.


    "Brother!" Zeus called out, his voice thunderous with joy.


    Without hesitation, he clapped a hand on Hades'' back, laughing with unrestrained pride.


    "You did it!" Poseidon joined in, gripping Hades'' shoulder and shaking him slightly. "The sky itself fell before you! You mad bastard!"


    Hades exhaled, "It was nothing."


    The next moment, Hera was in front of him.


    Without hesitation, she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a warm embrace.


    "Thank goodness, you''re okay," she murmured, resting her cheek to his chest.


    Hades blinked, momentarily caught off guard, but he didn''t pull away.


    Hera stepped back, she stared at his eyes, before pecking him on the cheek.


    Hades stared at her, and he immediately caught the heated affection filling her eyes.


    ''...okay. I guess Zeus lost a wife.''


    Demeter stepped up next, her amber eyes shining with mischief. She crossed her arms, tilting her head at him with a playful smirk.


    "I have to admit, I didn''t expect you to come back in one piece," she teased, "but I suppose I shouldn''t be surprised anymore."


    "True, you shouldn''t." He tilted his head towards her, as she chuckled.


    She walked towards him, and following Hera, kissed him on the cheek, before giving him a gentle smile.


    "That''s a ''you did well, I''m proud of you'' kiss." she stated, seeing Hades raised a brow at her. "And I''m glad you are well."


    She completely ignored her younger sister who was glaring at her.


    ''It''s just kiss, why are you so mad? What would you do if I actually tried to climb his bed? Would you go insane?''


    Though, those thoughts were never said.


    She doesn''t want to piss off Hera.


    Just then, the Five Underworld River Gods kneeled before Hades.


    Each of them, deities who controlled the very veins of the Underworld, bowed in deep reverence.


    "Lord Hades," Styx spoke first, her voice unwavering. "You have accomplished what no god before you has. The heavens themselves fell before your power."


    Lethe, her expression unreadable, added, "We are honored to serve you, my lord."


    Phlegethon, Cocytus, and Acheron echoed their sentiments, their respect unwavering as they swore their allegiance once more.


    Hades regarded them for a long moment before nodding. "Rise. You have all fought well."


    They obeyed immediately, pride gleaming in their divine forms.


    Then¡ªHecate stepped forward.


    Her eyes met his, unreadable yet filled with something unspoken. "...You have done well, my king."


    Hades inclined his head, watching her carefully. "Yeah? Well, you''re a great partner, Hecate."


    A rare, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips. "I''m glad you''re fine, Hades."


    There was a pause¡ªa silent understanding.


    But before anything more could be said¡ª


    Campe lunged at him.


    The dangerous, sexy, half-naked dragon girl latched onto his back, her clawed arms wrapping around his shoulders as she cackled with excitement.


    "Master! Master! That was amazing!" Campe''s sharp fangs glinted as she grinned. "You killed the Primordial Sky! I knew you were powerful, but that was beyond anything I could have imagined!"


    Hades sighed, though there was amusement in his voice. "Campe, get off me."


    "Never!" she declared, tightening her grip.


    "She''s not going to let go anytime soon," Prometheus chuckled, stepping forward. His eyes gleamed with mirth. "You know, I had already foreseen this outcome. And yet, even now, I''m still amazed to see it happen with my own eyes."


    Themis, standing beside him, gave Hades a gentle smile.


    "You have done the impossible," she said. "The old order is no more."


    A hum of agreement rippled through the gathered gods.


    The Titans, the rulers of the cosmos for eons, were no longer.


    Hades exhaled, his shoulders finally relaxing. He looked around, taking in the faces of those who had fought, bled, and suffered alongside him.


    They had all fought for this moment.


    And now, they had won.


    The cheers grew louder, their voices rising like a storm. Hades'' name echoed across Mount Othrys, shaking the very foundations of the world.


    "HADES!"


    "HADES!"


    "HADES!"


    The Underworld King simply stood there for a moment, watching them all.


    Then, for the first time in a long time¡­ he allowed himself to smile.


    ****


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    ****


    ****


    ****


    ****


    ****


    ****


    ****


    At the edge of the universe, where existence itself trembled in the wake of Hades and Uranus'' battle, something stirred.


    A crack had formed in the fabric of reality¡ªa hairline fracture barely visible against the void.


    But from within that darkness, something looked back.


    A single, unblinking eye.


    Its gaze was ancient, alien, and beyond comprehension. A presence not of this universe¡ªsomething that did not belong to the laws of existence that governed the cosmos.


    It had been watching.


    Drawn by the unfathomable clash between the Lord of the Underworld and the Primordial Sky, this being had glimpsed into a realm that the ''outside'' were never meant to be seen.


    And now, it had found a way in.


    A deep, guttural sound reverberated through the void¡ªnot a voice, but a presence, something beyond language or thought.


    Something.... ''wrong''.


    Then, from the crack, countless twisting, writhing tentacles emerged.


    They moved with purpose, searching, prying, trying to force the wound open. The very fabric of the universe strained against them, as if reality itself was rejecting this entity''s intrusion.


    But it persisted.


    The eye remained unmoving, locked in a stare so absolute that even the stars seemed to shudder beneath its gaze.


    And for the first time, the universe felt small.


    ****


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    ****


    End of Volume 1: The Titanomachy.


    I hope you all enjoyed the first volume!

 Chapter 46 - 1: A New Beginning

    Mount Othrys, once the seat of the Titans'' rule, lay in ruins. The once-proud temple of Cronus was now reduced to rubble, the remnants of an era that had finally come to an end.


    Yet beneath its fallen columns and shattered statues, laughter, music, and celebration filled the air.


    The Olympians had won.


    For three days and three nights, they feasted, drank, and danced, reveling in their hard-earned victory. Divine wine flowed like rivers, filling golden goblets that never emptied.


    Hestia''s sacred flames burned bright, casting a warm glow over the gods and their allies as they sang songs of conquest and glory.


    Even the normally reserved Hades allowed himself a rare smirk as he watched his comrades indulge in their triumph.


    Hera and Demeter danced with the nymphs, Poseidon drank himself into a stupor with Epimetheus and Prometheus, while Zeus¡ªever the center of attention¡ªboasted of his battles, his laughter booming like thunder.


    It was a three days of feast and laughter, celebrating the coming of a new era.


    However, when the fourth day came, the celebrations ceased.


    It is now time to settle an important matter.


    The division of cosmos.


    The gods gathered in a solemn circle, their revelry replaced with purpose.


    At the center sat three thrones, each magnificent in its own right.


    Hades sat upon a dark obsidian throne, its polished surface reflecting no light, absorbing all in its presence. A throne of authority, finality, and judgment¡ªone that befitted the Lord of the Underworld.


    Zeus rested upon a golden throne, gleaming like the sun itself, radiating power and ambition. It was a throne that demanded obedience, one meant for a king.


    Poseidon leaned against an emerald throne, its deep green hues mirroring the depths of the ocean. It was a throne of storm and tide, strength and fury, belonging to the god who ruled the waters of the world.


    The three strongest gods sat, their concealed power radiating an oppressive feeling.


    Hades was the first to speak, his voice calm yet absolute.


    "I will not participate in this," he said, his eyes unwavering. "The Underworld is already my domain, and I am content with it."


    Whoever rules the sky or a sea is none of his concerns. After all, at the end of the day, no matter how high the sky is, or how vast the ocean is, they will always, inevitable, comes to an end.


    And all that has ended, will fall to the underworld.


    Zeus and Poseidon exchanged a glance, each knowing what that meant. Only two domains remained¡ªthe Sky and the Sea.


    And there could only be one ruler for each.


    The Earth wasn''t even an option, as it is the domain of Gaia. And no one wants to piss of a Primordial by claiming dominion over her domain.


    A silent tension filled the air.


    These two great gods had fought together against the Titans, but now, they would have to settle who among them would take the greatest domain of all¡ªthe Sky.


    Rhea, their mother, stood beside Gaia, the Primordial Earth, her expression unreadable.


    Hestia, the eldest sibling, watched in quiet concern.


    Hera, Demeter, Hecate, and the others observed in expectation, knowing that whoever ruled the Sky would rule over all.


    Gaia, the oldest among them, finally stepped forward. Her voice was like the shifting of mountains, ancient and all-knowing.


    "The division of the world shall not be decided by battle, nor by ambition," she declared. "It shall be left to fate."


    She raised a hand, and from the earth rose two identical stones, smooth and shimmering. Inside one of them contained gold, the other emerald.


    She held them out to the two gods.


    "Whoever picks the golden stone shall rule the Sky," she continued. "And whoever picks the emerald stone shall rule the Seas."


    Then, without warning, she threw them into the air.


    A flash of lightning. A blur of motion.


    Zeus and Poseidon vanished in an instant, their divine speed leaving the watching gods and divine spirits in awe.


    The stones soared through the sky, and the two gods raced toward them with the speed of light, each aiming for the one they desired most.


    Zeus'' heart pounded like a drum of war. He had dreamed of the Sky¡ªof ruling above all, of standing atop Olympus as the King of the Gods.


    The golden stone was his.


    He reached for a stone, his fingers inches away¡ª


    But Poseidon was just as determined.


    The Sea was powerful. Unpredictable. It had no master, no true king. But he had ruled it in battle, commanded it as his own, and he knew that it was his destiny to claim it.


    However...he also wants to be the king of the heavens and rule over all cosmos!


    Their hands clashed mid-air, sparks of divine power crackling as they wrestled for their chosen fate.


    The entire sky trembled beneath their might, the heavens themselves bearing witness to the moment that would define the cosmos.


    The gods watched, their eyes wide with anticipation.


    Then¡ª


    A flash of gold. A gleam of emerald.


    And it was over.


    The gods gathered around as the two brothers landed.


    Zeus opened his hand. In his palm lay a certain stone...and in an instant, it cracked, and broke apart, revealing a golden stone, gleaming brightly like the sun.


    Poseidon stood beside him, the stone on his hand cracked and broke apart, revealing an emeral stone, gleaming like the sea on a horizon.


    For a moment, there was silence.


    Then¡ª


    A roar of thunder echoed across the heavens.


    Zeus threw his hands into the air, his form radiating with power and triumph.


    "I AM KING OF THE GODS!" he bellowed, his voice shaking the very fabric of the world. "THE SKY BELONGS TO ME!"


    Lightning flashed across the heavens, illuminating the new ruler of cosmos.


    The gods cheered, their voices rising in unison.


    The age of the Titans was over.


    The age of the Olympians had begun.


    Poseidon, though disappointed, smirked. The sea was vast¡ªendless. It had its own power, its own mysteries. He would rule it well.


    Hades remained silent, watching his brothers celebrate their victory. His realm was already secure, his power absolute.


    He had no interest in ruling over Cosmos or the mortal world.


    The cosmos had been divided. The gods had taken their thrones.


    And the new era has began.


    ****


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    ****


    Later that night.


    A small temple sat upon a quiet hill, untouched by the chaos of war. It was an ancient structure, its pillars cracked with time, yet within its worn walls, warmth and peace filled the air.


    Inside, a long wooden table was set, illuminated by the flickering glow of torches and Hestia''s sacred flame.


    Plates of ambrosia, goblets filled with divine nectar, and an array of fruits, bread, and honeyed meats were spread on the table.


    Rhea, Hades, Poseidon, Zeus, Hestia, Demeter, and Hera sat, gathered around the table.


    For the first time in years, the Olympians sat together¡ªnot as warriors, not as rebels, but as family.


    At the head of the table sat Rhea, their mother, her presence gentle yet firm.


    She had endured so much, watching her children rise against their father, waiting for the day when peace would finally come.


    Now, as she looked upon them, victorious and free, a soft smile graced her lips.


    As they ate, laughter and conversation filled the temple. For the first time since their war against the Titans, there was no talk of strategy or battle¡ªonly peace.


    Then, Rhea set down her cup and looked around at her children.


    "The war is over," she said gently. "What do you all plan on doing now?"


    A brief silence followed. Some of the gods paused, considering the question. Others already knew their answers.


    It was Demeter who spoke first. She twirled a strand of golden wheat between her fingers, her amber eyes shimmering with excitement.


    "I want to wander the earth,x she said with a smile. "To travel across its lands and search for unique plants and flowers¡ªto bring beauty to this world."


    Rhea nodded approvingly. "That sounds wonderful, Demeter."


    Hestia placed her cup down, her expression serene.


    "I''d like to have my own temple¡ªsomewhere peaceful," she said. "A place where I can live quietly and tend to my flame. I have no desire for power or rule."


    Rhea''s eyes softened. "That suits you well, my dear Hestia."


    Then, Hera spoke. She sat beside Hades, her hands resting on the table as she gazed at him.


    "I will accompany Hades to the Underworld," she declared.


    A hush fell over the table. Even Hades¡ªwho had barely reacted to the others'' words¡ªturned to look at her. His eyes flickered, but he said nothing.


    Rhea only smiled knowingly.


    Then, Zeus cleared his throat.


    "I will rebuild Mount Othrys and rename it Mount Olympus," he said with pride. "It will stand as a symbol of our victory and our rule."


    Then, he clenched his fist, his blue eyes darkened slightly. "I will also hunt down the remnants of the Titans and deliver justice as necessary."


    Rhea sighed but did not argue. She knew Zeus'' heart¡ªhis thirst for order and dominion.


    Poseidon leaned back in his chair, smirking.


    "As for me," he said, "I will return to the ocean, my true home. And.... I plan to marry a certain nymph that I''ve fallen for."


    Rhea smiled, "Congratulations, Poseidon. I wish you and her a happy marriage."


    Hera nodded at that, "I will bless your marriage, brother."


    Then, all eyes slowly turned to Hades.


    He had remained silent throughout the discussion, listening but not speaking. Now, under the weight of their stares, he finally set down his fork and sighed.


    "I will rule the Underworld," he said simply. His voice was calm, unwavering. "And I will likely never interfere with the affairs of the upper world."


    Silence followed his words.


    Hades did not elaborate. He did not promise grand ambitions or future conquests.


    His duty was clear.


    His path already chosen.


    And that was enough.


    Rhea studied him for a long moment before nodding approvingly. "Then do so with wisdom and strength, my son."


    Hades gave her a small nod in return.


    With that, their meal continued, the harmony of family filling the temple once more.


    ****


    ****


    ****


    The night was quiet, the sky a vast expanse of darkness, dotted with silver stars.


    A gentle breeze drifted through the trees, rustling the leaves in a soothing whisper.


    The war was over.


    The cosmos had been reshaped.


    And Hades can now rule his domain in peace.


    He sat beneath an ancient tree, its gnarled roots spreading beneath him, its sturdy branches stretching toward the heavens.


    The cold air of the night did not bother him¡ªinstead, it felt familiar, comforting in a way that few things did.


    As Hades gazed at the stars, lost in thought, soft footsteps approached. He did not need to look to know who it was.


    His mother, Rhea.


    She walked toward him, the moonlight casting a silver glow upon her figure. Draped in flowing white robes, she moved with the grace of a queen, yet there was something tender about the way she carried herself.


    She stopped beside him and smiled gently.


    "You''re awake."


    Hades glanced at her, then turned his gaze back to the sky. "So are you."


    Rhea chuckled softly and lowered herself beside him, folding her hands in her lap. They sat together in comfortable silence, the only sound the occasional whisper of the wind.


    After a moment, Rhea spoke again. "How do you feel?"


    Hades hummed, tilting his head as if considering the question.


    "Relieved," he admitted.


    Rhea nodded, as if she had expected that answer. "The weight of war is heavy, but the weight of peace is not much lighter."


    Hades nodded at that. "Perhaps."


    The two sat for a while, watching the sky, before Rhea turned to him again. Her voice was softer now, more thoughtful.


    "Do you remember," she asked, "the question I asked you years ago?"


    Hades did not need to think. He remembered perfectly.


    "What will you use your strength for?"


    Back then, he had answered without hesitation.


    ''So I will never feel powerless again.''


    He had been just thrusts into this mythical time. He was afraid of dangers, of the unknowns, so he wanted strength to ensure he will never feel helpless.


    Rhea turned her gaze to him, studying him carefully. "Has your answer changed?"


    Hades did not respond immediately.


    Instead, he let the wind pass through, the cool air brushing against his skin. He listened to the rustling of the leaves, to the quiet heartbeat of the world around him.


    Then, slowly, he stood.


    Turning toward his mother, he shook his head.


    "No," he said at last. "My answer has not changed." S§×ar?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Rhea watched him, her expression serene and calm.


    "But," Hades continued, a small smile forming on his lips, "I have found another reason to use my strength."


    Rhea''s eyes softened. "And what is that?"


    Hades lifted his gaze to the sky once more. His eyes reflected the moon''s pale light, steady and unyielding.


    "To be a great king."


    Rhea stared at him for a long moment before finally smiling. It was a smile of pride, of understanding.


    She stood, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Then be one, my son."


    And with that, she left him to the night, knowing that he already was.

 Chapter 47 - 2: The Darkness Of the Night

    A week later.


    During these time, Hades and his siblings has been dealing with the aftermath of the war.


    Delivering punishments, offering rewards, among other things.


    Zeus even completely built a grand temple of worship, in the former Mount Othrys, now renamed Mount Olympus.


    He had decided to form a council of 12 mightiest gods to watch over all of creation, saying that having different voices would reduce one''s authority and prevent them from turning into a tyrant.


    Aside from Hades who refused to join, all his siblings has become part of the council, and Zeus was still searching for more suitable members.


    But that wasn''t any of his concern.


    Because he will now return to his domain.


    Hades stood in front of a dark purple portal that sent ripples to space. He observed for awhile, before stepping in.


    The five underworld river gods, and various underworld gods and divine spirits all followed him.


    Hera walked beside him, serene and composed, though her presence was anything but silent.


    Campe, dragging her feet while glaring at Hera, threw her arms into the air, exasperated.


    "Why did you come?" she snapped, her voice echoing in the dark void. "Weren''t you part of that Olympian Council? Why are you accompanying us, you self-proclaimed queen!?"


    Hera answered coolly, not missing a step. "I didn''t know I needed your permission to walk beside my dear brother."


    She cast a sideways glance, her lips curved in faint sarcasm. "Or has the Underworld suddenly gained a queen?"


    Campe hissed. "Grr! I hate you!"


    "Nothing new." Hera said simply, a calm smile on her lips. "Try come up with something that would actually trigger me."


    Campe gritted her teeth, muttering under her breath, but said no more.


    Hades simply looked back at them, but said nothing, his long strides unwavering as he led them through the void, his eyes focused on the path ahead.


    The underworld breathed around them like a slumbering beast, its rivers and shadows stirring at the return of their rightful master.


    Beside Hades walked Hecate, her lantern aglow with ghostly fire, her hair gliding like ink in water.


    She cast a glance his way and spoke quietly. "Lord Hades, now that you have officially declared to cosmos that you will rule the Underworld, I believe now is the time to meet her."


    "I know," Hades replied.


    Nyx, the Primordial of Night.


    The undisputed strongest being in all of Cosmos, and the true ruler of Underworld.


    "She is not one to be ignored, even now," Hecate said, her voice tinged with a reverence rarely heard. "She may not seek dominion, but her presence is the backbone of all that lives here. She was here before light, before time. The Underworld belongs to her still, in essence."


    "I will visit her soon." Hades nodded. "Don''t worry, I know what must be done."


    Hecate nodded and said nothing more, she simply walked in silence. S§×arch* The N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Their journey stretched longer than any road in the overworld.


    Above them, no stars shone¡ªonly drifting fragments of lost souls, their whispers brushing against the travelers like falling snow.


    After what seemed to be an eternity, they reached the center of the Underworld: a vast obsidian plateau, surrounded by the five sacred rivers and lined with pillars made of bone and stone.


    And The Grand Fortress of Pluto, Hades'' massive floating gothic castle hang above, inspiring awe and reverence to whoever gazes upon it.


    It was here that Hades stopped, his cloak billowing behind him like a living shadow.


    His voice cut through the heavy air.


    "Within five days," he said, "gather every being in the Underworld. Spirits, monsters, divine spirits, and ancient gods alike. Every corner must hear the call."


    The Five River Gods and every underworld gods who participated in the war stood at attention.


    Then, they all bowed in silent obedience.


    "We will not fail you," Styx said, her voice like iron on water.


    "See that you don''t," Hades said, before turning away.


    One by one, the gods and spirits departed, their forms vanishing into the mist as they scattered to spread the decree.


    Soon, only Hera, Hecate, Campe, and Hades remained.


    The air was still, thick with the anticipation of change.


    Hades turned toward Hecate, his expression as unreadable as ever.


    "I won''t waste time," he said. "I will go see her."


    Hecate gave a slow nod, her eyes shining like twin moons. "Then may the shadows guide your path, lord Hades. Unfortunately, I cannot accompany you."


    Hades simply nodded before turning towards Hera and Campe, "I will be leaving. Hera, please manage Underworld as you had always done in the past three years. Campe, make sure no one causes any trouble."


    "Leave it to me, brother." Hera nodded.


    "Gotcha! No one will cause trouble boss! I promise that!" Campe gave a mock salute.


    Without another word, Hades stepped forward, the ground shifting beneath him.


    The darkness parted as though afraid to block his path.


    And deeper still he walked¡ªpast the roots of the world, past the endless cavern where even the dead dare not speak¡ªtoward the place where night herself dwelled.


    Toward Nyx, the Primordial of Night.


    The meeting that would decide if the Underworld would truly be his¡ªor remain the domain of the first darkness.


    ****


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    ****


    The Underworld was a land of silence¡ªof still rivers, hollow winds, and eternal twilight.


    But even within its vast emptiness, there existed a boundary far darker, more ancient.


    Beyond the banks of the Styx and past the frozen domain of Cocytus lay a realm untouched by time, where not even the primordials dared tread lightly.


    This was the Threshold, the mysterious corridor that lay between the Underworld and the chasm of Tartarus.


    It was not a place; it was a presence. A realm of nothingness, an eternal void of undulating shadows that shifted and twisted with unseen intent.


    And here, Hades walked alone.


    The moment he stepped foot past the veil, the void surged like a hungry beast, trying to swallow him whole.


    Darkness closed in from all sides¡ªso absolute that it threatened to strip away thought, identity, even reality.


    But Hades was no ordinary god.


    His aura erupted in a wave of dark brilliance¡ªpurple and black flames coiling around him like a cloak of sovereignty.


    His divine presence pushed back the void, carving a narrow path ahead. Shadows recoiled, whispering ancient things in forgotten tongues.


    But they dared not touch him.


    He walked.


    And walked.


    Time ceased to exist here.


    Minutes stretched into eternities, and eternities condensed into fleeting heartbeats.


    Only the steady sound of his footsteps accompanied him as he pressed deeper into the primordial dark.


    Eventually¡ªafter what could have been hours or centuries¡ªhe saw it.


    A temple.


    It stood like a mountain carved from obsidian, its spires piercing the darkness like fangs.


    It bore no torches, no banners, no carvings to signal its purpose.


    Yet Hades knew.


    This place did not need names or symbols. It was felt in the bones, in the soul, in the silence between heartbeats.


    Without hesitation, Hades ascended the stairs and passed through its towering gates.


    Inside, the temple was colder, older. The air was heavy, thick with divine presence.


    Pillars taller than mountains framed the endless corridor, and the stone beneath his boots echoed with each step, as though the temple itself was listening.


    He went deeper, until he reached a vast hall so immense that even Hades had to pause.


    The chamber stretched endlessly, yet in the center of it all stood a lone obsidian throne.


    And on that throne¡ªshe sat.


    She was the embodiment of the night itself.


    Long black hair that spilled like liquid shadow down her back. Skin pale as moonlight on marble.


    A black dress shimmered like the surface of a still lake at midnight. Her face was without blemish, without flaw¡ªand yet, not warmth.


    Her beauty was not soft, but cold, unyielding, like the void between stars.


    But it was her eyes that truly stilled him.


    Black. Deeper than any abyss. Looking at it, Hades felt an immense oppression like he was back in Chaos, staring at those undescribable horrors.


    Hades bowed his head lightly, offering his respect. His voice, steady despite the weight pressing on his shoulders, echoed through the grand hall.


    "Nyx. Primordial of Night. I greet you with all the respect owed to the mother of underworld."


    The woman on the throne did not speak. She merely watched him, and the silence that followed was thunderous.


    The very air bent beneath the gravity of her presence.


    Even Uranus, the great sky, the tyrant who once ruled the cosmos, paled in comparison.


    His aura was as starlight before a black hole¡ªmeaningless.


    Then, finally, she blinked.


    And the universe sighed.


    "You walk with confidence, Hades," she said, her voice like silk cut with steel, as if spoken from behind an endless veil. "Many gods would tremble to stand where you now stand. Yet you do not fall to your knees."


    Hades met her gaze¡ªnot defiantly, but firmly. "I have never felt that I am inferior to anyone for me to kneel. But I came here not for that. There is simply something I wish to understand."


    She tilted her head, a subtle movement that rippled through the void like a cosmic tide. "Something you wish to understand?"


    "You are not my enemy," Hades nodded as he replied. "Nor are you my ally. I want to know your stance about my rule to this realm, which you had previously ruled. Do you want to oppose me? Or do you want to serve me?"


    Nyx''s lips curved¡ªbarely. Not a smile, but something like it. "You want to gain control over all creation in underworld, including me."


    "I do." Hades stared at her straight in the eyes, "I believe I can rule Underworld far better than you do. And with you to serve me, Underworld would prosper more than even the heaven and earth."


    She leaned back on her throne. The void around them grew deeper. "Then step forward, you, who seek to dominate me. Let us see if the darkness you rule is worthy to rule over mine."


    With that, an absolute power filled the temple, and an endless tide of abyss swarmed towards Hades, intending to swallow him whole.


    Hades remained calm, as if the darkness of the primordial night was mere shade before him.


    And the moment his foot touched the obsidian floor beyond the invisible veil of Nyx''s domain, the surrounding darkness parted.


    It did not resist.


    It did not recoil.


    It gave way¡ªas though the very void acknowledged him.


    Like shadows bending to their rightful sovereign, they peeled back in silent reverence, exposing a path so clear it seemed predestined.


    Nyx''s eyes narrowed in surprise.


    For countless eons, this realm of primordial night had bent for no one.


    Not Uranus, not even Tartarus itself.


    But this god¡­ this Hades¡­ he walked with a darkness not born of despair, but of dominion.


    There was no fear in him.


    No hesitation.


    His soul was a fortress, and his power, a sea without bottom.


    Now, he stood before her throne, tall and steady, a pillar of divine will cloaked in dark purple flame.


    His aura¡ªheavy, ancient, relentless¡ªpoured into the room. The very air trembled.


    Even the walls of the temple seemed to lean away.


    Nyx, the Primordial of Night, stared down at him. And for the first time in ages, a glint passed through her cold, infinite eyes.


    Desire.


    But not a desire of flesh or hunger.


    It was a desire for something intimate.


    Like a mirror finding its other half.


    Slowly, she rose from her throne. Her presence, once aloof and silent, now bloomed like a dark flower, thick and enveloping.


    Every step she took toward Hades left ripples in the air¡ªas though reality itself bent beneath her tread.


    And as she stood him, she reached up and, with deliberate grace, cupped his chin between her pale fingers.


    Her touch was cold. Ancient. Yet intimate. A touch that made time slow to a crawl.


    "You stand so tall, Lord of the Dead," she whispered, her voice a velvet wind in the dark. "Even in my dominion¡­ your soul does not kneel."


    She tilted his face ever so slightly toward her, inspecting him, feeling the pulse of his divine essence beneath her fingers.


    Her lips curled, dark amusement dancing across them.


    "I should crush you for your arrogance," she murmured. "But instead¡­ I find myself intrigued."


    Her fingers lingered on his jaw as her eyes searched his face¡ªnot just his appearance, but his soul, his core.


    "With this presence¡­ if you remain this way¡­ then I will let you dominate me. As much as you wish."


    The weight of her words hung in the air like a thundercloud. Nyx, the being from which the very concept of darkness was born¡ªoffering herself.


    It wasn''t submission from weakness.


    It was recognition. An offering from one absolute to another.


    Their auras began to move, drawn to each other like lovers pulled by the tides of fate.


    Black and purple merged, curled together, not as oil and water¡ªbut as two halves of the same force, lost and now rediscovered.


    It was overwhelming.


    It was staggering.


    It was beautiful.


    Nyx''s voice dropped to a whisper, one that could quiet stars.


    "Do you feel it¡­?" she asked, almost breathless. "The way our divinities melt and blend? Like we were forged by the same flame¡­ born from the same void¡­ destined to find each other across the eons?"


    Hades looked into her eyes. He did feel it. It surged through his chest like a roaring tide¡ªhis divinity, once solitary and cold, now resonating.


    As though something long missing had suddenly been returned.


    But he did not answer.


    He simply stared back, eyes like still obsidian. Silent. Powerful.


    Nyx''s lips parted slightly at his silence. She searched him for emotion, for vulnerability, but found only the steady flame of resolve.


    It sent another tremor through her, an unfamiliar thrill. The god who faced her did not chase. He did not need to.


    The night herself was already circling him.


    Her eyes flashed with a mix of hunger and amusement. "So quiet¡­ you have already felt it, why not speak?"


    She stepped even closer, her voice growing darker, more intimate. "But that''s fine. At this moment allow me to declare it, Hades. Here and now¡ªI will grant you a chance. A single opportunity to do what no god or titan has ever dared¡­"


    She leaned in, her breath brushing his ear like moonlight on water.


    "To dominate me."

 Chapter 48 - 3: Enjoy(R18)

    The air between them thickened¡ªheavy with heat and silence, darkness and desire.


    Nyx stood mere inches away, her presence suffocating and intoxicating all at once. S§×ar?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Her scent was like the void between stars¡ªcold, infinite, and strangely sweet.


    Despite their distance, she wasn''t touching him. She didn''t need to.


    Her divinity bled into the space around them like black velvet, curling around Hades'' soul like smoke seeking its match.


    Hades remained still, but inside, the weight of her essence pressed against him.


    Like twin storms converging, their divine natures began to spiral¡ªone cold and consuming like the underworld''s depth, the other dark and ancient, the very night from which all things were born.


    He gritted his teeth as he felt it: a hum in his veins, a pulse in his bones.


    Their divinities were truly blended with each other, like a pair of lovers.


    "Dominate you..." he finally said, his voice rougher than he intended, as though speaking pulled at something deep within him. "Why?"


    Nyx''s laughter was low and rich, curling around him like a lover''s whisper. "Why...you ask?"


    She tilted her head, eyes glowing faintly in the blackness around them, and lifted a hand, tracing a line of invisible force down the front of his chest without ever touching him.


    Yet Hades felt it. Every inch. Her divine essence traced along his own, resonating, stirring the sleeping heat in his core.


    "Does this need a reason?" she murmured, voice a shade above a whisper. "Anyone in your position would immediately pounced on me. No gods, titans and primordials alike would be able to resist the temptation of dominating the strongest Primordial in the cosmos."


    "...Nyx, enough with the jokes." He gritted his teeth, resisting the call of his divinity that wanted nothing more than be one with Nyx. "...Would you serve me, or not?"


    "...This is not a joke, and I have already said it. I want to see your worth. So dominate me, and I will serve under you."


    The Primordial of the Night intensified her divinity, causing Hades to start losing control of his emotions.


    It began as a flicker beneath his skin, a tension like drawn thread. But as their divinities coiled tighter around one another, it became a flame.


    He could feel her in him, not as an intruder, but a counterpart. A completion. His darkness rising to meet hers, his cold to balance her night.


    Her breath touched his lips, not quite a kiss, but devastating all the same.


    "You can feel it, can''t you?" she whispered again. "...so why resist?"


    His control¡ªhis pride¡ªbegan to strain under the pressure of her nearness. For years, he had ruled himself with discipline sharper than any blade.


    He had endured war, silence, and the crushing solitude of a throne surrounded by the dead.


    And yet, this goddess¡­


    She was undoing him with a gaze.


    "Nyx," he said, and the way her name left his lips made her eyes darken with desire even further. "...that is enough."


    "Then make me stop." she said, her voice husky and electric. "But it seems to me that you don''t plan on stopping."


    Her fingers ghosted across the air beside his cheek, "¡ªjust let it out. I will accompany you, for eternity if I have to."


    The crackle of divine friction between them reached its peak. Hades exhaled a breath he hadn''t realized he was holding.


    His hands¡ªso long clenched at his sides¡ªrose slowly, his fingers trembling not with fear, but with restraint.


    He hovered one hand near her waist, yet he still did not touch her, clinging on to thr last shred of willpower and reason.


    Nyx leaned into that space, eyes half-lidded.


    And that was the moment he fell.


    His hand touched her¡ªonly barely¡ªbut the spark that shot between them sent a shudder through both their forms.


    Their divine auras flared, twining in a helix of purple flame and starless black. The ground beneath them, the realm they stood in, bent, reshaped by their merged power.


    Her lips parted, not in surprise¡ªbut in welcome.


    He didn''t speak again.


    Words, in that moment, were ash.


    Instead, Hades pulled her close¡ªnot with force, but with the gravity of inevitability.


    The same gravity that pulled all things into darkness. That drew light to the depths. That made even primordial gods feel mortal for a breath.


    Their lips met like thunderclouds colliding.


    Nyx let out a soft gasp into his mouth, her hands curling into the fabric of his cloak. His arms, strong as marble and hot with divine fire, wrapped around her.


    It wasn''t dominance.


    It wasn''t surrender.


    It was the union of night and death.


    Their divinities surged together, a symphony of two immortal souls long kept apart by fate and fear and duty¡ªnow, at last, allowed to feel.


    And Hades, the king who never wavered, the god who ruled in silence, succumbed.


    Not to weakness.


    But to something far stronger.


    To pleasure. To desire.


    Nyx, still with her tongue wrestling with Hades, snapped her fingers. And the space around them blurred for a moment, before regaining its clarity.


    Now, they were no longer on the grand throne room, but on a large bedchamber.


    Hades noticed the change in location, but made no comment. He pushed her down to the bed as he took off his clothes and pinned her down.


    "Strip," he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.


    Nyx obeyed, her fingers moving smoothly as she untied her gown and threw it to the side.


    She now lied before him, naked and vulnerable, her breasts heaving with each ragged breath.


    Hades drank in the sight of her, his eyes darkening with desire. He reached out and grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head with one hand.


    With the other, he traced the curves of her body, his fingers leaving a trail of fire in their wake.


    "You wanted to be dominated, huh." he growled, his lips brushing against her ear. "Let''s see how far can you last."


    Nyx shivered in ecstasy, her body arching into his touch. Her eyes, glinting with desire, stared into his.


    No words were needed, Hades knew what she wanted.


    So captured her lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth and claiming her thoroughly.


    He explored every inch of her, his hands roaming over her skin and leaving marks of possession.


    He flipped her over onto her stomach, his hand coming down on her ass with a sharp smack.


    Nyx'' eyes widened, the pain mixing with pleasure sent shivers down to her spine.


    "Oh? I just tried it, but you''re actually into it, huh." Hades smirked, his hand caressing the reddened flesh. "Then, allow me to let you enjoy it as much as you want."


    He spanked her again and again, his hand coming down in a relentless rhythm.


    Nyx squirmed beneath him, her moans filling the chamber.


    When he finally stopped, her ass was a bright, angry red, and she was panting with need.


    Hades flipped her over onto her back, his eyes drinking in the sight of her.


    "Now then, let''s get started." he smiled at her, his cock rubbing the entrance of her lower lips, "I won''t be gentle."


    Nyx'' hazy eyes stared at the throbbing part that was about to enter her. Hot breaths exhales from her mouth, her face looking excited and eager.


    Hades positioned himself between her legs, the tip of his cock teasing her entrance.


    He leaned down and captured her lips in a kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth as he thrust into her with one hard, deep stroke.


    Nyx cried out, her back arching off the bed as he filled her completely.


    Hades set a relentless pace, his hips slamming into hers as he took her with a ferocity that left her breathless.


    He growled, his teeth nipping at her neck. He had sex before, in his past life, but this is the first time he had ever felt like this.


    It''s like her body was made for him.


    Nyx could only moan in response, her nails digging into his back as she clung to him.


    She could feel the pleasure building inside her, the tension coiling tighter and tighter with each thrust.


    Hades reached between them, his fingers finding her clit and rubbing it in tight, fast circles.


    For hours, Hades relentlessly thrusts his hips as if he wanted to break her.


    Just then, Nyx came with a scream, her body convulsing around him as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over her.


    Hades followed soon after, his cock pulsing inside her as he filled her with his seed.


    "Haa~, haa~," Nyx took a deep breath, feeling the hot seeds enter her before sliding out, bringing a wave of pleasure like nothing she had ever felt before.


    "It seems like you''re the one enjoying here," Hades flipped her back, as Nyx was still in a daze to even offer any resistance. "We''re not done here."


    With that, he shoved his cock back inside, as Nyx moaned in surprised at the intrusion.


    The sound of flesh slapping each other echoed throughout the realm, the beautiful and sensual voice of the Primordial Goddess moaning in pleasure rippled through space.


    Hades wasn''t giving her any chance to take a breather, he slammed his hips like an animal in heat.


    Nyx wanted to be dominated, and he aims to please.


    By the time he was done with her, she won''t even be able to think straight.


    And just like that, for three days and three, Hades had never left Nyx'' bedchamber, accompanying her as she wished.


    They drowned in pleasure of the flesh, completely forgetting anything outside of their intense lovemaking.


    Their bodies united as if they are one, barely separating.


    Like the darkness of the night.


    The clouds in the sky.


    Forged by the same flame.


    Born from the same void.

 Chapter 49 - 4: The Temptation of Power

    The eternal dusk of the Underworld shimmered with quiet stillness. No screams. No cries. Only silence, heavy and watchful, as though even the land itself held its breath.


    From the edge of the void, Hades returned.


    He walked alone, emerging from the unseen paths that wound between Nyx''s domain and the heart of his kingdom.


    His steps were slow, unhurried, yet each one rippled across the very fabric of the Underworld like a command.


    Within a few steps, he arrived at the heart of underworld, where his massive gothic castle suspended above ground can be seen.


    His home.


    His throne.


    The place where he will rule the realm of the dead.


    The journey from Nyx''s realm had been swift and uneventful, a stark contrast to the weight of what he carried back with him: not just the authority of the Underworld, but something more personal, more intimate.


    A clarity of self.


    A strange lightness, as if a piece of his missing soul has been completed.


    The great obsidian gates of the fortress swung open without a sound as he approached.


    With a single step, he arrived straight to his throne room.


    The moment his boots touched the onyx floor, an ethereal purple mist swirled in the throne hall, rising like a curtain being drawn for a divine performance.


    A beat later, the mist parted.


    And from it, Hecate emerged.


    Her form was graceful as ever, robed in deep twilight. She bowed her head slightly, arms folded with casual elegance.


    "Welcome back, my king," she said, her voice echoing softly through the vast chamber. "I trust your meeting with Lady Nyx was¡­ enlightening?"


    Hades said nothing at first. He walked past her, his footsteps echoing through the silent hall until he reached his throne¡ªa tall, ancient seat carved from the finest ores in the cosmos, wrapped in faint purple flame.


    He sat slowly, his presence filling the space like gravity itself.


    "It was¡­ quite the experience," he finally said, his voice quiet but layered with weight.


    Hecate raised a brow. "...In what way?"


    He gave her a small, mysterious smile. "Some things are best left in the dark. Even for you."


    Hecate chuckled softly, unfazed by his refusal to elaborate. "Very well."


    Hades adjusted his cloak as he leaned back into the throne. "What of the Underworld? I assume preparations are proceeding as I ordered?"


    Hecate stepped closer, her movements fluid and composed. "Yes. Nearly every creature and spirit, divine and lesser, has begun gathering beneath the fortress as commanded. The five river gods have formed the perimeter. Hera has taken it upon herself to organize the crowds."


    Hades gave a soft grunt of approval.


    "And Campe," Hecate continued, "is accompanying her, making sure no one stirs unrest. Between the two of them, even the most unruly beast dares not misbehave. Though I think she''s just worried about Hera."


    That drew a deeper reaction from Hades. He smirked and folded one leg over the other, resting his cheek on a closed fist.


    "Strange, isn''t it?" he mused aloud. "Despite how often they argue¡­ they''re like sisters. Fierce ones."


    Hecate gave him a sidelong glance. "Shared violence breeds kinship. Especially among immortals."


    "I suppose so," Hades murmured.


    He remembered his brief battle with Iapetus. However short their fight was, Hades feel a lot of respect for the late titan.


    For a moment, there was silence.


    Hades looked out toward the open balcony, where dark clouds swirled lazily above the amphitheater far below.


    Thousands upon thousands of shadows flickered beneath the fortress¡ªspirits, monsters, ancient gods, beings of fear and forgotten legends¡ªall awaiting their new ruler''s proclamation.


    It would be the first time since the fall of Uranus that the entirety of the Underworld had gathered.


    And now, they would bear witness to the rise of a new king.


    Hades let out a long breath.


    "Everything is moving faster than I thought," he said, more to himself than to her. "One war ends, and now I must wear the crown fully."


    "You always wore it," Hecate said, her voice firm. "Now you merely stop pretending it''s temporary."


    Hades tilted his head. "You''re unusually poetic today."


    "I''m always poetic. You''re simply never in the mood to listen."


    He chuckled¡ªlow and brief, but genuine. Then his eyes returned to the horizon.


    There, beyond the sea of shadows and fire, beyond the obsidian mountains and rivers of flame, lay the vast, unknowable territories of the Underworld.


    Many of its corners remained wild, ancient, and untamed.


    Rulers of old still slumbered in the depths; Thanatos, Erebus, Taratarus...


    Spirits too dangerous or prideful to bow waited in silence.


    And yet, now, all eyes would turn to him.


    He was no longer the son of the late king.


    He was now the king of his own domain.


    The king of silence, of finality, of peace in death.


    And soon, all who lived in this realm¡ªgods, monsters, and mortals alike¡ªwould swear their allegiance to him.


    He turned his gaze back to Hecate. "Five days?"


    "Two now," she corrected. "You''ve been gone for three days. The clock is ticking."


    Hades raise an eyebrow at her choice of words, but didn''t comment.


    Hades rose from his throne, his cloak billowing behind him like smoke. His presence surged¡ªgravity, shadow, divinity. A sovereign force.


    "Then let the realm prepare," he said. "When the fifth day comes, they shall kneel¡ªnot because they fear me¡­ but because they believe in the world I will build."


    Hecate bowed her head, eyes gleaming with pride and curiosity. "And we shall be ready, my king."


    As she vanished into the mist once more, Hades remained standing, eyes fixed on the flickering shadows below.


    He could already hear the murmurs of the gathering masses.


    And soon¡­ they would hear his voice.


    *


    *


    *


    *


    *


    Overworld.


    The sun lingered above Mount Olympus longer than usual, as if even the heavens were too ashamed to cast night upon the sacred mountain.


    For three days and nights, the feasting continued¡ªwild, unending, and decadent.


    Zeus had declared it a celebration for the ages. A commemoration of their triumph over the Titans.


    An offering to the new order of gods.


    But what had begun as a feast of unity had devolved into something far darker.


    The golden halls of Olympus, a place that was supposed to be of reverence and celestial grace, now pulsed with music, laughter, and the sounds of indulgence.


    The once-pristine marble floors were littered with overturned goblets, spilled ambrosia, and silken robes torn in haste.


    Fires flickered in strange colors, and illusionary lights spun wildly through the air, cast by divine tricksters and spirits called forth to entertain.


    In merely three days, the grand temple became unrecognizable.


    Gods from every corner of the cosmos had answered Zeus'' call. Young deities newly risen from the cosmic dust. Spirits of stars and comets. Ancient powers that had remained dormant throughout the war.


    They came for camaraderie, for honor¡­ and for power.


    But power, as ever, twisted the hearts of those who sought to wield it.


    The goddesses of Olympus, respected warriors and strategists during the Titanomachy, now found themselves the subject of jeers and lecherous hands.


    Many were passed around like trophies¡ªoffered drinks laced with divine intoxication, their protests ignored or mocked.


    The bonds of war had eroded under the weight of unchecked authority.


    At the center of it all was Zeus.


    Crowned in glory, wrapped in robes that shimmered with the gold of lightning, he sat upon his new throne with a goblet in hand and a different goddess on his lap each hour.


    His laugh echoed like thunder, commanding and wild.


    He had been the hero of the war, the voice that rallied the Olympians.


    But now?


    Now he had become something else.


    Even his own sisters were not spared.


    Demeter, so full of warmth and gentleness, decided to stay in Olympus for awhile to enjoy the feast.


    But when Zeus had reached for her with clouded eyes and an eager hand, she had drawn her divine sickles without hesitation.


    With wrath in her eyes and heartbreak in her voice, she cursed his name.


    "You are not the brother I fought beside," she had spat. "You are a stranger clothed in glory, drunk on power."


    She escaped that very night, descending the mountain in silence. She swore never to return and instead wandered the mortal world, vowing to find beauty and peace away from Olympus'' corrupted halls.


    Rhea, mother of the Olympians, remained unaware.


    She had sequestered herself in a quiet temple far from Olympus, sharing the solitude with Hestia, the eldest and most peaceful of the gods.


    Together, they had withdrawn from politics and revelry alike, content to watch the world from afar, believing that peace had finally returned.


    But peace had only shifted.


    Unseen, the shadows of indulgence, pride, and arrogance crept deeper into Olympus.


    Whispers of dissent began to stir among some of the elder gods, and younger spirits spoke in hushed tones of how their dreams of a better cosmos had already begun to rot.


    On the fourth day, one of underworld gods who had fought alongside Hades returned to overworld and wanted to enjoy the rumored Grand Feast.


    He did not step foot inside the hall, but first he simply stood outside, cloaked in shadow, and observed.


    What he saw made him turn away in disgust.


    "It is not Lord Hades who rules the land of the dead," he said later to another spirit, "but Zeus who commands a kingdom without soul."


    As the music blared louder and divine fires danced higher, the great halls of Olympus groaned beneath the weight of excess. Sear?h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The very mountain, ancient and wise, seemed to protest. Cracks began to form in the white stone, as if Olympus itself could sense what its new ruler was becoming.


    Yet none dared challenge Zeus openly.


    Not yet.


    But they remembered.


    They remembered Demeter''s fleeing figure.


    The horror in her voice.


    Zeus debauchery.


    His sins.


    And they remembered the glory that had once burned in Zeus'' eyes¡ªnow dulled, clouded by pleasure and unchecked pride.


    One day, the gods would speak of this time not as the golden age of Olympus¡­ but as the beginning of its long, slow fall.

 Chapter 50 - 5: The King of Underworld

    Under the vast sky of the Underworld, where rivers of fire twisted through black stone and lost souls whispered in eternal lament, an ocean of divine spirits, ancient gods, and monstrous entities stood gathered beneath the towering fortress that floated in silence above them all.


    The floating citadel, Hades'' fortress, cast a long, intimidating shadow over the realm¡ªsymbolic of the man who would now rule it.


    This was not a day like any other.


    It was the day a king would rise.


    Even those whose names had been lost to time, ancient beings who had slumbered through the reign of Titans, had stirred.


    From the edges of Tartarus to the farthest reaches of Lethe''s domain, all eyes turned toward the dark heavens, watching.


    The Underworld was tense, the whole realm holding its breath.


    They all waited.


    For they knew that a god will now officially ascend to the throne of underworld.


    At this moment, the realm shook.


    And "He" appeared.


    Descending from the fortress like a comet born of void, Hades emerged. He wore deep black robes woven from his own divinity; threads of shadows and death.


    His crown shimmered with dying embers and midnight gemstones, a quiet symbol of power that demanded reverence.


    Beside him, two women walked: Hera, draped in dignified crimson and gold, her expression sharp and proud; and Hecate, the goddess of magic, robed in shadows, her presence silent yet commanding.


    The underworld river gods all stood behind them, acting as guards and protectors of the king.


    Then, the moment Hades feet touched the grand obsidian platform, the entire assembly of gods and spirits fell into silence.


    Not a single whisper remained. Not a single breath dared disturb the stillness.


    All eyes focused on the man who will now be their king.


    Hades stepped forward.


    He stared at the gathered beings of underworld, who all responded to his call.


    He stared at the far reaches of underworld, where beings of old dared to defy his will.


    Then, he spoke. He didn''t need to raise his voice. His presence alone commanded attention, but his voiced echoed throughout every corner of the realm of the dead like a clap of thundee.


    "In the age of Titans, this realm was forgotten. You were prisoners. Cast aside by those arrogant gods above. Treated as if you were all inferior to them."


    Underworld was treated as a prison, feared and despised by every beings who lived above ground.


    And anyone who dwells in it were treated with contempt.


    But...


    His eyes swept across the crowd¡ªred as burning coals, calm as the abyss.


    "But you endured."


    The murmurs of agreement rippled like a distant wave.


    "You endured the humiliation. You endured the contempt and hate of those gods above. You stood silent when your names were unspoken¡ªwhen the heavens forgot who you were. But now¡ªnow you are forgotten no more!"


    The silence cracked. A few voices rose. Hades pressed forward, his voice like fire through winter stone.


    He wanted to let everyone know, the underworld isn''t a place they can treat as insignificant, its denizens aren''t someone they can dismiss and forgot.


    "The Titans believed they were eternal. That their power would stretch across all of time. But they fell. And they fell because of you¡ªbecause you did not bow. Because you did not break."


    Hera stepped aside, letting the god of the Underworld shine alone. Hecate said nothing, but her magic pulsed behind her eyes¡ªechoing his words into the hearts of every god and spirit gathered.


    The underworld gods of old, who refused to bow before him and choose to remain on their domain, now looked at him with respect.


    They acknowledged it, this coronation.


    From now on, Hades would be the true king of the underworld.


    "No longer shall you cower beneath the sky''s tyranny. No longer shall all of you be seen as monsters, as mistakes, as afterthoughts in the song of existence! I hereby declare, from this day forward, you are the guardian of balance! Bringer of order! And gods and mortals shall respect your names!"


    He paused¡ªand in that silence, every soul leaned forward.


    "I do not ask for worship. I do not seek glory. I have walked the path of fire and ruin¡ªI have faced the void and stood unshaken. I did not rise to this throne to wear a crown¡ªI rose because this realm needed a king."


    His eyes glowed, the shadows at his feet curling upward like tendrils of devotion.


    The gods and spirits all stared at him fascination, eyes full of reverence and admiration.


    "I will forge the Underworld anew. I will bring order to the chaos. Judgment to the lawless. Mercy to the broken. I will be the shield against the gods who are wrongsd, and the sword against those who threaten our home."


    He raised his hand toward the heavens¡ªas if declaring that not even the sky can disrespect this domain.


    And these gods knew that this was not mere declaration.


    Hades had proven his words by slaying the Primordial Sky.


    "This is our realm. Our kingdom. From this day forward, we are not outcasts. We are not the leftovers of the world. We are the heart of the cosmos, the truth behind every end, the cradle of finality! The underworld will not be realm of despair, but of order and strength! Where even death has purpose!"


    His voice turned into a roar.


    "I¡ªHades, Son of Rhea, Brother of the Sky and the Sea¡ªclaim the mantle of King of the Underworld! And to all who call this realm home¡ªI swear this¡­"


    He placed his hand over his chest.


    "You will never be forgotten again."


    For a moment, silence reigned.


    And then¡ª


    Thunderous cheers erupted like the eruption of a thousand volcanoes.


    The ground trembled from the force of their shouts. Ghosts screamed in joy. Spirits wept. Demons howled in approval. The rivers roared. The darkness itself sang.


    "HADES! HADES! HADES!"


    "PRAISE THE KING OF UNDERWORLD!"


    "HAIL, HADES! LONG MAY HE REIGN!"


    His name echoed through the realms, sung by the lost and the mighty alike.


    In that moment, the Underworld was no longer a prison. It was a kingdom.


    And its king had finally taken his throne.


    *


    *


    *


    *


    Overworld.


    Temple of Prometheus.


    The temple of Prometheus stood silent atop a lonely mountain, its stone walls adorned with ancient carvings, lit only by the soft glow of amber flame.


    Here, far from the endless feasts of Olympus and the cold authority of the Underworld, Prometheus sat alone¡ªcontent, amused, and quietly watching.


    A crystal sphere floated just above his open palm, swirling with mist and light.


    Within it, the image of Hades flickered¡ªstanding above the masses of the Underworld, his obsidian cloak billowing, his voice ringing across the vast darkness with the gravity of a rising king.


    The gathered gods and spirits below him had fallen silent, and now their roars of approval echoed even through the crystal.


    Prometheus grinned.


    He swung his feet like an eager child on a high stool, drumming his heels on the marble ledge below.


    "Well now," he mused, the firelight catching in his golden eyes. "Look at you, the anomaly of this world. King of the Underworld at last."


    In the orb, Hades raised his hand and finished his speech¡ªhis voice solemn, commanding, but brimming with passion.


    His final words were not threats nor declarations of conquest, but a promise: that the Underworld would become a realm not of despair, but of order and strength.


    A place where even death had purpose.


    Prometheus'' smile widened.


    "Hahaha! You really are interesting." He leaned closer, "I want to see the underworld that you are going to create."


    He watched, until his brows furrowed as the image in the crystal shifted.


    Hades'' eyes¡ªthose cold, still eyes¡ªturned. Slowly, deliberately. And for a breathless moment, they locked with Prometheus''.


    The Titan froze.


    His breath caught in his throat. Though it seemed impossible, but he was sure that Hades had pierced the veil of distance, the layers of magic, and seen him through the scrying spell.


    "Oh hell no¡ª!" With a laugh that was half startle and half glee, Prometheus snapped his fingers.


    The orb shattered into smoke and sparks, vanishing into the air. He tossed the remaining fragments aside and leapt up from his throne.


    "Still as perceptive as ever, Hades," he chuckled, stretching his arms high above his head. "Not bad for a new king." S~ea??h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    He stood from his throne as he walked across the chamber, bare feet soft against the stone, and gazed out from the balcony overlooking the world below.


    A gentle wind brushed his wild hair as the stars wheeled quietly in the heavens.


    "The Titans are done. Olympus is a circus," he murmured to himself. "But you¡­ You''ll bring something new. Something the world hasn''t seen before."


    He turned his gaze downward, to the vast and fertile earth below.


    A spark of fire danced on his fingertips.


    "It''s time," Prometheus whispered, eyes gleaming. "The gods have found their thrones. Now¡­ let us shape those who will one day stand beneath them¡ªand one day, beyond them."


    He extended his hand, and from the divine flame in his palm, he molded something small, something fragile¡ªyet brimming with untapped potential.


    "Let the Age of Men begin."

 Chapter 51 - 6: The Discussion

    The ashen plane beneath the Hanging Fortress of Pluto stretched endlessly, an ocean of darkness brushed with flickers of phantom light from drifting soul-wisps.


    Here, at the heart of the Underworld, Hades stood, arms crossed, his piercing gaze scanning the emptiness as if already envisioning what would soon rise from it.


    Beside him stood Hera, her hands clasped behind her back, regal and calm, and Hecate, cloaked in starlight and mist, her expression thoughtful.


    "A city," Hera proposed, her voice carrying a quiet strength. "Right here. A place for souls to dwell, to gather. Something more than barren stone and silence. A sanctuary for the dead, a home for the divines."


    Hecate nodded. "Even the dead long for structure, for beauty. A city will bring harmony to this realm. It can give form to your rule, lord Hades."


    But Hades remained silent for a moment, eyes narrowing.


    "No," he said, voice calm but resolute. "Not just any city. This land will not be for every soul. Only the greatest among the dead¡ªthose who achieved feats beyond the reach of others¡ªwill reside here. And the gods of the Underworld. This will be our seat of power. The heart of judgment, of council, of celebration and mourning."


    He raised his hand. The earth trembled. A circle of black stone rose from the ground, unfurling like blooming obsidian petals.


    A large table formed in the center, surrounded by chairs shaped from flowing darkness and veins of amethyst.


    Hades sat, pulling out a bundle of ancient papyrus, and laid them across the table.


    "Let us begin," he said. "Design this place not merely as a city¡ªbut as a monument to death and eternity."


    Hera took a seat opposite him, the mist of her robe billowing like pale fire.


    "If that is the case, then we must make it beautiful," she said. "An altar at its center where will relocate Hestia''s eternal flame. She may not live among us, but her hearth should always burn here. It will bring warmth¡­ even to the dead."


    During the past three years that Hestia lived in the underworld, the souls of the dead has been living here in peace, and all of it is due to Hestia''s flame.


    Even the most restless and troublesome gods would calm down and enjoy the warmth brought by the hearth.


    Hecate added. "And if this place is to host gods and spirits, it must entertain. I propose amphitheaters¡ªarenas for games, debates, displays of magic and might. The dead need not be silent. Let them laugh, weep, marvel. Let the gods above envy our revelry."


    Hades nodded. "Agreed. We will build halls of performance and celebration. And a grand temple to Nyx¡­ she must be honored here."


    Hera arched an eyebrow, but said nothing.


    Hecate leaned forward. "Libraries. Archives of both the living and the dead. A place where knowledge is preserved, where divine secrets are kept. Let the Underworld be the memory of the cosmos."


    Hades thought for a moment and nodded, "We can ask Lethe to compile the memories of every souls that arrive in underworld into books."


    "I also want a throne hall," Hera said. "Not just for you, Hades, but for all major Underworld gods. Let them feel their place in your reign."


    Hecate added, "Then build a sanctuary for the Five Rivers as well¡ªeach river god honored with their own domain. And bridges of black crystal that cross their streams." Sear?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Hades tapped the papyrus, sketching runes and layouts as they spoke.


    "We will need a place for judgment," he said. "A grand tribunal where souls are weighed and destinies declared. And prisons¡ªcontainment cells for the wicked and the cursed. Tartarus shall remain beneath, but this city will oversee it."


    "We should plant gardens," Hera mused. "Let the dead remember the beauty of life. Fields of asphodel, groves of nightbloom trees. Not just cold stone and shadow."


    "I remember Minthe, daughter of Cocytus has been studying with Demeter in the past three years to bring overworld''s flora, but with little to no results. That one might be hard."


    Hera hummed, but said nothing.


    Hecate added, "...let''s put that aside for a moment. For now, I think towers for oracles is needed. Let messages pass between worlds. Let the dead whisper to the living. Let dreams bloom here."


    Hades glanced between them both. He did not speak, but in his eyes there was the quiet fire of inspiration¡ªno longer just a king of shadows, but a creator shaping the future.


    They talked for hours, ideas pouring like rivers of imagination.


    A divine market, where gods could trade relics and knowledge. A dome for stargazing, enchanted to reflect the skies of the living.


    Monuments to great heroes, a mausoleum of the honored dead. Even hidden sanctuaries where weary gods could rest undisturbed.


    Eventually, Hades rolled up the papyrus.


    "This city¡­ this monument¡­ will be called Nox. A place of silence and song, of judgment and joy. The true heart of the Underworld."


    "...why do I feel like it''s a homage to lady Nyx?" Hecate whispered.


    Hera narrowed her eyes, "...you seem to be a bit obsessed with the Primordial of the Night, brother."


    Hades remained silent. He will not dignify that with a response.


    Not wanting to continue this conversation, Hades immediately chose to change the topic.


    "I want to make a council." He turned towards them, "A council where we decide the future direction of the underworld and how to improve it."


    Hera blinked. "Like the Olympian Council?"


    Right, Hera remembered that she is actually part of that council. After all, even though she is to be the Queen of Underworld, it won''t hurt to have authority in overworld as well.


    "Yes, like that." Hades nodded, "Each one will manage a certain field and make sure everything is in order."


    "...but why?" Asked Hecate. "The underworld is yours to command. Unlike the overworld with various domains; sky, sea, mountains, rivers. Underworld is underworld. Ruling the Underworld means ruling all over underworld gods."


    In overworld, although Zeus is hailed as the King of Gods, it doesn''t mean he can rule over every gods. He just has the largest domain, but that doesn''t mean he has an absolute authority.


    Overworld still has Poseidon, who is the king of the seas and has authority that can contend with Zeus.


    Not to mention there are also various Titans and Primordials who can completely disregard Zeus'' authority.


    Although there are also various beings in Underworld that refuse to submit to Hades, but as the King of Underworld, if he wanted to, he can exert his authority to command them.


    Even Tartarus is no exception.


    "I want to separate the Underworld into different sections." Said Hades, "It will make it easier to manage if we have a council."


    Hecate and Hera remained silent, waiting for him to finish.


    "The Outer Section," Hades said, his tone darkening slightly, "will be a land of infinite barren sand. There, souls who committed great sins in life shall wander, tormented not by flame, but by emptiness. By the weight of their own actions."


    Hecate revealed a small smile, "I think it would be better if they had consciousness, but can''t control their bodies. They will also experience never ending hunger, forever wandering the endless sand looking for something."


    "...I," Hades looked at her, "I... I think we don''t need to do that. But I do want to create something that could convert their ''sins'' into power source, which would be used for the nourishment of Underworld. Once their sins are all gone, they can be reincarnated."


    "Acheron, Cocytus and Phlegethon can do something similar to that," said Hecate, "They convert the pain and suffering of the souls that are trapped in their rivers into their own power. They will then turn those souls into warriors under their command."


    "Then, I will have to ask them about this matter soon." Hades whispered to himself.


    Then, he continued. "After that will be the Inner Section. It will be a place of peace. Here, ordinary souls will live out their afterlife. No judgment. No punishment. Just serenity. And if they desire reincarnation, they shall be given the chance."


    Hera stepped forward, her eyes calm but bright. "It''s a beautiful idea. Peace after death¡­ too long has that been denied to mortals."


    Hecate nodded. "We''ll need someone to guide the souls here. Help them settle, process their memories, ease the transition."


    "I''ve thought of that," Hades said. "Lethe will take charge of memory. And Hera can manage orientation and housing. I''ll see to their elevation when the city is complete."


    Hera smiled, "I will live up to your trust, brother."


    Then, he turned toward the skies above, where his floating fortress loomed like a black sun.


    "And the Core Section¡­" he said slowly, "as I have said earlier, shall be a realm unlike any other. A divine city. A nexus of power, learning, and beauty. Only the greatest souls shall live here. Heroes. Saints. Philosophers. Poets. Warriors who fought for something greater than themselves.''


    He turned his gaze back to the two goddesses, "This will also be home to divine spirits and minor gods. Those who dwell in the Core may earn the right to ascend¡ªto become gods in their own right."


    Hecate smiled, her eyes gleaming. "A forge of divinity."


    "Yes," Hades said. "A place where greatness is nurtured. A place of endless potential."


    Hera crossed her arms, "That sounds grand, but I still see no point for a council."


    "..." Hades sighed, "Well, I want the inner section to be infinitely large, with various viomes and locations. So that souls may enjoy going to places they''ve never been to when they are alive. I want the council to manage various parts of the inner section. I can''t do all that."


    "Well, that''s understandable." Hera nodded. "So, you have any candidate for this council of yours, brother?"


    Hades smiled, but said nothing.


    Of course Hera and Hecate will have a seat, same goes for the Five River Gods.


    However, he also plans on recruiting those reclusive gods who didn''t want to show themselves and bring them under his command.


    ''Erebus, Thanatos, Keres, the Moirais.''


    Underworld is full of ancient and powerful beings beyond comprehension. Those overworld gods were lucky that the powerful beings in underworld doesn''t want any trouble.


    If not. One insult would surely bring the wrath of several Primordial Class beings and wreck havoc in the overworld.


    "Well, before that, let''s start building the city."


    Hades stared at the vaat plains that will soon be his domain.


    The war is over, now, it is time to truly rule the land of the dead.

 Chapter 52 - 7: Understaffed, and Foreigner

    Decades had passed since the Underworld had been reshaped under the rule of Hades.


    What once was an empty void cloaked in eternal gloom had become a thriving realm with cities forged in obsidian and crystal, biomes that mimicked the mortal world(with the exception of fauna and flora as Underworld still couldn''t sustain life), and an intricate circulation system for souls.


    It had become a realm of judgment, reward, and punishment¡ªdivided into three sacred regions: the Outer Section for the damned, the Inner Section for ordinary souls, and the Core Section, the very heart of the Underworld, where gods, divine spirits, and great souls dwelled.


    From the Hanging Fortress that floated above it all, Hades could see his kingdom in motion¡ªsouls moving like rivers, divine spirits maintaining order, and his laws being upheld with unwavering discipline.


    And yet, despite the order and progress, Hades sat on his throne rubbing his temples, his face slightly twisted in frustration.


    "My lord," Styx said, standing in front of the throne with arms crossed. Her long silver hair shimmered like moonlight, and her expression was as cold and pale as ever. "Please, give us permission to wipe them out of existence. They are swarming the outer riverbanks. Charon is at his limit. These creatures die faster than we can judge them."


    "Idiots! The lot of them!" snapped Charon from behind her. The skeletal ferryman slammed his oar to the floor. "They drown in puddles, fall off cliffs, eat poisonous fruits, fight beasts with sticks¡ªwhat kind of design is this? I''ve had to turn my boat into a floating mass grave just to carry them!"


    Hades let out a low sigh, "I have no idea what creature are you referring to."


    "Prometheus new creation," Styx informed, "He calls those hairless monkies ''humans''."


    Charon muttered, "Even monkies aren''t as dumb as them. They at least knew how to climb trees to look for food. Those...humans, just know how to die."


    A soft scoff came from beside Hades. Hera, lounging on her chair beside his obsidian throne, draped in a flowing violet gown, opened a projection showing humanity.


    "And here I thought the Titans were bad. What a ridiculous race. Ugly, loud, and pathetically fragile. What was Prometheus thinking?"


    She absolutely find zero redeeming qualities for this race. They''d probably die out and go extinct in another few years or so.


    Hades tilted his head toward her, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I wouldn''t say that. Prometheus is a crafty and shrewd individual, his creation would surely not just remain at this level. I believe they have a lot of potential."


    He belived that. After all, he was once a human from the modern era.


    Without he help of gods or divine interference, humanity conquered the sea, land, and air, and have set their eyes on the vast ocean of stars.


    They are not the strongest, they are not the toughest, but they stood at the apex of Earth''s creation.


    Hera rolled her eyes. "Potential for more stupidity, perhaps. One of them died because he smacked his head with a rock!"


    Hades chuckled, "Then tell me, did any other humans die the same way as that guy?"


    "..." Hera paused, observing the projection. "...None."


    "Exactly," Hades nodded, "...They learned from their mistakes and improve, adapt, evolve."


    Hera listened, feeling that what Hades said did make sense. But... "Yeah, well, perhaps what you said will come true...if they don''t end up killing themselves, that is."


    Hades smiled, "Trust me, they are born to inherit the stars."


    Charon groaned. "Then may the stars have mercy on us all."


    Hades ignored him and stood up, stepping forward, his dark robes trailing behind him like shadows.


    He approached the balcony that overlooked the Core Section of the Underworld, where black towers touched the endless sky and glowing rivers of souls flowed like veins through the land.


    "I knew this day would come," he murmured. "...and I believe, Prometheus would soon cause trouble."


    Styx raised an eyebrow. "...Trouble?"


    Hades nodded. "Yes. Just my intuition, but I think Prometheus will not stop here. Sly as he is, he cares for all his creations. Seeing the suffering of humanity, he will not sit idly by."


    Hera narrowed her eyes, pondering for a moment. "...He won''t plan to steal the gift of fire, won''t he?"


    The gift of fire is a "talent" usually reserved for the Olympian gods. It was made by Hestia to bring order and advancement to their rule.


    "That''s what I thought as well," Hades nodded at her, "With fire, they will rise beyond their limits. They will craft, they will build, they will learn. And they will suffer."


    "They''re suffering already," muttered Charon.


    Everyone ignored him.


    Hera stood as well, walking to Hades'' side. "And what will we do if he really does? Shall we stop him?"


    "No," Hades replied after a pause. "Not to mention I have already said I will not interfere with the affairs of overworld, but I believe that this gift would be far more suitable for humanity."


    His voice echoed slightly, filled with solemn weight. "That''s why, we must not stop it. Instead, we must prepare."


    Styx''s gray eyes sharpened. "Prepare?"


    Hades turned, gazing at Hera, Styx, and the weary ferryman. "The Underworld is their end¡ªbut also their mirror. If mankind is to walk the world above, then we must evolve alongside them. There must be new systems for their judgment, new laws to contain their chaos, and new spirits who can guide them."


    Hera looked skeptical, but she said nothing.


    Hades lifted a hand, summoning a ghostly flame that hovered above his palm.


    It pulsed faintly, then flickered, reshaping itself into a tiny humanoid figure.


    A soul.


    "Each one of them¡­ holds something divine," Hades said quietly. "Not in strength, nor in wisdom¡ªbut in will. The will to defy even us."


    He let the flame drift upward, and it disappeared into the sky of the Underworld.


    "Very well," Hera said, arms crossed. "But when they start burning down forests or trying to kill each other over rocks, don''t say I didn''t warn you."


    Hades flinched.


    His mins drifted to the atrocities committed by humanity...on second thought, maybe it''s better for them to die out?


    Styx sighed. "Then I''ll need new guardians for the Outer Section. Ones who can keep up with this madness."


    "You''ll have them," Hades promised.


    He already has a few candidates in mind.


    Charon grunted. "And I''ll need more boats."


    Hades cracked a rare smile. "You''ll have an entire fleet."


    As the complaints echoed through the hall, the Lord of the Underworld turned his gaze once more to the darkness above. S§×arch* The Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Somewhere, in the overworld, Prometheus was preparing for his theft.


    The age of gods was no longer the only story being written.


    A new chapter was beginning.


    One forged not by titans or primordial powers¡­


    ¡­but by mortal hands.


    *


    *


    *


    *


    *


    In the deepest folds of underworld and Tartarus, where time was no more than a breath and space coiled in on itself like a serpent, Nyx stirred from the afterglow of her ''short'' moment of passion with Hades.


    She had stayed in her bed longer than she intended¡ªtoo long, perhaps.


    Her essence still shimmered with the remnants of her union with Hades, the god whose silence had spoken to the very core of her infinite being.


    She had felt whole¡ªcomplete¡ªin a way she had never imagined.


    A graceful smjle formed on her lips as she sat up, intending to observe what her fated one has been up to lately.


    But then...


    She felt a flicker. A tremor in the fabric of the cosmos.


    Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the edge of infinity, mere distance seems to not exist under her eyes.


    Then, her form, still cloaked in shadow and beauty, rippled once¡ªand in the next moment, she was gone.


    The stars bent around her as she crossed the heavens in an instant, arriving at the very edge of the Universe, the scarred battlefield where Hades had slain Uranus long ago.


    The remnants of the great primordial''s essence still whispered through the dark, like the sighs of a dying immortal.


    But Nyx''s gaze was fixed elsewhere.


    There, hovering between strands of nothingness, was a crack. Thin. Almost imperceptible.


    But to a Primordial, such imperfections were louder than thunder.


    Her brows furrowed.


    ''Since when...? When did this crack appear? Hades and Uranus'' clash shouldn''t have produced enough power to cause a crack at the boundary of the universe.''


    But she didn''t spend time dwelling on it for too long. Instead, she raised her hand, pale as starlight, and snapped her fingers.


    Reality shivered.


    The crack sealed instantly, threads of cosmic matter weaving themselves together like silk pulled taut.


    Nyx remained still for a moment, her face unreadable. Her shadows gathered around her, more restless than before.


    "How did I not see this sooner¡­?" she whispered, her voice soft but layered with power, echoing through the emptiness.


    The void offered no answer.


    She floated there, timeless and alone, her long hair drifting like a river of night across the stars.


    Then, she touched the space where the crack had been, frowning deeper.


    "I see, so it''s that... But it isn''t the time yet," she muttered, more to herself than to the cosmos. "...you are far too eager."


    She knew that ''something'' had entered this universe, something that she is quite familiar with.


    For now, it managed to hide its presence quite well, perhaps it knew that she will show no mercy and would erase it as soon as she saw it.


    Her eyes turned downward. Past the stars. Past the celestial veil. Past the shifting winds of Chaos.


    Her gaze locked on Earth.


    The blue planet spun silently, unaware of the danger looming beyond the stars.


    "I don''t know how many times does this make...perhaps I should meet with Kronos and discuss about this event to him."


    She vanished again, melting into the darkness like ink spilled into water. The universe shuddered once more, then fell silent.


    But far below, beneath the sky, a new story had already begun.


    And something that did not belong¡­ was already watching.

 Chapter 53 - 8: The Flame

    Prometheus strode through the grand hall of Mount Olympus, his bare feet echoing softly against the marble floor, polished by years of divine celebration and excess.


    The golden pillars stretched toward the heavens like the bones of titans, and the air itself pulsed with intoxicating music and the scent of divine wine.


    Around him, gods and goddesses reveled without restraint¡ªdrunk on power, lust, and victory.


    Laughter echoed, mixed with moans and the soft clinking of goblets. Divine bodies writhed in corners, tangled in euphoric embraces.


    A satyr played the pan flute while a minor river goddess danced without care, her silver veil long discarded.


    But Prometheus did not look. He didn''t stop. Even when a goddess reached out to him with slurred laughter and glowing eyes, he gave her a courteous nod and walked past.


    One offered him a goblet of ambrosia. Another whispered a promise in his ear, tugging gently on his arm.


    He ignored them all.


    His stride was graceful and deliberate. He was here for a mission. One born not of pride or rebellion, but of love¡ªfor mortals not yet worthy, for a future not yet forged.


    And he would pay the price.


    He already knew what his defiance would cost. He had seen it in countless glimpses of possible futures. Chains. Fire. Agony. Centuries, no, eternity of torment.


    But to him, the pain was worth it.


    Because tonight¡­ he would give mankind a chance to stand.


    He reached the center of Olympus.


    The room was quiet, undisturbed by the noise of the feast.


    Here, beneath an open dome that framed the stars above, burned the Sacred Flame¡ªa golden fire that danced in a divine brazier carved from starlight and titan bone.


    It flickered gently, elegant and eternal, its radiance bathing the chamber in warmth and gold. S§×arch* The n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    This was the flame that marked the blessing of the Olympians¡ªthe sacred source of their majesty and divine spark.


    It burned without consuming, and gave without end¡­ but only to gods.


    Never to mortals.


    Prometheus paused, gazing at it.


    The fire danced as though it recognized him.


    A smirk crept across his face.


    He extended his hand, and the flame responded like an old friend, leaping into his palm without resistance.


    It didn''t burn him. It curled around his fingers like silk, wrapping around his arm and settling inside his chest.


    A heartbeat of silence followed.


    Then, it was done.


    The brazier was empty.


    And the divine flame of Olympus was gone.


    Prometheus turned around calmly, his face composed, almost amused.


    He walked out of the chamber with the same lazy swagger he had entered, gently brushing off a drunken satyr who stumbled into him.


    As he reentered the grand hall, music still played. Gods still danced. No one noticed. No one cared.


    He raised a goblet someone handed him and toasted the sky with a chuckle.


    "To chaos," he whispered.


    Then, like a shadow through mist, he slipped away from Olympus.


    No alarms. No wrathful gods. Not yet.


    He had the flame now. The key to the future. The light that would ignite the Age of Man.


    As he descended from the mountain, his eyes flicked toward the mortal world far below.


    The shivers due to cold. The cries of infants. The weak. The hungry. The lost.


    But not for long.


    "Let this flame ''burn'' you, my children," he said to no one, "and one day¡­ shine brighter than any gods and titans alike."


    The sky trembled. The age of gods had been secured by war.


    But now, the age of mortals was about to begin.


    And it would begin with fire.


    *


    *


    *


    The sacred chamber trembled as a shrill cry echoed across the marble halls of Olympus.


    "A-Ah! The flame¡ªTHE FLAME IS GONE!"


    A young divine spirit, robes fluttering and eyes wide with horror, bolted from the chamber at the heart of Olympus, where the sacred flame had burned for eons.


    He stumbled past drunken gods and startled nymphs, shouting in panic as he ran toward the center of the ongoing feast.


    "The flame! The sacred flame has been stolen!"


    The music stopped.


    Goblets slipped from fingers. Faces turned pale. Even those lost in intoxicated pleasure froze, the realization of what had been said slamming into them like a tidal wave.


    The sacred flame of Olympus, the divine fire that blessed the gods, had vanished.


    Dozens of gods rushed toward the heart of Olympus, flowing like a golden tide toward the center chamber.


    Their footsteps pounded in unison, a stampede of fury and disbelief.


    And standing at the head of them all¡­ was Zeus.


    He marched with eyes already burning blue-white with stormlight, his aura crackling with divine authority.


    The air around him warped from the sheer force of his rage.


    When he arrived at the chamber and saw the empty brazier, he didn''t say a word¡ªnot at first.


    He stared.


    And then¡ªthunder boomed through Olympus.


    A bolt of lightning tore through the clouds above, shaking the mountain to its very roots.


    Zeus turned, his voice booming like the sky splitting open.


    "WHO! DARED!"


    The divine spirit who had discovered the theft cowered before the King of the Gods.


    He dropped to his knees, trembling as Zeus''s heavy footsteps approached. "I¡ªI was only cleaning the chamber, my lord! I swear, I saw nothing! I¡ªI only noticed when I turned around and¡ª"


    "Silence," Zeus growled.


    In a flash of fury, Zeus grabbed the spirit by the hair and slammed his head into the marble floor, cracking it beneath the weight.


    The gathered gods gasped. Some turned away, others watched in grim silence.


    The divine spirit whimpered in pain, blood trickling down his face. "P-Please, my lord¡­ I don''t know who did it¡­ I swear it¡­"


    Zeus released him and rose to his full height, his golden hair whipping in the wind stirred by his own divinity.


    His voice roared across the mountain like a storm crashing against cliffs.


    "EVERYONE¡ªFIND THE CULPRIT!"


    His voice echoed through the heavens, heard by birds in flight and waves below. "I want Olympus searched. Every god, every spirit, every crevice¡ªtear this place apart if you must. The one who dared defile the sacred flame will suffer a punishment that will echo through eternity!"


    Behind him, the gods and spirits scrambled into action, flying, sprinting, teleporting¡ªfanning out across Olympus in a frenzy.


    The skies darkened above the mountain as Zeus remained in the chamber, fists clenched, his jaw tight.


    He didn''t know who had done it.


    But he would.


    And when he found them¡­ not even Chaos itself would offer them mercy.


    *


    *


    *


    Prometheus walked through a quiet glade, high up on a ridge that overlooked the savage wilds below.


    The sky was still tinged gold with the glow of Olympus far behind him, though that light would soon flicker.


    He could already imagine the chaos erupting¡ªgods screaming, accusations flying, thunder roaring.


    He chuckled to himself, humming an old Titan melody, each step light and carefree.


    The sacred golden flame¡ªonce a symbol of Olympian dominion¡ªnow danced silently within his fingertips, its divine power carefully veiled.


    He twirled it once, like a child with a toy, then continued his descent.


    Below him, spread across the plains and forests, were the first humans.


    They were crude, hunched, their speech still guttural and unshaped. Their hands were dirty, their skin marked by the harshness of the world. They lacked tools, shelter, understanding.


    And yet¡­ Prometheus could see it. The potential in their eyes.


    Flickering... like sparks waiting for flame.


    As he approached, some of the humans shrank away, others picked up rocks or sticks, growling low in fear.


    They did not know who he was. They barely understood what a god even meant. But they felt his presence.


    They felt the divinity that clung to him like the scent of storm before rain.


    Prometheus lifted both hands, smiling gently. "Peace, little ones. I bring no harm."


    The humans hesitated. One, bolder than the rest, stepped forward, baring his teeth and grunting.


    Prometheus crouched before him, his smile never fading. "You do not understand my words now. But you will. In time, you''ll speak in thousands of tongues, shape kingdoms, write poetry and prophecy."


    He tapped the man gently on the chest. "And all of it¡­ will begin with this."


    He opened his palm under the watchful eyes of humanity.


    The golden flame¡ªOlympus''s sacred fire¡ªroared into life before them.


    The humans gasped, some recoiling, others entranced, while few were curious.


    They had never seen such a thing.


    The fire warmed their faces, cast dancing shadows behind their hollow eyes. It flickered and cracked¡ªnot like wildfires or lightning strikes¡ªbut controlled, alive.


    "Warmth," Prometheus whispered. "Light. Knowledge. Civilization. This¡­ is yours now."


    He stood, watching their awe. "Use it well. Grow. Create. Rise above beasts and stone. One day, you will carve roads across oceans and lift your eyes to the stars."


    He turned, already walking away as the flame took root among them, spreading slowly as the boldest reached toward it, tentative and curious.


    Prometheus didn''t look back. He didn''t need to. His grin widened as he hummed again, staff tapping against the earth.


    "Let them search Olympus all they want," he muttered. "The future has already begun."


    And behind him, in the wild cradle of the world, the Age of Men was born.

 Chapter 54 - 9: Mint

    In the deepest reaches of the cosmos, beneath the world of mortals and the divine halls of Olympus, the Underworld thrived¡ªa realm of solemn beauty and haunting quiet.


    Here, shadows moved with purpose, and the souls of the departed wandered through fields of eternity, each destination a reflection of their life''s worth.


    At the heart of it all stood Hades, the King of the Underworld, perched on his obsidian throne high in his floating fortress.


    But on this day, Hades was not the composed and regal god everyone revered.


    He sat behind a desk buried under papyrus scrolls, divine petitions, complaints, and architectural drafts from gods requesting expansions to their personal sanctums.


    "Lord Hades!" a divine spirit barged in, clutching a new scroll. "The gods of the northern plains are asking for more rain and storms! They claim the desert winds are drying their divine wine reserves!"


    Hades pressed his fingers against his temples and exhaled. "Tell them to drink something else."


    Before the spirit could leave, another one entered.


    "My lord! There are disputes over the entertainment halls¡ªHerea'' troupe is too loud, and Morpheus says he couldn''t concentrate on making dreams!"


    Hades'' cheek twitched, but before he could even say another word, another divine spirit barged in.


    "My lord! Morpheus was unable to make proper dreams which lead to many mortals suffering from nightmares! Many even died as a result!"


    Hades was starting to regret ever choosing to rule this realm.


    Then, a beat later, before he could even react, another divine spirit barged in.


    "My lord! Due to mortals dying of nightmares, more souls have arrived than we''ve accounted for. The reincarnation channels are clogged again!"


    Hades slumped in his seat, staring blankly at the mountain of problems that grew larger with each passing second.


    He had expected the Underworld to be a realm of order and solemnity¡ªbut ever since he decided to completely reform the realm, and with humans now dying at an absurd rate, it was anything but peaceful.


    Had it not been for Hecate and Hera, who tirelessly patrolled the domain, resolved divine disputes, and ensured the system of judgment ran smoothly, Hades might''ve simply turned himself into stone and become a statue of quiet resistance.


    ''I''m going bald at this rate... Not even a thousand years old and I''m already going bald.''


    Before he could dwell further in his stress, a divine spirit burst through the heavy doors of his office, face pale and eyes wide.


    "My lord! You must come at once. Lady Minthe has something important to tell you?"


    Hades blinked, tired beyond words. "Did she say anything?"


    "She said it''s a surprise my lord," the spirit replied. "I know nothing else, but she urged you to see her as soon as possible."


    With a heavy sigh, Hades rose, throwing on his dark cloak.


    He followed the spirit out of his towering halls, through corridors bathed in quiet blue fire, and into the great open courtyard of his fortress.


    There, standing at the center of the marble yard, bathed in a shaft of pale Underworld light, was a woman with flowing green hair and quiet confidence.


    She cradled something in her arms¡ªsomething green.


    Hades stopped, his eyes widened in shock.


    Life.


    Living, thriving plant life.


    He approached cautiously, the scent striking him before he even saw it fully¡ªthe sharp, fresh aroma of mint, clear as memory, real as touch.


    The woman looked up and smiled. "Lord Hades, it seems I''ve succeeded."


    "Minthe...what..." he asked, surprised. "What¡­ is that?"


    She extended the plant to him. Its vibrant green leaves shimmered faintly, the moisture glistening like dew under the perpetual twilight.


    "A plant," she said simply. "One that grows¡­ here."


    "So it''s true. It''s not an illusion, nor is it a cheap imitation." Hades muttered, circling her. "No natural flora grows in the Underworld. Even Demeter couldn''t make it happen. But you did it."


    Minthe nodded. "It wasn''t easy. I used what Lady Demeter left me before she departed. Notes, mostly¡ªher theories on soil conversion, energy harmonization, and life-rooting essence. It took decades. But I found a way."


    Hades stared at the sprout with awe, cautious yet drawn to it. "How did you manage the life essence?"


    "I used part of the River Lethe''s water to stabilize it. I bound it with the breath of dreams¡ªtaken from Hypnos'' domain. Then, I embedded it in soil blessed by your aura."


    Hades blinked. "My aura?"


    Minthe smiled softly. "You''ve ruled here long enough that this land responds to you, my lord. You''ve changed it."


    He looked at the plant again. Something stirred within him¡ªsomething distant, almost forgotten.


    In his past life, before this existence, when he was a mortal soul living an ordinary life, he had tended to a small mint plant.


    It had sat on his kitchen window, fragile and green, offering him the only scent of freshness in a gray life.


    He had long forgotten it¡ªuntil now.


    He touched the leaf. "What have you named it?"


    Minthe tilted her head. "I¡­ haven''t. I thought you might want to."


    Hades smiled faintly, the corners of his mouth softening for the first time in days.


    "Then I name it mint, after you. This plant shall be a symbol of my domain¡ªrare, enduring, and powerful."


    Minthe''s eyes widened. "You honor me, my lord."


    "No," Hades said quietly, still staring at the mint. "You honor me¡­ more than you realize."


    The divine spirits watching from the sides murmured. For the first time in the long and solemn history of the Underworld, life had found a way to bloom.


    And its king, weary and heavy-hearted, found something that reminded him of forgotten joy.


    He gently handed the plant back to Minthe, the cool touch of the leaves still tingling in his hand.


    "Plant it in the gardens beside the obsidian stream. Let it grow as a testament that even in the deepest shadows¡­ life can exist."


    Minthe bowed and turned to carry out his command.


    As she disappeared down the marble steps with her miracle in hand, a divine spirit approached, having watched from the distance.


    "You seem lighter, my lord." he commented. "It feels like a heavy load was gone from your shoulders."


    "Really? Well, I feel like I just remembered something important," Hades replied. "Something small¡­ but comforting."


    A small smile appeared on his face.


    The divine spirit raised a brow. "Are we going to start planting flowers now, my lord?"


    Hades shrugs, staring at the sky. "Perhaps one. Just one."


    At this moment, another divine spirit came running in, "My lord! Please return to your duties! More work have piled up since you left moments ago!"


    Hades sighed, but this time, he didn''t feel quite so overwhelmed. He looked once more toward the fading figure of Minthe.


    "Let them wait," he said. "Just for a little while."


    Oh, he''s going to regret those words soon enough.


    *


    *


    *


    *


    *


    The grand halls of Olympus, once echoing with songs of glory and celebration, now trembled with tension.


    Thunder rolled across its golden ceilings, and the divine spirits dared not speak above a whisper.


    The once neverending feast was over, replaced by silence and fear.


    At the heart of this storm sat Zeus, the King of the Gods, his storm-colored eyes smoldering with barely contained rage.


    A divine spirit knelt before him, trembling.


    "My lord Zeus," the spirit began, voice strained. "We have discovered evidence¡­ clear traces of Prometheus within the sacred hall where the divine flame was kept."


    For a brief moment, silence reigned.


    Then, with a crack like the heavens shattering, Zeus''s throne erupted with light.


    He surged to his feet, lightning dancing from his shoulders.


    The force of his fury caused the marble beneath him to splinter.


    "Prometheus¡­" he growled, the name like poison on his tongue. "So it was him. That man was always so sly."


    The divine spirit dared not look up.


    Zeus''s jaw tightened, nostrils flared with divine indignation. "He entered my sacred hall. He dared touch the flame that sanctifies Olympus itself."


    His voice trembled with fury, the sky roaring in anger. "He stole it. He, who I once granted mercy. He, who walks beneath my sky¡ªdefied me!"


    He turned sharply toward the kneeling spirit. sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Find him. Now!" Zeus thundered. "Tear Olympus apart if you must. Search the skies, the mountains, the mortal world. I want Prometheus brought before me, in chains."


    Of course, no matter how angry he was, he dared not send any force to search in underworld.


    He doesn''t want to find out what Hades would do to him if he found his forces in his realm.


    The spirit bowed low. "Yes, my lord!"


    And with that, he vanished in a shimmer of golden light.


    Zeus returned to his throne, his fingers clenching the armrests until cracks ran through the ivory.


    His pride¡ªhis divine image¡ªhad been wounded. Before the eyes of every god, a thief had entered his heart of power and succeeded.


    This was no minor misstep.


    This was an insult.


    This was a rebellion.


    And for that, Prometheus would pay.


    A thousand punishments passed through his mind¡ªeach more cruel and theatrical than the last.


    This could not be a quiet judgment. No, this had to be a lesson carved into the bones of time.


    Let all the gods and mortals watch.


    Let them witness what happens when one dares to stand against Olympus.


    Against him.


    Zeus''s eyes narrowed as he stared out from his throne, lightning flickering in his pupils.


    "You think you can get away with this, Prometheus?" he muttered. "Think again, you''ve only lit the fire of your own damnation."


    And high above, thunder cracked through a clear sky, as if the heavens themselves swore vengeance.

 Chapter 55 - 10: Harvest and Capture

    High upon a lush and verdant mountain, a paradise bloomed under Demeter''s careful hands.


    Once a cold, barren peak, it now flourished with endless rows of wildflowers, golden grains, and experimental flora that hummed with divine vitality.


    Bees flitted through the air, birds sang sweet songs, and the wind carried the fragrance of new life.


    At the heart of it all stood Demeter, her hands glowing with gentle green light as she coaxed a new type of plant from the soil.


    Its leaves shimmered like emerald silk, and its blossoms radiated warmth like the early spring sun.


    Just as she leaned closer to admire her creation, a sudden swirl of purple mist appeared before her.


    It drifted through the breeze like a wisp of dream-smoke, coalescing into a tightly rolled scroll.


    Demeter blinked, straightened, and carefully caught the scroll before it touched the ground.


    "Hmm¡­? This mist, it must be Hecate."


    Unrolling it, she read in silence.


    She was expecting a greeting. She was expecting a request. She expected many things, but this letter was not one of the many things she was expecting.


    Her eyes widened.


    She read it again. This time, slowly and carefully.


    She didn''t misread it.


    It was really true!


    "A plant¡­ in the Underworld? That''s..." she gasped, one hand covering her mouth, "....impossible."


    Her thoughts raced. No plant, not even one of her most sacred seeds, had ever survived long in that realm of shadows.


    The land of the dead rejected life on a fundamental level. And yet¡­ this scroll claimed otherwise.


    She recognized the divinity left in the scroll and knew it was written by Hades, so she knew that this wasn''t a joke¡ªHades wasn''t one to joke about serious matters.


    The other reason for her surprise is that, the one who actually managed to create life in Underworld was Minthe, the nymph daughter of Cocytus!


    Demeter''s expression softened, surprise melting into a bittersweet smile.


    Minthe. The quiet, curious nymph who had spent those years in the Underworld learning, researching, asking questions to her.


    They had shared long conversations in the dim groves of the Underworld, speaking of seeds, of plants, of cycles of harvest and planting.


    Demeter''s heart stirred.


    "I must see this with my own eyes."


    She was curious, what kind of plant can actually break the laws of underworld and grow?


    She turned sharply and clapped her hands once. A gentle wind responded, carrying her voice to every corner of her cultivated mountain.


    From the fields and groves, her handmaidens came¡ªgraceful nymphs and gentle divine spirits, each marked by the fresh scents of fruit, earth, and flower.


    "Girls," Demeter called out, rolling the scroll back up. "An urgent matter calls me to the Underworld. I entrust this mountain to you in my absence."


    The handmaidens bowed. "As you will, Lady Demeter."


    "See to the flowering groves, the seedling fields, and ensure that the new roots are tended. I do not know how long I will be gone¡ªbut I will return."


    The mountain responded to her words, the flowers nodding in the breeze, as if they too understood.


    With one final look at her newest creation, Demeter closed her eyes and summoned her divine essence.


    Her form shimmered with golden light before dissolving into a flurry of falling petals.


    The petals floated upward, caught in an unseen current, piercing through the veil that separated realms.


    Down, down they drifted, crossing into the land where no bloom was meant to take root.


    The Underworld.


    And for the first time in ages, the Goddess of Harvest would walk its soil once again.


    *


    *


    *


    Prometheus sat quietly in the heart of a secluded cave, its walls smoothed by time and divine presence.


    A crimson flame flickered softly before him, casting red light across the stone floor, but his eyes were not on the flame.


    They were elsewhere¡ªfar, far away¡ªtracing the paths of mortals as they stumbled into a new era.


    Through his divine sight, he watched them¡ªhumans, once little more than fearful, shivering beasts.


    Now they crouched beside fire pits, chipping stones into sharper blades, their eyes alight with curiosity.


    They spoke crude words, shaped tribes, and even now were scratching patterns into cave walls, early whispers of the written word.


    Prometheus smiled.


    A woman knelt near the fire, teaching a child how to feed it with dry wood. A man not far away tied a sharpened stone to a branch with sinew.


    Another group hunted with coordination, marking a leap in their understanding of strategy.


    "They begin," he whispered to the flames. "Soon, they will shape metal from ore. Then, they will plant seeds and tame beasts. They will look to the stars, and wonder¡­ and someday, they''ll reach them."


    His smile faded slightly, not with sorrow, but acceptance.


    ''But I will not be there to see it.''


    He had known from the start.


    Even before he touched Olympus'' sacred flame, before he stepped into the hall of golden fire, he had seen the price he would pay.


    The futures had unfolded like scrolls before him, and all bore the same consequence.


    His capture and punishment.


    Just then, a tremor rolled through the earth. His divine senses prickled¡ªan overwhelming pressure descending from above, like a storm of authority and judgment.


    They were here.


    He didn''t flinch. He simply stood and dusted off his robe, the firelight tracing the lines of his calm, almost amused expression.


    Outside the cave, the very heavens seemed to hum. The ground rumbled faintly, and the light dimmed as divine auras closed in like a great net.


    Prometheus stepped out into the open, sunlight cascading over his shoulders.


    They waited for him: a dozen Greater Gods¡ªchampions of Olympus, veterans of the Titanomachy. Their faces were stern, forged from divine law and loyalty to Zeus.


    Many had once fought alongside Prometheus in the ancient war, when Titans and Gods clashed for dominion.


    Now, their weapons were drawn¡ªblades, spears, and sacred staves glowing with the wrath of Olympus, and all of it pointed at him, once their comrade in arms.


    At their center stood a figure in golden armor, a laurel circlet gleaming atop his head.


    "Halt, Prometheus," the god commanded, his voice like rolling thunder. ''By order of Zeus, King of Olympus, you are to surrender yourself. You stand accused of high treason¡ªstealing the divine flame and giving it to mortals that you favor."


    Prometheus gazed at them, eyes calm and clear.


    "I know." He had seen this happen in one too many futures that he was getting tired of it.


    "Then you will come with us peacefully?" asked the god, pointing his spear at him.


    A pause. Then a low, knowing chuckle escaped Prometheus'' lips.


    "Of course." he stared at them, "I will happily cooperate."


    The gods stared at him, momentarily stunned by the ease of his surrender.


    "No excuses?" one muttered, tightening their grip on a weapon.


    "No," Prometheus replied, stepping forward with open hands. "No excuses. I gave humanity what they needed. That was my purpose. That was my choice."


    He walked into their midst like a teacher returning to a quiet classroom, unafraid, unashamed.


    "He''s not even resisting," one god frowned, thinking if this was a trap.


    Prometheus blinked, and chuckled at him. "Oh? Do you like a little resistance? I could squirm if you like."


    The god'' twitched, his eyes glaring at Prometheus. The rumors were true, this man was incredibly infuriating.


    "Don''t talk to the prisoner!" Another god exclaimed as he proceed to cuff the titan.


    "Ouch," Prometheus faked pain, "Mr Titan, I think I need to go to the infirmary. I''ll complain for your behavior."


    "As if!" Another god slammed his head to the ground, "Just obediently follow our words!"


    At this, Prometheus nonchalantly stopped smiling, his playful eyes disappeared. S§×arch* The n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    He stared at them in the eyes.


    "You may shackle me, chain me, bind me to the farthest mountain. It doesn''t matter," he continued, glancing at the distant sky. "The fire has already been lit. You can''t unburn the world."


    Gaia was a terrifying figure. It is by her grace that Olympus and gods can still fight for petty soul master


    The leading god scowled, signaling the others.


    Divine chains, forged in the celestial furnaces, slithered like living metal around Prometheus'' wrists and ankles.


    A heavy collar closed around his neck, inscribed with symbols that muted divine power.


    Still, he smiled.


    One god, younger than the others, couldn''t help but ask, "Why? Why would you risk everything for them? Those mortals doesn''t deserve it."


    Prometheus turned his head slightly, eyes meeting the youth''s.


    "Because they are the only ones who must earn their place. Not born with divinity, not gifted immortality. Every step they take is a triumph over the impossible. And in that struggle¡­ they will surpass us all."


    The gods said nothing.


    With a single gesture, the air shimmered, and a portal to Olympus opened, the light blinding in its intensity.


    Prometheus, bound yet unbowed, stepped forward willingly.


    His punishment awaited.


    But so too did the rise of mankind.

 Chapter 56 - 11: A Fathers Love

    By the quiet shores of the River Styx, the Underworld was basked in a rare moment of serenity. sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The current flowed lazily, its dark waters reflecting the glow of the realm''s ever-hanging twilight.


    Hades sat comfortably in a sleek black stone chair, carved by his own hand, his elbow resting on the armrest, chin propped lazily against his palm.


    Beside him stood the ever-stoic Styx, her silver hair cascading like moonlight as she gently fanned him with a broad obsidian leaf, though it was more out of formality than necessity¡ªgods didn''t sweat, nor do they feel hot or cold.


    Her expression was as flat as the river she ruled.


    "Any harder, Styx," Hades muttered dryly, "and I might be blown into Tartarus."


    Styx didn''t answer. She simply blinked once, unimpressed.


    On his other side, Hera reclined on a smaller cushioned chair, daintily feeding him peeled grapes¡ªthough the Underworld''s version of grapes were silvery and glowed faintly.


    She plucked one and teasingly hovered it near his lips.


    "Open up, King of the Dead," she said with a smile. "You''ve been working so hard you might shrivel into bones."


    "I''m already halfway there," Hades grumbled, eating the grape anyway. "The bureaucracy down here is more terrifying than the Titans."


    A short distance away, Demeter knelt in the soil, her hands stained with dark earth.


    Minthe knelt beside her, equally absorbed in the task of carefully planting a line of newly thriving mint plants¡ªthe first flora to ever take root in the Underworld.


    "And you said this wouldn''t work," Minthe said proudly, nudging Demeter with her elbow.


    Demeter rolled her eyes but smiled. "Only because I''ve tried for decades and failed. You, my dear, may have a greener thumb than the goddess of harvest herself."


    Minthe beamed. "Maybe I''ll start a garden down here, and I''ll call it¡ª"


    "Minthe and Hades Love Garden?" Demeter whispered.


    Minthe blushed red, as she playfully punched Demeter on the shoulders.


    Demeter laughed, before brushing a dirt on Minthe''s cheek. This annoyed Minthe who grabbed a handfull of dirt and threw it at Demeter''s face.


    "..."


    Demeter wiped off the dirt from her face and smiled gently.


    Minthe gulped. She shouldn''t have done that.


    "W-Wait, calm down, let''s talk about this¡ª"


    Off to the side, Hecate stood silently with arms crossed, watching the two plant lovers play around with dirt.


    "You two should add nightshade," she commented. "Something poisonous. It''ll add flair."


    Minthe and Demeter stopped, turning towards Hecate.


    "...Only you would suggest that," Minthe replied. Demeter nodded beside her.


    "Of course," Hecate said, cracking a rare smile. "This is the Underworld. We don''t do daisies."


    Hades chuckled under his breath. "If we do, they''ll have skulls and screaming."


    Demeter looked up. "Don''t tempt me, brother. I could make that happen."


    Just as they all started to laugh¡ªfinally enjoying a sliver of peace in the shadowed realm¡ªa divine spirit came barreling down the slope leading to the riverside, his robes in disarray and golden sandals flapping loudly.


    "Lord Hades! Lord Hades!" he cried out, nearly tripping over a root.


    In his hands, he held a shimmering golden scroll, its seal blazing with the sigil of Olympus.


    Styx, without turning her head, moved slightly to block the rushing spirit. "Slow down. You''re making waves in my river."


    The divine spirit skidded to a halt, panting. "A¡ªa letter, my Lord. From Olympus. A divine spirit handed it to me at the gates."


    Hades groaned, rubbing his temples. "It''s always Olympus. I''ve only just managed to clear my desk from the last mountain of complaints."


    Hera gracefully took the scroll from the spirit and broke the seal.


    "Shall I read it aloud?" she asked.


    Hades, already half-reclined, waved her off. "If it''s Zeus whining again, just toss it into the river."


    Styx frowned. "Don''t pollute my river, please."


    Hera cleared her throat theatrically.


    "To Hades, King of the Underworld," she began, "you are hereby invited to attend the upcoming trial of the traitor and thief, Prometheus. The proceedings shall commence on Olympus in three days'' time. Your presence is both requested and expected. Signed, Zeus."


    Hades sat up straighter, blinking. "Prometheus? Already caught?"


    "I guess the old Titan didn''t run fast enough," Hecate muttered. "Or maybe he didn''t run at all."


    "So the flame was given to the mortals already?" Hades murmured.


    Minthe looked at him, "Lord Hades, do you think the humans will be okay? It was only thanks to Lord Prometheus that they can still survive."


    "They''ll struggle," he said, standing slowly. "But they''ll rise. That''s what they do."


    Hera wasn''t so sure about that. The number of humans dying didn''t decrease, in fact, there seems to be more death than in the past.


    Hecate tilted her head. "So, are you going?"


    Hades nodded once. "Yes. I also have¡­ questions for Prometheus. Things only he can answer."


    "My lord, the underworld can''t do without you for long." Styx stated, her voice like cold metal.


    Hades paused, and nodded. "Yeah, you''re right. Maybe I should just send Hera? After all, she''s still part of the council."


    Demeter laughed. ''Come now, Hades. You''ve built an empire down here. Surely it can survive a few days without your brooding presence."


    "Maybe," he said. "But let''s be honest¡ªit won''t be as dramatic."


    They all chuckled again, the warmth of their rare gathering making the Underworld feel, for just a moment, like a place of life rather than death.


    *


    *


    *


    *


    Within the cold and cavernous halls beneath Olympus, where divine judgment was sealed behind layers of immortal stone, Prometheus sat quietly behind adamantine bars.


    The chains that bound him were forged by the Cyclops themselves¡ªwrought from celestial metals that no Titan, god, or spirit could break.


    His body bore the wear of punishment. His frame was gaunt, skin pale from the lack of sunlight, and his once brilliant amber eyes dulled with fatigue.


    Yet, even in such a state, a cheeky, irrepressible smile still danced on his lips.


    He had no regrets.


    With his arms resting lazily over his knees, he hummed a forgotten tune¡ªthe kind sung before gods and Titans ever warred.


    It echoed off the stone walls like a lullaby for a dying world.


    Then, without sound, a presence appeared just outside his cell.


    Prometheus stopped humming and looked up. His smile widened, genuinely surprised and amused.


    "Well, well," he said. ''Look who the winds of Olympus dragged in. My dear brother, come to shed a tear or throw a rock?"


    Epimetheus stood silently, his fists clenched at his sides. He looked stronger than Prometheus remembered¡ªhis hair pulled back, his shoulders squared with fury and sorrow.


    His eyes burned not with divine wrath but with human emotion¡ªbetrayal, confusion, helplessness.


    "I had to see it for myself,'' Epimetheus said through gritted teeth. "I had to see how far they would go."


    Prometheus tilted his head, letting his chains clink. "Surprisingly, not too far, for now. After all, I did steal something precious."


    "Why did you do it?" his brother growled. "You knew what would happen. You knew the punishment. So why!?"


    "I did," Prometheus said with a soft chuckle. "And honestly, I expected the chains to be heavier."


    Epimetheus glared at him. "This isn''t a joke."


    "No," Prometheus admitted. "It''s not."


    For a moment, the air between them thickened with silence.


    "I don''t understand," Epimetheus said, his voice cracking. "You, the smartest of us, the one who planned the traps and war machines that brought Cronus'' army to their knees¡ªyou gave away Olympus'' most precious flame to a bunch of hairless apes barely able to walk upright. Why?"


    Prometheus looked at him kindly, like a parent to a child still struggling to see the world beyond the horizon.


    "Come on, brother." Prometheus chuckled, "I think you should already know the reason."


    He doesn''t. He''s dumb and slow, that''s why he always followed Prometheus, because he''s smart and quick witted!


    He can''t understand why his brother did that!


    Not to mention those ungrateful bastards!


    "And those damn Olympians! Have they forgotten what you did!? If you didn''t risk your life hiding the remnants of their army, would they have enough force to beat the titans!?"


    "Don''t hate Olympus for this, brother," he said gently. "They only did what they believed necessary to protect their reign. What I did¡­ was treason. I know that. I accept it."


    "But why?" Epimetheus repeated, almost pleading now.


    Prometheus leaned back, letting the cold stone support his weight as he finally answered. "Because they needed it. Humanity needed a spark. Not just to cook their meat or light their caves¡­ but to believe. To hope."


    Epimetheus frowned. "Hope? They''re nothing but beasts. I''ve seen them. They kill for sport, destroy what they don''t understand, fight over meaningless things. They''re worse than some of the monsters the Titans created."


    Prometheus closed his eyes and nodded. "Yes. They lie, they steal, they betray. They destroy their own kind, their own homes. They burn what they can''t control and curse what they don''t understand."


    He paused, then opened his eyes slowly.


    "But they also dream, Epimetheus. They create songs with no audience. They paint visions of the world they wish existed. They hold each other through the dark. They fall in love. They look up at the stars and wonder what lies beyond. They risk their lives for people they''ve never met. They build, and laugh, and cry, and change."


    His smile returned, soft and reverent.


    "They are chaos, yes. But they are also possibility. That is the most dangerous and beautiful thing in the universe."


    Epimetheus said nothing. He stared at his brother, trying to find fault in his words, some flaw in the conviction that held the Titan''s broken body upright. But there was none.


    "...You love them," Epimetheus whispered, as though only just realizing it.


    "I do," Prometheus said. "Not as gods love their subjects. But as a father loves a child who hasn''t yet learned how to walk straight. They stumble. They fall. But one day, they''ll rise."


    The silence lingered again. Only this time, it felt different. Not cold. Not hostile.


    "Will you do something for me, brother?" Prometheus asked suddenly, leaning forward.


    Epimetheus met his gaze. "Anything."


    "Look after them. The humans. They''ll need guidance, protection. Someone who won''t try to turn them into slaves or toys or soldiers."


    Epimetheus blinked. "You want me to guide them?"


    "You don''t need to guide them," Prometheus said. "Just be there. Watch. Nudge. And when the time comes, help them remember what they''re capable of."


    Epimetheus hesitated¡­ then nodded.


    "I will," he said firmly. "I don''t understand it all. But I''ll do it. For you."


    Prometheus closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. For the first time since he''d been imprisoned, his shoulders relaxed.


    "Thank you," he whispered.


    They stayed like that for a while¡ªtwo brothers, separated by fate, ideology, and the bars of divine justice.


    And though the storm of Olympus would soon descend upon Prometheus, and the chains would bite deeper, and the eagle would come to feast upon his liver for countless centuries¡­


    He was at peace.


    For the flame had been given.


    And a spark had been born.

 Chapter 57 - 12: The Trial, and Love

    Olympus stood still.


    The sky above the mountain, normally vibrant with clouds, sunlight, and immortal radiance, had dimmed to a solemn hush.


    The great marble amphitheater, a monument of divine splendor, was filled with nearly every god and goddess that resided in the overworld.


    They sat in rows of floating thrones and seats formed of clouds, vines, crystal, or gold¡ªeach reflecting the personality and domain of the gods they belonged to.


    It was a rare occasion for Olympus: not a feast, nor a war council¡ªbut a trial.


    Prometheus, the fire-thief, the rebel, the Titan who once sided with the Olympians to overthrow his own kin, had been captured.


    And today, judgment would be rendered.


    But before the trial could begin, all gods waited¡ªsome with tension, others with irritation¡ªfor the arrival of one being.


    Perhaps the most important figure in this gathering. And no it wasn''t Zeus, nor Poseidon.


    But the god who awaits at the end.


    The god whom the Primordial Uranus acknowledged to stand beyond the heavens.


    King of Underworld, God of the Dead.


    Hades.


    Suddenly, a thick purple mist spread across the amphitheater, rolling over the divine thrones like a storm made of dreams and shadows.


    The younger gods¡ªthose born after the Titanomachy¡ªgasped in confusion and fear.


    A few stood up, gripping their weapons instinctively.


    A chill ran down their spines as the mist coiled and crackled with power ancient and boundless.


    Then it dissipated with a soundless exhale.


    Hades had arrived.


    Clad in robes darker than midnight, embroidered with threads that shimmered like starlight glimpsed through a cave, he stood tall.


    His divine presence bore the weight of uncountable souls.


    His eyes, deep and cold as the Styx, swept over the assembled immortals.


    The gods fell silent.


    Even those who had once marched with him during the war¡ªthose who now ruled the skies and lands and oceans¡ªstraightened uncomfortably.


    Because they remembered.


    They remembered the horrors of the war, the fury of Titans, and the merciless silence with which Hades erased his enemies.


    He was not one to bark orders or roar for blood. He simply acted. And when he did, it was final.


    Many of the gods now basking in luxuries and vanity could not forget the truth: that in power, Hades was someone that stands beyond anyone else in this gathering.


    They had changed over the decades. Some had become complacent. Arrogant. Drunk on authority.


    They became worse than the Titans whom they rebelled against and overthrown.


    That''s why when Hades'' eyes swept through them, they couldn''t help but lower their heads in shame and guilt.


    Although some, still feels quite close to the god of underworld.


    At this moment, a soft but confident voice interrupted the reverent stillness and silent guilt.


    "Greetings Lord Hades, Lord of Spirits," said a woman with grace and poise.


    Themis.


    The beautiful Titan Goddess of Justice, dressed in plain white robes, with eyes covered in blindfold.


    After the war, she chose to refrain from interfering with the politics of Olympus. Instead, she chose to build her own temple and judge the mortal world.


    Hades inclined his head.


    "Themis," he greeted, simply.


    She smiled softly and moved back to her place near the witness platform.


    Hades scanned the space, finding a good spot to take a seat, then raised a hand.


    Instantly, black crystal sprouted from the marble floor, shaping itself into an obsidian throne¡ªa dark mirror of Olympus'' gaudy gold.


    He sat, draping one leg over the other, resting a hand beneath his chin as he watched the proceedings with unreadable calm.


    Poseidon, seated nearby on a throne of coral and crashing waves, nodded to his brother.


    "Brother," he said with a voice like a tide retreating.


    Hades returned the nod, wordlessly.


    Zeus, however, was fuming.


    The King of Gods, robed in white and gold, sat at the center of it all. His eyes crackled with divine lightning, and his jaw was tight with irritation.


    The moment Hades arrived, the room had shifted. Whispers filled the air. The younger gods, who had once stood in awe of him, were now curiously peering at the figure in black.


    He could hear them.


    "Who is he?"


    "Is that the god of the dead?"


    "He doesn''t look like a corpse at all¡­"


    "Why would you think he''d look like a corpse?"


    "Because, I don''t know, he''s the freaking god of the dead!?"


    And worst of all, Hades completely ignored his majesty and didnt even greet him! He is the King of Gods! Yet Hades simply stared at him and didn''t bother offering any greetings!


    The disrespect!


    However, no matter how angry he is, he didn''t dare scold or reprimand Hades. His power is enough for Zeus to completely lower his head and swallow his pride.


    Finally, with a wave of his hand and a burst of thunder, Zeus stood.


    "Let it be known," he declared, his voice echoing across the chamber, "that this assembly has been gathered to bear witness to the trial of the traitor, the fire-thief, Prometheus."


    The amphitheater fell silent.


    Chains rattled.


    From a separate archway guarded by divine spirits, Prometheus was brought forth, shackled in glowing celestial chains.


    Though his body was thin, and wounds marred his skin, he walked upright¡ªshoulders back, chin lifted, and that damnable smirk still dancing on his lips.


    He was placed in the center of the amphitheater.


    Zeus stared down at him with storm-filled eyes.


    "Do you admit your crime?" Zeus asked.


    Prometheus looked up at him, his eyes calm as he stared straight at Zeus burning gaze.


    "If you mean giving your precious flame to humans," he said with a chuckle, ''then yes. Happily."


    A murmur rippled through the crowd.


    Zeus clenched his throne''s arms. ''You dare mock us even now?"


    "I mock no one, King of Gods," Prometheus said, gaze flickering over the gods who had once stood beside him during the war. "I only remind you what it means to give hope."


    Zeus slammed his foot to the floor.


    Thunder boomed, startling the gods who were witnessing the trial. Well, except for those whose power is at the same level, or exceeds that of Zeus.


    Hades leaned forward slightly, completely unaffected by Zeus performance.


    "Hope, huh." he echoed quietly, his voice calm.


    Prometheus turned to him, his expression softening. "Yes. I believe, that a day will come where humanity would shine brighter than any gods."


    "INSOLENCE!"


    Zeus roared, the sky darkened as thunders exploded in fury.


    Other gods also flared up their divine power, their eyes burning in anger at Prometheus.


    "HOW DARE YOU COMPARE US TO MERE MORTALS!?"


    "HAVE YOU BEEN BLINDED!?"


    Hades, intrigued, raised a hand. This immediately silenced the anger of the gods who all quickly retracted their aura, bringing the place into calmness and solemnity once more.


    "Why, Prometheus? Why risk your immortality, your status, your freedom¡ªfor humans?"


    Prometheus met his gaze. "Hah, many have asked this question before."


    Hades leaned forward slightly.


    "They all want reasons. Why would I go so far to steal the flames from the gods and gave it to humanity? Hatred towards the gods? Wanting to rebel? I feel none of that. There is no reason why...."


    He grinned, "Does a man need any reason to protect his children?"


    Another ripple of silence.


    Hades leaned back, resting his cheek on his knuckles once more.


    "You are a fool." He said, as Prometheus merely chuckled, "But I admire fools like you."


    He waved his hands to Zeus, "You can sentence him now. I have more questions to ask, but it seems like you couldn''t wait any longer."


    Zeus'' eye twitched, but he nodded stiffly.


    "For the crime of stealing the sacred flame, your sentence is thus," he announced, rising. "Prometheus shall be bound to the peak of the Caucasus Mountains. There, every day, an eagle shall feast upon his liver. And every night, it shall regrow. Eternal suffering, for eternal defiance."


    Prometheus didn''t flinch.


    "Sounds¡­ messy," he said with a tired grin.


    Zeus gestured. "Let it be done."


    As divine spirits prepared to drag Prometheus away, he turned his head slightly toward the crowd, or rather, to Hades.


    "Look after them." he said, barely a whisper.


    And those who had heard him knew¡ªhe was speaking of humanity.


    Then, with the chains glowing, he was pulled from Olympus.


    And Hades sat silently, eyes half-lidded, appearing to be in deep thought.


    Just now, he felt his heartbeat quickened, as if something tugged his heartstrings and called out to him.


    It was similar to what he felt with Nyx, but more intimate.


    ''What was that?''


    He wondered.


    *


    *


    *


    *


    Somewhere, far from the shores of any known land, the sea slumbered beneath the golden glow of dawn.


    The wind was gentle, the waves soft, and for a brief moment, all the world seemed to hold its breath.


    Amidst the calm blue waves, a patch of white foam drifted silently.


    It swirled in strange patterns¡ªelegant, almost purposeful¡ªyet no god nor mortal had laid eyes upon it.


    But the sea knew. The sky, too, remembered.


    And both trembled in anticipation.


    Then, with a blinding shimmer of light, the foam pulsed.


    From it, a figure emerged.


    A radiant woman stood on the surface of the water as though it were stone. Her golden hair cascaded down her back, shimmering like sunlight striking a still ocean.


    Her eyes gleamed with molten gold, ancient yet newborn. Her skin, kissed by starlight, was the perfect harmony of beauty and divinity.


    Every curve of her body was a melody sculpted to enchant. She was a being of desire, of allure, of ineffable elegance.


    And she was naked, without shame.


    The sea itself swirled around her, offering waves to cradle her, but none dared touch her without her will.


    She blinked slowly.


    She felt the sun''s warmth¡­ and recognized it. She felt the ocean''s embrace¡­ and welcomed it. She breathed in the wind¡­ and smiled.


    "I¡­ finally exists," she whispered, her voice like silk and honey.


    Though her lips had never spoken a word before, she knew the language. Though her eyes had never seen the world, she knew its names. Sear?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Her mind overflowed with ancient truths¡ªborn not of experience, but of divine instinct.


    She touched her heart, and a pulse of warmth responded. A soft hum called from within, not in words but in will. A direction. A purpose. A place.


    Mount Olympus.


    That name glimmered in her mind like a beacon. She did not know why, but she knew she had to go there.


    It was as if part of her had always belonged there¡­ waiting to be reunited.


    She looked up at the heavens and closed her eyes. She could feel her authority¡ªa divine domain¡ªthough it had not yet fully awakened.


    It yearned. Not for conquest or dominion, but for something more elusive.


    Connection.


    Love.


    Desire.


    Balance.


    From the sea she was born, but it was not her domain. From the sky she was formed, but it was not her father.


    She was a child of chaos, born of a fragment of Uranus¡ªof the severed sky¡ªand nourished by the sea''s womb. A primordial miracle.


    Aphrodite.


    She had not heard the name spoken, but it lingered in her thoughts like a forgotten lullaby.


    It was hers.


    "I am Aphrodite," she said, testing the shape of the words. "Goddess of¡­?"


    She paused. The answer was not yet clear, but it would come.


    With newfound resolve, she turned her gaze toward the distant peaks of Olympus.


    She lifted a hand, and the winds bent to her will. The sea gently released her as she rose from its surface.


    A current of air wrapped around her like invisible silk, lifting her higher and higher into the sky.


    She flew¡ªno, floated¡ªwith the grace of a falling petal in reverse. Birds scattered in surprise. Clouds parted before her beauty. The world itself seemed to hush in reverence.


    As she soared through the sky, an unseen ripple spread from her presence¡ªan unseen song that tugged at the hearts of men and gods alike.

 Chapter 58 - 13: There You Are

    Beneath the skies of Olympus, the divine hall thundered with merriment. Goblets of ambrosia clinked, music enchanted the air, and laughter echoed like celestial thunder.


    The Olympians were in high spirits, celebrating the punishment of the so-called traitor¡ªPrometheus.


    In fact, they never really cared about the flame, especially Zeus, as the flame was useless to him anyway.


    However, he hated the fact that someone dared to steal from him, ignoring his majesty.


    So punishment must be served.


    After that, they went back to their daily parties.


    But one god was absent.


    Far away, on the peak of a grand and tall mountain, where not even gods would dare to casually climb, Hades stood beside the chained Titan of Foresight.


    Prometheus was bound to a jagged monolith, thick adamantine chains wrapping around his limbs, gleaming with divine power.


    His body was weakened, his divine form dulled and gaunt from the draining sentence. Yet his smile had not faded.


    "Most would scream," Hades remarked, settling onto a stone, which softened into a black velvet chair the moment he sat. "You smile."


    "I''ve always found suffering makes for a dull companion," Prometheus said, his voice rasped but warm. "A smile helps ease the weight."


    Hades studied him in silence. "You knew this would happen. You saw the futures. And yet you gave them the flame."


    Prometheus nodded. "They needed it more than we did."


    "You could''ve changed things." Said Hades.


    "You cannot change things." Prometheus observed him, eyes going up and down. "Not everyone is like you who broke out of the ''cycle'' and grew conscious."


    Hades frowned, "What does that even mean?"


    "It means what it means." Prometheus smirked.


    For a moment, only the sound of the wind brushing the rocks was heard.


    Then Hades leaned forward slightly, his voice quieter now.


    "Forget that. Prometheus. Tell me. In all your scrying of the futures... have you ever seen it? Chaos?"


    The Titan''s smile faded a little, replaced by a stillness.


    "I have," Prometheus said. "Not often. Not clearly. But I''ve seen enough. A plane that exists infinitely beyond this dimension."


    Hades nodded. "Then, have you seen ''those'' that live there?"


    "....I remember when I was young," Prometheus mused, "a whisper came to me in a dream. It didn''t speak in words. It was a language beyond meaning. It showed me glimpses. Things that existed before form¡ªthings that should never have names."


    Hades'' gaze sharpened. "So you did huh. So, what do you think about them?"


    Prometheus looked at him. "What do I think? I think we should just worry about our own affairs. Those creatures are beyond even you."


    "True, I have never felt so small and insignificant when I saw them," Hades admitted. "However, I don''t want to be completely helpless if they decided to just destroy us for fun."


    Prometheus frowned, "I see."


    "That''s why, give me more information. I''m sure you knew more than you let on."


    Prometheus closed his eyes. "Chaos isn''t a thing, Hades. It''s what comes before thought. And those that dwell in it¡­ they aren''t gods. They''re not even beings. They''re... rules that don''t want to be broken. And every time humanity advances, every time they step outside their mortal cage, they scrape against those rules."


    Hades leaned back, his expression unreadable. "Humanity? Why them specifically? Not us? How are they somehow related to Chaos."


    "I don''t know," Prometheus sighed, "I cannot see what lies beyond the Trojan War. It''s all black, as if everything ceased to exist after that."


    He stared at Hades, "However, I do know that those creatures took notice of this world due to humans." S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Hades frowned. This conversation seems to made him more confused than before.


    ''Wait, every time humanity advances, they scrape those rules? Could it be that the reason why those creatures even found this place is because humanity is advancing?''


    However, he couldn''t understand why humans specifically.


    What was so special about them?


    *


    *


    *


    Meanwhile, in Olympus¡­


    The laughter died.


    The music stopped.


    A golden mist filled the hall like dawn piercing through fog, casting the shadows into sharp retreat.


    The gods turned, eyes wide, mouths parting in stunned disbelief.


    From the mist stepped a woman.


    No¡ªsomething more. Her golden hair danced like sunlit silk, her skin shimmered like fresh dew on marble, and her eyes... those eyes were ancient, ageless, and yet innocent as new spring.


    She wore nothing but strands of seafoam that somehow wrapped her modesty, teasing the imagination of even the most disciplined gods.


    Aphrodite had arrived.


    Every god stared, transfixed.


    Dionysus dropped his goblet.


    Hermes blinked rapidly.


    Poseidon''s jaw slackened.


    Even stoic Themis tilted her head in curiosity, analyzing the newcomer with cool calculation.


    Zeus rose from his throne, his grin growing.


    "Welcome, O radiant one," he said in his most charming voice, straightening his robes. "I am Zeus, King of the Gods. Might I ask your name, or shall I simply call you the Goddess of Beauty?"


    The golden-haired woman gave him a knowing smile, one that could start wars and end empires.


    "Aphrodite," she answered simply. "And yes¡­ the Goddess of Beauty sounds just right."


    As those words left her lips, the great hall of Olympus had become a battleground of charm and desperation.


    Gods scrambled like starved wolves in a banquet of beauty, each trying to win the favor of the newly arrived goddess¡ªAphrodite.


    "Come with me, and I will gift you a garden that rivals Elysium!" crooned Poseidon, strumming a melody laced with enchantment.


    "I can make you the queen of commerce, of travel, of messages between hearts," Hermes whispered, his eyes glittering with mischief.


    "I will build you temples in every city," Zeus growled at his fellow gods before turning towards Aphrodite. "You will have worshippers who bleed your name into the soil."


    One after another, gods and divine spirits offered her wealth, power, dominion, and dreams sculpted from celestial gold.


    Some knelt before her.


    Others tried to impress her with divine displays¡ªlightning, music, even illusions of future empires.


    Aphrodite merely smiled.


    Not coldly.


    Not cruelly.


    But distantly.


    As if she were not fully present¡ªher body basking in the adoration, but her mind... elsewhere.


    Her golden eyes scanned the divine throng with quiet purpose, ignoring the bickering gods.


    When a hand reached for her¡ªwhether it was to touch her hair or hold her arm¡ªshe moved like wind-blown mist, elegant and untouchable.


    Her presence was intoxicating, but her essence slipped through their fingers like a dream half-remembered.


    The gods began to argue among themselves. Some were subtle, casting illusions and charms to appear more desirable.


    Others shouted threats, old rivalries reignited in their desperation to possess her.


    Tension sparked.


    A fight brewed.


    Zeus''s patience thinned.


    The king of gods, seated upon his grand throne of stormclouds and authority, clenched his jaw.


    Every time he spoke, Aphrodite nodded with polite amusement but gave him no answer.


    Every time he approached, she moved away, gracefully evading his presence. For a god who demanded obedience, who ruled Olympus with thunder and pride¡ªthis was an insult he could scarcely bear.


    At this moment, the doors opened.


    And everything fell silent.


    The air grew heavy, and a quiet chill brushed past the revelers. Purple mist poured into the hall, seeping like ancient memory.


    And from that mist stepped Hades.


    His cloak billowed like the folds of night. His crown of obsidian shimmered with shadows. His presence quickly giving the feeling of terror and worship.


    The younger gods fell into quiet awe, shuffling aside as the God of the Dead returned from his visit to Prometheus.


    Hades walked slowly, his divine pressure rolling across the hall like a tide. He didn''t need to command silence¡ªhis presence brings silence and solemnity.


    A reminder of inevitable endings.


    But Hades paused.


    Just for a second.


    His steps faltered, and his eyes narrowed.


    He felt it.


    A ripple. A tremble in his divinity, as if a thread had been plucked from his very soul. Something ancient. Something familiar¡ªand yet completely unknown.


    Across the room, Aphrodite turned.


    Their eyes met.


    The gods faded away. Not literally, but in meaning. In presence.


    Her gaze held his with such intensity that even Hades¡ªwho had stood before Titans, who had become the lord of the dead itself¡ªfelt a weight in his chest.


    She saw him. Not just the body. Not the title. Not the god. Not the soul.


    Him.


    And she knew.


    This was the one.


    This was who her authority had whispered about before she even opened her eyes.


    The one who existed beyond beauty, beyond desire.


    The stillness that tempered the flame.


    The shade beneath the bloom.


    Aphrodite took a step forward.


    Hades didn''t move.


    Zeus noticed. His hand tightened on his throne.


    The gods held their breath.


    In a voice like a breeze through golden reeds, Aphrodite spoke¡ªdirected to no one but Hades.


    "There you are."


    It wasn''t a greeting.


    It was a realization.


    And the fates, unseen in the corners of the world, quietly turned the next page of destiny.


    A page stained with love and longing, with war and tragedy, with defiance and divinity.


    The goddess of beauty had found her anchor.


    And the ancient Greece would never be the same.

 Chapter 59 - 14: To Each Their Own

    In the dimly lit halls of the Underworld''s Core Section, the divine city of Nox pulsed with muted activity.


    Soul after soul moved like wisps under the ever-glowing lanterns of judgment.


    Temples for the great dead loomed in the distance, and the divine towers of the gods glimmered with ethereal majesty.


    But not all was peaceful.


    "Another petition?" Hera groaned, lifting a golden scroll from a table already stacked too high.


    Her elegant brows twitched in annoyance. "This one is from a greater god complaining that the judging system is biased because he cannot be with his mortal lover."


    "That''s the fourth today." Hecate sighed beside her, her midnight cloak rippling even without wind.


    She held a silver scepter that pulsed faintly with magic, indicating a new request.


    Again.


    "What in Tartarus does Hades deal with daily?" Hera muttered, setting the scroll down and massaging her temples. "No wonder he looks like he''s aged five eons in the last decade."


    "Not really, he looks more beautiful than ever," Hecate corrected with a smile. "But yes. His work is....stressful."


    Their workspace was a massive chamber filled with magical devices floating in the air¡ªeach representing different domains, biomes, souls, and divine territories.


    There are also projection showing Souls lined up in ethereal queues, overseen by divine spirits with clipboards and tired expressions.


    Divine Spirits fluttered in and out, dumping scrolls of petitions, territorial disputes, biome expansion requests, worship management, and afterlife infrastructure planning.


    "He needs another thousand divine secretaries," Hera muttered. "This is madness."


    "I think a thousand wouldn''t even be enough," Hecate mused, sarcastically. "I should''ve brought more wine."


    The self-proclaimed queen of Underworld and the goddess of magic were many things¡ªpowerful, cunning, wise.


    But today, they were glorified managers in an afterlife metropolis run by one overworked god, who is currently on leave.


    "I swear, if one more minor god complains about the temperature of the lava pools in the Torment Section¡ª" Hera began.


    But then she stopped.


    Her golden eyes narrowed.


    Something... shifted.


    Something subtle, but wrong.


    She looked up from the scrolls, her posture tensing. Her divine senses, ever sharp, extended out across the Underworld up to the overworld.


    Hecate noticed immediately. "What is it?"


    "I felt a ripple," Hera murmured. "A presence entered my territory."


    Hecate raised an eyebrow. "Enemy?"


    "I guess, yeah." Hera said, though her frown deepened. "Feminine. Immensely powerful. But not part of our domain."


    "An Olympian?" Hecate''s voice dipped cold. "What goddess would dare trespass into the Underworld without permission?"


    Hera stood from her obsidian throne, golden threads tightening around her wrists like gauntlets.


    "Who said it''s an intruder of underworld?" she questioned.


    Hecate blinked. "Then what are you talking about?"


    Hera turned, fire in her gaze. "I mean, some, fresh-born goddess is trying to lay her lecherous hands on my dear brother?"


    Hecate blinked, then chuckled. "You''re really starting to sound like a wife."


    "I am his sister, Queen of the Underworld," Hera retorted, adjusting her divine robes. "And someone must protect him from opportunistic divine harlots."


    "And here I thought you didn''t care."


    Hera crossed her arms, golden aura blooming behind her. "He''s one of the few gods who''s remained noble through the centuries. I do care."


    Hecate smirked. "Should I bring the scythe or the curses?"


    "Neither," Hera said, walking past her. "We''re simply going to observe. And if we find some golden-haired seductress trying to wiggle her way into Hades'' shadow, we''ll have a conversation."


    No one is touching her man!


    "I''ll get the wine," Hecate said, smiling wickedly as she followed.


    And thus, the goddesses of marriage and magic marched toward the divine courtyard¡ªscrolls forgotten, petitions left unread¡ªas a new ripple echoed across the Underworld''s stillness.


    The Queen of Underworld had sensed competition.


    And she would make sure no one touched what wasn''t theirs.


    *


    *


    *


    *


    Hades'' garden was silent, save for the gentle rustling of leaves¡ªreal leaves. A scent, sharp and refreshing, danced lightly through the stale air, contrasting against the heavy scent of ash and still souls.


    Demeter stood in the middle of Hades'' private garden, sweat glistening on her brow. Her once-pristine robes were muddied with black underworld soil, and her fingers were stained with traces of mana-infused dirt.


    She frowned deeply, glaring at the dry patch of ground in front of her. Her magic pulsed, and from it, a small stalk sprouted¡­


    ¡­and died moments later.


    "Ugh!" she groaned, flinging her hands up and falling backwards onto the dark grass. "Why is this place so difficult?"


    Not far from her, Minthe knelt by a neat row of glistening green stalks¡ªmint plants, healthy and thriving, their leaves dancing under an artificial breeze crafted by enchanted glyphs.


    She tilted her head and smiled softly as she watched Demeter writhe in frustration.


    "You''re using too much divine energy" Minthe said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "The ground here doesn''t respond to overwhelming force. It''s like... trying to raise a child by yelling at them."


    Demeter groaned again. "I''ve literally made jungles rise from stone. I cultivated floating fields in the skies! I am the goddess of the harvest. And yet here I am, being humbled by¡­ by this garden of death!"


    Minthe stood up and walked over, crouching beside her. "Technically, it''s a garden of life now."


    Demeter turned her head, resting her cheek on the cool soil. She stared at one of the mint plants nearby. The soft green shimmer, the scent that reminded her of summer breezes and meadows¡ªit didn''t belong here, and yet, it flourished.


    A paradox in leaf form.


    "¡­How?" she whispered.


    Minthe tilted her head. "How what?"


    Demeter stared at the plant. "How did this happen? How did you do it? Even I couldn''t make a single blade of grass grow down here for years. And you¡­ you made this entire row of mint."


    Minthe sat down beside her, picking a leaf and rubbing it between her fingers. "I used the notes you left behind. From when you visited. And I experimented for decades. I failed more times than I could count. But I just¡­ kept trying."


    Demeter blinked, surprised. "You¡­ used my notes?"


    Minthe chuckled. "Of course. You''re the expert, after all. I just¡­ listened to the Underworld. It has its own rhythm, you know. It''s not dead¡ªthe underworld is alive, and just like lord Hades, it prefers silence. So I learned how to whisper instead of shouting."


    Demeter was quiet for a moment. Then, finally, she sighed in defeat. "Would you mind¡­ helping me?"


    Minthe''s eyes widened. "You want my help?"


    Demeter groaned again. "Don''t make me say it twice."


    Minthe beamed, and without another word, helped the goddess up from the soil. "Alright. First rule: no raw divine force. Think subtle. Like cradling an ember instead of blasting a torch."


    Demeter dusted herself off. "You''re enjoying this far too much."


    "I am," Minthe admitted with a grin. "Now, come. Let''s plant something together. Maybe not mint¡ªwe already have too much of that. How about... underworld poppies?"


    Demeter blinked. "There''s such a thing?"


    "There is now," Minthe said playfully. "They glow at night."


    As the two goddesses knelt side by side, their fingers combing the soil and coaxing life from the depths of death, something rare bloomed between them¡ªrespect.


    Even in the land of the dead, growth was still possible.


    *


    *


    *


    *


    At the end of space, where the stars had long since dimmed and reality began to fray into formless threads, there drifted a shadow cloaked in silence and mystery.


    She was Nyx¡ªthe Primordial of Night¡ªolder than light, deeper than silence, eternal and unknowable.


    She moved without motion, a silhouette against the void, wandering through the hollow seams where existence began to crumble.


    Eons passed with each step, or perhaps no time at all. Here, at the edge of all things, time was a suggestion rather than a law.


    Then¡ªfinally¡ªa whisper echoed through the abyss, deep and reverberating, as if the fabric of reality itself were speaking.


    "Why have you come, Nyx?"


    Nyx halted. Her form, vast and cosmic, folded in upon itself until she appeared as a tall woman shrouded in endless night, her eyes two glowing crescents of silver.


    She crossed her arms, her voice smooth but firm. "I have questions, Khronos."


    The voice responded with a weary hum. "I cannot answer them."


    Nyx''s brow twitched. Few ever dared to deny her. Fewer still survived it. But she wasn''t here to wage war. She was here for clarity.


    She looked beyond the folds of time, seeing glimpses of what had passed¡ªwhat shouldn''t have passed.


    "I''ll break this dimension if you refuse to answer."


    "...how unreasonable. Very well."


    "Now, why did ''it'' happen earlier?" she asked, her voice lowering like the hush before a storm. "Why now?"


    There was silence. Not emptiness, but a silence pregnant with meaning. The silence of hesitation. Of guilt.


    Then, a whisper¡ªa ripple through reality.


    "Because I willed it so."


    Nyx narrowed her eyes.


    "This cycle is dying, Nyx," the voice of Khronos continued¡ªlow, ethereal, barely distinguishable from the dimension itself. "The threads are weakening. This will be the final chance. I cannot undo our mistakes anymore."


    Nyx''s fingers twitched.


    "So you accelerated the process," she murmured. "You let ''them'' discover this universe early."


    "Yes," came the reply, simple and unapologetic. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Nyx frowned deeply, the starry aura around her dimming like a dusk eclipsed by cloud. "You risk everything, Khronos."


    "I know. But now, please leave," Khronos said softly. "Before your shadow unravels the root of time itself."


    Even now, this place¡ªthis sacred veil¡ªis tearing apart just from Nyx''s presence.


    Nyx stood silent for a moment longer, her eyes shimmering with ancient light. She wanted to ask more. She wanted to defy him.


    But even she¡ªNight itself¡ªknew not to tamper too long here.


    She gave a final nod. "Then I will go. But remember, Khronos¡­ if this fails, your burden will be heavier than any other''s."


    The voice whispered no reply.


    And with that, Nyx turned. Her shadow collapsed in upon itself and vanished, like a dream recalled too late.


    Behind her, the space where she stood twisted briefly¡ªthen stitched itself shut like a wound.


    And once more, only Khronos, the Primordial of Time, remained in that unformed place, waiting.


    Watching.


    Silently praying this would be enough.

 Chapter 60 - 15: Regretfully

    The golden halls of Olympus rang with laughter, music, and the clinking of goblets as the gods celebrated the sentence of the traitor, Prometheus.


    Wine flowed like rivers, ambrosia piled high in silver bowls, and the sweet scent of nectar perfumed the air.


    At the long divine table, Hades sat quietly, picking at his food. Unlike the other gods, his presence did not boast arrogance or flamboyance¡ªrather, it radiated a quiet, undeniable power.


    His expression was stoic, indifferent to the roaring festivities around him. That is, until she started to het inside his personal space.


    Aphrodite.


    Golden-haired, with eyes like melting honey and skin that shimmered like the first blush of dawn, the newly born goddess floated beside Hades, her presence instantly capturing the attention of every god in the hall.


    Yet she had eyes for only one.


    "Lord Hades, am I correct?" she said sweetly, hovering beside his chair with a radiant smile, "May I ask, what is your favorite food?"


    Hades didn''t even glance up from his plate as he replied coolly, "Anything that tastes good."


    Aphrodite blinked, momentarily surprised at the simplicity, then giggled. "Alright then. What about your favorite color?"


    "Purple."


    Purple is power. Nobility. Grace. He had always liked that color even as a human in his past life.


    So his answer came without hesitation, and Aphrodite twirled her golden hair around her finger thoughtfully. S~ea??h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Hmm¡­ do you like long hair or short hair?"


    Hades finally looked at her¡ªjust briefly, his dark eyes locking with hers for a second that felt like an eternity. "Long hair. It brings out one''s elegance better."


    Aphrodite leaned forward, her smile becoming more mischievous.


    "Do you prefer younger girls¡­ or mature women?"


    The hall grew slightly quieter. A few gods subtly turned their heads to listen. A few not-so-subtly leaned in.


    After all, quite majority of gods prefer younger and ''minor'' lovers.


    Hades chewed a piece of meat slowly, swallowed, and answered evenly, "Mature women. They understand when to talk, and when to keep their mouth shut."


    His eyes wandered at Aphrodite, implying that he wants her to shut up.


    Aphrodite laughed again, full and musical, like a song rippling over a still lake. "You''re so fun to talk to, lord Hades."


    "I wasn''t trying to be," he said plainly, sipping his goblet.


    But that didn''t discourage her in the slightest.


    She continued¡ªquestions upon questions.


    His favorite season, which Hades answered to be wintor.


    Favorite flower, which Hades replied to be wisteria.


    Thoughts on love, with Hades answering he haven''t thought about it yet.


    His opinion on mortals, with Hades answering that he finds them intriguing and full of potential, but is annoyed by their stupidity.


    If he found her beautiful, which he did.


    If he thought she talked too much, and whatnot.


    Hades answered each questions like he was swatting a fly¡ªcalm, unbothered, honest.


    He even admitted, "Yes, you talk too much," which made Aphrodite laugh even harder and settle in closer beside him.


    Across the hall, the Olympians seethed.


    A god narrowed his eyes, pausing mid-drink.


    Another leaned on the table, pouting dramatically.


    Poseidon crushed a grape with his fingers, imagining it was Hades'' face.


    Even Zeus fumed quietly, a thundercloud forming behind his eyes as he watched the goddess of beauty orbiting around his older brother like a lovesick moron.


    "He''s not even trying," Themis whispered, clearly amused.


    "He doesn''t need to, many would throw themselves at him if he asked." A goddess replied, sipping her wine, eyes in heart shape as she stared at Hades.


    "Why is he following him around like a lost puppy?" Poseidon muttered.


    No one had the answer.


    But Aphrodite didn''t care. She circled Hades like a comet, her smile unshaken, her eyes shining.


    And Hades, unbothered and ever-composed, simply kept eating¡ªperhaps the only god on Olympus who could enjoy a meal while being interrogated by desire incarnate.


    Only the smallest of smirks tugged at the corner of his lips when no one was watching.


    Except Aphrodite. She saw it¡ªand she knew.


    She was getting closer.


    Then, as the golden plates were cleared and the last goblet of ambrosia drained, Hades rose quietly from his seat.


    "I''ll be taking my leave," he declared, his deep voice echoing through the celebratory hall.


    No one responded. Not immediately.


    But the silence was not one of respect¡ªit was relief cloaked in reverence. Behind the still faces and polite nods, a wave of hidden smiles spread like wildfire.


    Finally!


    The oppressive weight in the air seemed to lift. The fear, the unease that lingered when the Lord of the Underworld was in their presence¡ªall of it faded.


    Wine tasted sweeter.


    The fire burned warmer.


    Music returned with a livelier rhythm.


    Now they could really enjoy the party.


    Already, gods and spirits alike were shifting in their seats, angling themselves toward Aphrodite¡ªeach of them eager to claim her attention now that the shadow of Hades was leaving the hall.


    But their hopes were shattered with a single sentence.


    "I''ll follow you," Aphrodite said sweetly, rising from her seat and floating gracefully behind him.


    The party froze again.


    Every gods turned toward her in disbelief.


    Hades paused mid-step and glanced back. "You''re¡­ serious?"


    Aphrodite nodded, smiling as golden strands of her hair shimmered in the torchlight.


    "I''m going to the Underworld with you."


    Hades blinked. "The Underworld isn''t beautiful. It''s filled with endless night, iron skies, and rivers of the dead. The air tastes like ashes and the smell reeks of the dead."


    "I don''t mind," she said.


    Hades frowned. "It''s loud where it shouldn''t be and quiet where it should scream. You''ll hear mourning songs echo from caves, see wandering souls who''ve forgotten their own names. Nothing grows without struggle. Everything is a torment and pain."


    "I don''t mind," she repeated, still smiling.


    He stared at her. "We''re terribly overworked. Reincarnation petitions, judgment hearings, territorial disputes between shades, minor spirits demanding recognition, and the occasional cursed hero trying to fight their way out. There''s no rest. And certainly no parties like this."


    "I still don''t mind."


    "Minthe keeps accidentally planting mint in sacred places. Charon is always complaining about bridge tolls. And many complained that they are being paid less the amount work that they do.


    Aphrodite chuckled, unfazed. "I can help with that."


    "..." Hades narrowed his eyes. "You know, If a goddess of beauty starts living in the Underworld, mortals might start thinking death is beautiful. They''ll throw away their lives to find you."


    Aphrodite tilted her head, golden eyes gleaming. "Then we''ll deal with that after I settle in."


    He stared at her for a long, quiet moment.


    The gods behind them held their breath. Zeus clenched his goblet until the gold dented.


    A god muttered curses.


    Poseidon had already given up.


    Themis simply watched, intrigued.


    And finally¡­ Hades sighed.


    "Very well," he said.


    Aphrodite''s smile widened like the dawn.


    As Hades turned and exited the hall, the goddess of beauty followed with light steps, her glow trailing behind him like a second moon descending into the abyss.


    And for the first time in divine memory¡­ Olympus truly fell silent.


    *


    *


    *


    The dark gates of the Underworld creaked open with a groan like thunder rumbling through bone.


    Shadows parted before their master, revealing the obsidian steps that led down into the City of the Dead.


    Hades stepped through first, his aura dimming to match the gloom of his kingdom.


    Behind him, Aphrodite followed with an elegance that seemed wholly alien to the realm¡ªher feet never quite touching the ground, and every step leaving a faint golden glow before being swallowed by the earth.


    The spirits of the dead paused in their wandering. Even Cerberus blinked all three of his eyes in confused curiosity.


    But before either of them could take another step into the heart of the realm, two goddesses appeared before them.


    A golden shimmer to the left, and a swirl of purple mist to the right.


    Hera and Hecate.


    Hera stood with arms crossed, eyes narrowed.


    "I expected you to attend a council meeting," she said sharply, voice clipped like a blade of law. "Not pick up girls like some mortal prince in heat."


    Behind Hades, Aphrodite gave a sweet wave. "Greetings lady Hera, Lord Hades speaks highly of you."


    Hera froze.


    But she son recovered and glared at her like she might smite her on the spot.


    Hades exhaled, rubbing his temples. "She didn''t exactly give me a choice. She''s incredibly persistent. And loud."


    "I''m persuasive," Aphrodite corrected with a wink.


    Hera eyed her for a long, silent moment¡ªlong enough that Hades instinctively took a step back, half-expecting thunderbolts or curses.


    But instead, Hera grabbed Aphrodite by the wrist.


    "You. With me'' she ordered.


    Before anyone could object, the two vanished in a flicker of golden light.


    Hecate chuckled softly and gave Hades a sympathetic smile.


    "Welcome home," she said warmly, her voice as calm as midnight wind.


    Then she too vanished, her purple mist dissolving into the air.


    And Hades was left standing alone in his own realm, blinking dumbly at the empty space before him.


    He slowly looked around, shoulders slumping.


    "...I was gone for an hour."


    Cerberus whined.


    A group of souls began arguing over their place in line for judgment.


    The dead started muttering rumors already. The Underworld had changed. A new presence had entered. Something warm. Something strange.


    Hades sighed.


    So began the newest chapter of the Underworld¡­ with beauty descending into death.


    "I should''ve stayed with Prometheus."

 Chapter 61 - 16:

    Blood stained the soil.


    Smoke billowed into the skies.


    All across the overworld, humanity groaned beneath the weight of punishment¡ªor trial.


    No one truly knew.


    Ever since Prometheus gifted them fire, the monsters came in waves¡ªbeasts that defied nature, creatures with eyes that glowed in the dark and bodies like twisted shadows of man and beast.


    Villages burned.


    Children cried.


    Elders wept. And still, the gods did nothing.


    But mortals, stubborn as ever, endured.


    Among them was Herios.


    His tribe was small but stubborn, surviving through sheer grit and clever traps, they live near a reason rhat has now become a sen of monsgees.


    Herios, tall and sharp-eyed, led them through forests of ash and plains riddled with scorched bones to reach the agreed meeting place¡ªan ancient ruin with a single circular stone table cracked in the middle, left behind by a people long gone.


    Around it now sat eleven men and women, each bearing the scars of battle.


    Each one a leader of a tribe.


    Bronze weapons leaned beside them¡ªswords, spears, axes. Faces were grim, jaws clenched.


    The meeting began with silence.


    Then, a weathered old man slammed the butt of his spear on the stone.


    "We are cursed," he declared. This is the wrath of the gods for accepting the flame. Prometheus has damned us."


    Another scoffed, a younger woman with a hawk-feathered cloak. "Or this is a test. The gods gave us a gift, now they wish to see if we are strong enough to hold it."


    "They could test us without slaughtering our children!" another snapped, eyes red from sleepless nights and fresh grief.


    Herios stood slowly, arms crossed. "It doesn''t matter whether it is punishment or trial. The monsters are real. They are killing us. If we argue while our people die, then we''ve already failed the gods, or waited for the monsters." S§×ar?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Silence returned.


    The wind howled through the broken stones of the ruin.


    "I suggest we prayed and asked the gods for help."


    "Hah! As if thoses guys would even offer us any help. I suggest we attack the monsters first, annihilate tbem before they annihilate us."


    "No, that would get us killed faster."


    One by one, they shared their ideas¡ªbuilding stronger walls, migrating south, praying to the gods, sacrificing captured beasts.


    None could agree. Each leader thought only of their own tribe.


    Finally, Herios stepped forward and laid his hand on the cracked stone table.


    "We must become one."


    The leaders looked at him.


    "One tribe. One voice. One shield. We will not survive as eleven weak branches. But we can become a tree."


    "Who would lead this tree of yours?" one chieftain asked coldly. "You?"


    Herios shrugged. "Unfortunately, I don''t have any interest in leading. We can choose, or fight, or vote. I don''t care how. But if we remain divided, we die."


    They erupted.


    "I have the largest tribe!"


    "My warriors are stronger than yours!"


    "I was chosen by my god!"


    "No, I was!"


    "My tribe is the best hunters, we can provide more food."


    At this moment....


    The table shook as tempers rose. Weapons clanged. Shouts echoed in the ruin.


    Then came the scream.


    A young scout, barely more than a boy, came running, stumbling on cracked stone, blood on his arms. "Monsters! They''re coming¡ªhundreds of them! Claws, horns¡ªthey''re surrounding the camp!"


    The leaders froze.


    Herios grabbed his spear.


    "I don''t care about being leader or not," he said, voice hard like hammered bronze. "But I will fight. I will protect as many people as I can. If you follow, then fight beside me. If not¡ªmay the gods favor your tribes."


    He turned and marched out of the ruin, his tribe already rallying behind him.


    And slowly¡ªashamed, angry, desperate¡ªone by one, the other leaders followed.


    For the first time in history, the tribes would stand together.


    But unity born in fire was unity tested in blood.


    The age of tribes was ending.


    And a new age for humanity¡­ had just begun.


    *


    *


    *


    Far beneath the realm of mortals, along the rivers of Styx and Lethe, within the black-stoned halls of the Hades'' fortress, the God of the Dead observed.


    A faint, silver-blue projection hovered in the air before Hades, displaying the overworld¡ªits burning forests, crumbling villages, and, in the center of it all, a band of humans finally uniting.


    The figure at their front, Herios, stood tall with a cracked bronze sword and a fire in his eyes that even gods could feel.


    Hades, seated in his obsidian throne, rested his chin upon one hand. A small, knowing smile tugged at his lips.


    "They finally do it," he murmured. "Unity in the face of extinction. Although a bit cruel, but with this, humanity has taken a step to becoming the lord of this land."


    Just then, his chamber doors flew open, slamming against the black marble walls with a thunderous clang.


    "Aphrodite," he muttered without turning, recognizing the divine signature immediately.


    She stormed in like a frustrated gust of spring wind¡ªthough in truth, she looked more like she''d barely survived a hurricane.


    Her golden hair was tangled at the ends, her dress slightly wrinkled, and most tellingly of all¡ªthere were dark circles beneath her eyes.


    The Goddess of Beauty, clearly, had not been sleeping.


    Yet as soon as Hades turned to face her, all imperfections vanished. As if the Underworld itself refused to let her appear anything less than perfect before its King.


    Hades, of course, noticed¡ªbut said nothing.


    "Adjusting well to the Underworld?" he asked dryly.


    Aphrodite let out a soft groan. "It''s dark, it''s cold, and the spirits keep asking me if I''m some kind of hallucination."


    She dropped herself onto the edge of his desk before rising again, pacing behind him instead.


    "And yet here you still are."


    "I never said I hated it. Besides, I do all this because Hera and Lady Hecate all told me that you like hard working woman." she replied smoothly, placing her arms gently around his shoulders, her cheek resting next to his. "I just didn''t expect to do so many things. Work. Meetings. More work. More meetings. And even more work! Underworld is incredibly understaffed!"


    She leaned closer, her chest pressing against his back, her golden curls brushing against his jaw as she gazed at the floating image of Herios and the human tribes.


    "They''re¡­ not bad," she admitted. "I wasn''t expecting these glorified monkeys to actually amount to something. But look at them. Tools, courage, intelligence, and wisdom, they have developed quite well in my opinion."


    Hades chuckled, low and amused. "That''s rare. You''re not one to praise others."


    She smirked. "Well, perhaps it''s because I''ve grown fond od them. For centuries, they''ve done little more than rut and fight over shiny stones. They are ugly and weak. Dumb and reckless. Their lifespan is short and fleeting. They have shown no potential for greater things. Until now."


    "They were never meant to advance and grow this quickly," Hades replied, voice calm and ancient. "But perhaps due to their own mortality, they learned to make the most use of their short lives. The gods are stars¡ªburning bright and never changing. But humans¡­ they burn, then they change. Then they burn again. That''s what makes them so fascinating."


    Aphrodite hummed thoughtfully. "Perhaps. But enough of those guys."


    She stood up straight and went in front of him, hands slamming on his desk. "The smell of mint is becoming too thick! It''s making me dizzy! Please tell Minthe and Lady Demeter to lay off the planting!"


    "You''ll get used to it," Hades murmured. "And if not, you''ll suffer through it like the rest of us."


    He tried asking them before, but their arguments after that was something he wished to forget.


    For the kind and gentle women that they are, they really turned incredibly aggressive when it comes to plants.


    Not even Hades can withstand them.


    She stared at him straight, before a helpless sigh escaped her lips. "...I wish I could hit you for making a lady endure all these. But I can''t because I love you. You''re lucky, you know that right? You''ve got the most beautiful goddess in cosmos dancing on your palm."


    "Yes, I heard that a lot."


    For a while, they stood in silence, before Aphrodite draped over him once again, watching mortals fight for survival.


    "Well, enough of that. Lemme see those humans."


    "You really grew fond of them." Said Hades.


    Aphrodite smiled at him, "Well, they are a race that is favored by the man I loved, so it''s natural right?"


    Hades remained silent, not knowing how to respond to her feelings. So he can only sigh and watch the projection with her.


    A goddess born from the sea, and a god forged in the depths of the earth, looking down on a race not made by either of them¡ªyet stirring something in both.


    And far above, Herios stood tall, bronze sword raised, shouting orders as a pack of monsters descended upon them.


    The first battle of humanity''s new future was beginning.


    And in the depths of death, two gods watched it bloom.

 Chapter 62 - 17: The First Step

    Smoke curled through the skies like dying prayers, the scent of blood and burning flesh thick in the air.


    The sun¡ªif it could still be called that¡ªwas veiled behind a blanket of ash and winged beasts.


    Below it, at the foot of a valley once used by farmers, battle raged.


    Herios stood at the forefront, his muscles tense and slick with sweat, his cracked bronze sword held high.


    "CHARGE!"


    His voice roared like thunder, and his tribe surged forward at his command¡ªmen and women wielding crude spears, jagged swords, and wooden shields bound with sinew.


    The other tribe leaders also led their tribe to attack.


    Their war cries filled the air as they clashed with the beasts.


    The monsters¡ªcreatures twisted by chaos, with tusks of iron and limbs like scythes¡ªmet the charge head-on.


    Some crawled on all fours with shrieking mouths in their chests, while others stood tall like giants, swiping aside humans like flies.


    The sound of bone snapping echoed. Screams rose. Blood sprayed the dirt, turning the once fertile ground into a crimson swamp.


    Herios led from the front, darting between a towering beast''s legs, slicing at tendons and plunging his sword into its chest.


    It howled in rage before collapsing.


    He didn''t pause. Another lunged, and he ducked under a claw, jabbing upward to pierce its neck.


    But despite his lead, the battlefield was descending into chaos.


    "Stay in formation!" he shouted, but his voice was drowned beneath the cacophony of terror and steel.


    Humans were falling¡ªslain by sharp fangs and heavier bodies. The tribes had never fought together. Every group protected their own, and none trusted the other.


    The once-assembled coalition fractured into clumps of panicking warriors.


    Orders were ignored. Cries for help went unanswered.


    "Protect the flank!" one tribe leader shouted.


    "Fall back! We''re overwhelmed!" cried another.


    "No! Press forward! We have the numbers!"


    Confusion reigned.


    Herios gritted his teeth, watching a line collapse under the weight of a charging beast.


    It trampled a boy no older than fifteen. His scream was short-lived.


    He had to act.


    "ENOUGH!" Herios bellowed, his voice sharper than a blade and heavier than any command.


    Something in it made the tribes freeze, even in the middle of death.


    "Break into three groups!" he shouted. "Form a crescent! Keep the beasts contained! Don''t fight alone¡ªpair up! You, the spear throwers! Focus fire on the winged beasts!"


    There was hesitation. But then, miraculously, they moved. Something about Herios'' voice cut through fear like fire through darkness.


    He rushed to the left flank, rallying the scattered warriors. "Swords to the front! Shields behind! Rotate every ten seconds¡ªkeep the beasts at bay!"


    They formed crude phalanxes. It wasn''t perfect, but it worked, especially since it was thought of by a what can be describe as a caveman.


    The monsters pushed. The humans held.


    Herios darted across the battlefield like a flame, reinforcing the weakest points, giving new commands, adjusting formation.


    Where one flank wavered, he reinforced.


    Where another broke, he counterattacked.


    He climbed onto a fallen beast''s corpse to see the battlefield. His mind raced¡ªnot just a warrior''s mind, but something deeper.


    Tactical.


    Analytical.


    Thoughts that is different from the simplemindedness of humans of this era.


    "Light the black liquid," he told one spear thrower group. "Set the ground ablaze. Cut off their advance."


    They obeyed.


    The monsters surged¡ªand fire consumed them.


    Cheers erupted from the humans.


    But it wasn''t enough.


    More beasts emerged from the hills, called by the scent of blood. Larger, deadlier.


    One had three heads and bone plates thicker than stone. Another screeched, and a group of humans bled from their ears.


    Herios'' men screamed. Some ran, others cried.


    If this continued, they will surely get annihilated.


    "We fall back," Herios ordered, panting. "Crescent formation, retreat eastward! Take the wounded first! Burn the ground behind us!"


    The tribes followed, not questioning anymore. Herios guided them like a conductor of war, leading a chaotic orchestra through hell.


    They retreated slowly, every step costing lives, but the line held.


    And when the last warrior crossed the valley ridge, Herios turned one final time to face the horde.


    His sword was broken. His armor dented. His eyes, however, were still lit with fire.


    "We''ll be back," he whispered, voice a promise to the gods and monsters alike.


    Then he turned and ran, disappearing into the smoke with the last hope of mankind.


    *


    *


    *


    Night had fallen. The flicker of torches barely pierced the darkness that wrapped the mountainside like a funeral shroud.


    Hidden behind a cascade of stone and vines, in a large secluded cave, the surviving humans huddled together¡ªbloodied, broken, but not defeated.


    Moans of the wounded echoed faintly through the chamber as healers moved swiftly, treating torn flesh and setting broken bones with crude tools and whispered prayers.


    Children cried softly in the corners, comforted by tired mothers.


    The air was thick with the scent of smoke, blood, and the unshakable tension of what they had just survived.


    At the far end of the cave, beneath the dim glow of a single burning brazier, the tribe leaders gathered.


    Eleven of them, cloaked in fur and bearing the marks of warriors, sat in a circle carved into the stone floor, their faces lined with weariness and ash.


    No one spoke for a long moment.


    Then, an elder with braided grey hair and a broken spear leaning against his shoulder broke the silence. "We were lucky to survive."


    Murmurs of agreement followed.


    "Yeah. I didn''t think we''d actually survive." another muttered. "If it wasn''t for Herios, we probably would''ve been eaten by those beasts."


    All heads slowly turned to Herios, who stood nearby with his arms crossed, gazing at the map he''d carved into the cave floor with the charred end of a sword.


    "Even though we fought together, we lacked coordination," said a younger chief, rubbing dried blood from his hands. "The chaos and different voices shouting commands confused our people."


    "Aye," said another, voice firm. "...I think we should officially unite as one. I''m sure everyone here knows that we''d all die if we scattered."


    One by one, the others nodded. The elder rose slowly, his joints creaking like old bark.


    "Then, it is time," he said. "Time we stop pretending we can survive this age alone. Our ancestors divided the land and splintered the people¡ªbut that time is over. Today, we fight for more than just our own kind. We fight for all mankind."


    He turned to Herios.


    "You have shown what a leader looks like, and that is not to have just strength, but also wisdom. Not just valor, but also vision. We would have been slaughtered without you."


    "I agree," said a broad-shouldered woman with a scar across her cheek. "I saw how you moved across the battlefield. You gave hope when there was none."


    "I watched you save my daughter," whispered another, eyes misty. "You didn''t even know who she was. But you shielded her with your own body. That is the kind of leader we need."


    All eyes turned again to Herios.


    He met each gaze, his heart heavy.


    "I am only one man," he said at last, voice steady. "I bled with you. I lost friends with you. I did what I must to survive. Nothing more."


    "You did more than that," said the elder. "You led us."


    Silence followed.


    After a few minutes, Herios finally nodded. "Very well. If this is what you believe¡­ then I will lead."


    A cheer rose, faint at first, then growing.


    The leaders all stood, placing their weapons in a ring at Herios'' feet¡ªa sign of allegiance and respect.


    That night, the humans gathered as one. The wounded were propped up, the children carried, and the old brought forward to witness history.


    Herios stepped onto a stone outcropping inside the cave and raised his voice.


    "Today," he declared, "we bury our tribes. Today, we are no longer eleven scattered tribes. Today, we become one tribe. One people. One flame."


    A roar of agreement filled the cavern.


    "We will fight together," he continued. "We will forge weapons together. We will teach our children the art of war, and we will not bow to the gods, nor the monsters who hunt us. We will rise, and survive." S~ea??h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    He raised his hand, and in it, a torch blazed with fire.


    "From this day forward¡ªwe are the Ithas Tribe! In honor of the divine who defied the gods and gave us the sacred flame!"


    The humans raised their voices and weapons, and in that sacred moment, beneath the stone and stars, the first step to the building of mankind''s first nation was taken.


    *


    *


    *


    In underworld, in Hades floating fortress.


    A projection hovered before Hades and Aphrodite. In it, flickering and alive, was the image of humanity.


    They had survived.


    More than that¡ªthey had united.


    Herios, now leader of the newly-formed Tribe of Flame, stood atop stone, his people cheering, fire blazing behind him as symbols of their defiance against annihilation.


    From his dark throne, Hades leaned forward, his chin resting on his knuckles. His stern face betrayed little emotion¡ªbut his eyes, normally cold as obsidian, held a flicker of light.


    "It begins," he murmured. "The beginning of a city, no, a civilization. The first time mankind looks beyond mere survival¡­ and toward legacy."


    A soft rustle came from beside him. Aphrodite, draped in a flowing silken gown that shimmered like starlight, sat comfortably on a divan near the edge of the scrying pool.


    Her golden eyes gleamed with mirth, and the faintest smile played on her lips.


    "They are really stubborn bunch," she said. "I thought they would scatter like frightened deer after that battle."


    "They almost did," Hades replied. "But Herios held them together. He really deserves to be their leader."


    Aphrodite watched as a group of human children passed stones to help build a crude wall, their laughter echoing faintly through the vision.


    A moment passed.


    Aphrodite rose and walked toward him, placing a gentle hand on the armrest of his obsidian throne. Her touch was warm against the cold stone.


    "You really like them."


    "Maybe," Hades admitted. "They remind me that power isn''t always forged in birthright or divine might. Sometimes¡­ it''s forged in hardship and struggle."


    Yes, just like he was back then. Desperate for power.


    She tilted her head. "Do you think the other gods will care?"


    He smirked. "Not yet. But they will. When cities rise. When temples are built. When prayers echo across the mountains and rivers¡ªthey will care."


    "And when that happens," she said, "they''ll try to claim them."


    "I won''t let them," Hades said, voice sharp as a drawn blade. "These mortals deserve to rise by their own hands, not be puppets to divine whims."


    Aphrodite gazed back at the image of Herios giving orders, firelight dancing across his determined face.


    "They are¡­ beautiful, in their own way."


    "Indeed," Hades agreed.


    And so, in the quiet of the Underworld, the God of the Dead and the Goddess of Beauty watched the dawn of human civilization¡ªnot as distant deities, but as silent guardians of the flame now burning in mortal hearts.

 Chapter 63 - 18:

    In the ever-twilight realm of the Underworld, where shadows whispered and souls passed in silence, a rare warmth bloomed by the banks of the River Lethe. sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The river, ever calm, shimmered faintly under the faint glow of blue lantern-flames that floated above the dining pavilion.


    The tranquility of this day was not born from magic or divine command¡ªbut from the collective decision of gods and goddesses to simply rest.


    Hades and his ''secretaries'' has been too tired lately, so they needed to relax.


    A long obsidian table stretched across a flat terrace by the river, its surface polished until it reflected the faces of those seated around it.


    The air was cool and still, filled only with the gentle sound of Lethe''s waters trickling by and the occasional laughter of godly voices.


    Hades, Lord of the Underworld, sat at the head of the table.


    Dressed in dark silks embroidered with silver thorns, his usually solemn face was softened by something uncharacteristic¡ªcontentment.


    He held a delicate goblet carved from soul crystal, filled with a wine fermented in the depths of Tartarus.


    Beside him, Aphrodite lounged with her elbow resting on the table, her long golden hair tied into a messy braid that trailed over her shoulder.


    She was barefoot, her sandals tossed carelessly nearby, her demeanor relaxed and teasing.


    "So," Aphrodite began, swirling her drink with mischief in her golden eyes, "does every meal in the Underworld come with background wailing, or is that just the ambiance?"


    This is the first time since she came here that she participated on the rare picnic of "Hades and Friends".


    "That''s the screams of the condemned," Styx replied dryly, tossing a few fruits to her mouth, "You get used to it. Like the sound of wind in the overworld."


    Aphrodite chuckled. "Charming."


    On Hades'' other side, Hecate was calmly dissecting a glowing mushroom with silver utensils, her expression one of intense interest.


    "It''s said the River Lethe carries memories. People who drank from it would have their memories erased and stored in the river."


    Lethe, the river''s personification, leaned back in her seat with a distant smile. "Yes, that''s a recent addition. Lord Hades wanted those memories to made into books so his library would keep expanding."


    "Speaking of forget, I''d pay good drachma to forget certain things," said Demeter, eyes showing anger as she remembered things of the past.


    She wanted to forget about how Zeus and Poseidon tried to lay their hands on her. Really, if not for her twin sickles which made her able to fend off his brothers.


    Minthe, seated between Lethe and Demeter, noticed Demeter''s foul mood and changed the subject. "Hey Aphrodite!"


    Aphrodite, who was about to put a pomegranate on her mouth, suddenly stopped and stared back.


    "Don''t you dare eat anything from underworld or you''ll be stuck as an underworld goddess!"


    Aphrodite simply smiled and laughed, "It doesn''t really matter, does it? I never leave to pay nemfire rakkmmmmm,,


    Demeter huffed but couldn''t hide her amusement. "Or maybe it just responds to your stubbornness."


    "Call it passion," Minthe said sweetly, sipping a glass of pomegranate nectar.


    Hades leaned slightly toward Aphrodite, who had begun braiding a tiny wreath from Lethe lilies.


    "You''re awfully sociable," he said. "That''s a rare phenomenon."


    She smirked. "I''m watching. Taking in your little family. It''s¡­ sweet. And weird. But mostly sweet."


    Her eyes sparkled. "Who would have guessed that the Underworld has picnic days?"


    "Don''t speak too loud," Styx muttered. "If the souls hear we''re enjoying ourselves, they''ll riot."


    They all laughed at that, even Lethe, whose laughter was like the breeze passing over calm water¡ªbarely audible, but beautiful nonetheless.


    Suddenly, a ghostly soul drifted too close to the perimeter. Hecate raised a finger and gently redirected it with a spark of purple magic, sending it floating away with a dazed expression.


    "Occupational hazard," she said calmly.


    Aphrodite stood, stretched luxuriously, and walked barefoot over to the riverbank.


    Her hair caught the light like fireflies as she stared at the water.


    "Do they still drink from you, Lethe" she asked curiously.


    "Every day," Lethe replied, her voice layered with old beg for forgetfulness. Others fear it. But all who pass here, eventually drink."


    "That''s terrifying." Aphrodite said.


    "Yes, but necessary," Hades replied, to join her. "Mortals can''t enter their next life carrying the weight of the last. Even pain must fade."


    Aphrodite glanced at him. "And what about us gods? Do we forget?"


    "No," Hades said with a faint smile.bWe remember too much."


    Minthe and Demeter had gone into a quiet debate about underworld soil composition, while Styx calmly judged them both, sipping from her flask of water sourced directly from her river.


    Hecate was etching something into her plate with her fork¡ªlikely a sigil or a spell out of boredom.


    Lethe, meanwhile, stared into her own reflection on the river.


    "Even I," she whispered, "wish I could forget¡­ sometimes."


    Hades heard her, but he said nothing.


    A silence settled over the group¡ªnot heavy, but thoughtful.


    It didn''t last long.


    "Alright," Aphrodite broke it with her usual tact. "If anyone here still remembers how to dance, I propose we do it. Right now. I refuse to let a picnic in the Underworld end without at least one waltz."


    "I don''t dance," Styx said immediately.


    "I do," said Lethe, surprising them all.


    Aphrodite grinned. "Then we''ll start with the River herself."


    And so they danced, beside the waters of forgetting. Gods and goddesses, old and eternal, who had seen the rise and fall of ages¡ªfinding, if only for a fleeting moment, peace.


    Even in the Underworld.


    Even surrounded by the dead.


    They laughed. They danced.


    At this moment, they simply enjoyed themselves.


    *


    *


    *


    High above the clouds, where lightning danced and winds howled in reverence, the golden halls of Olympus glimmered beneath the divine sun.


    At the center of it all, on a dais carved from celestial marble and veined with pure stormlight, Zeus sat tall upon his throne¡ªlightning crown aglow, eyes thunderous with pride.


    Before him, a semicircle of kneeling gods awaited his proclamation.


    Trumpets of wind and eagle cries echoed through the great hall as the King of the Gods rose, arms wide, voice rolling like distant thunder.


    "Let the heavens bear witness,x he declared, "for today, the Council of Twelve shall be complete. Olympus shall shine in divine order once more!"


    The kneeling gods raised their heads slightly as Zeus began his decree, golden light flaring from his hands.


    "To my children, Apollo and Artemis¡ªborn of fair Leto, loyal and mighty¡ªyou shall take your place among the Twelve. Apollo, Lord of Light, and Artemis, Huntress of the Moon. Let your thrones rise beside mine."


    Two new thrones emerged with a rumble, forged from white gold and carved moonstone, radiant in their symmetry.


    Next, Zeus turned toward the armored figures beside them.


    "Athena, child of wisdom, born from Metis¡ªthough she emerged from her mother''s mind, she is of Olympus blood. And Ares, bold and wrathful, forged in war. Let both stand as gods of strategy and strength. The realm shall need both mind and muscle."


    Another pair of thrones rose, one of cold iron laced with rubies, the other of pristine marble etched with ancient scripts.


    "Dionysus," Zeus said with a smirk, raising a goblet of wine, ''you, child of revelry, of madness and joy¡ªyou make Olympus louder, stranger¡­ but never dull. Your gifts bring laughter and release. And your wine is divine. Take your throne."


    A chair of polished grapevine wood burst forth, trailing ivy and laughter as Dionysus grinned ear to ear.


    "Astrea," Zeus continued, "daughter of Astraeus, who stood beside me when titans raged¡ªI honor your father''s loyalty through you. Goddess of justice, you shall carry the weight of balance among us."


    Her throne appeared next, formed of starlight and scales, silent and serene.


    "Hephaestus," he said next, glancing toward the limping god of fire and forge. "Born of Metis, shaped by will alone. The one who crafts our arms, our halls, our legends. Olympus needs your hands."


    Hephaestus bowed deeply, and a mighty throne of molten bronze and cooled iron erupted in a cloud of sparks.


    And then, with dramatic pause, Zeus turned to the side.


    "And of course¡ªyour King, your Stormbringer. Myself."


    Thunder crackled overhead.


    "Beside me, my loyal brother, Poseidon, Lord of the Sea. My sister, Hestia, heart of Olympus. My queen, Metis, source of wisdom and mother of divine minds."


    With those final names, the thrones of seafoam coral, eternal flame, and crystalline thought completed the circle. Twelve thrones. Twelve gods.


    "The Olympian Council is now complete!"Zeus bellowed.


    A surge of divine power pulsed through the hall. Olympus trembled with affirmation.


    But just as the applause rose, a minor god stepped forward nervously.


    "Lord Zeus, what of Lady Hera? And Lady Demeter?"


    The skies darkened for a moment. Zeus scowled, waving a dismissive hand.


    "They''ve failed to attend even a single meeting. What use are gods who do not act? Let them wander. Olympus has no room for the idle."


    The assembly was quiet for a moment.


    Then Zeus raised his arms again.


    "Let us celebrate the Twelve. Let their names echo through the mortal realms. Let Olympus thrive, united under the might of its gods!"

 Chapter 64 - 19: Shelter and Patrons

    The forest air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth as Herios marched through the foliage, flanked by his loyal warriors.


    The morning sun filtered through the branches above, casting shifting patterns of light onto the forest floor.


    The group tread carefully, alert for monsters or wild beasts. S~ea??h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Though the war against the beasts had lessened in intensity, their presence was still felt¡ªlurking, waiting.


    So a daily patrol was a necessity, and as a leader, Herios believes that it is his duty to ensure the well-being of his people and personally leads the patrol group.


    Just then, the group heard rustling. Herios signaled for them to keep quiet and lower themselves.


    However, Herios himself made a move, observing the source of the sound.


    It was then that Herios paused.


    His warriors who were told to keep quiet and remain still stared at him, confused, gripping their bronze spears.


    "Leader?" one of them asked, scanning the area for threats.


    But Herios said nothing.


    His eyes were fixed on something small and unassuming¡ªa squirrel, busying itself around a log that had fallen against a pair of rocks.


    The creature darted in and out, carrying nuts and sticks, tucking them inside the hollowed wood.


    Herios watched it as if he were looking at a god.


    "He''s... watching a squirrel," one warrior whispered.


    "A god-chosen squirrel?" another asked.


    "No," Herios said suddenly, breaking his silence. "Look at it. It made a home."


    The men blinked.


    Herios turned to them, eyes sharp with clarity. "We live in a cave. And that cave is not ours. We found it. But this creature¡ªit made a place of its own. With what nature gave it."


    A hush fell over the warriors. Herios pointed to a cluster of trees.


    "We''ll cut those. Bring them back."


    Confusion rippled through the group.


    "You want us to... bring trees?" one man asked.


    "Yes. Logs, branches¡ªanything we can carry. Hurry."


    Although still uncertain, they obeyed.


    Herios watched them move, smiling to himself. The cave they lived in was too small and cramp, but they endured it because there really isn''t any suitable caves to live in.


    But now, if they can actually make their own shelters, they wouldn''t have to worry of being overcrowded.


    *


    *


    *


    Back at the cave, the entrance now crowded with injured, elders, and children, the returning warriors brought heaps of wood.


    The other tribe leaders, now sworn under Herios'' banner, gathered near the center of the cavern.


    Firelight danced on the walls as they listened to Herios explain his vision.


    "A manmade shelter...?" muttered one of the former leaders, a tall and burly man of a hunting tribe, "Out of trees?"


    "Yes," Herios said. "The cave is too small. One spark and we all die of smoke. The gods gave us hands and eyes. Why not build like the beasts do? But better."


    In fact, at night, because they couldn''t light the fire in the cave, they simply huddled together to keep themselves warm.


    Silence. Then murmurs.


    "Isn''t this madness?"


    "No. It could work..."


    "Even the gods live in palaces," Herios added. "Shall we crawl in caves while calling ourselves their children?"


    The leaders exchanged glances. Finally, the elder woman, once matron of a powerful warrior tribe, spoke. "Let us try. Better to fail in progress than rot in cowardice."


    The others, though looked uncertain, still agreed to support Herios.


    After all, if it succeeds, they don''t need to rely on caves to survive. As long as there are trees, they can live anywhere.


    And so, they began.


    For days, men and women hauled logs. They tried stacking them, tying them with vines, leaning them against one another.


    Each attempt collapsed.


    One such failure flattened a young man''s foot, causing screams and panic.


    Herios, frustrated but relentless, paced near the now fallen pile of woods as the other tribe members looked disappointed.


    That was when a lanky youth named Velis, a known troublemaker, timidly raised his hand.


    "L-Leader! I-I have something to say..."


    Herios raised his head and stared at him, causing Velis to flinch.


    "Go on..." Herios smiled, nodding at him.


    Velis sighed in relief, thinking that the chieftan wasn''t as cold or emotionless as he appears, "Leader, I saw some children playing the other day... They made something from twigs. A triangle. It stood longer than anything we''ve built."


    Herios narrowed his eyes. "A triangle?"


    "Yes. Several sticks piled up on a shape of a triangle. It stood, balanced. Held itself up."


    Herios eyes narrowed. A triangle? Made from sticks?


    He thought it ridiculous. A branch and logs aren''t the same as a stick. Surely, the branch would be far too heavy and it would collapse on itself.


    And yet...


    "Try it," Herios commanded.


    Why not give it a try? They''ve tried doing this thing for days with no result. So why don''t they try something new?


    So with his orders, the workers arranged three logs into a triangle, binding their tops with vines, added a few more supports, and covered it with leaves... It held on.


    This shocked and excites Herios, along with other humans who stared at the shelter.


    With a shout, he ordered for another to be made.


    Then another.


    And another.


    By the time the sun sets for the evening, a row of triangular structures stood outside the cave, like primitive tents.


    Cheers erupted. Children danced. Women wept. Even the gruffest warriors stared in awe.


    One of the old chieftains muttered, "They are... ugly."


    "But they are ours," Herios said, placing a hand on the structure. "No god built this for us. We did."


    And thus, the first shelters of humankind were born¡ªnot out of divine intervention, but out of observation, innovation, and hope.


    Humanity, once scattered and hunted, had taken another step.


    They were becoming builders.


    Becoming a true civilization.


    *


    *


    *


    Underworld, Core section, Hanging Fortress of Pluto.


    From the balcony of his dark citadel, Hades watched the flickering soul-lights far below.


    But today, his gaze was drawn on a projection. A small smile played at the corner of his lips as he saw Herios and the humans beginning their next great step: shelter.


    It was clumsy, primitive, and crude. But it was creation. And in a world so often defined by destruction, that was no small feat.


    It won''t be long, and Hades was sure that they''ll discover farming, fishing, herding, and eventually become a kingdom.


    Just then, a gentle disturbance of shadows signaled the arrival of someone familiar.


    "My lord," said Hecate, her voice soft yet stern, flowing like smoke in the wind. "Everyone has arrived and gathered. We can begin now."


    Hades gave a slow nod, his hand brushing back the edge of his midnight cloak as he waved his hand, causing the projection to disappear.


    "Very well. Let us proceed."


    The two walked side by side through the twisting halls of Hades'' hanging fortress.


    The walls shimmered faintly with the echo of souls, and the floor reflected nothing¡ªa subtle reminder that this was a place where even shadows could be consumed.


    At the end of the corridor, a tall door of black iron groaned open.


    Inside stood eleven figures, arranged evenly on both sides of a central path leading to a throne carved from pure obsidian.


    The figures turned toward the sound of the door, and without needing to be told, stood to attention.


    Their presence filled the room with weight¡ªraw authority, ancient power, and primal will.


    Hades entered slowly, his footfalls echoing in rhythmic silence.


    As he approached the throne, the twelve¡ªincluding Hecate who now stood at the end¡ªdropped to one knee and bowed their heads.


    "Praise be to the God of the Underworld."


    "You may rise."


    They obeyed. The obsidian throne gleamed slightly beneath Hades'' divinity, causing many to feel a sence of awe.


    His eyes swept across the room.


    Each god bore a unique aura.


    Hecate, the first among them, glowed with ancient arcane power. She stood calmly, her hand holding a lamp as she stared at Hades.


    Next was Hera, Hades'' sister and the self-proclaimed Queen of Underworld. The Goddess of Marriage in charge of Underworld''s internal affairs.


    Beside her stood Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty now cloaked in darker silks, her charm undiminished by the dim realm she now called home. Her smile held unique beauty as she nodded to Hades.


    Then came the Five River Gods¡ªAcheron, Lethe, Phlegethon, Cocytus, and Styx¡ªeach embodying the great rivers of death.


    They radiated the essences of pain, forgetfulness, flame, lamentation, and oath, and governed the Outer and Inner Sections of the Underworld with unwavering efficiency.


    Thanatos, the silent reaper, stood with arms crossed. His black robe barely moved, as if even the air dared not disturb him.


    Eris, goddess of discord, grinned from her place¡ªchaos simmered beneath her calm expression, but she had proven to be a valuable tool for rooting out threats.


    Beside her stood the twin of death, Keres, whose crimson eyes burned with hunger for battle. She was a warhound barely leashed, her role critical during mass soul intake from great conflicts above.


    Finally, Hypnos, god of sleep, leaned lazily against his post, blinking slowly as if he''d just awakened. But when called upon, he could put even armies of the damned to eternal slumber.


    The Twelve Patron of Hades. The strongest gods and guardians of Hades who also holds the responsibility to manage the Underworld affairs.


    Even the most unruly god has to obey them.


    "You are my Patrons," Hades said. His voice filled the room without rising. "Each of you governs a piece of this realm. While Olympus squabbles over thrones and vanity, we build what must last for eternity."


    He looked to Styx. "The influx of wicked souls?"


    Styx bowed. "Growing. We can''t send them all to Tartarus, so I created a new containment ward and some are drowned in the rivers of Cocytus and Pthlegehon."


    Hades nodded before turning towards the God of death, "Thanatos?"


    "Humanity resists death less, but die more frequently. Their fear has lessened¡ªperhaps due to the fire Prometheus gifted."


    "Aphrodite," Hades said, shifting slightly. "You''ve seen them through a new lens. Have their hearts changed?"


    Aphrodite stepped forward, her golden eyes bright even in the gloom. "Love has bloomed in strange places, my lord. Fear binds them¡ªbut so does hope. It''s... fascinating."


    Hades gave a thoughtful nod.


    He looked over the rest. "Continue your work. This realm shall not falter while Olympus drowns in wine and pride."


    Hecate stepped forward. "Shall we begin planning for the next phase? The City of the Dead must grow with them."


    Hades gave a faint smile. "Indeed. Let us plan."


    And thus, in the cold depths of the Underworld, beneath the world of men and gods, the true empire began its next chapter¡ªnot ruled by thunder or vanity, but by shadow, silence, and order.

 Chapter 65 - 19: Earth and Underworld

    Time passed, silent and relentless. In the realm of the dead, where decades felt like mere echoes of breath, Hades maintained his peaceful life.


    Within his private sanctum at the heart of his hanging fortress, Hades stood alone, bathed in the pale glow of an ancient scrying mirror.


    A projection shimmered in the void before him, revealing the world above.


    There, the sun cast its golden crown over a land that once knew only wilderness, blood, and fire.


    But now¡­ now it bore the mark of civilization.


    The humams had changed.


    Hades watched as Herios, older now but still proud and firm, oversaw the planting of grain fields beyond the city wall.


    The humans had discovered the art of agriculture, no longer did they wander as starving prey.


    They had tamed the land, feeding themselves not from the hunt, but from the soil itself.


    It had begun with trial and error, but Helios, ever the patient leader, observed and learned.


    He led his people in planting seeds, irrigating land, and storing grain for the winter moons.


    Beyond the fields, fishermen dragged net after net from the river, smiling with the satisfaction of success.


    Herds of goats and sheep grazed in the meadows, guided by children with sticks and songs.


    A city had risen from dust and bones. Brick by brick, stone by stone, Herios and his people had laid the foundation of the first true human civilization.


    The caves were long abandoned, now only whispered about in stories told beside fire.


    Their new homes were sturdy structures of clay bricks hardened by the sun.


    Streets crisscrossed in rudimentary patterns.


    Wells had been dug.


    A gathering hall now stood at the center, where Herios met with his council, formed from the former tribal leaders who had long since cast aside their rivalries.


    And above all of this towered the walls, massive by human standards. Four watchtowers crowned the corners of the square city, each manned day and night.


    Monsters still roamed the wilds, but the city, the polis, had stood unbroken for over a generation.


    Hades watched it all.


    A slow smile crept across his face.


    "A city¡­" he murmured. "The first¡­ and certainly not the last."


    He placed a hand upon the projection, fingers brushing the shimmering image of Herios instructing young boys how to fortify the western wall.


    "You''ve done well, mortal. You carry the flame Prometheus gave and turned it into a beacon."


    The vision shimmered and faded, returning the chamber to darkness.


    With a faint sigh, Hades turned back to his obsidian desk, stacked with records of souls, disputes among the spirits, and new laws being drafted to organize the ever-growing afterlife.


    He picked up a scroll, eyes scanning through the report brought in by a divine spirit, an incident near the border of Lethe where a forgotten soul had gone mad and nearly disrupted a ferry line.


    But his mind still lingered above, in the mortal world.


    He had seen countless races rise and fall, beasts, titans, even divine spirits who tried to claim land as their own.


    But humans¡­ humans were something different. Fragile, short-lived, impulsive, and yet driven by something no other being possessed in the same measure.


    Hope.


    Not the divine kind, not the blind worship of fate, but the kind forged in mud and blood. The hope that even in a hostile, god-haunted world, they could survive¡­ and thrive.


    A soft knock echoed against the stone door.


    It creaked open, revealing Hypnos leaning on the door frame, half-asleep.


    "My loed," the god of slumber mumbled. "Preparations for your trip is ready."


    Hades nodded, rolling the scroll in his hand. "I''ll be there shortly."


    As Hypnos disappeared into mist, Hades cast one last glance at the now dark mirror.


    The age of gods still reigned¡­ but the age of men had begun.


    And deep in his chest, buried beneath years of judgment, rule, and darkness, Hades felt something stir.


    A quiet, unfamiliar pride.


    But for now, he will observe his realm under a disguise.


    *


    *


    *


    High above the mortal realm, far from the sins of men and the pride of gods, Gaia sat atop the great mountain whose name was lost to time.


    The Eternal Earth Mother, older than Titans and gods alike, stirred in silence as her eyes peered through the veils of distance and cloud.


    Her gaze was fixed on Mount Olympus.


    Once a sacred peak, now a throne of vanity and excess. The Olympians, once her grandchildren born of divine promise, had become decadent rulers of a realm they barely understood.


    They drank ambrosia till their minds grew dull and turned their divine halls into dens of pleasure and arrogance.


    The earth beneath Olympus cried. The rivers refused to sing. And the sacred air that once swirled with awe now carried only the stench of sin.


    Gaia''s lips curled into a rare frown.


    They were worse than the Titans.


    The Titans, though prideful and cruel in the end, still followed the natural order. But the Olympians had no respect for balance or burden.


    They crpwned themselves kings and queens of the world, yet knew nothing of the soil they ruled.


    "No more," Gaia whispered, her voice echoing through caverns and cliffsides, sending tremors across the roots of the world.


    She considered punishment.


    Not with storms or fire, not with curses or decay. No, she wanted something... greater. A reckoning. A new race that would not only survive but humble the gods.


    A being strong enough to remind the Olympians of their place in the cosmic order.


    Her instincts urged her to birth such a child on her own, as she once birthed the cyclops, the titans, and the hundred ones.


    But she hesitated. If she birthed this being alone, its power would be vast, but limited.


    It would lack balance. It would burn too bright and die too quickly.


    This time, she needed a counterpart. A force that could temper her chaos with structure, that could balance her primordial nature with reason, strength, and sovereignty.


    She searched her ancient memory, pondering all who might serve.


    Tartarus? No. Too silent. Too proud. Too impure.


    Hydros? A fool, more beast than god, always ruled by impulse.


    None of the Primordials were worthy.


    As she pondered for a more suitable partner, she remembered one.


    A quiet man who rules the land in the deepest part of the earth.


    The Underworld.


    Where the dead walked with purpose, and shadows bowed to order. A place not of chaos, but of calm inevitability. And its king, a god who never sought glory, yet ruled with unmatched power and respect.


    Hades.


    Not just a god. The strongest god. The only Olympian who did not defile the world.


    The only one who respected his domain and kept balance within it.


    He did not meddle in mortal affairs.


    He did not violate sacred grounds.


    He did not seek love, power, or worship.


    But Gaia knew... he was the key.


    She sat up slowly, the mountain quaking beneath her as ancient vines uncoiled around her body.


    "If he joins me," she whispered, "then this new being will be like no other."


    Not Titan. Not god. Not mortal.


    But a reckoning.


    A divine judgment born from the Earth and the Grave.


    A child to make Olympus tremble.


    With the wind shifting and the stars dimming, Gaia vanished into the earth, seeking a path down into the shadows of the Underworld. sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    She would speak to Hades.


    And offer him the most dangerous proposal in the history of the cosmos.

 Chapter 66 - 20: Earth and Underworld

    The sun cast its golden rays over the bustling city of Herion, the first human city-state forged under the leadership of Herios.


    Within the city''s central hall, Herios was engrossed in administrative duties, addressing matters ranging from resource allocation to defense strategies.


    The city''s growth had been rapid, with advancements in agriculture, construction, and governance.


    However, the peace was abruptly interrupted when a breathless scout burst into the hall, his face pale with urgency.


    "Lord Herios," the scout gasped, kneeling before the leader. "Our patrols have observed an alarming phenomenon. Monsters are amassing in the northern territories, forming what appears to be a beast tide." S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Herios''s eyes narrowed, the weight of the news settling heavily upon him.


    He immediately summoned his council, composed of former tribal leaders who had united under his banner.


    The council convened in the war chamber, a room adorned with maps and strategic plans.


    As the council members took their seats, Herios addressed the scout, "Report your findings in detail."


    The scout stood, his voice steady despite the gravity of his message. "While on routine patrol, I noticed a sudden absence of wildlife, a silence that was unsettling. Driven by concern, I ventured beyond our usual perimeter. There, I witnessed a congregation of beasts unlike any we''ve seen. They were numerous, their eyes filled with bloodlust, and their movements coordinated."


    A murmur spread through the council. One member leaned forward, "Can you estimate their numbers?"


    The scout shook his head, "Their numbers are vast, too many to count. They stretch across the horizon, a sea of claws and fangs."


    Another councilor inquired, "Where exactly are they gathering?"


    "In the northern plains, near the old forest boundary," the scout replied.


    Herios stood, his expression resolute. "Sound the horns. Mobilize our forces. We must prepare for war."


    The council members nodded, understanding the urgency.


    The city''s defenses were activated, with soldiers taking their positions along the walls.


    Archers prepared their bows, and the blacksmiths worked tirelessly to forge weapons.


    Citizens were instructed to seek shelter, and healers readied their supplies.


    Herios, clad in his armor, addressed the assembled troops, "We face a formidable enemy, but we stand united. Our city, our people, and our future depend on our courage and strength."


    As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an orange glow over the city, the distant growls and howls of the approaching beast tide echoed through the air.


    The battle for Herion was about to begin.


    *


    *


    *


    The Underworld was vast.


    Contrary to the old beliefs of mortals, it was now not just a land of shadows and suffering.


    Under the firm hand of Hades, it had become a realm of structure, layered, organized, and filled with countless cities and biomes.


    From the volcanic depths of the Infernal Mountains to the golden plains of the Reincarnation Fields, each corner of the Underworld reflected the complexity of death itself.


    In the Inner Section of the realm, where virtuous souls and divine spirits dwelled, stood a region blanketed in eternal frost.


    Known as Glaciem Noctis, it was a tundra biome inhabited by gods and spirits of ice, snow, and stillness.


    Here, the silence was sacred.


    Pale blue skies loomed over cities of carved sapphire and crystalline towers, and auroras danced slowly overhead, casting light across endless fields of snow.


    On a narrow bench beneath a towering ice tree whose frozen branches shimmered with silver frost, a lone traveler sat cloaked in gray.


    No one paid him much attention. After all, travelers came and went often, dead souls from distant cultures, divine spirits seeking peace, and the occasional god in exile.


    But this one¡­ he was different.


    It was Hades, disguised.


    His divine aura was tightly bound and hidden. Even the most sensitive spirits around him could not tell what he was.


    For weeks now, he had wandered his own realm,inspecting cities, walking among the dead, and sitting beside the weary.


    He observed the lives of those under his rule not as a king, but as a quiet man of patience and thought.


    This was his way.


    He had visited the floating gardens of the Windward City, walked the obsidian streets of Vantael where the Void spirits meditated, and even dined with an elderly shade who claimed to have been a poet in life.


    But now, his steps had brought him to Glaciem Noctis, to this serene bench beneath the ice tree.


    It was here, amidst the gentle hum of cold wind and the soft whisper of frost, that something shifted.


    A presence stirred beside him, soft, ancient, heavy with the weight of creation itself.


    The air thickened. The snow beneath his boots trembled.


    Hades turned his gaze slowly.


    Beside him stood a woman, barefoot on the snow yet untouched by the cold. Her hair flowed like wild roots and rivers of stone, her skin as rich as that of fertile soil, eyes like deep wells of emerald fire.


    The scent of life, of earth and storms and mountain breath, surrounded her like a crown.


    XGaia," Hades said, voice neutral but respectful.


    The Primordial of Earth smiled gently, as if she had been waiting for him to notice her.


    "Hades," she greeted, her tone smooth and deliberate. "It''s been long since we last spoke without divine noise between us."


    He nodded once and turned his eyes back to the snowy horizon, though his mind sharpened with alertness.


    "Usually, when a Primordial steps into my realm," he said slowly, "it means something troubling is coming"


    Gaia chuckled, a low, ancient sound that vibrated through the ground. "Must you always greet me like I''m the herald of doom?"


    "Experience tells me yes."


    Her smile faded slightly. For a long moment, they sat in silence. The only sound was the faint crackling of ice in the wind.


    "I''ve watched you," Gaia finally said. "Ruling from the shadows, rarely asking for glory. Your Underworld thrives while Olympus¡­ wallows."


    Hades said nothing.


    "They mock you. Yet it is you who builds cities. You who tames monsters. You who understands what it means to hold responsibility." She looked at him then. "You are the only one among your brothers worthy of the title King."


    Hades remained still. "And?"


    Gaia tilted her head, as if measuring his soul. "I''m angry, Hades. The Olympians dance and drink upon sacred land that once pulsed with my power. They sully it with their lust, their pride, their negligence."


    He finally looked at her again, his eyes unreadable. "So you''ve come to me. Why?"


    "I''ve decided to create a new race," Gaia said, voice low. "A race not born of selfish gods nor birthed from my own body. One that will shake the Olympians. Humble them. Punish them if need be."


    Hades raised an eyebrow. "And you want my help."


    "I need your seed," she said plainly. "You are the only god strong enough. Stable enough. You represent order, where the others only breed chaos. With you, I will create a being neither fully mine nor fully yours, but something greater than either."


    A deep silence fell between them.


    Hades looked out over the icy plains again, his thoughts veiled. The wind stirred his cloak as he pondered her request.


    He could''ve refused. He had refused her once. But life as a god has made his past memories dull, he couldn''t even remember his past name.


    The only thing that reminds him that he was a reborn, was the scent of mint.


    So for the current him, he wasn''t that adverse to procreation.


    Gaia did not press. She waited, timeless.


    Finally, Hades spoke.


    "Creating life is no light matter. And the Olympians¡­ they are not so easily humbled. You may start another war."


    Gaia''s eyes glowed faintly green. "Then let war come."


    "And if your creation goes beyond what you intend?" he asked. "If it falls into darkness, as Cronus once did?"


    "Then we deal with it," she replied. "As gods should."


    Hades sighed through his nose. "Let me think."


    Gaia stood slowly, her bare feet making no sound on the snow.


    "Take your time," she said. "But do not take too long. The land suffers. And I do not forget those who hurt my body."


    She began to walk away, disappearing into the air like a breeze through the trees.


    Only the echo of her power remained, a whisper of earth, and the weight of purpose.


    Hades sat alone once more.


    The ice tree above him crackled. The wind returned.


    And the Lord of the Underworld leaned back slightly, gazing upward at the frozen branches as he considered what the future might bring.

 Chapter 67 - 21:

    The sun had not yet risen, and the horizon glowed faintly with the promise of day, but there was no warmth in that light.


    Only dread.


    Herios stood upon the tall stone gate of his city, the first city ever built by humankind, carved through sweat, unity, and hope.


    Behind him, families huddled behind walls, terrified. Farmers held pitchforks with trembling hands. Children watched in silence.


    This city had become the last bastion of mankind''s hope.


    Ahead of him stretched an ocean of monsters.


    Their howls cracked the air like thunder. Their bodies writhed in every form imaginable, scaled beasts, fanged giants, crawling horrors with too many limbs and too little mind.


    A horde beyond counting, stretching from one end of the plains to the other.


    Herios narrowed his eyes. The cold morning wind carried the scent of blood.


    "They''ve come," he muttered.


    At his side stood his captains, men and women who had once been chiefs of tribes now loyal to one banner.


    The banner of Herios. His armor was simple, nothing more than leather reinforced by iron plates, stained with battle, but upon his chest gleamed the sigil of the unified tribesa flame rising from earth, surrounded by twelve stars.


    A horn sounded. Three short bursts.


    Archers lined the walls, thousands of them, their arrows already nocked. Herios raised one hand, and the archers tensed.


    The monsters roared and surged forward.


    "Fire!" he commanded.


    A thousand arrows darkened the sky and fell like divine judgment. Screeches of pain erupted as dozens of monsters fell in the frontlines, pierced through scale and sinew.


    "Again!"


    Another volley.


    "Third line, fire!"


    A third volley.


    Still, the monsters charged, climbing over fallen kin with savage hunger.


    "Spearmen¡ªready!" bellowed Herios.


    The front lines on the walls stepped forward, large tower shields at their sides and thick spears leveled down. The city trembled under the force of the beastly tide crashing against its walls.


    And then, they began to climb.


    Hooked claws and monstrous limbs reached up. Ladders made of bone and hide were thrown against the stone.


    As they ascended, the air became filled with the clash of steel, screams of the dying, and the unrelenting snarls of monsters.


    Herios drew his sword. The sword that accompanied him ever since he was just a boy.


    "Hold the line!" he shouted, his voice thundering over the chaos.


    All around him, soldiers fought. Arrows ran dry. Men took up axes and spears, hacking down beasts that leapt from the walls like frenzied hounds.


    The walls of the city ran red.


    But Herios¡­ he burned with determination.


    He saw the fear in his people''s eyes. He saw their wavering stances. And so, with a fierce cry, he did what no man expected.


    He jumped.


    He leapt from the wall, sword first, landing amidst the monsters below like a storm given flesh.


    His blade carved through bone and tendon. Every swing was a command¡ªevery death, a symbol.


    He fought not like a man, but like a fury born from mankind''s desperation.


    The soldiers on the wall watched in awe.


    Then, one by one, they leapt after him.


    "Sons of fire, follow our leader!" shouted a warrior.


    "Strike with Herios!"


    Hundreds jumped. A tide of human steel cascaded from the walls, crashing into the beast horde.


    It was war in its truest form¡ªmud, blood, and chaos. Screams and snarls melded into one horrific chorus.


    Spears shattered, shields cracked, and men fell screaming under claws. But for every one that died, two more filled their place.


    Herios fought at the center, his armor cracked and bloodied, eyes glowing with determination.


    He hacked through a snake-headed brute and turned just in time to slice open a two-headed wolf. But even he was beginning to tire.


    It was at that moment, that the earth rumbled.


    Herios paused, panting, blood dripping from his blade. The battlefield seemed to slow as a massive shadow appeared on the horizon.


    It was colossal.


    A beast unlike the rest. Towering like a mountain. Its skin was black stone, covered in jagged crystals.


    Its mouth glowed with internal fire, and each footstep caused tremors that shook the very ground.


    Trees snapped beneath its steps like twigs.


    Its six arms bulging with power.


    A Gegenees. The six-armed giant.


    The soldiers froze. Even the monsters hesitated.


    Herios stared, jaw clenched. "So¡­ the true threat shows itself."


    The beast raised its head, letting out a roar that shattered rock. It was intelligent¡ªits eyes gleamed not with animal rage, but with cruel intent.


    It scanned the battlefield until its gaze landed on Herios.


    Herios turned to his captains. "Form the outer line! Archers, bring out the fire arrows! Slingers, black liquid pouches!"


    They obeyed instantly. Order in the chaos. Faith in their leader.


    The archers lit their arrows, igniting the air with flame. Black liquid bombs were hurled toward the titan''s legs. As it stepped into the field, fire exploded around its feet.


    But it did not stop.


    The Gegenees smashed into the ranks, sending men and monster alike flying. It crushed whole squads with its bulk, dragging burning wreckage behind it.


    Herios leapt forward.


    "Buy me time!" he roared.


    He ran directly at the beast, ducking under a swinging limb, rolling across the mud.


    He climbed onto a ledge of fallen rock and leapt onto the giant''s leg, driving his blade deep into its stony flesh. The monster howled in pain, stumbling back.


    From below, his warriors shouted, emboldened.


    Herios climbed higher, cutting with each motion, blood and fire trailing behind him.


    At the shoulder, he stabbed again, using the momentum to pull himself to its upper back.


    The giant thrashed, but Herios held on.


    "Now!" he yelled.


    Archers fired. Fire bombs exploded across the giant''s body, weakening the crystalline plating.


    Herios plunged his sword between two jagged stones, piercing the glowing core just beneath.


    The giant screamed.


    With a final effort, Herios pulled his sword free and leapt off, landing hard in the dirt as the beast stumbled¡­ and fell.


    The ground trembled as it crashed.


    Silence.


    For a long moment, nothing moved. Then, a cheer, raw, broken, but rising, from the human soldiers.


    They had seen the impossible.


    And they had lived.


    Herios stood, barely. Blood poured from a wound at his side, and his breath was ragged. But he raised his sword high.


    Only to stop as he stared at the Gegenees with horror.


    The six armed giant rose up, its eyes turning red in anger.


    Herios gulped.


    This battle was far from over.


    *


    *


    *


    Underworld.


    High within the floating fortress that overlooked the Core Section of the Underworld, silence reigned.


    In a circular chamber surrounded by floating candles and drifting pages of ancient scrolls, Hecate stood in the center of a glowing circle.


    Before her, a large projection flickered¡ªan ethereal mirror that shimmered like a silver pool suspended in the air.


    It displayed the overworld in vivid detail: burning forests, bloodied earth, and crumbling fortresses.


    It showed them¡ªthe human mortals.


    Herios and his people.


    They fought desperately to survive, teeth bared against an endless night of monsters and cruelty.


    In the reflection, men and women fell defending crude stone walls. Children clung to their mothers. S§×arch* The N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The sick lay curled beneath makeshift shelters as battle cries echoed above them.


    Hecate watched without emotion, arms folded, her expression blank and pale as moonlight.


    "To struggle so violently," she murmured, "for a life so fragile."


    To her, they were little more than sparks in the dark¡ªflickering, fleeting, and wholly beneath her notice.


    She was a goddess of the Underworld, the mistress of magic, crossroads, and shadowed gateways.


    Her realm was the arcane, the forgotten, the dead. These mortals, scrambling like insects across the dirt of a cursed world, were no concern of hers.


    But still¡­ she watched. For only one reason.


    Hades had asked her to.


    She would not have spared the humans a glance were it not for her Lord''s quiet command.


    Hades had been watching them for decades, moved by something even she, his closest ally,, could not quite grasp.


    Perhaps it was their defiance.


    Perhaps it was their struggle.


    Or perhaps it was simply that, in the silence of his kingdom, life, even fragile and fading, was a rare thing.


    "They are breaking," she said to no one. "And they will not last much longer."


    At that moment, without a sound, the air behind her shifted.


    The shadows coalesced. The candles flickered. Hecate turned slightly, sensing a familiar presence stepping into the room.


    Hades had returned.


    Clad in a dark robe woven from the threads of midnight, his form seemed half-ethereal, yet the pressure of his being was undeniable.


    His eyes, cold silver like the moon shining on still water, met hers.


    "You''ve returned," Hecate said simply, her voice calm as ever.


    "I have," Hades replied, stepping to stand beside her. "I''ve seen much of the Underworld¡­"


    His gaze lifted toward the projection. "How are they?"


    "They are not faring well," Hecate said, gesturing toward the image. "Their numbers dwindle with each moment. Their resources deplete. And Herios¡­ I don''t see him winning against the six armed."


    Hades did not speak. He merely watched, eyes focused on the leader of humanity.


    In the projection, Herios was limping as he desperately tried to survive against the onslaught of the Gegenees.


    "He will not last," Hecate said again. "Without help, even your chosen one cannot hold the tides forever."


    Still, Hades remained silent.


    "You care for them more than you let on," she continued, arching an eyebrow. "Even I can see it."


    "...Indeed." Hades said finally, his voice quiet but firm.


    Hecate tilted her head. "I really can''t see why you are so fixated on them."


    "...Let''s just say, I don''t want to lose something that is part of me." his humanity, that is. These humans is one of the reason why he can still remember his origin.


    The life of that human from the future, which had started to fade, was clinging to him through them.


    He doesn''t want to forget that.


    He stepped closer to the projection, and his reflection shimmered in the light. For a long moment, he studied the humans, so small from his power, yet so fierce in their resolve.


    Hecate turned away. "I''ve watched them. I''ve studied them. They are resourceful, yes, and stubborn beyond measure. But they are mortal. Weak. If the beasts do not destroy them, time will."


    "Without help, maybe"


    She blinked. "Are you suggesting we intervene?"


    Hades was silent for a time.


    Then he stepped forward and waved his hand over the projection. A new image formed, Herios'' soldiers all armed and supporting him, distracting the Gegenees.


    "They believe in him," she said softly.


    "He has earned it," Hades said.


    They stood in silence, watching the mortal world burn and rebuild itself in cycles of war and will.


    Finally, Hecate sighed.


    "I shall look after them."


    "Thank you," Hades said simply.


    She glanced at him with a rare flicker of emotion. "Only because it''s you."


    "My~, guess not even you can resist my charm, huh?"


    She did not answer. Instead, she waved a hand again, expanding the projection, showing dozens of human tribes now forming across distant lands.


    Some fell to beasts.


    Some fell to famine.


    But others¡­ others endured.


    And soon, they will grow and form their own civilization.


    "Let us see," Hades smiled, "what humanity will make of the world they inherit."


    And beside him, for the first time, Hecate''s eyes softened.


    Just a little.


    "Let us see," she echoed.

 Chapter 68 - 22: Victory and Death

    The ground shook.


    Boulders rained from the sky like angry meteors, flattening homes, crushing towers, and scattering men like ants.


    Each impact sent tremors through the massive stone walls of the city, now smeared with blood and fire.


    Herios stood, soaked in grime and sweat, staring out at the monster responsible, the monster he thought he had taken down.


    The Gegneees, a six-armed titan of war, its skin like cracked granite, its muscles bulging with divine fury, strode through the battlefield, each step a death knell.


    With two of its arms, it heaved massive boulders toward the city; with the others, it crushed and swatted the soldiers who dared get close.


    It was strong.


    "Keep the archers focused on the flanks!" he roared, ducking just as a chunk of stone crashed into the ground, blasting a massive crater to the earth.


    Dust clouded the air. Screams followed.


    Herios stumbled, coughing, then pushed himself up.


    His armor was battered and painted in blood that was not entirely his own. His sword, a loyal companion through a hundred skirmishes, was chipped, but still clenched in his fist.


    "Chief!" a voice shouted from below. "The beast¡­ it''s destroying everything! We can''t hold!"


    Herios didn''t respond immediately. He turned, watching as the Gegenees lifted another boulder, hurling it into the heart of the city.


    The impact split a house in two, the shockwave throwing men from rooftops.


    Herios'' expression darkend.


    Around him, his soldiers faltered, facing not just the titan, but waves of beasts, wolf-creatures with flame-soaked hides, serpents slithering between the cracks in the earth, flying horrors clawing through the sky.


    Herios sprinted through the chaos, barking orders as he passed.


    "Hold the line at the gate!"


    "Shield the wounded!"


    "Send a rider to the east quarter! We need backup there!"


    He didn''t stop.


    He couldn''t.


    The Gegenees loomed over the battlefield like a mountain made flesh. Its laughter rumbled like thunder.


    "Form up around me!" he ordered, running straight toward the giant.


    A squad of warriors¡ªwhat was left of his elite guard¡ªrallied at his sides, spears and axes drawn.


    They surged forward as one.


    The giant saw them coming.


    With a roar that resounded throughout the sky, it smashed two fists into the ground, creating a shockwave that scattered Herios'' men.


    The ground cracked open.


    One soldier was hurled into the air, landing in a heap with limbs twisted unnaturally. Another cried out as a rock struck his head and drove him into darkness.


    But Herios pushed on.


    He darted between falling debris, dodging the monstrous feet that sought to crush him.


    He climbed the broken rubble of a watchtower, launching himself from its height toward the monster''s chest.


    His sword slashed, scoring a gash across one of the titan''s shoulders.


    The Gegenees screamed in pain¡ªand rage.


    Three of its massive arms lunged for him at once. Herios twisted through them, landing hard on the beast''s arm, sprinting along its limb like a bridge.


    But as he raised his blade for another strike, the monster shifted, and caught him midair.


    The giant''s hand closed around Herios like a vice. Bones creaked. Blood dripped from his lips.


    With a guttural growl, the Gegenees flung him across the battlefield.


    Herios smashed into the base of a scorched tree. His sword flew from his grasp, snapping in half as it clanged to the ground.


    For a moment, the world went dark.


    Everything ached.


    Everything hurt.


    ''...Ah, I''m going to die.'' He thought at that moment.


    He had almost given up hope.


    But then¡­ he heard them.


    Crying. Screaming. Calling his name.


    "Herios!"


    His eyes opened.


    Through the pain, through the fog of near-death, he saw the monster stalking forward again.


    It reached for another boulder. Soldiers scrambled to stop it, but none could get close.


    The beasts surged behind it, relentless.


    His people were dying.


    And no one else could stop it.


    Heris pushed himself to his feet.


    His armor hung in pieces. His ribs screamed with each breath. But he rose, fists clenched, eyes burning with fire not even the gods could quench.


    "...stand up," he whispered. "I must not fall¡­ not until they are safe."


    At that moment, he felt a fire burning from his body, seemingly giving him strength.


    He sprinted toward the Gegenees, ignoring the calls to stop, the pleas to retreat. His weapon was gone, his body broken¡ªbut he had something stronger than steel.


    He had will.


    The Gegenees saw him.


    With a roar, it tossed aside another stone and raised two massive fists. The other arms flexed in anticipation.


    Herios leapt.


    And they met.


    Flesh against flesh.


    Bone against bone.


    The titan swung. Herios ducked under its strike and slammed his fist into its kneecap.


    A small crack formed.


    It bellowed and grabbed for him.


    He twisted, elbowing one arm, kicking another.


    His fists were nothing compared to its bulk, but they hurt. Again and again, he struck. Nose. Jaw. Eye. Ribs.


    His hands bled, but he did not stop.


    The giant reeled.


    Then¡ªfinally¡ªHerios leapt, aiming one final blow.


    With every ounce of strength, with the fury of a thousand fallen comrades, he drove his fist square into the Gegenees'' jaw.


    The air exploded with the sound.


    The giant''s head snapped back. A roar caught in its throat. Its legs buckled¡ªand the titan fell like a crumbling tower, shaking the battlefield as it slammed into the earth.


    Silence followed.


    The monsters paused.


    They stared at the fallen giant¡ªtheir warbringer, their juggernaut, their symbol of terror¡ªdefeated.


    And they broke.


    The horde turned. Some ran. Some flew. Some vanished back into shadow. The courage in their monstrous hearts failed them.


    They scattered.


    Herios dropped to one knee, gasping for air. His body felt like a shattered statue. His fists were raw. But he smiled.


    They were alive.


    His people were safe.


    The battlefield, once a storm of death, now stood still. The towering corpse of the Gegenees lay motionless as the sun slowly pierced the clouds above.


    The silence that ensued was deafening.


    But a single cry broke the silence and a thunderous cheers soon followed.


    "HERIOS!"


    "GIANT SLAYER!"


    "HAIL HERIOS!"


    And from the highest tower of the city, the flag of man fluttered proudly in the wind¡ªtorn, bloodied, but still standing.


    Just like the one who led them.


    *


    *


    *


    Underworld.


    Hades stood in front of a projection that shimmered like a veil of moonlight.


    The scene it displayed was not of his realm, but of the overworld above, a city standing triumphant after an unimaginable war.


    The city of Herios.


    A mortal bastion built from sweat, pain, unity, and blood. Walls crafted by hand, fields plowed by faith, and streets filled with men and women who had fought off a siege of monsters.


    And at their helm, the one named Herios, the leader, the Giant Slayer, the one who turned the tide with nothing but a clenched fist and an indomitable will.


    Hades frowned.


    The quiet hum of the projection filled the room like a whisper of the living world.


    With his hands clasped behind his back, the Lord of the Dead watched, unmoving. Yet his eyes were ablaze with storm and thought.


    "This will change everything," he muttered.


    He was happy that they survived, but the implications of this victory was...


    "Are you not happy?" Hecate, who stood beside him, couldn''t help but ask as she saw him frown.


    Hades gave no reply.


    Instead, he studied the mortals again. Herios stood tall amid the cheering throng. He looked ragged but undefeated.


    A symbol.


    A beacon.


    "I am." Hades finally said, "They have proven their worth. They were no longer the weak barbarians who knew nothing, but a strong and resourceful race who can stand on this world."


    Hecate tilted her head. "And that troubles you?"


    "...Quite."


    The Underworld Lord turned, his cloak of shadows trailing behind him like a tide. He stepped down from the platform and passed the divine pillars lining the chamber.


    The flames in their braziers flickered with every brush of his aura.


    "In the overworld," Hades said, "the Olympians will see this as an opportunity. They will descend upon humanity like lions upon a calf. They will offer protection, gifts, promises... all in exchange for their worship."


    "Faith," Hecate whispered.


    Hades nodded.


    "The faith of the nymphs and lesser spirits is already fading. They no longer respect nor revere the gods as much as they used to. But humans... humans are a boundless wellspring. Their emotions are raw. Their dreams potent. If a god claims them, it would elevate that god beyond their current level."


    He turned toward her, his face grave.


    "They will fight over humanity. Use them. Bleed them. Twist them."


    "Don''t tell me you want to stop this? Hecate asked, her brows arching slightly. "You who swore, long ago, never to interfere in the realm above?"


    Silence fell between them.


    The air grew heavy with ancient oaths and distant echoes. They both remembered it clearly¡ªhow, after the war against the Titans, Hades had made a solemn vow.


    He would rule the Underworld and only the Underworld. Let the other gods bicker and scheme in the sky and earth.


    He had found peace among the dead.


    "I did swear," Hades said. "But Styx''s oath, powerful though it is, cannot bind me fully. I am far too powerful."


    "Indeed," Hecate said, stepping forward. "But it is enough to ensure you cannot remain there for long without consequences."


    "I won''t be long," Hades said. "I won''t come there to declare war, but just give them a message."


    "A message?"


    "To the gods. That humanity is not to be touched. Not by them. Not by Olympus. That if they exploit what mortals have built for themselves, they will have to face me."


    "You know Zeus will not take this lightly."


    "Let him rage in his sky," Hades said plainly, clearly not taking his brother seriously.


    He approached the obsidian gate at the far end of the chamber. With a wave of his hand, it opened, revealing a vast bridge that overlooked the river Acheron.


    Far in the distance, the exit to the overworld shimmered like a mirror''s surface, untouched by time.


    Hecate followed behind him.


    "You''ll be weakened," she warned. "With the oath, the further you go into the sky, the more your authority will weaken. Not to mention Zeus''s domain resists all Underworld essence. He crafted it that way."


    "I do not need my full strength," Hades replied. "A shadow is enough." S§×arch* The N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Indeed.


    In Overworld, there has yet to be an Olympian to be born that needed him to take seriously.


    Even Zeus is someone he can crush easily if he so wished.


    She stopped walking. "...seriously. You go so far for them."


    "I have watched humans fight with more dignity than the gods ever showed," Hades said quietly. "I have seen in them something I never saw in Olympus: honor. I like them, no matter how flawed they are."


    He paused at the edge of the bridge. His cloak fluttered as he turned to her once more.


    "Hecate. You are my most trusted ally. Watch over the realm while I''m gone. If the gods make a move¡ªon me, or on the humans¡ªrespond in kind."


    Hecate, for the first time in many centuries, hesitated. Then, she slowly bowed.


    "As you command¡­ My King."


    Hades turned. With a final step, he vanished into the light of the overworld gate, leaving only the echo of his words and the faint chill of his presence.


    And far above, in the realm of mortals where a young man named Herios stood at the head of his people, shadows lengthened beneath the sun.


    Because Death itself was coming.


    Not to take¡ªbut to protect.

 Chapter 69 - 23:

    The city was alive with the thunder of joy.


    Men, women, and children flooded the streets, cheering and laughing.


    The once-bloodstained walls of the city of Herios now bore the marks of triumph. Torches lit up the dusk, and the aroma of roasted meat and baked bread filled the air.


    Everywhere, songs rose to the heavens, raw and imperfect, but full of spirit.


    Herios, still wearing the tattered remains of his battle armor, stood at the highest rampart.


    His face was tired, bruised, his arms bandaged where monstrous claws had torn at him. Yet his eyes were bright, filled with the fierce pride of a leader who had defied death itself and emerged victorious.


    The people shouted his name:


    "Herios!"


    "Herios!"


    "Herios!"


    He raised his hand, and the crowd roared even louder.


    He was glad, everyone was okay. Smiling, Herios observed his people. He wondered if gods had witnessed their stand, if so, would they be rewarded for their bravery? S~ea??h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    At that moment...


    The sky, which had been painted with the crimson hues of sunset, began to darken unnaturally.


    A low rumble, like the rolling of distant thunder, echoed across the land. The torches flickered, some even extinguishing under a sudden gust of wind.


    A hush fell.


    The laughter died.


    The songs silenced.


    Even the crackling of fires seemed muted as the very world seemed to hold its breath.


    And then, under everyone''s eyes, ''he'' appeared.


    From the swirling shadows between heaven and earth, a figure materialized, stepping lightly onto the air itself.


    He was tall, broad-shouldered, his hair white as the moon, his robes woven from the very threads of darkness.


    Around him danced a faint corona of ghostly light, as if even death itself could not bear to cling to him too closely.


    And though none among the humans had seen him before, they knew immediately.


    He was a god.


    No one spoke. No one dared to breathe. Their instincts screamed it, as primal and undeniable as the pull of gravity.


    The god smiled, a gentle, regal smile that bore no malice.


    And then he spoke, his voice carrying effortlessly across the stunned gathering.


    "Greetings, humanity. I am Hades," he said, "King of the Underworld. Judge of the souls. God of the Dead."


    Humanity remained silent, not daring to utter a word nor move an inch.


    At this time, Herios took a step forward.


    "Mighty god of the dead, have you come to end us? Please, take me alone. My people are innocents."


    He thought the gods woul want to punish humanity for killing a son of Gaia.


    However, contrary to his beliefs, Hades just spread his arms, "I stand not as your captor nor your adversary. But as your witness... and your rewarder."


    He smiled, seemingly impressed. "Humans of the new dawn. Brave children of earth and sky. I have witnessed your valor, your resilience, your defiance against despair."


    His voice was deep, layered with an ancient power that resonated in their very bones.


    "You have fought where others would have fled. You have built when others would have surrendered. You have proven yourselves worthy of a future crafted by your own hands."


    He stepped forward, closer to the battlements where Herios stood frozen, awe in his heart.


    The humans, still overwhelmed, began slowly kneeling, heads bowed in reverence, though Hades had not commanded it.


    Hades smiled warmly at them and looked toward Herios.


    "You," he said, voice soft but carrying to every ear. "The one who bore the weight of your people, who faced monsters and giants with nothing but will and broken steel. You, Herios, have carved your name into the very marrow of this world."


    He lifted a hand. A soft golden light ¡ª so unlike his usual dark power ¡ª blossomed from his palm and swept across the people like a gentle wave.


    Wounds healed.


    Bruised spirits mended.


    The weariness that had seeped into their bones melted away, replaced by warmth, vitality, hope.


    The children who had cried now laughed with pure, unbroken joy. The warriors who had limped stood tall once more.


    It was a miracle that even the simplest heart could understand.


    "You have my blessing," Hades said, and the ground itself seemed to hum in agreement.


    The god then turned to all the gathered humans, his eyes gleaming with the fire of command.


    "Hear now the words of Hades, which shall be etched into the fate of the world!"


    The air itself thickened, charged with the weight of prophecy.


    "From this day forth, humanity shall stand independent ¡ª neither the playthings nor the thralls of gods, titans, nor spirits! No race shall lay claim to your destiny but yourselves!"


    The humans gasped, and even Herios felt tears prick at the corners of his tired eyes. Freedom had been given voice.


    They no longer need to endure the "trials" and "punishments" of gods which seems to aim to annihilate their race.


    "And further," Hades continued, "this city, the beating heart of your courage, shall no longer be called merely a city."


    He pointed his fingers toward the walls of Herios. The earth quaked gently. The stones shimmered.


    The towers seemed to rise a little higher, the streets straighter, the land itself accepting his decree.


    "I name this place Herio, the first Kingdom of Mortals since the dawn of creation!"


    A stunned silence, and then cries of astonishment and joy broke out among the people.


    Hades turned his gaze again to Herios, who knelt humbly but proudly.


    "You, Herios, for your valor, wisdom, and sacrifice, shall be named... the First King of Humanity."


    A golden laurel, woven from the very essence of mortal dreams, materialized in Hades'' hand. He gently placed it upon Herios'' bowed head.


    "Arise," Hades said, "as King Herios, Lord of Humanity."


    Herios rose, his heart pounding with a thousand emotions, gratitude, pride, humility, and a searing sense of responsibility.


    Hades stepped back, his voice thundering once more:


    "And one final decree shall I make this day! From this moment forth, when mortals speak of those who stand above fear and despair, those who challenge fate and conquer it, they shall call them ''Hero''...!"


    He smiled.


    "In honor of Herios, the first of your kings."


    The crowd erupted, tears streaming from their faces, shouting Herios'' name and the word that would henceforth inspire countless generations.


    "Hero!"


    "Hero!"


    "Hero!"


    The very heavens seemed to ring with their voices.


    For a long moment, Hades watched a them, a rare glimmer of satisfaction in his dark eyes.


    He had given them a future, not bound by the chains of heaven nor the will of death ¡ª but crafted by their own courage and strength.


    As the cheers echoed into the distance, Hades turned. His form blurred into mist, vanishing into the twilight sky, leaving behind a mortal world forever changed.


    Thus, in the age before records, before written words, the first kingdom of man was born.


    And so too was born the eternal legend of the Hero.


    *


    *


    *


    The sky split open like a wound.


    Upon the vast, empty expanse of the heavens, where no mortal eye could see, a ripple of raw power spread, distorting the clouds and forcing the very air to tremble.


    There, standing alone upon the wind, was Hades ¡ª Lord of the Underworld ¡ª his dark cloak billowing as though it were made from the night itself.


    His brow was slightly raised, his expression calm yet edged with mild irritation, as he regarded the scene before him.


    For surrounding him, forming a loose circle upon the air, were the Olympians ¡ª brilliant, radiant gods who ruled the overworld.


    They stood proud and furious. Their armor gleamed like molten gold, their divine weapons crackled with the power of storms and seas.


    Their eyes, once filled with the lazy arrogance of those unchallenged, now burned with anger.


    At their head floated Zeus, King of Olympus, his thunderbolt gripped tightly in one hand, his knuckles white with rage.


    "Hades!" Zeus bellowed, his voice shaking the very sky. Lightning licked the clouds above him, snarling like a chained beast. "Explain yourself!"


    Hades remained silent, studying his younger brother with a dispassionate gaze.


    "You were bound!" Zeus shouted again, stepping forward, the Olympians following behind him. "By your own oath, by Styx herself, you swore never to interfere in the affairs of the overworld! Never to set yourself above us!"


    Hades tilted his head slightly, the ghost of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.


    "I have not broken my oath," Hades said, voice calm but carrying like a blade drawn across stone. "I did not seize dominion. I did not raise armies nor topple thrones. I merely..." ¡ª he paused, letting the silence grow heavy ¡ª "rewarded the valor of mortals."


    The gods bristled.


    Poseidon''s trident quivered with suppressed fury. Ares''s eyes narrowed into slits. Athena gripped her spear tighter.


    Zeus'' face twisted in rage.


    "Merely?" Zeus snarled. "You healed them. You blessed them. You anointed a king in your name!"


    He threw his arm toward the world below. "You gave them strength enough to resist us! Your blessings have tainted the main source of faith! Taking faith from humanity will be troublesome now!"


    Hades'' smile faded into cold neutrality.


    Zeus'' voice grew more savage, cursing in ancient tongues not heard since the birth of the world. "You rotten, corpse-loving wretch! You worm from beneath the soil! You dare twist the course of fate set by Olympus itself?!"


    The other gods laughed cruelly at Zeus'' insults, rallying behind their king.


    But Hades simply sighed.


    The sky grew heavier.


    The laughter of the gods choked in their throats as a presence ¡ª vast, ancient, and terrible ¡ª began to rise from Hades.


    It was as if an abyss had opened, and from it came not just the scent of death, but the very concept of mortality itself ¡ª the inevitable end that even gods, in their deepest hearts, feared.


    In an instant, the boundless, crushing weight of the Underworld itself pressed down upon the Olympians.


    The clouds blackened.


    The light dimmed.


    The wind died.


    Zeus gasped, staggering as an invisible force slammed into him, forcing him to his knees. His thunderbolt fell from his hand, crackling uselessly as it tumbled through the air.


    The Olympians cried out, some falling to one knee, others clutching their throats as if the very air had turned to stone.


    Hades floated forward, unhurried, his black eyes gleaming with a cold fire.


    "You have grown comfortable in your thrones," Hades said quietly, each word reverberating like a hammer in the gods'' minds. "You have grown fat with worship, drunk on power you did not earn."


    He approached Zeus, who struggled against the crushing gravity but found himself powerless.


    "You forget, little brother," Hades said, his voice low and terrible, "why the Titans fell."


    He reached out ¡ª and with terrifying gentleness ¡ª pressed his palm down on Zeus'' golden crown.


    Zeus screamed in rage and shame as his body buckled, forced slowly, inexorably, onto both knees.


    The king of the gods ¡ª the wielder of the sky, the slayer of Cronus ¡ª knelt.


    His head bowed low, pressed toward the unseen ground, as Hades'' hand remained firm atop his scalp.


    The Olympians could only watch in stunned horror. None dared to move. None could break free from the oppressive might that suffused the heavens.


    Hades leaned down, his voice dropping into a whisper that somehow echoed like a thousand storms:


    "I am not your subject, Zeus. I am not your lesser. And I do not require your permission."


    He withdrew his hand, and Zeus collapsed forward, gasping.


    Slowly, with a regal grace, Hades straightened and cast his gaze over the gathered gods, searing each of them with his black stare.


    "Know this," he said, voice now loud enough to shake the horizon, "Humanity is under my protection. If any of you dare to enslave them, corrupt them, or leech their faith without their willing gift, you will answer to me."


    The sky split again ¡ª a silent promise of devastation should they defy him.


    Hades turned his back on Zeus without fear, stepping away as the clouds began to part slightly above him.


    "You have been warned," he said simply.


    And with a ripple of shadow, Hades vanished, leaving the Olympians trembling and silent amid the wreckage of their pride.


    Far below, in the newborn kingdom of Herion, humanity celebrated, ignorant of the divine battle waged high above their heads ¡ª a battle that would shape the fate of gods and men for ages to come.

 Chapter 70 - 24: The Olympians

    The halls of Olympus trembled with rage.


    Thunder cracked across the heavens, shattering the stillness, as Zeus stormed through the marble corridors of his palace.


    His footsteps echoed like the marching of a thousand soldiers, his fists clenched so tightly that the veins on his arms bulged like serpents writhing beneath his skin.


    "Damn him!" Zeus roared, sending a nearby pillar splintering into dust with a single strike of his hand. "Damn Hades! That corpse-loving worm!"


    His divine aura flared wildly, the very air sizzling with bolts of lightning, causing lesser gods and spirits to flee his presence in terror.


    He has been greatly humiliated, having his head pressed down to the ''ground'' and couldn''t even raise his head.


    As the King of Gods, how dare a mere worm who only hides under his sky make him lower his head!?


    That too, in front of his council!


    Seated around the Grand Hall, the other Olympians watched in silence, the taste of humiliation still fresh on their tongues.


    None dared to speak just yet.


    At the side of the hall, Ares, god of war, sat stiffly on his throne of bronze. His fingers gripped the edges so tightly that the metal groaned under the pressure.


    His crimson cloak was crumpled slightly ¡ª a rare blemish for the god of battle ¡ª but Ares hardly noticed.


    He was too busy feeling the lingering weight of Hades'' oppressive power, still coiled deep inside his chest like a venom that refused to fade.


    He had faced many gods. He had marched at the front lines of countless wars. Yet never ¡ª never ¡ª had he felt so small, so hopeless as he did in the presence of Hades that day.


    Like an ant trying to shoulder the sky, he felt so small and helpless. The power and strength he was so proud was so insignificant in front of that ''monster''.


    The tales of him defeating and killing the primordial of sky, even being acknowledged by the primordial himself to be worthy to "stand beyond heavens" was certainly not an exaggeration.


    He thought that even if Hades was stronger than his father, he shouldn''t be that strong....oh how wrong he was.


    Ares gritted his teeth, a drop of sweat trailing down his temple, a testament to his silent, festering shame.


    Across the hall, Poseidon, ruler of the seas, sat heavily upon his throne crafted from shells and coral. His normally wild green eyes were dimmed, the trident leaning unused at his side.


    He said nothing.


    Outwardly, Poseidon remained composed ¡ª the sea god''s pride would allow no less ¡ª but internally, he seethed with frustration. S§×ar?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    He had not forgotten how, ages ago, he and Zeus had cast lots to divide the world, with Hades not participating and opted to taking the Underworld.


    Though they didn''t show it, they had laughed at him then, pleased to leave their grim elder brother to the land of the dead.


    But now...


    Poseidon''s jaw tightened.


    He thought, with him taking over the sea, he would''ve bridged the gap between him and Hades, but that was far from the truth.


    In fact, he even felt that Hades have grown far stronger than before.


    No longer just a king of ghosts and silent tombs, but a sovereign whose mere presence could bend even mighty Zeus to his knees.


    A low rumble vibrated from Poseidon''s throat, like a distant storm gathering over the ocean.


    And then, there was Athena.


    The goddess of wisdom and war sat gracefully upon her throne of polished olive wood, her silver armor gleaming faintly under the storm-lit ceiling.


    Her long hair flowed down her back like a dark river, untouched by the chaos around her.


    Her purple eyes ¡ª deep, piercing, unblinking ¡ª were not filled with rage or fear, but with thought.


    While the others wallowed in their wounded pride, Athena''s mind was racing.


    She recalled the figure of Hades, standing alone against the assembly, calm as a mountain while all others shook.


    The way he spoke, the effortless dominance he exerted ¡ª no wild outbursts, no desperation ¡ª only pure, unassailable authority.


    Athena''s slender fingers tapped lightly on the armrest of her throne.


    That display of confidence and strength was intoxicating.


    And as someone who''s interested in knowledge more than anything else, she knew a lot more than the current generation of gods about the Titanomachy of the past.


    She even learned from her own mother ¡ª Metis ¡ª that Hades was also the main strategist of the rebel forces that is now the Olympians.


    Guerilla warfare, scorched earth tactics, Hades came up and ''invented'' various strategies that made up for the rebels lack of manpower, allowing them to overwhelm the titans.


    Athena closed her eyes briefly. Unlike others, she was far more interested in Hades, one can even say she admires him. That was why she uses a spear as her main weapon.


    Not to mention about the library in underworld said to contain all knowledge in the past and and present.


    She wanted to visit the place, but going there is incredibly hard, and leaving is almost impossible.


    No overworld gods managed to enter the Underworld and return. Rumor has it that all trespassers were immediately sent to Tartarus.


    That was why she held off heading there, despite her curiosity.


    She opened her eyes again, cool and calculating.


    Across the hall, Zeus had finally ceased his rampage, panting heavily, his golden beard matted with sweat.


    He whirled on the gathered gods, his voice hoarse but fierce.


    "We cannot let this stand! We are the Olympians! The rulers of the heavens, the earth, and the seas! We will not be outshone by a specter from the shadows!"


    No one answered.


    Not immediately.


    Poseidon eventually stirred, his voice low and heavy.


    "And what do you propose, brother?" he rumbled. "Another war? A strike against Hades?"


    The silence that followed was long and tense.


    Even Zeus, reckless though he was, felt the weight of that suggestion.


    A war against Hades... it would not be like the war against the Titans. It would not be a simple battle. It would be annihilation ¡ª for one side or the other.


    And deep down, in the pit of his soul, Zeus feared who would prevail.


    "No," Zeus muttered at last, spitting the word like poison. "Not yet."


    He straightened, his aura of command slowly stitching itself back together.


    "We will bide our time," Zeus growled. "We will undermine his influence.


    Humanity is still young. They are still mortal. Their memories are short, their loyalties weaker than the rivers'' flow."


    He clenched his fist.


    "We will infiltrate them. Corrupt them. Seduce them."


    Ares finally stirred, his voice like a rasped growl, "And if they resist?"


    Zeus smiled grimly.


    "Then," he said, his voice cold, "we remind them why the gods are to be feared."


    He cannot stand this humiliation. Thankfully, not all of the Olympians saw that.


    If Hades wanted to protect humanity, then he will corrupt them, and make them believe in the Olympians.


    Due to the excessive behaviors of the gods ¡ª rape, coercion, depravity ¡ª many mortal races such as Nymphs began to lose faith on them, weakening their divinity.


    After all, those mortals are powerful on their own and doesn''t need gods to protect them.


    But humans are different. They are weak, fragile, stupid, and prone to irrational behaviors.


    They can be easily influenced.


    Give them a little bit of miracle and they can be a great supply of ''faith'' for the gods.


    That''s why, Zeus will absolutely not give them up, even if it meant going against Hades.


    He will have them under his control.

 Chapter 71 - 25: Hades’ Thoughts

    Chapter 71: Chapter 25: Hades¡¯ ThoughtsThe sky above had long since darkened, but it bore no stars¡ªonly a heavy, suffocating void.


    There, at the edge of the overworld where light bowed to shadow, stood Hades.


    His cloak fluttered even with the absence of wind as he stared into the vast, yawning hallway carved into the fabric of the world itself.


    This was no ordinary tunnel¡ªit was the entrance to the Underworld, a corridor of infinite dusk that devoured all noise and warmth, and pulsed with the heartbeat of death itself.


    Hades took a step forward.


    The world behind him¡ªof gods bickering, of humans beginning to write their legend¡ªfaded with each footfall.


    Stone beneath his feet no longer felt like earth, but something older, darker, forged in the chaos of the first dawn.


    With every step deeper, he could feel the invisible shackles that once bound him in the overworld slowly dissolve.


    His authority, once veiled under his oath, the constraints of Olympus¡¯ law and Zeus¡¯ false supremacy, returned like the tide.


    His steps grew firmer. The weight of his power began to settle over him like a mantle reforged.


    Yet even as the full force of his godhood bled back into his being, his thoughts remained distracted.


    "What now?" he muttered to himself, voice a low echo that vanished into the corridor¡¯s gullet.


    Humanity had proven themselves in fire and blood. Herios, that mortal whose name would echo into eternity, had succeeded in forging the first kingdom by mortal hands.


    The foundations of a future Hades had long foreseen were now set. The world would change. The gods would react. Some with awe, others with fear.


    The Underworld, too, ran smoothly¡ªalmost too smoothly.


    The operation he had built, the three sectors ruled by his Twelve Patrons, operated in balance even with the burdens of growing mortal death rates and the chaos of monster plagues above.


    And yet, they were woefully understaffed.


    Too few divine spirits, too few gods willing to accept the responsibilities of death¡¯s domain.


    But even this was not what truly haunted him.


    Should he train?


    He had long since stopped training to get stronger decades ago, only maintaining a routine to keep himself from getting rusty.


    It wasn¡¯t because he was lazy or he was busy, but simply because his strength ¡¯capped¡¯ and can no longer improved. S§×ar?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    He had tried countless ways to break that limit, but it seems like this fabric of reality itself was rejecting any being that could surpass the power of a Primordial.


    It seems, Primordial Gods is the limit of power that this universe can bear...or something.


    He stopped, breath forming a frostless sigh as he remembered another matter.


    The corridor ahead shimmered with the familiar obsidian mist of home, but his mind wandered elsewhere¡ªto her.


    Gaia.


    Her voice still echoed in his thoughts, like roots threading into the deepest caverns of his mind.


    She had come to him not long ago, draped in the majesty of mountain and time.


    She had made her request clear: to sire a child¡ªan offspring born not just of raw power, but of divine purpose.


    A being meant to restore balance, to punish Olympus, to stand where others would falter.


    He had not answered her then.


    He could not.


    Even now, he hesitated. Not out of fear¡ªbut out of consequence.


    Gaia and Uranus mated simply to produce an offspring, so their power was merely a fragment of the two primordials.


    But this time, Gaia was specifically asking him for a child that could punish the gods, and naturally would give them a large amount of power.


    A being born from two Primordials class beings would surely be a terrifying creature.


    However, at the same time, he was curious.


    Would their child break the limit and surpass primordials?


    He wanted to see...but at the same time he was worried about the consequences. How much destruction would that kid cause if it were to be born?


    The corridor finally ended. Before him was the shore of the River Styx.


    The air shimmered, alive with the hum of spiritual activity. Souls lined up in winding queues, their ethereal eyes dull and lost.


    The ferryman, Charon, turned his hooded head and bowed wordlessly. Nearby, Styx herself emerged from the fog like a blade of judgment¡ªher stern eyes immediately softening as she recognized him.


    "You have returned, my king." Styx said, her voice a ripple in the river¡¯s current.


    "J have," Hades replied, still distant in tone. "Is all well?"


    "There was a surge of souls after the last battle above. Herios¡¯ war left many dead," she replied. "But we¡¯ve managed. Hypnos has reinforced the river gates. Hera returned from her overwatch and awaits your counsel."


    Hades nodded absently, his eyes drifting past Styx to the far-off towers of Nox city rising from the shadows. "Very well. I¡¯ll see to them later."


    Styx narrowed her eyes. "You seem... burdened."


    "I¡¯m simply thinking."


    "Of Gaia¡¯s proposal?"


    He finally turned to her, giving a small, almost doubtful look. "How did you know that?"


    "I know everything. I love gossips."


    The Lord of the Underworld chuckled. "....Yeah, that¡¯s creepy."


    Styx tilted her head, "That¡¯s rich coming from a guy peeping on human man and his entire race."


    "Touch¨¦." Hades chuckled. However, his eyes soon stared at a distance. "...What do you think of Gaia¡¯s proposal?"


    "If I may..." she said, politely. "I believe accepting her offer is a great choice. With this, we can curb those gods arrogance and purify the den of filth that is the Olympus.... But I believe you¡¯re quite soft to do that. After all, they are not an enemy."


    Hades didn¡¯t respond for a long moment. He looked out across the river, its waters dark and endless.


    "Perhaps," he admitted. "But perhaps that is the very thing the world needs now."


    Even he cannot stomach how low Olympus have fallen into depravity. Perhaps, they might change if they were punishef.


    He turned, walking past Styx, this time she did not follow.


    Behind him, the ferryboats rocked in their eternal rhythm, and the souls murmured like a restless tide.


    His palace loomed in the distance, its towers glowing faintly under the lightless sky.


    As he entered the dark halls of the Underworld once more, Hades whispered to himself,


    "If the gods above lose their way... perhaps it¡¯s time to birth something new below."


    And with that thought, the King of the Dead walked forward¡ªnot just into the heart of his domain, but into a choice that would change the fate of the cosmos.

 Chapter 72 - 26: The Next Step

    Chapter 72: Chapter 26: The Next StepUnderworld. Core Section, Trial Hall.


    The halls were dim but alive with murmurs, disputes, and the constant footsteps of denizens and divine spirits moving to fulfill their duties.


    Among them stood Hera, a high-ranking Patron of the Underworld and self-proclaimed Queen of Underworld.


    Her silken robes, once pristine and adorned with gold, were now slightly creased, stained faintly with the ink of scrolls and parchment from days of endless bureaucracy.


    Her hair was pulled back into a loose braid, practicality replacing vanity. Her gaze, however, remained as sharp and imperious as ever.


    She sat on a throne not meant for her, but one she now occupied by necessity¡ªan obsidian chair placed before the judgment dais of Underworld, where conflicts and bureaucratic errors were settled daily.


    Before her stood three lesser gods.


    Two were engaged in a fierce dispute, their divine voices cracking like thunder. The third, a junior mediator, had summoned Hera for help after being overwhelmed.


    "He invaded my domain¡ªthose souls were meant for my domain!" shouted the first lesser god, his eyes flickering with ember-like rage. His essence reeked of pride and overworked frustration.


    "You abandoned them!" the second god roared in reply, arms crossed. "They were wandering aimlessly! I guided them when you failed."


    For Underworld gods, the spirit energy released by souls were like the faith of mortals are to overworld gods.


    It supplies them with divinity, strengthen them, and essentially turning them into immortals ¡ª as long as souls exists on their domains.


    That¡¯s why many gods would fight over souls and have them as denizens of their own territory.


    Hera leaned her cheek into her hand and tapped the armrest with her fingers, her expression flat. She had heard variations of this same dispute five times today.


    "Enough," Hera finally said, her voice cutting clean through the rising fury. Both gods silenced immediately.


    Even lesser divinities knew not to tempt the wrath of Hera when she was in no mood for dramatics.


    She gestured toward the second god. "You¡¯re guilty."


    His mouth fell open, stunned. "But¡ª!"


    "You did not file a Soul Transfer Request. You cannot redirect souls under another god¡¯s jurisdiction without permission, no matter how negligent they are." She turned to the first god. "And as for you¡ªyour laziness has been noted. Consider this a warning."


    Then she looked back at the guilty one. "As punishment, you will work double shifts at the soul sorting lines along with Charon. A full year. Report to the River Styx¡¯s Office immediately."


    The second god groaned but dared not protest further. The sentence wasn¡¯t cruel¡ªjust exhausting.


    In the Underworld, where time crawled and every soul mattered, punishment was meted not by pain, but by labor. There were no prisons, only tasks.


    After all, gods in prison means less manpower.


    And there are many cases where a god would commit a crime and get themselves imprisoned just to escape work.


    So Hades changed the punishment and have all those who break the law work even more.


    As the gods left, grumbling and defeated, Hera let out a long sigh. The silence that followed wasn¡¯t peace¡ªit was the absence of a thousand other problems briefly held at bay.


    She slumped into the throne and rubbed her temples. "Six disputes since morning. Three denizens tried to file for reincarnation without proper clearance. And a minor spirit accidentally crossed into the Outer Section without permission and almost drowned in Phlegethon. Wonderful."


    A voice slithered from beside her like a teasing gust of wind. "My, my, how far the Great Hera has fallen. Judging petty squabbles among overworked lackeys? How regal."


    Hera didn¡¯t even look to see the source. "Campe."


    The beautiful half-dragon, half-woman mount og Hades smiled like a serpent preparing to strike. Her shimmering scales glinted faintly in the torchlight, "I brought tea. But I drank it all while watching you suffer."


    Hera let out another sigh, deeper this time. "You¡¯re a real delight."


    "Ever since our dear Lord Hades decided to tour the realms like some wandering philosopher, you¡¯ve become the new monarch of misery," Campe said with a chuckle. "Aren¡¯t you honored? You¡¯re practically the Queen of the Underworld now."


    Also, Hades went to overworld, but that was known only to Hades, Hecate, Styx and Charon, so to Campe¡¯s and others knowledge, Hades was still wandering the Underworld.


    "Honored? Maybe. But I haven¡¯t had proper tea and rest time in six days," Hera replied flatly. "Do you know what that does to someone like me? Six days of parchment. Six days of judgment and endless disputes over soul rights, faith tax adjustments, and territorial squabbles."


    Campe snorted. "Welcome to management. I rather like watching you toil. I usually only see this level of suffering in Tartarus."


    Hera was about to respond, or perhaps groan again, when Campe¡¯s tone suddenly shifted¡ªlighter, almost playful. "Oh, by the way. Lord Hades has returned."


    Hera blinked. She sat up straight so fast the chair creaked.


    "What?" she said sharply.


    "He arrived at his fortress not long ago. That mutt is still bowing, I think. Power¡¯s surging back through the palace." Campe¡¯s grin widened. "So, yeah, pretty sure daddy¡¯s home."


    Hera stood without a word. Campe watched her go, amused as always, but Hera didn¡¯t even turn back.


    The moment she stepped out of the chamber, her divine form surged with renewed energy. Exhaustion was forgotten. Work, delays, complaints¡ªall irrelevant now.


    With swift strides, she moved past the columns of judgment, down the marble steps, through courtyards where spirits whispered and bowed, and ascended the ethereal staircase that led to the Hanging Fortress¡ªthe palace of the Underworld that floated in the shadows above all else.


    The guards, upon seeing her, immediately opened the black iron gates. She didn¡¯t slow her pace.


    She could feel it. The power inside.


    It wasn¡¯t just that Hades had returned. It was that the Underworld had awakened.


    The fortress itself, dormant in his absence, now pulsed with energy. Columns glowed softly, and the shadows danced as if in celebration.


    The throne hall doors were ajar, and golden light¡ªsubtle, strange¡ªshone through.


    She stepped inside.


    And there he was.


    Hades, Lord of the Underworld, sat on his throne¡ªnot as a shadowy, grim figure¡ªbut as a king who had made a choice.


    His gaze was distant, thoughtful, but when he saw her, it softened just slightly.


    "You¡¯ve returned," she said, breathless.


    "I have," he replied.


    There was a pause¡ªshort, yet meaningful. Then Hera crossed the chamber and stood beside his throne.


    She didn¡¯t kneel¡ªshe was not one to kneel for anyone¡ªbut she placed her hand on the edge of the obsidian seat and met his eyes.


    "Don¡¯t ever vanish like that, do you know what I¡¯ve been through while you¡¯re gone? Work, work, and even more work!" Sear?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Hades gave the faintest smile. "Sorry, but I just needed to see, just how is the realm under my rule."


    "And now that you have?" she asked.


    He looked past her, toward the vast window overlooking the River Lethe. "Now... I think it¡¯s time we shape what comes next."


    Hera¡¯s tiredness, her frustrations¡ªall of it seemed to dissipate.


    Because now, with Hades back, the real work could begin.

 Chapter 73 - 27: Gods and Humans

    Chapter 73: Chapter 27: Gods and HumansYears passed since the Battle of Herion, that fateful day when a mortal with nothing but his willpower and bruised fists had felled a giant.


    The world remembered that day as the turning point of humanity¡ªa dawn not heralded by gods, but by man.


    At the heart of it all stood Herios, the First King, whose name had become a banner, a title, a legend.


    From a city born in fire and blood, Herion had grown into a sprawling kingdom.


    Where once crude shelters had stood, now rose walls of sturdy stone and brick.


    Farms stretched beyond the horizon, rivers were tamed with aqueducts, and roads linked distant lands.


    The new banner of Herios¡ªa silver fist against a crimson sun¡ªflew from every tower and fortress under his rule.


    Tribes that once fought over scraps and territory were united under his vision. Herios did not conquer merely with blades. He came with words, with order, with justice. He offered law and purpose to the wandering and the war-torn.


    Resistance was often met, but it was brief¡ªHerios¡¯ strength on the battlefield was legendary, and even greater was his charisma.


    He became not just a king, but the very embodiment of human aspiration.


    In the center of Herion¡¯s capital now stood the Sanctum of Hades¡ªa grand temple, unlike anything the world had ever seen.


    Carved from obsidian and adorned with silver veins, it loomed tall into the sky, a monument of gratitude and devotion.


    Twin statues of Hades stood at the gates: one bearing a spear wrapped in shades, the other holding a crown, symbolizing both his divine weapons.


    Beneath the temple was a great flame¡ªthe Eternal Lantern¡ªlit with black fire that never extinguished.


    It was said Hades himself had kindled it during his descent, and that the flame would burn as long as humanity honored his name.


    But Hades was not the only one worshiped.


    Humanity built temples for many underworld gods. Hecate, the Goddess of Magic. Hera, the Goddess of Marriage. Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love, they are the three goddess that is most worshipped by the humans.


    Due to their association with the underworld, the humans honored love and marriage more than the original myths.


    With the goddess of marriage being an underworld goddess, humans believe that marriage will last until death, so divorce was considered a sin.


    Love became so sacred that they believed that those who are unfaithful will suffer an eternity in Tartarus.


    The people did not pray to these gods in fear, but in reverence¡ªthey were seen as protectors, not tyrants.


    For it was the Underworld that had recognized humanity¡¯s strength first.


    The gods above had watched. The gods below had acted.


    This faith bore fruit.


    Under the blessings of the Underworld, crops flourished even in poor soil, and winters were mild.


    The souls of the dead were properly buried and guided. Disease was rare.


    Every child knew the name Herios, and every adult aspired to become a Hero, a title now given to those who served the kingdom with valor, courage, and virtue.


    Herios, now older and clad in armor adorned with laurels of black iron and crimson silk, would often walk among his people.


    He no longer fought in battles himself¡ªhis presence alone was enough to rally or tame. His council was composed of former warriors, scholars, and seers, many of whom had once been his rivals and now served loyally.


    The Kingdom of Herion extended from the great rivers of the east to the stone cliffs of the western sea.


    Tribes had been turned into cities. Oral traditions became scrolls. And across the realm, festivals were held every year to honor The Night God, as Hades came to be known by the common folk.


    One such festival, called the Black Dawn, began with silence.


    People gathered at night, wearing black robes, lighting lanterns to walk through the streets in complete stillness.


    At sunrise, drums roared, horns blew, and feasts were held.


    Children were told the tale of how a man once punched a giant into the earth¡ªand how the Lord of the Dead smiled upon that act of defiance.


    In time, other races¡ªnymphs, satyrs, dryads¡ªwatched from afar, uneasy and awed. For the first time, they felt themselves replaced in divine favor.


    The gods of Olympus watched too, and with every passing year, their temples grew quieter, their influence fading among men.


    But humanity did not care.


    They had a king who had bled for them. A god who had blessed them. And a future they would forge with their own hands.


    The Kingdom of Herion was no longer a single city or a desperate stand against monsters.


    It was now the beating heart of mankind.


    *


    *


    *


    Mount Olympus.


    The marble halls of Olympus shimmered under the golden light of the sun, yet a palpable tension hung in the air.


    The gods had convened, summoned by Zeus to address a matter that had been festering in the divine realm: the unprecedented rise of human devotion to Hades and the mortal king, Herios.


    Zeus, seated upon his grand throne, his brow furrowed, addressed the assembly. "That damn Hades acted all just and honorable, warning us to leave Humanity alone. But he took action and gathered humanity¡¯s faith behind our backs! How deceitful! He¡¯s a hypocrite!" S~ea??h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Ares, ever the embodiment of war, slammed his fist upon the table. "This is an affront! Mortals, our creations, now turn to the Lord of the Dead? We must remind them of our might."


    Of course, the fact that it was Prometheus who created humanity, or how they tried to punish humans for bearing the flame that Prometheus by sending hordes of monsters was left unsaid, or rather, they completely forgot that.


    In their minds, humanity was their creation, and therefore must worship them.


    Poseidon, god of the seas, nodded in agreement. "Now, the faiths of those other mortal races have began to wane, we need the new race, Humanity, to provide us with new source of faith. Hades deprived our right for that."


    "And the wars!" Ares slammed his fist on the table, "Those damn humans all dedicated their war campaigns to Hades, forgetting completely that I am the God of War!"


    "I say we ignore Hades and eliminate humanity!" Zeus thundered, "Then, we will create another race to worship us!"


    "I agree!" Ares grinned.


    Amidst the clamor, Hermes, the messenger god, raised his hand, signaling for silence. "Perhaps we approach this wrongly. Instead of confronting Herios and his followers directly, why not support the human tribes that resist his rule? Empower them to establish their own kingdoms, loyal to us."


    Zeus¡¯ eyebrows rose as he leaned forward, intrigued. "Go on."


    Hermes continued, "By backing these tribes, we create a counterbalance. Their successes will inspire others, and our influence will be restored through their victories."


    The gods murmured in agreement, the strategy appealing to their desire for reverence without direct confrontation.


    Athena, goddess of wisdom, and Artemis, goddess of the hunt, sat apart from the discussion, engaged in their own conversation.


    Athena doesn¡¯t really care about faiths. As long as mortals continue to seek knowledge and wisdom, faith would naturally gather to her.


    Artemis was the same. As long as mortals still hunt for food, then she doesn¡¯t even need their worship.


    "That sounds interesting," Zeus smirked. "Well then, who agrees to this arrangement?"


    "Boring. But I guess I can agree." Said Ares.


    "That¡¯s a yes for me." Heremes smirked.


    "I don¡¯t care, do what you wish." Dionysus hicupped, his head down on the table, completely drunk.


    The other gods also expresses their agreement.


    With the majority in consensus, Zeus declared, "Let it be so. We shall extend our blessings to those who resist Herios. Through them, our legacy will endure."


    Their legacy of depravity, that is.


    But of course, they don¡¯t believe that.


    After all, they are the righteous and just gods in their hearts.

 Chapter 74 - 28: Limits and Search

    Chapter 74: Chapter 28: Limits and SearchThe Underworld.


    On the boundary between Tartarus, far from the bustle of Underworld cities and the quiet hum of souls in passage, lay a realm untouched by time ¡ª the territory of Nyx, the Primordial of Night.


    Here, the stars themselves seemed to float just above one¡¯s head, and darkness wasn¡¯t simply the absence of light ¡ª it was substance, a velvet fabric that weaved around the essence of the place.


    There were no walls, no boundaries, just an endless cascade of twilight filled with dreams, memories, and things forgotten.


    It was here that Hades, King of the Underworld, sat in absolute stillness, legs crossed upon a floating obsidian platform suspended in the abyss.


    His body was motionless, but within him, a storm brewed.


    He had been meditating for months ¡ª or perhaps years; time moved strangely in Nyx¡¯s realm.


    Countless divine senses expanded outward, brushing against the invisible strands of his domains ¡ª Primordial Sky, Death, Mortality, Wealth, Spirits, Darkness, and as of recently, Courage.


    Each of these flowed into his essence like rivers into a sea. He could feel their weight, their power. He could sense how they responded to his will faster, sharper, more refined than ever before.


    Yet...


    There was no change. No ascent. No breakthrough.


    His power had stagnated.


    He opened his eyes ¡ª purple irises glinting with cold silver rings ¡ª and exhaled, his breath forming visible ripples in the fabric of the realm.


    All this time, all this discipline, and yet he remained at the same threshold, incapable of pushing through.


    "I¡¯ve mastered my control," he muttered to himself. "But my power can no longer improve. How frustrating."


    He looked around.


    There was no sign of Nyx.


    He had initially come here in secret, hoping that the Mother of Night, the one closest to the source of Chaos among the living Primordials, might offer guidance ¡ª but her throne stood empty.


    Her scent had long faded from the place, and her whispers no longer echoed in the stars.


    She hadn¡¯t returned in for who knows how long.


    Was she wandering the cosmos? Or did something else happen to her?


    The thought stirred discomfort. Even now, Hades did not fully understand Nyx, despite their...¡¯intimacy¡¯.


    No one did.


    He stood slowly, the obsidian platform rippling beneath his feet like disturbed water.


    His tall frame cast no shadow in the place of eternal night, his black robes fluttering as if moved by unseen winds.


    His divine authority swirled around him like a coiled serpent ¡ª boundless, refined, but frustratingly capped.


    He could not grow stronger within the Underworld, nor in the Overworld, where his presence was suppressed by his oath and Zeus¡¯ dominion over the sky.


    He even thought of going back to Chaos just to seek an opportunity to improve, no matter how much he doesn¡¯t want to return therr.


    He turned his gaze upward, though there was no sky, only a veil of living darkness.


    ¡¯Chaos...¡¯ He thought, frowning in annoyance.


    A place not bound by time or space. A realm above reality, where the concept of ¡¯dimension¡¯ collapsed under its own contradictions.


    A metaphysical space existing above infinite dimension, within infinite universes.


    There, everything existed simultaneously ¡ª past, present, and future ¡ª form, formless, and forgotten.


    It was the source of the Primordials, the origin of gods, monsters, and even the canvas upon which fate was written.


    And it was filled with horrors that defied shape and logic.


    Hades remembered their eyes ¡ª if they could be called that ¡ª watching him from every direction, and none.


    Creatures whose laughter sounded like collapsing stars.


    Giants who wore galaxies like beads.


    Serpents made of space and time.


    Silent things that fed on memory and identity.


    He clenched his fists.


    He had entered Chaos once before ¡ª long ago, when he first came to this world, where he was just a young godling hiding from Cronus in that mountain.


    In that place, he sought understanding, hoping to claim a greater domain, to evolve from god to something higher.


    But what he found was terror ¡ª and the realization that even gods were prey in that place.


    Still... the temptation now grew stronger.


    He had done everything in his power to elevate humanity, to organize the Underworld, to maintain cosmic balance.


    But no matter how wide his influence, how many temples were built in his name, how many souls knelt before him... his strength no longer grew.


    He touched his chest, feeling the divine spark within him.


    It beat steadily, a warmth of power eclipsing any gods and divines, but it was not enough.


    He had glimpsed the limits of divinity, and they were walls of glass. Invisible. Inflexible.


    To break past those walls, he would need something more.


    Perhaps a new domain.


    Perhaps Chaos itself.


    But at what cost?


    Suddenly, a familiar presence brushed against the edge of the realm ¡ª Styx, the River Goddess, was scouring the underworld, searching for him.


    Hades turned his head. He did not answer her call, not immediately.


    He let her search for awhile as he stood there, caught between choices.


    He could return to his duties, continue ruling the Underworld as the wise, noble king. Safe. Contained. Familiar.


    Or... he could risk everything again ¡ª step into that swirling madness and challenge the laws of reality itself.


    He might return stronger... or not at all.


    For a moment, he simply breathed, his divine form quiet amidst the stars.


    "Nyx," he whispered to the empty throne. "...I really need your advice right now. Amongst the primordials, you were the closest to Chaos it self."


    Then, reluctantly, Hades turned and walked toward Styx¡¯s presence.


    His footsteps were slow, each step echoing like thunder through the realm of night.


    As he passed through the veil of darkness and back toward the structured underworld, he glanced over his shoulder once more.


    The emptiness behind him remained silent.


    *


    *


    *


    The cosmos stretched endlessly, its fabric alive with rivers of stardust, churning galaxies, and forgotten eons.


    Beyond even the furthest starlight, where no mortal mind could comprehend and no divine eye often strayed, there drifted a being older than light itself ¡ª Nyx, the Primordial Goddess of Night.


    Her form was cloaked in shimmering black, her silhouette shaped not by flesh but by absence ¡ª an outline filled with the void between stars.


    She glided through the realms where dimensions began to bleed together, searching... listening... hunting for something not of this world.


    Something foreign, uncalled, and completely familiar yet unfamiliar.


    Something that shouldn¡¯t have yet come to this world, something that Khronos allowed to enter earlier than it should be.


    A fragment of creature no divine mind could comprehend.


    It had invaded.


    Nyx had followed its trail for years in mortal time, combing through planes of law, pits of madness, and cradles of unborn worlds.


    And yet, it always seemed just ahead ¡ª like smoke vanishing into deeper darkness.


    She halted now upon a collapsing star whose death screamed across timelines.


    The heat meant nothing to her. She had been exposed to many things hotter than a collapsing star.


    She extended a hand, and the remnants of starlight quieted, bowing to her presence.


    She closed her eyes, hoping the silence would speak.


    It didn¡¯t.


    Instead, another presence emerged ¡ª familiar, equally ancient, and just as insufferable.


    "Still searching?" came a velvet voice, smooth and arrogant.


    Nyx¡¯s eyes opened lazily. She didn¡¯t turn.


    "....still acting sneakily as ever. Show yourself, you buffoon."


    From the shadows beside her, stepping out of a seam in space, came a man dressed in layered black robes stitched from void and starlight.


    His hair was short, swept back with elegance, and his face ¡ª handsome, refined, bearing a touch of eternal smugness ¡ª remained untouched by age.


    Only his eyes betrayed how many aeons he had lived.


    Erebus.


    Primordial of Darkness. Her oldest companion. Her shadow-twin. Her... son? Brother? Equal? Mistake?


    She looked at him with narrowed eyes. "You¡¯re late. Tell me what you found."


    "I searched every corner of the outer cosmos," he replied with a light nod. "From the silver forests of Eirin Vael to the Red Scar of the Void Leviathans. No trace of that mysterious being."


    Nyx frowned. That was not what she wanted to hear.


    She was hoping that ¡¯that¡¯ thing have at least left some traces, but even Erebus couldn¡¯t find anything.


    "Then try harder." she said coldly.


    "I am." he answered smoothly, walking beside her to gaze into the imploding star. "But if it can hide from you... it may not even belong to this kind of universe."


    She said nothing. Erebus knew nothing of Chaos, of anything from the ¡¯outside¡¯, but he¡¯s terrifyingly sharp.


    Erebus turned his head, the faintest smirk playing on his lips.


    "Oh, and your little lover came by your old dwelling." Sear?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Nyx slowly turned her head, eyes glowing faintly. "...I know. Now scram, don¡¯t meddle with my affairs.


    "Affairs?" he said with mock surprise. "Forgive me. I only thought it amusing how frustrated he was. Poor Hades... so bound by divine limits. Still thirsting for growth, poor thing."


    "I said, scram." she said again, her tone sharpened.


    Erebus¡¯s smirk widened, but his eyes remained heavy with timeless knowledge. "As you command, Mother."


    The word echoed.


    It bounced between shattered dimensions and ancient memories. It slammed into Nyx¡¯s core.


    In an instant, she spun toward him, hand outstretched, summoning a spear of darklight ¡ª a weapon woven from darkest night and cosmic silence.


    She hurled it with such force that the star behind them imploded faster, tearing into itself with a howling scream.


    But Erebus was already gone.


    His laughter, low and echoing, faded into the distant corners of space.


    Nyx floated in silence, the darkness around her trembling slightly from her sudden burst of fury.


    She stared at the empty space where Erebus had stood, teeth clenched.


    She hated that name. Not because it was inaccurate ¡ª but because it was true.


    She had birthed most of the Underworld¡¯s pantheon from her own essence.


    From despair, from silence, from the stillborn seeds of the cosmos. Thanatos, Hypnos, Moros, the Keres, Eris, Oizys... and yes, even Erebus.


    But calling her ¡¯Mother¡¯ felt like chains. She preferred ¡¯sister.¡¯ It allowed her to be part of creation without being responsible for it. Without being bound.


    She floated there, alone, her mind drifting.


    She knew Hades was searching for her, hoping she might show him how to ascend further ¡ª to transcend godhood itself.


    But she had nothing to give. She too was stuck. She too had reached a ceiling. For all her power, for all her mastery of Night, even she had stopped growing.


    That was the curse of their reality.


    The laws that governed their universe were finite. And while gods could rise, fall, be reborn and reign again ¡ª they could not shatter the boundaries written by Chaos itself.


    They were trapped beneath the glass dome of structured divinity.


    Unless... they returned to Chaos.


    Nyx glanced downward, to the deep shadow spiraling in her palm ¡ª a tether she had forged to anchor herself during her last descent into the outer reaches of Chaos.


    She hadn¡¯t used it in eons.


    It pulsed. Beckoning her.


    But she was no fool.


    Even she feared the grotesque colossi of Chaos ¡ª beings that laughed at the gods, that whispered in alien tongues which rewrote physics.


    Creatures so vast, so old, so wrong, that they erased reason by proximity.


    She had seen one devour a multiverse in a blink.


    Another had stared at her once... and she felt time unravel.


    Would Hades survive a second descent into Chaos? Would he even remain himself?


    Her expression softened, just briefly.


    She turned away from the dying star, drifting into the next realm.


    Perhaps she would return to her home.


    Perhaps she would wait for Hades to come again.


    Or perhaps she would descend herself once more... to search Chaos directly.

 Chapter 75 - 29: Theology

    Chapter 75: Chapter 29: TheologyThe forest was thick with shadows, shrouded in the mist of early dawn.


    Beneath the ancient oaks and twisted roots, smoke curled from campfires.


    Beneath the canopy, the last free human tribes had gathered in secret.


    Warriors, elders, seers, and chieftains of many bloodlines stood or sat in a rough circle, many of them eyeing one another with suspicion.


    Old enemies were now forced into a single alliance... but desperation was a powerful glue.


    At the center of the gathering sat a dark-skinned chieftain wrapped in lion pelts, his eyes bloodshot with fury.


    "That bastard, Herios," he spat, slamming his fist against a flat stone used as their makeshift table. "He claims unity, but all he¡¯s brought is tyranny! He forces any humans who dared not submit to him to their knees!"


    "He is blessed. Not even the sun burns without his word," growled another. "He controls the rivers, the crops, the winds... What kind of man has that power?"


    "He¡¯s not a man!" someone shouted from the back. "He¡¯s a evil spirit clothed in mortal skin!"


    An old seer with cracked fingernails and a voice like dry leaves raised her hand for silence.


    "We can call him all the names we like," she said grimly. "But words alone cannot stop him, our weapons break like twigs against his warriors, our shield shatters against his strength. He is a man blessed by the gods."


    "Underworld gods," someone muttered bitterly.


    "Evil gods who blessed the tyrant and want to rule the world!"


    Silence fell.


    They despaired.


    Even their curses had lost force.


    They hated Herios, yet could not deny his power. His unity had brought peace, prosperity ¡ª and total domination.


    The cities under his banner flourished. His name was on every tongue. And above all, he was blessed.


    Deep within their hearts, they believed that if they also received a blessing of the gods, then surely they can do better!


    Legend speaks of how he brought down a giant, but they believed Herios couldn¡¯t do it without any help from gods!


    That¡¯s why, if they were to be blessed, they will surely build a kingdom greater than Herion.


    As they wallowed in frustration and envy, "it" came.


    A low rumble ¡ª not thunder, but something older, something that stirred the soul.


    The campfires sputtered and flickered. The wind changed. The air shivered with electricity.


    And then... a voice.


    It came from the skies, yet was not of the skies. It came from within their hearts, within the wind, within the world itself.


    "Children of Man... I have heard your cries."


    The words were warm, majestic, but powerful. An iron edge beneath honeyed tones.


    The tribes looked upward in awe. Even the animals fell silent. The wind stopped. The fires went still. And the stars themselves seemed to pause in their eternal journey.


    "I am Zeus. God of Sky. King of the Gods. Father of Storms. Slayer of Cronus. Lord of Olympus."


    The humans gasped.


    A few dropped to their knees immediately. Others hesitated, stunned. Even the proud chieftains found themselves trembling.


    A divine presence now filled the grove.


    "I see your bravery. Your defiance. Your hunger for freedom. And it reminds me... of us."


    The voice swelled, but it no longer boomed ¡ª it whispered, like a god leaning close to share secrets.


    "Long ago, I too lived under the tyranny of a false king. My father, Cronus, devoured all he feared... just as Herios devours your nations. But I rose up. I rebelled. And I won."


    A ripple of wonder spread among the tribes.


    Could it be true?


    This being ¡ª Zeus ¡ª he had faced his own tyrant?


    The chieftain in lion pelts looked up with narrowed eyes. "Then why speak to us now, god of Olympus? Why not strike Herios down yourself?"


    There was a pause.


    "Because man must shape his own destiny," Zeus replied. "But I offer you the strength to do it."


    The winds picked up again, circling them. Leaves rose into the air, spinning like a vortex.


    "Bow before me. Build temples in my name. Offer prayers and loyalty. And in return, I shall bless your blades, harden your shields, and set fire to your spirits. I shall make you a flame against the darkness that Herios has cast."


    Silence.


    The humans looked at one another. A few still hesitated.


    "This could be a trick," an old chiedtain muttered. "No god speaks so freely."


    Despite this, the chieftain stood tall. He had lived through six wars. Buried three wives. He had no more patience for submission ¡ª not to Herios, and not to fear.


    He knelt.


    "I accept your covenant, Lord of the Sky."


    One by one, others followed.


    Some knelt in hunger for power.


    Some knelt because they feared being left behind.


    Some knelt in silence, hearts heavy with doubt, but minds eager for hope.


    And others knelt simply because they could not see another way.


    Zeus¡¯ voice softened, but did not lose its power.


    "You have made the right choice. And your enemies shall soon tremble."


    The sky cracked with white lightning. Thunder roared. And when the light faded... the wind returned. The fires sparked again. The birds resumed singing.


    But something was different now.


    Something had been bound.


    The tribes would no longer stand alone.


    They were now weapons in a far older game.


    And far above them, in the towering spires of Olympus, Zeus sat with a smirk curling on his lips ¡ª watching his pawns move into place.


    And, all over the world, the Olympians also began their move.


    Poseidon, the Lord of the Seas, was also trying to form his own kingdom of humans who will worship him.


    He did not show himself, for fear of being discovered by Hades, but his voice spread across the coastline, dozens of coastal human tribes watched in awe and terror.


    Their villages clung to the sea like barnacles, their lives tied to the tides.


    "You have fished my waters without thanks. You have built your huts upon my shores, but never named a stone for me. No longer. From this day forth, you shall build temples to honor me. You shall pour wine and salt into the waves. You shall offer your greatest catch to my name."


    There was resistance at first. A few chieftains raised their spears, their faces painted with war symbols.


    But then the sea answered.


    A towering wave rose before the tribes, wide enough to drown a hundred ships, silent and still in the sky. It hovered like the judgment of the heavens.


    The message was clear.


    And so they bowed.


    Thus, the Sea Tribes were claimed¡ªnot with charm, not with promises, but with the raw, unfathomable fear of drowning beneath a god¡¯s wrath.


    Elsewhere, Ares stood before the Flamebone Tribes of the jagged hills.


    He sealed his own divinity, donning the body of a mortal man.


    His arrival was no divine whisper, but a tempest of blood and chaos. The god of war came clad in bronze, his sword dripping with divine ichor, his eyes maddened with lust for battle.


    He gave no speeches. Instead, he challenged their strongest warrior to single combat.


    The duel lasted seven seconds.


    Afterward, he walked into their camp and declared, "You fight well. Now fight for me. Raise my banners. Etch my name into your swords. And I shall give you endless war. Praise my name! I am Ares, God of War!"


    The Flamebone cheered. They were born of violence. And now they had found their god.


    Far to the east, Apollo¡¯s mortal avatar descended upon the Skyvine Valleys, his beauty and radiance blinding the shepherds and singers that lived there.


    He brought them knowledge of poetry, medicine, archery, and light.


    The people gathered and listened for hours as he played his lyre, tears falling from their cheeks.


    He whispered of inspiration, of dreams, of beauty as a divine act.


    "Worship me," he said gently, "and your souls shall never know despair."


    They built a temple within three days.


    Dionysus, meanwhile, found the Vineblood Tribes in the southern jungles.


    His approach was chaos incarnate¡ªlaughter, madness, music, and wild color.


    Wine flowed like rivers.


    The people danced, entranced by his presence. They worshiped him not through sermons, but through ecstasy.


    He never had to ask for loyalty. They gave it freely, deliriously.


    Hephaestus brought fire and forge to the Mountain Tribes. He taught them how to mine deeper, how to temper steel, how to craft blades that would never break. sea??h th§× Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    In return, they built him a forge-temple of molten gold and prayed to the god who made gods strong.


    Each Olympian claimed their own corner of the mortal world.


    One by one, the free tribes that had resisted Herios fell¡ªnot to him, but to the gods who abandoned humanity.


    A war of influence began. It was no longer about Herios. It was about divinity. About faith. About control.


    But not all the gods participated.


    High above, on a distant crag of Olympus where no thrones sat, where no laws echoed, three goddesses stood in quiet observation.


    Athena, clad in silver armor with her helm resting at her side, stood with arms crossed, her violet eyes focused and serene.


    Artemis, the wild huntress, leaned against a stone pillar, polishing her silver bow, barely glancing at the chaos below.


    And beside them, Astrea, the silent judge of stars and cosmic balance, observed the earth with emotionless detachment, her eyes a mirror of the constellations.


    "They scramble like starving dogs," Artemis said, her voice laced with disdain. "Those humans are pathetic."


    "Indeed. I guess for them, kneeling before a divine was better than kneeling before a mortal," Athena replied calmly.


    Astrea did not speak. She was not interested in this charade.


    Artemis shrugged. "Let them have their little kingdoms. I¡¯ll stay with the forests. The moon does not beg for worship. People simply worship it."


    Athena turned her gaze to a distant city ¡ª the capital of Herios¡¯ kingdom. Its streets glowed with torchlight. Its temples rose with grandeur and grace.


    "They mock Herios," she said, "but none of them could have done what he has done."


    "No," Astrea finally said, her voice like the ringing of stars. "He was the one Lord Hades acknowledged, and no one in the past, present, and future, can hope to be as great as him."


    Silence fell.


    Below, the world shifted. Kingdoms rose. Temples blazed. Gods sharpened their influence like blades.


    And above all, the human world began to split¡ªnot in war, but in something far worse.


    In ideology.


    And faith.

 Chapter 76 - 30: Experiments

    Chapter 76: Chapter 30: ExperimentsDeep beneath the Hanging Fortress of Hades, there existba place where time bent and space frayed.


    It was not part of the Underworld proper. It was beneath it, beside it, within it.


    A pocket dimension, woven and anchored by spells older than gods themselves, pulsed in utter silence.


    This was Hades¡¯ sanctum, created by the combined efforts of him and Hecate.


    It is not a throne room, nor a hall of judgment. S§×ar?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    But a laboratory of research and divinity, of desperate ambition and unbearable limits.


    The chamber stretched endlessly, its size warped by spatial compression.


    Along the walls, crystalline tubes floated mid-air¡ªeach one glowing with otherworldly hues, filled with the distilled essence from every corner of cosmos: golden ichor from slain gods, steaming blood of titans that sizzled upon contact with light, writhing fluid collected from fallen monsters whose names had long been erased from creation.


    Fragmented scales of dragons, marrow of primal beasts, a sliver of Tartarus itself.


    Even droplets of power Hades had managed to condense from the lingering remains of primordial echoes.


    He moved among them like a shadow cloaked in authority, no longer wearing the black regalia of a king but a simpler form¡ªa robe of woven abyss, sleeves rolled, hands stained with power.


    His eyes, which once held cold serenity, now gleamed with frustration.


    ¡¯Training... meditation... rituals... they no longer work,¡¯ he thought as he adjusted one of the many floating glyphs that maintained the arcane integrity of the tubes. ¡¯My power is capped. I¡¯ve reached the end of this reality¡¯s structure.¡¯


    He had dissected his own soul, analyzed his domain from every angle, even attempted to let it collapse to see how it would rebuild itself.


    Still, there was no growth. Not even in strength. Not even in authority. All he achieved was better control and refinement of his own power.


    So with that, he opted to stop traning all together and focus on finding other ways to breakthrough the limits.


    Using powers and remnants of powerful beings, he hoped to find a clue for his ascendance.


    Years, he had holed up in this space. Hera ruled the Underworld in his stead now.


    Despite her complaints of being overworked and understaffed, she accepted the job without question.


    With Hera ruling underworld, it allowed Hades time to work uninterrupted.


    He had even consider Gaia¡¯s offer, hoping that they can have an offspring that can break the limits of this reality.


    Just then...he felt a presence.


    A shiver danced down the layered wards of his sanctum. Wards so great it separates this space from reality.


    The pocket dimension¡¯s folds trembled, momentarily exposing a crack in space before mending.


    Someone had passed through¡ªbut Hades felt that the intruder did not force their way in.


    It was authorized. Someone who bore keys to the dark.


    He turned, not surprised, only weary.


    "Hecate," he said, his voice echoing like a low drum through the pocket realm.


    As a co-creator of this realm, she naturally can enter leave freely.


    She stood at the edge of the sanctum¡¯s central platform, wrapped in her dark celestial cloak that shimmered like starlit midnight.


    Torches lit themselves in her presence, though no flame touched wood or oil. Her eyes were cold and emotionless, but edged with the seriousness only gods understood.


    "You look like a corpse," she said, observing him up and down. "When did you last rest? Or eat? Or speak to someone who isn¡¯t made of essence and bone?"


    "I have no need for rest," Hades replied flatly, turning back to a pulsating tube filled with emerald sludge. "Nor for chatter."


    Hecate sighed. Hades at this moment reminds her of his past self, when he was but a young godling obsessed with power, completely disregarding anything that can¡¯t help him.


    Hecate stepped closer, glancing at the arcane constructs with mild interest¡ªthough she knew better than to touch anything.


    Even she might not survive it.


    "You¡¯ve given Hera full authority over the Underworld. Some gods were unsatisfied." she said.


    "I trust her."


    "Trust doesn¡¯t mean you should vanish," she replied. "Your patrons have started to do their own thing without you keeping them in line."


    Hades didn¡¯t respond. He adjusted a sigil. A spike of divine energy shivered through the air.


    Silence stretched between them until Hecate finally spoke again¡ªthis time more seriously.


    "The Olympians have also begun moving. They¡¯ve subjugated several of the free tribes. Poseidon took the Sea Tribes. Ares and Apollo claimed their own. Hermes has been whispering promises of freedom to rebels, so long as they pray to him. Temples are rising in their names."


    Hades paused.


    A long silence ensued.


    Then he continued adjusting another glyph, as if her words were rain on obsidian.


    "I see." he said.


    "Are you not going to do anything?"


    "No."


    "You¡¯re really going to let them undo everything Herios built?"


    "Humanity have their own will, they can make their own choice," he said sharply, turning to her at last.


    His voice was calm, but beneath it was steel. "I gave them freedom. Not a leash. If I interfere¡ªif I force them to kneel to Herios¡ªthen what makes me different from the gods who tried to destroy them, and force them to bow before them?


    Hecate¡¯s gaze softened. "...But you know what they¡¯re doing. The Olympians don¡¯t care about the humans. They care about influence. They fear Herios because he can disrupt their order."


    With nymphs and other mortal races declining their faith to gods, the Olympians hope to use humans as a replacement.


    But Herios has been conquering humans under his banner.


    It was fine if it was just that, but Herios himself is a believer of Hades and the Herion Kingdom worships the underworld gods.


    If all humans were to worship the underworld, then what would be left of the Olympians?


    If it wasn¡¯t for Hades, Zeus would¡¯ve already smite Herios and his kingdom into ashes.


    "I can¡¯t do anything about that," Hades said, turning back to his experiments. "Those humans chose to worship the Olympians. I respect their choice."


    Hecate was quiet for a moment, then stepped forward, resting a hand on his shoulder.


    "You¡¯re too noble for your own good sometimes."


    "I¡¯m not noble," he replied. "I¡¯m frustrated. I want to transcend this... reality. If I can break the framework that binds gods, maybe I can find a new order for existence. One that isn¡¯t chained to worship."


    "And if you fail?"


    "Then I vanish. A failed shadow in a sea of light."


    Hecate nodded. "Then I hope you don¡¯t fail. For our sake... and for theirs."


    She turned and began to walk away, her presence fading with each step into the folds of reality.


    Before she left completely, she looked over her shoulder.


    "Don¡¯t forget, Hades. The humans may have free will¡ªbut sometimes, even free men cry for a leader."


    Then she was gone.


    Hades stood alone in the pulsing dark of his sanctum, surrounded by tubes and souls and impossible essence.


    The glyphs buzzed softly as he turned back to his work¡ªback to his desperate, maddening search for transcendence.


    Somewhere above, the world moved slowly.


    And deep below, a god reached for infinity.

 Chapter 77 - 31: Humans and Earth

    Chapter 77: Chapter 31: Humans and EarthIn the heart of the Herion Kingdom stood the grand palace of Solara, its golden spires piercing the sky like the fingers of men reaching toward the gods they once feared.


    It was a marvel of early human civilization, a city not born from divine decree but from mortal will.


    Its people, once scattered tribes surviving in caves and thatched huts, now walked paved streets with pride in their hearts and steel in their hands.


    At the center of the palace, within a marble hall illuminated by stained glass depicting humanity¡¯s rise, Herios sat upon his throne.


    Draped in a crimson mantle trimmed with lion fur, his bronze armor gleamed with a subtle warmth that came not from polish but from the sacred fire Prometheus had gifted him.


    His crown, forged by the finest smiths of the realm, bore no jewels¡ªonly a band of black iron taken from the ruins of the first monster nest they had ever destroyed.


    Before him, in the high-vaulted chamber, a scout knelt.


    "Your Majesty," the young scout said, bowing low with sweat on his brow, "we bring grave news from the northern watchtowers."


    Herios leaned forward slightly. "Speak."


    The scout swallowed. "Several tribes who had refused your offer for unity have formed a coalition. They refused your offer and turned towards the Olympians, bowing before the gods."


    The word hit the room like a thunderclap.


    A ripple of tension moved through the Council of the Flame, Herios¡¯ inner circle of generals, ministers, and high sages.


    Several stood, voices rising with fury.


    "Bow before the Olympian gods, you say?" snarled General Amun, the burly commander of the Iron Legion. "The gods who watched us suffer, who sent monsters to feast on our children, those gods who punished Lord Prometheus for giving us hope!?"


    "They are opportunists," spat councilman Caldas, his wrinkled hands clenched behind his back. "Lady Hecate have sent an oracle of how gods needed the faith of mortals. Now that we dominated the land, they wanted our faith, for sure. Damn bastards, where were they when we were suffering!?"


    "They seduced the weak with promises," another noble hissed. "Cowards who chose to kneel before those who would leash us once more."


    "Traitors!" a councilwoman declared. "Every last one who raised their hands against us should be buried beneath the ashes of their false temples!"


    The room erupted into shouts of anger, calls for vengeance, and cries to the gods themselves to witness humanity¡¯s fury.


    But Herios said nothing.


    He sat still on the throne, his eyes unmoving, his face cast in the colored light of a window depicting the moment he lit the first fire in mankind¡¯s name.


    The chamber fell quiet only when a massive figure stepped forward and knelt.


    It was General Kaerion, Herios¡¯ most trusted warrior and the commander of the Royal Host.


    His breastplate bore a fresh gouge from the last border skirmish, and his braided hair was streaked with blood and ash.


    "Your Majesty," Kaerion said, his voice deep and solemn, "give the order, and I will ride. I will burn their banners, raze their altars, and drag the bones of false prophets through the streets."


    The council watched in hushed anticipation.


    Herios still did not answer.


    He closed his eyes.


    He saw flames. Not the flames of war, but the sacred one¡ªPrometheus¡¯ fire. The fire that had given humanity its future. That flame, flickering within every heart, was now being pulled in opposite directions.


    ¡¯Choice,¡¯ he thought. ¡¯This is the cost of free will.¡¯


    He had known this day would come. The day when mankind, once unified by desperation, would be divided by faith.


    It wasn¡¯t just a rebellion. It was an existential question: To whom do humans owe their allegiance?


    Himself?


    Or the gods?


    Finally, Herios opened his eyes and stood.


    The room held its breath.


    He descended the stairs from the throne, standing face to face with Kaerion. His voice, when it came, was calm and clear¡ªbut it carried the weight of a nation.


    "No."


    Kaerion looked up, stunned. "Your Majesty?"


    "We will not go to war with our brothers," Herios said. "Not yet."


    "But they raise arms against us! They slaughter our border guards! They build temples to Zeus and Poseidon and Ares¡ªgods who abandoned us when we were hunted like beasts!"


    Herios turned to the council. "And you think more blood will bring peace?"


    A murmur swept the hall.


    "They were weak," Herios said. "They doubted the path we walk. So they looked skyward instead of forward. They saw gods offering salvation and chose chains over hardship. That was their choice."


    He turned back to Kaerion.


    "Prepare the armies. Reinforce the borders. But we will not strike unless they enter our lands. If they bring war to us, then we will answer in kind."


    "But, sire," said one of the sages, "if we don¡¯t act first, they may gain ground. They build temples to the gods. Their prayers may give them real power."


    "I am not afraid of the gods. We have the blessings and protection of Lord Hades." Herios said coldly. "If those gods dared to interfere with the mortal affairs more than they should be, then they will suffer the wrath of the Underworld."


    The chamber fell silent once more.


    Herios raised his hand, and the flames within the sconces of the chamber grew taller, brighter, as though they echoed his will.


    "We are not tyrants. We are not crusaders. We are builders. Let them make their choices. But if they bring death to our doors... then we will become fire, and burn everything that they have."


    Kaerion lowered his head. "As you command, my king."


    Herios returned to his throne, his mind already turning.


    If the gods want to make this a game of faith, he thought, then let them see what mankind¡¯s faith in itself can become.


    Above him, the stained glass caught the dying sunlight.


    And across the land, battle drums began to sound.


    *


    *


    *


    Far above the clouds, where even the wind feared to tread, rose the sacred peak of a primordial mountain.


    It was a mountain so ancient that not even the gods remembered its birth.


    Here, where the sky kissed stone and the earth whispered in tongues older than time, Gaia, the Primordial Mother, sat alone.


    She was the Earth itself¡ªnot merely of it, but it. Her form shimmered with wild majesty, neither flesh nor stone, but something in between.


    Her skin bore the hue of fertile loam and ancient roots, her hair wove with vines and petals from flowers long extinct, and her eyes¡ªdeep and vast as mountain lakes¡ªshone with sorrowed fury.


    She sat upon a natural throne, carved not by hand but by eons of pressure and tectonic sighs.


    Around her bloomed gardens untouched by the hand of man or god¡ªan Eden that lived on only here, where time hesitated and memory slept.


    Below her, the world groaned.


    Gaia¡¯s senses spanned the vastness of the earth like nerves extending into every crack, forest, and river.


    She felt the ache of dying woods¡ªthe once-lush canopies now stripped by axes bearing divine sigils.


    She heard the cries of animals hunted not for survival, but for sport and trophies.


    And she felt the filth of human waste leaking into pure mountain streams¡ªrivers she had nurtured like her own children now gagging on bile and blood. S§×ar?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    And the gods rejoiced.


    She watched as Poseidon blessed ships that tore coral reefs apart in search of pearls and plunder.


    As Ares armed human tribes, urging them into brutal conflicts that trampled fertile plains into scarred battlegrounds.


    As Dionysus led humans into gluttonous revelries, draining the life from forests to fuel their excesses.


    Even Hephaestus, once noble in his labor, now taught them to forge tools that razed the wilds instead of honoring them.


    And worst of all¡ªZeus, her own descendant, her blood diluted through countless divine generations¡ªrewarded this ruin.


    He promised mortals dominion over the world so long as they built his temples and fed his vanity with prayer and sacrifice.


    Gaia clenched the arms of her throne, and the mountain beneath her shuddered.


    "Fools..." she whispered, her voice echoing like thunder inside the earth itself.


    The same rage that once swelled when Uranus, her first consort, imprisoned their children now burned anew.


    But this time, it was deeper, more visceral.


    This destruction did not come from Titans, who at least revered her soil. Nor from the Primordials, who do not interfere with others domain.


    No, this came from her grandchildren, the Olympians¡ªdrunk on power and heedless of consequence.


    Worse still, the humans, had followed them.


    "Prometheus made them to be stewards," Gaia said softly, pain etched into every syllable. "Not parasites."


    It was then her thoughts turned again to the Underworld, to the one being she had not yet abandoned hope for.


    Hades.


    Of all the gods, he alone had not marred her surface. He ruled the realm beneath, where roots twisted into silence and souls slumbered in endless procession.


    He took no forests.


    He razed no plains.


    He asked for no temples, demanded no blood from her beasts.


    Even in his brooding silence, he had respected the sanctity of life and death.


    It was why she had descended to him.


    Once, not long ago, she appeared before him in a grove that lay between the realm of the dead and the soil of the living¡ªa place only Primordials could reach.


    She had made him an offer few would dare dream: to sire a race with her, children not of heaven nor hell, but of the Earth itself.


    Beings who would rise not as gods, but as judges and punishers, harbingers of balance and wrath.


    Beings born not to rule, but to cleanse.


    She remembered his gaze¡ªheavy with caution, clouded with conflict. He had said nothing, only listened, then returned to his fortress to meditate, to hide.


    But Gaia knew.


    He was tempted.


    But he feared the cost. Something was holding him back.


    Gaia sat upon her throne, staring into the horizon.


    Far below, she saw the flames of industry, the smoke of war, the spreading desecration of man emboldened by god.


    Cities rose like tumors across the fertile plains. Forests fell like dominos. Sacred groves bled sap like open wounds.


    She dug her fingers into the stone of the mountain, and flowers around her wilted under the sheer pressure of her frustration.


    "I have waited long enough."


    She rose from her throne, her form towering and terrible, the sky dimming as if the very heavens feared her ascent.


    Her voice echoed into the infinite winds.


    "Hades. The time to hesitate is over."


    She sent her will through the soil and stone, across the fault lines and rivers, down into the black veins of the Underworld, where it would whisper into the pocket dimension where Hades hid.


    She did not compel him¡ªbut she made herself known. Let him feel her fury. Let him know her patience had reached its limits.


    And then she waited again, her silhouette framed by twilight, as storm clouds churned around her like mourning shrouds.


    If Hades would not stand beside her, she would act alone.


    And the Olympians would remember what it meant to awaken a sleeping world.

 Chapter 78 - 32:

    Chapter 78: Chapter 32:Underworld.


    Inside Hades¡¯ secret realm.


    Hades can be seen tinkering with various mythical glyphs and bloods of primordials.


    He had long since forgotten how long he had stayed here.


    However, at this moment.


    Hades felt something.


    The room stilled.


    The swirling energies around the realm dimmed. The air tensed, as if frightened.


    Something ancient moved through the layers of reality like a root breaking stone, and a whisper¡ªdeep, feminine, unfathomable¡ªbrushed against his mind.


    "Hades."


    It wasn¡¯t a voice, not in the traditional sense. It was a presence, like the press of mountains on one¡¯s chest, like the breath of soil around a buried corpse.


    He knew it immediately.


    Gaia.


    He froze.


    The sigils halted midair. Even the glowing blood in the tubes stopped bubbling.


    For a moment, he did nothing. Then, slowly, he turned his head toward the stone altar at the center of the room.


    He stared at it, silent.


    The Primordial Mother had reached out again.


    He heard no request, no threat¡ªonly that overwhelming summons, that expectation.


    He knew why she called.


    Her anger was growing. The Olympians were destroying her body, inciting humans to spread like fire.


    The forests were falling, the rivers choking.


    She had warned him.


    Pleaded with him.


    Invited him.


    To rise higher.


    To sire a new race.


    To change everything.


    And still... he hesitated.


    He clenched his hand. The bones beneath his skin groaned. He had dedicated himself to seeking strength, and yet, when offered a path, he had recoiled.


    Was it fear? Was it morality? Or simply... weariness?


    At last, he whispered¡ªnot aloud, but through the currents of divine thought, a quiet, almost reluctant response that reached Gaia across the realms.


    "Wait."


    That was all he said.


    Then he turned back to his work.


    But he could not focus. The orbs of chaotic light no longer danced with the same rhythm.


    The blood samples felt heavy in the air, the theories he had mapped now felt hollow.


    His thoughts were clouded with what Gaia represented.


    Outside his chamber, reality shifted.


    Far above, in the Overworld, atop the primordial, Gaia narrowed her eyes.


    She stood, her gaze still fixed on the horizon. The winds swirled around her. The trees nearby bent under invisible pressure.


    Birds and beasts had long since fled her presence. The very mountain seemed to breathe with her heartbeat.


    "Wait," she muttered, tasting his word with disdain.


    The wind howled in response.


    She could crush mountains with a sigh. She could awaken creatures buried beneath the crust since before Olympus was born.


    And now, she was being asked to wait.


    She should¡¯ve already struck down whoever dared to make her wait.


    But she did not strike the earth. Not yet.


    Instead, Gaia drew in a long breath and slowly sat back on her throne of roots and stone.


    Her nails dug into the rock, and with patience fraying, she whispered to herself:


    "Then you must choose soon, Hades. For the world will not wait much longer."


    Clouds blackened overhead. The skies trembled. Somewhere far away, the land cracked as a forest fell under the weight of mortal greed.


    And Gaia listened.


    Waiting for the god who had not yet said yes.


    *


    *


    *


    The night sky stretched above like a dark canvas, flickering with distant stars that seemed indifferent to the squabbles of men below.


    Beneath the cold light of the moon, in the heart of a windswept plateau ringed by mountains and wild forests, a great tent of war stood.


    It was stitched together from beast hides, reinforced with spears, and lit within by a roaring fire that cast jagged shadows across the weathered faces of its occupants.


    Inside, dozens of tribal leaders sat in a broken circle.


    Their clothes were dyed in the hues of their clans ¡ª crimson from the Bloodfangs of the western savannahs, pale azure from the Lakewalkers of the salt shores, earthy green from the Rootborne, and many others from the steppes, the cold marshes, and the blazing deserts.


    Each one of them had once been a sovereign in their own right. Now, they were united by a common enemy, Herios, the "Tyrant-King" who claimed divine mandate from the Underworld.


    They are free tribes who refused to surrendor to tyranny, yet each one of them had bent the knee to a different god of Olympus.


    Of course, those cannot be said, and they have long since been blinded by their faith to see it.


    The air inside the tent was thick with tension, sweat, and pride.


    "Herios¡¯ kingdom grows fat on stolen grain!" snarled Varkas of the Red Ash, his teeth filed to points, his hands stained with blood from a recent skirmish. "He marches across the land with those cursed city-builders, calling themselves ¡¯civilized¡¯ while burning forests and enslaving the free!"


    The fact that they were doing the same thing, but much worse, obviously didn¡¯t cross their mind.


    After all, they believe they are right.


    "Aye," grunted Merka of the Drowned Stones, one eye milky with blindness, a trident-shaped pendant hanging from her neck. "And Lord Poseidon told me the same. Herios must be crushed. My sea warriors have already begun raiding his ports. Soon, they¡¯ll starve."


    "That will probably anger his god," spat Thalos the Tusk-Bearer, draped in the fur of a boar, his chest painted with the red mark of Ares. "And I say let it! War is the path of men! Lord Ares shall bless the strongest. That will be me!"


    Several leaders grunted and barked in approval, while others jeered.


    "You brute," hissed Delminas the Flame-Eyed, a pale-skinned chieftain from the desert, his body adorned with golden chains blessed by Apollo. "Strength alone does not win wars. Lord Apollo gave me a vision: Herios¡¯ walls shall fall not by force, but by light. We must burn their gods from their hearts."


    "Light and vision? Tch. My people follow Lord Dionysus," sneered Gorham of the Wild Wastes, swaying slightly from the fermented wine in his flask. "We spread chaos, not order. Let Herios¡¯ men drown in madness and rot."


    "Madness is not strategy!" shouted Elisya of the Ice-Bent, rising from her seat, the symbol of Hephaestus seared into her vambrace. "My forgemasters craft weapons from divine blueprints. With them, we will pierce their armor and their pride!"


    They glared at each other, their faith in their god blinding them from cooperating, and the room soon broke into open shouting.


    Words twisted into insults.


    Spittle flew.


    Hands hovered near hilts. Unity frayed at the seams. S~ea??h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    But then came the voice of Veron the Silent, chief of no tribe but the chosen mouthpiece of Zeus himself.


    Veron is a beautiful man, with rumors claiming his beauty fascinated Zeus and took him in as a lover, giving him many blessings.


    He stood quietly at the edge of the tent, his robes the deepest black, his eyes glowing faintly with divine influence.


    When he raised his hand, all fell silent.


    "You forget why you were chosen," Veron said calmly. "Each of you was blessed not just for strength or loyalty¡ªbut for potential. Zeus himself sees your pain, your pride, your hatred for the one who defies Olympus."


    The leaders simmered, the fire reflecting in their eyes.


    Veron walked into the circle, slowly. "But you argue like dogs, each one barking for their master¡¯s bone. Do you truly wish to defeat Herios? Then stop boasting about which god¡¯s gifts are superior. They have all shared one cause: his destruction."


    A long silence. Finally, Delminas nodded. "Very well. What do you propose, mouth of Zeus?"


    Veron smiled slightly. "Each of you shall do what you do best. You, Flame-Eyed, shall spread your solar doctrine. You, Tusk-Bearer, break their ranks at the border. You, Ice-Bent, unleash your forges. And the rest of you¡ªbuild temples, spread worship, convert his people from within."


    "And if they resist?" Varkas growled.


    "Then remind them what happens to those who worship a god who does not protect them."


    The tent fell into grim agreement.


    Outside, the wind howled over the plateau.


    Inside, the alliance of broken nations had become a coalition of vengeance, forged not in loyalty, but in rage¡ªand guided by the hands of gods who saw mortals as pawns.


    None of them noticed the shadow that lingered far beyond the tents, watching from the cliff above.


    A lone wanderer in a dark cloak stood there, his face obscured, his aura strange¡ªneither god nor mortal.


    He watched the gathering with a narrowed gaze, then slowly turned and descended into the night.


    The war was about to begin.


    And fate was moving again.

 Chapter 79 - 33: He’s Ready

    Chapter 79: Chapter 33: He¡¯s ReadyThe sky was a tapestry of fading twilight, where the final hues of sun sank beneath the horizon, casting long shadows upon the forest that remained untouched by human hands.


    Deep within its heart, nestled between silver-leaved trees and mist-covered moss, was a primordial lake.


    Its surface was as smooth as polished jade, a perfect mirror of the heavens above.


    A lone figure stepped from the underbrush ¡ª hooded, draped in dark robes stitched with the runes of forgotten tongues.


    His presence stirred neither birds nor beasts, for he walked with the silence of twilight itself.


    He stood at the water¡¯s edge, his boots sinking slightly into the damp earth, and gazed down into the still lake.


    The wind held its breath as he spoke.


    "Lady Hecate," he whispered.


    Ripples did not come.


    No wave distorted the lake.


    Instead, a face slowly appeared upon the surface, a vision not of water, but of soul and starlight.


    Possessing a beauty that can captivate any man ¡ª Hecate, the Keeper of Crossroads, the Guardian of Mysteries.


    Her gaze met his, calm and ancient.


    "Lioras," she said softly. "You¡¯ve called. Do you have any news?"


    The hooded wanderer bowed his head. "Yes, my lady. I bring news from the coalition of the rebel tribes. They have begun preparations. Armed by Hephaestus, guided by Apollo, drunk on Dionysus¡¯ madness and driven by Ares¡¯ wrath. They will march against Herios."


    Hecate nodded slightly. "And the Olympians?"


    "They watch from their thrones," Lioras said. "Some whisper. Some rejoice. But none thought of stopping it. They believe this war will break Herios... and if the humans worship them in return, it will be their gain."


    A long pause. The lake shimmered with reflected stars.


    "They play games again," Hecate murmured. "As they did in the Titanomachy... Always others¡¯ blood spilled for their gain."


    Lioras hesitated. "Shall I intervene?"


    "No." Her voice was firm, but tired. ¡¯You have done well. Return to the Underworld. I will summon you again if needed."


    Lioras bowed once more. "As you command.¡¯


    The image faded from the lake, leaving behind only his reflection. Lioras turned and walked back into the forest, vanishing into the growing night.


    *


    *


    *


    Back in the depths of the Underworld, far beyond the reach of mortal eyes, within a chamber of silver stone and flowing darkwater, Hecate leaned against her throne, massaging her temple with slender fingers.


    Candles of blue fire floated in the air, casting her shadow into three directions ¡ª past, present, and future ¡ª the very symbol of her dominion.


    Scrolls and maps lay scattered on the floor, glowing softly with prophetic symbols and divine equations.


    But all pointed to the same eventuality: conflict, death, and collapse.


    "They will fall," she whispered, her voice carrying across the silent chamber. "Herios... the boy who seeks to unite mortals, will fall. Not because of his faults, but because he was left alone."


    She rose from her throne and walked toward a giant window of crystal that looked out upon the ghostly city of Nox ¡ª the center of the Underworld.


    Lanterns floated like stars between its spires, divine spirits walked the streets below, and the River Lethe glowed faintly as it wound its way around the city walls.


    It was peaceful, structured, firm.


    All that Hades had built. And now... all that he was ignoring.


    Her thoughts drifted to him ,the Lord of the Dead, the quiet brother, The King of Underworld.


    Once, he had stood tall and proud, delivering judgment and protecting the realm of souls.


    Now, he buried himself in a private dimension, seeking to ascend, to force strength through experimentation and obsession.


    Hecate had visited him many times. Each time, he said little. His eyes were no longer filled with wisdom, but with fire and frustration, a hunger to overcome the boundaries of godhood.


    And now, the world above burned while he chased shadows.


    Her hands clenched.


    "Hades...are you really not going to protect your believers?" she whispered in confusion.


    The faith of humanity are of no use to them. The spirit energy from souls are more than enough to sustain their needs.


    But still, as the first human to worship underworld gods, it would be a lie to say that Hecate doesn¡¯t care about them.


    She turned back toward her desk and summoned a parchment. Upon it, she began to write, a report, a request, a warning.


    Something that would eventually find its way to Hera, or perhaps to Minthe, or Aphrodite ¡ª anyone who might shake Hades from his isolation.


    Because if he would not rise soon... then everything he left behind would fall apart.


    *


    *


    *


    Deep within the heart of the Underworld, in a realm no soul could wander and no god dared tread, Hades labored.


    A black void surrounded him, punctuated only by the soft glow of hundreds of floating tubes and artifacts.


    Each contained a different energy source: the blood of titans, the marrow of long-dead primordials, cursed fragments of Chaos-born beasts, and radiant essence extracted from lesser deities.


    He worked tirelessly for what felt like centuries, breaking down the energy signatures of godhood, stripping the divine spark apart, studying how it clung to the soul, how it intertwined with one¡¯s domain and identity.


    His eyes, once cold and detached, now burned with grim determination.


    And finally, the pieces began to click.


    With trembling hands, Hades activated the obsidian mechanism floating at the center of the room, a divine lattice, woven from threads of metaphysical logic.


    Symbols of all languages shimmered in the air as he inserted the final variables. Runes written in primordial-script whirled through the machine like a living mind.


    Then, at last, a singular conclusion presented itself , simple, elegant, terrible.


    A path to transcendence.


    However, it is something that he himself cannot use unless he kill himself and reincarnate once again.


    A method to completely transcend the limitations set on this universe by altering a being¡¯s spiritual and physical blueprint.


    For Hades, using this method would be like destroying a skyscraper and rebuilding a new one.


    Basically, kill himself, get reborn, and alter his own spiritual and physical blueprint.


    Although gods can revive, it can take centuries, and most of the time, they would lose their domains and have a new one.


    So Hades completely refused to do this.


    So he stood silently, staring at the final projection displayed before him, a metaphysical chart of unbound evolution.


    He can¡¯t use it. But his child can.


    While still on their mother¡¯s womb, Hades can alter their blueprint using this method.


    A divine child, whose soul could be altered before birth. A vessel, cleansed of the laws of this universe, immune to its limitations, unbound by the cosmic threads that bound even the gods.


    Such a child would be capable of breaking through dimensions, perceiving truths even Chaos might obscure.


    Not merely powerful... but transcendent. Sear?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    A bridge between divinity and that which lies beyond.


    But there was a price.


    The ritual required a spark of Chaos.


    Not the diluted fragments gathered from Primordial Gods, but the living essence of Chaos itself ¡ª something Hades had once touched when he accidentally traveled beyond the firmament, and something he feared ever since.


    More importantly, the child must not be ordinary.


    It could not be born of casual passion or divine whim. No,the child¡¯s soul must be forged with deliberate intention, shaped by parents whose divine cores could endure the ritual¡¯s strain.


    It had to be born of balance, between two entities whose domains were ancient and foundational.


    Hades immediately thought of Gaia.


    Sighing, he closed his eyes.


    Gaia, the Primordial Earth, Mother of Life.


    She had approached him once, expressing her desire. She offered herself not for union, but for revolution.


    To birth a being that could correct the world.


    To punish the Olympians.


    He had refused her then. Not because he feared her, but because he feared what such a child would mean.


    He had already grown tired of gods playing with the lives of mortals and monsters alike.


    He had hoped to transcend on his own.


    But now...


    His hands curled into fists.


    He knew that the world was spiraling toward conflict.


    The Olympians had begun to grasp for worshippers like starving dogs. They offered blessings not out of love, but out of greed.


    Herios¡¯ vision ¡ª a unified humanity ¡ª was breaking under divine interference.


    Hades knew it all. He wasn¡¯t ignorant of the affairs of the mortal world. But he chose to turn a blind eye.


    He had given humanity free will, and whoever they worship, whoever they go to war against, he has no reason to interfere.


    Unless the gods themselves decided to descend and personally interfere, then Hades would act like nothing happened.


    Of course, he will definitely bring judgment to the Olympians.


    But he won¡¯t be the one doing it.


    He opened his eyes. A thought echoed through the chamber, his voice thunderous yet laced with unease.


    "Gaia..."


    *


    *


    *


    Far above the Underworld, in the overworld¡¯s deepest mountains, Gaia stirred.


    She had felt the call that is not a voice, but a vibration through the core of existence itself. She opened her ancient eyes, and the rivers stilled, the trees bowed, and the earth listened.


    Her lips curled to a smile.


    He was ready.

 Chapter 80 - 34: The Witness

    Chapter 80: Chapter 34: The WitnessThe sun had just begun to dip beneath the horizon, casting long shadows across the stone walls of the grand city of Herion, capital of the unified human kingdom.


    From the high windows of the magnificent palace, golden light filtered in, bathing the throne room in a somber glow.


    Herios sat atop his throne of blackstone and silver, one leg crossed over the other, chin resting on a closed fist.


    His eyes were distant, almost troubled.


    Around him, his advisors and generals whispered to one another in tight circles, wary of breaking the heavy silence.


    The door to the chamber burst open with a loud clang.


    A young soldier ¡ª barely a man ¡ª stumbled in, armor scratched, dust clinging to his boots and cloak.


    He fell to one knee and bowed his head deeply.


    "Your Majesty!" he shouted, his voice hoarse from the long ride. "A dire report ¡ª the coalition of the free tribes has begun their assault!"


    The room erupted with voices.


    "What?!" S§×ar?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "They dare?!"


    "Those traitorous snakes!"


    Herios¡¯ eyes narrowed as he slowly rose from his throne, his long dark cloak unfurling like a shadow.


    The room fell silent once more.


    "Continue," he commanded, his voice cold, yet calm.


    The soldier gulped and continued, trembling. "They struck under the cover of night. Six of our outer villages... are gone. Razed. Survivors report warriors bearing the symbols of the Sea God, the Warbringer, the Sun, and others. They are being guided by divine blessings. The resistance is stronger than we anticipated."


    Murmurs filled the hall again. Faces turned pale. Some looked to Herios in fear. Others, in doubt.


    General Kaerion, Herios¡¯ most trusted general, quickly kneeled down in front of him.


    "My King, allow me to lead our legions. Give me ten thousand, and I will burn their rebellion to the ground. Let them see what fate awaits those who betray the vision of unity!"


    Herios walked down the steps of his throne platform slowly, boots clicking against polished obsidian.


    "Resistance..." he murmured. "Even though those gods have abandoned us. Even though they sent monsters as punishments for having hope... They still worshipped them."


    He stopped before the general, placing a hand on his shoulder.


    "You shall have your ten thousand, General Kaerion. No ¡ª take fifteen. I want this fire stamped out before it spreads. Leave no stone unturned. But spare those who surrender. We are not beasts. We are builders of a new world."


    Kaerion nodded fiercely. "By your will, my King."


    Herios turned his gaze to the rest of the court.


    "Let this be known: Herion will not fall. These lands were raised by the hands of men ¡ª not gods. The resistance seek to drag us back into servitude, to kneel before those who have already forsaken us once. But we... we will not kneel. We will stand. And we will remind the world that the age of men will never end."


    A thunderous cheer erupted throughout the throne room.


    Herios¡¯ eyes, however, remained cold as stone.


    *


    *


    *


    Far above the veil of clouds, beyond the reach of mortal birds and Olympian eyes, rose a colossal mountain untouched by time or weather.


    Its peak shimmered with threads of stardust and the echo of ages. This mountain was one of the few remnants of the world before form¡ªbefore gods, titans, or men.


    A primordial mountain where existence first condensed into stone.


    Atop its windless summit, Gaia stood.


    The Mother of Earth, eternal and vast, took the form of a beautiful woman crowned in wild vines and dressed in a white robe.


    Her feet were bare against the stone, but grass grew beneath her toes as though the mountain itself bloomed in her presence.


    Her expression was hard¡ªan ancient anger stirring in her chest as she watched the world below.


    The forests were burning again.


    The rivers ran black where humans dumped their refuse.


    And the Olympians... those arrogant children once again toyed with mortal destiny, raising armies of worshipers like pieces on a divine game board.


    "Soon... You will all pay for your sins."


    At that moment, the air suddenly shifted. A soft tremble across the threads of reality.


    From a shimmer in the fabric of the world, a tall figure stepped forth, cloaked in black and crowned with quiet authority.


    Hades had arrived.


    His presence was weightless yet undeniable. His eyes, deep and cold like the River Lethe, met Gaia¡¯s without a word.


    Gaia¡¯s grimace softened slightly.


    "You came," she said, her voice carrying the tone of rocks grinding beneath the sea. "I was beginning to think you will not accept my offer and remain down there entirely."


    "I was thinking, researching." Hades replied simply. "You should know that."


    Gaia gestured beside her, and a stone grew upward from the mountain, forming a seat.


    Hades stepped forward, his black robes whispering across the stone, and sat beside her in the silence that only gods and ancients could endure without discomfort.


    For a long moment, neither spoke.


    Below them, the world continued its dance of ambition and destruction.


    Villages were raised and razed.


    Prayers soared into the sky like smoke.


    War drums echoed through valleys like thunder.


    Finally, Gaia asked, her tone quiet but piercing:


    "Is it enough to simply watch, Hades?"


    The King of the Underworld did not answer immediately.


    She turned her gaze upon him, those ancient eyes of hers gleaming with something deeper than accusation ¡ª sorrow, perhaps, or hope long denied.


    "You favored him," she continued. "That boy ¡ª Herios. You believed in his fire. Yet now he stands alone, surrounded by enemies, betrayed by his kind, and devoured by war. Is it truly enough to remain still?"


    Hades closed his eyes, drawing in the silence like breath.


    Then he opened them, gazing at the endless sky.


    "He is my believer," Hades said at last, his voice low. "If he had asked for help, I would immediately hear and answer his prayers..."


    Gaia remained silent, waiting for Hades to finish his words.


    Soon, he continued. "But did you know? He prays to me not for victory... not for miracles... not even for protection. He only prays for one thing."


    Gaia arched a brow. "And that is?"


    "To be witnessed."


    Hades¡¯ gaze sharpened. "Not to be saved. Not to be led. Merely... watched. For me to watch him walk his path, make his choices, win or lose, on his own strength."


    Herios does not pray for blessings, nor for strength or victory. He simply wanted the god he believed in to watch him. Watch his choices, watch his valor. And respect his will.


    Gaia was silent.


    "That is what he asked of me," Hades continued. "And that... I will honor."


    The Earth Mother leaned back slightly, wind threading through her moss-colored hair.


    "You gods of this world," she muttered, "always so bound by will. By laws. By contracts. Yet you, Hades... you were always different. You respect mortals more than any of the others."


    "Perhaps, maybe because I can relate to them. Or maybe because I have a special relationship with their race." Hades said. "Whatever the case, it will not change the fact that I love humanity."


    A breeze drifted across the summit, carrying with it the cries of battle from far away.


    Gaia clenched her fists.


    "Still," she said. "How long can you stay your hand? If Herios dies... if his kingdom crumbles, what then? The Olympians will grow stronger. Humanity will break. And the earth itself¡ªmy body¡ªwill suffer."


    "I know," Hades said softly.


    He turned toward her now, facing the great Earth Mother with calm resolution.


    "That is why I came."


    Gaia¡¯s expression flickered. "So... have you made your decision?"


    "I have," Hades said.


    A pause.


    Then, quietly, he whispered. "I will accept your offer."


    The mountain shivered.


    Gaia¡¯s eyes widened, not in surprise, but in solemn understanding.


    "You will father a new race," she said, her voice trembling with layered emotion. "With me. Not of mortals, not of gods. But something beyond."


    "I know." Hades confirmed. "Besides, I also have my selfish reasons why I wanted to do this..."


    He paused, his eyes straed straight at her. "I have found a way to ascend further. But I cannot use it on myself for now. I hope to use this method on our child. With them, I may be able to find out more about ascension, and maybe I can transcend this limitations without having to start over."


    "Do you honestly believe that our offspring could be suitable for that menthod?" Gaia asked.


    "I do," Hades said. "You are the foundation. I am the gate."


    The Earth trembled again, subtly ¡ª not in violence, but in anticipation. Roots shifted far beneath the soil. Mountains tilted toward the stars.


    Gaia stepped toward him, her eyes glowing with green-gold fire.


    "Then let it be so," she said. "For the sake of this world. And the next."


    The two stood atop the primordial peak, no longer as gods or forces, but as the architects of a new possibility ¡ª a child born of death and life, of domain and origin.


    A being who might one day walk into Chaos itself and not be devoured.


    Below, Herios marched to war.


    And far above, two ancient powers made a pact that would change the fate of all creation.

 Chapter 81 - 35:

    Chapter 81: Chapter 35:Smoke slithered into the sky like serpents made of ash.


    The once-peaceful village of Vareth, nestled along the quiet hills of Herion¡¯s western frontier, was now little more than a burning carcass.


    Its thatched roofs collapsed into flame, its wooden fences torn down by crude axes, its people, men, women, and even children, dragged into the mud or butchered in the streets.


    Atop a fallen pillar that once held a small shrine to Hades, a man dressed in rough hide armor raised a bloodied sword and cried out:


    "Praise Zeus! Praise the gods of light! Burn the heretics!"


    A chorus of savage cheers answered him.


    The Free Tribes Coalition, emboldened by the blessings of Olympus, ravaged every Herion village that stood loyal to the gods of the Underworld.


    To them, Herion¡¯s worship of Hades, Hecate, Styx, and other chthonic deities was blasphemy¡ªa stain that needed to be cleansed by fire and steel.


    Another priest of the free tribes stepped forward, swinging a censer dripping with fragrant smoke.


    He scattered the ashes of a Herion holy book into the wind.


    "These worms kneel to the dead! Let them join them!"


    "Bury those worms to the ground!"


    "Make them meet their deity!"


    The warriors laughed.


    And the fires roared louder.


    A Herion mother, her arms broken, crawled toward her slain child, but a spear pinned her to the ground, killing her instantly.


    "Hahaha! How pitiful!" A warrior laughed.


    Another child screamed before being silenced.


    "Noisy." Said another warrior in annoyance.


    The warriors laughed, some even making a game out of who can kill more, and who can be more cruel.


    Some of them would drag a woman and rape them, laughing as the woman would struggle, yet to no avail.


    Once done, they will be killed.


    "There is no future for these pagan worshippers!" Screamed one as he cut off the head of a villager.


    "Praise be to Zeus! Glory be his name!"


    They cheered as they burned every houses they come across.


    However, just as one of the marauders raised a torch toward the last standing house to burn it, a sound tore through the valley.


    Thwip!


    The torchbearer choked on his breath. His eyes bulged. An arrow jutted from his throat. Blood gushed out from his neck like a fountain as he twitched, before falling down to the ground.


    Silence.


    The invaders stared at the corpse in shock.


    However, they weren¡¯t given time to process the scene as another shot towards some inavders.


    Thwip. Thwip.


    The arrows whistled like vengeful ghosts, striking down three more warriors in a heartbeat.


    The air grew heavy.


    And it was only at this moment that they finally reacted.


    "E¡ªEnemies!"


    "Prepare for battle!"


    The invaders quickly gathered into formation as they formed a defensive line of hundreds of men, all facing towards the direction where the arrow was shot from.


    At first, there was just silence.


    Then... a sound like thunder rumbled through the trees beyond the hill.


    The ground shook.


    The birds fled.


    The inavders froze.


    From behind a charred line of trees, the earth seemed to groan¡ªand then they saw it.


    A wave of iron and discipline surged forward in formation.


    Dozens, then hundreds, then thousands of armored soldiers emerged like a rising tide of steel.


    Each man wore gleaming plate armor etched with the black crest of Herion Army ¡ª the twin serpents coiled around a sword. Helmets obscured their eyes, but their steps were unified, their presence deafening.


    The Free Tribes warriors stood dumbfounded, blood dripping from their weapons, breath caught in their throats.


    The Herion army marched without a sound except for the clank of metal boots, the rumble of siege beasts behind them, and the haunting call of horns that echoed like the wails of ancient spirits. sea??h th§× n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    At the center, atop a black warhorse clad in barding of bone and silver, rode a man whose very aura seemed to split the mist:


    General Kaerion.


    Clad in a black cloak over bloodsteel armor, Kaerion carried no shield ¡ª only a long, curved greatsword that had once beheaded a disastrous beast.


    His helm was shaped like a fanged skull, and his crimson plume fluttered like a banner of vengeance.


    He raised his sword to the darkening sky, and his voice roared over the battlefield:


    "HERION BLEEDS! WHO DARES WOUND OUR FLESH?"


    The Herion soldiers roared as one, their voices shaking the forest and mountain alike.


    "TEAR APART THOSE WHO HARMED OUR HOME! SHOW THE MIGHT OF HERION! FOR LORD HADES! FOR KING HERIOS! CHARGE!"


    Kaerion pointed his sword forward, and the horns blared again.


    The cavalry broke formation and surged ahead, followed by lines of spearmen and archers who loosed volley after volley into the sky, their arrows falling like black rain.


    At this moment, the Free Tribes was immediately shaken.


    In fact, some of them had already dropped their weapons and ran away.


    "Run! Run! Run!"


    "Do not look back!"


    But it was futile.


    Steel met flesh.


    Order met chaos.


    The Free Tribes were not warriors¡ªthey were zealots. And zealotry alone cannot hold the line against trained men forged in war and hardened by duty.


    Kaerion personally cleaved through the center ranks, his sword trailing arcs of flame as it cut through shields and skulls.


    His horse trampled bodies, its hooves stained crimson.


    The priest of the free tribes raised his hands to pray.


    "Hail Zeu¡ª"


    Kaerion beheaded him in a single stroke.


    Within minutes, the battle was no longer a fight¡ªit was a slaughter.


    One of the Free Tribes leaders tried to flee into the woods, but found himself surrounded by Herion troops before he can do so.


    He dropped to his knees.


    "Mercy! I was only following the gods!"


    Kaerion stepped toward him, dismounting.


    "You followed them into damnation."


    He turned to his soldiers.


    "No prisoners."


    The man screamed¡ªbut it was drowned by steel.


    Kaerion observed the surroundings. The whole village was burning, and there were no survivors.


    He clenched his fist. They were too late.


    They underestimated the ruthlessness of their fellow humanity. To think their faith in a god would allow them to abandon their morals and completely sink to depravity.


    Theology wasn¡¯t meant to make humans like this.


    "...You damn traitors. I will not let even a single one of you live."


    When the sun finally dipped behind the trees, all that remained of the Free Tribes was ash, blood, and silence.


    Kaerion stood amid the ruin, his sword dripping. He turned toward the shattered shrine of Hades and gave a slow nod of respect.


    "Vareth has been avenged," he muttered. "But Herion¡¯s vengeance cannot be quenched by just this."


    He turned towards his army, "We head north! March with me!"


    In the distance, as the army began to march again, black birds circled above.


    The war had only begun.

 Chapter 82 - 36: The Architect of Heroes

    Chapter 82: Chapter 36: The Architect of HeroesHigh above the world, beyond the clouds and the shifting currents of mortal time, stood Mount Olympus¡ªradiant and eternal.


    Its marbled halls shimmered under the celestial sun, kissed by golden winds that never stopped blowing.


    Between the high pillars of its temples, divine laughter echoed.


    Wine flowed in fountains, and songs of excess and celebration filled the air. But amidst the revelry of gods, there was one place of stillness.


    A chamber of thought. A balcony of silence.


    There, away from the others, Athena, the goddess of wisdom and war, stood alone.


    Her silver robe billowed lightly in the mountain breeze, but her eyes¡ªsharp, gleaming with restrained excitement and fascination¡ªwere fixed on the world below.


    On the burning earth.


    On the chaos of mortals.


    On the war.


    Her vision pierced the veil of clouds, descending past the skies to the world of men, where blades clashed and banners burned.


    She saw the smoldering village.


    She saw the bloodshed.


    She saw the Herion army, emerging from the fog of ash like a tide of iron and discipline.


    And at the center of it all¡ª


    Kaerion.


    The general of Herios, a man wrapped in steel, his heart beating with unwavering courage.


    She watched as he rode into the mass of zealots, not hesitating for a breath, cleaving through the chaos with courage more divine than many gods she knew.


    Her breath caught.


    She didn¡¯t know why, but this display of resolve and strength, it moved her.


    No, thrilled her.


    She took a step closer to the edge of the balcony, her fingers curling around the rail of enchanted marble.


    Her heart, which has been cold and quiet since her birth, started racing.


    It was a foreign, alien sensation.


    Something she had never known.


    Excitement.


    She gasped softly, her pale lips parting as another wave of emotion surged through her.


    Kaerion was outnumbered twenty to one, and yet... he did not yield. He did not falter. Instead, he carved a path through enemies as if fate bent to his will.


    A mortal... doing what should be impossible.


    Her body shuddered.


    "Fascinating..." she whispered to no one.


    Not even the birth of a star had stirred her.


    Not the rise of civilizations nor the songs sung in her name.


    But this...watching someone rise from the pit of mortality to grasp something eternal¡ªthis gave her something she had never felt.


    Obsession.


    Mortals had always been beneath the interest of Olympus. They were like insects; flitting, short-lived, fragile.


    But as Athena watched Kaerion carve his way through hopeless odds, shouting not in fear but in fury, she realized.


    ¡¯These insects... could burn like stars.¡¯


    "What did Hades call them?" she whispered to herself, eyes fixated on the spectacle. "Ah, yes... Heroes."


    She repeated the word, tasting it like honey on her tongue.


    Heroes.


    Men and women who defied fate, who fought even when death seemed certain. Mortals who rise beyond what they were born as, who made even the gods turn their heads.


    A name Hades creatwd in honor of Herios, the King of Herion, and Lord of Humanity.


    Kaerion was one of them.


    And Athena wanted more.


    "I want to see more..." she muttered.


    "More Kaerions. More Herios. More warriors who defy destiny. More souls who shine brighter than gods. Mortals who... overshadow all others."


    A smile¡ªno, a grin¡ªstretched across her usually reserved face. Her lips trembled with the intensity of it. Her cheeks flushed. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.


    She was panting now.


    This wasn¡¯t just intrigue. It was addiction.


    Her hands trembled with possibilities.


    Her breaths came quicker. Her pupils widened. She leaned over the edge of her divine balcony as if trying to get closer to the action below.


    ¡¯Go,¡¯ she silently willed the soldiers of Herion. ¡¯Stand. Fight. Rise.¡¯


    She wanted to see them bleed and not fall.


    She wanted to see them weep and not break.


    She wanted to see them do the impossible.


    She wanted to forge them in fire, in blood, in pain¡ªand see what came out.


    And in that moment, a seed was planted in her heart.


    Something ancient. Something divine. Something she had never known before, not even the day she was born, leaping fully grown from Zeus¡¯ head, fully armored and wise.


    A sense of purpose.


    As her siblings partied, drank, or lusted away their eternal lives, Athena had always been the one watching from afar.


    She was different, even from the start.


    No lust. No greed. No desire for destruction or revelry.


    Only reason and thought.


    And yet now this chaos of human will stirred something she never thought she¡¯d feel.


    Her grin widened, feral and radiant.


    "They shine," she whispered, a gleam in her eyes. "They shine brighter than stars."


    She can see their souls. Normally dull, burn brighter than the sun. She felt like she would go blind peering deep into their souls.


    She wanted them.


    She didn¡¯t want to rule them. She didn¡¯t want to use them as pawns in some divine war. She didn¡¯t even want them to worship her.


    But she wanted to watch them become more.


    More than their mortal lives could ever imagine. More than any gods could even dream of.


    And so she began to imagine.


    She imagined great trials¡ªdungeons of illusion and madness, sacred beasts hidden across the world, swords lodged in stone, cities cursed by ancient magic, riddles left unsolved for centuries.


    She would scatter trials across the earth, and those who rose to meet them would become her champions.


    Not because they asked her for help.


    But because they refused to kneel.


    Because they refused to die quietly.


    Her pulse thundered. Yes. This would be her gift to the world¡ªnot power, not conquest, but glory.


    Eternal, burning, unforgettable glory.


    She paced now, whispering to herself, "I will give them the stage. The world. The threat. The impossible odds. And those who rise and overcome them... will become legends."


    Her thoughts turned to the scrolls she would write. The statues she would carve. The legends she would preserve for eternity.


    These mortqls, these shining sparks in the dark... they deserved to be remembered.


    She waved her hand, and in the divine ether, golden ink formed and traced into an ever-growing scroll.


    A record. A tale yet to be written. A place to record their names.


    A place where no name would be forgotten.


    Herios would be the first.


    She would ensure that a thousand years from now, the name of that man would be spoken with awe by mortals and gods alike.


    She would guide none directly, but all silently.


    She would nudge fate.


    She would scatter signs.


    She would awaken ancient ruins.


    She would whisper into the ears of madmen and prophets alike.


    She would ignite the flame of myth in a world that had grown cold with tyranny and dogma.


    And from now until the stars fell, she would watch¡ªfor the rise of every new flame.


    Her grin widened as she watched Kaerion¡¯s blade lift again.


    As she watched a man, drenched in blood, raise his banner even while wounded. S§×arch* The novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    As she watched a single soldier scream defiance into the face of an overwhelming horde.


    This was glory.


    This...is a hero.


    And as the sun set over the battlefield, casting long shadows over the carnage, Athena¡¯s eyes burned with the light of destiny.


    From this day on, the world would change.


    Because Athena had chosen her path.


    Not as a goddess of wisdom.


    Not just of war.


    But as the Architect of Heroes.


    "Oh, what a glorious age this will be," she murmured, and closed her eyes, basking in the firelight of the battlefield below.


    The Age of Heroes had begun. And Athena, the ever-watchful, ever-thinking goddess... would not miss a second of it.


    "...For now, let¡¯s start with this... The Epic of Herios, King of Humanity."

 Chapter 83 - 37:

    Chapter 83: Chapter 37:The golden banners of Herion swayed gently within the grand hall of the Citadel, high above the marble floor where King Herios sat upon his obsidian throne.


    The air buzzed with reports of victory.


    Scroll after scroll was unrolled before him by armored messengers and red-robed scribes.


    One after another, they told of triumphs at ravines, forest strongholds, river crossings¡ªeach battlefield a chorus singing of Herion¡¯s glory.


    "Captain Tyros reports that the Wolf Hills have been retaken, your majesty."


    "The Twelfth Legion crushed the rebel archers along the River Rhaem. Their commanders were executed."


    "Supply lines are untouched, and morale among the outer villages is high. Our people sing your name again, my king."


    Herios sat in dignified silence, his eyes scanning the carved map laid before him¡ªsymbols representing villages, armies, burning fields.


    A faint frown touched his face. Though the victories were many, each pin that marked a battle also marked blood.


    His people¡¯s blood.


    Around him, his council spoke with self-assured pride.


    "As expected of our soldiers," an old Chancellor said, adjusting his gold-trimmed robe. "These savage traitors could never stand against the might of Herion."


    "Indeed," snorted an old lord, head of the Council Guard. "They bark loud, but break like twigs when pressed."


    "Kaerion has performed splendidly," muttered another, "as expected of that man. He¡¯s really incredible."


    Herios said nothing. Though it is good to have this confidence, but he really hope that the war would end soon.


    Before anyone else could speak, the large doors of the throne room were flung open with a gust of cold mountain wind.


    A young messenger stumbled in, his cloak soaked in sweat and snow.


    "Your majesty!" he cried, bowing instantly. "A message from the front¡ªfrom General Kaerion himself."


    The room immediately fell silent.


    "Speak," Herios said, his brows furrowed in confusion. Did something happen to Kaerion?


    The messenger unrolled a scroll, voice trembling slightly as he read.


    "General Kaerion reports that the enemy leaders have requested an audience with you, my king. They claim they wish to negotiate a surrender. They have proposed to meet... atop Mount Tharion, in three days¡¯ time."


    The hall fell into stunned silence.


    Then, as if on cue, the council exploded into outrage.


    "This is a trap! Do they think we are fools?! They seek your blood your majesty, not peace!" a councilman spat.


    "Yes. Those traitors would never surrender. They¡¯d rather have your head than forgiveness." Maelion growled. "What a bunch of fools. Do they think they cab trick us with this?"


    "They lost in battle and now wish to claim victory through deception!" Sear?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Let Kaerion handle it. If they wish surrender, let him take their knees."


    But Herios did not echo their fury. He stood slowly, his crimson cloak falling across his shoulders like a mantle of fire.


    His golden circlet caught the torchlight as he walked down the steps of his dais.


    "Enough," he said, his voice gentle but firm.


    His voice cut through the bickering like a blade.


    "Even a lion must observe and listen before it strikes,"he said. "What if their surrender is sincere? Shall I, the king, turn away a hand raised in truce? Shall I continue this pointless war that can only give nothing but needles bloodshed?"


    "Your majesty, they are cowards, rebels, oathbreakers!" A councilman barked. "They deserve steel, not mercy."


    Herios turned his gaze upon the man, his eyes sharp. "Again, what if they are sincere? If this ends the war, the burning, the cries of our children, the pyres in the night...should I ignore that chance?"


    The councilmen were silent. Even they could not argue with that.


    "I will go," Herios declared. "To Mount Tharion. I will look into their eyes myself and know the truth of their words."


    "Your Majesty," said a loyal councilman, stepping forward, voice lowering. "You are the heart of Herion. We must not let any accidents happen to you."


    "I am its heart, yes," Herios replied, "but I am also its sword and shield. I do not lead from shadows. I lead with my people, before them if need be.


    He stared at the eyes of every councilman.


    Eventually, they all collectively sigh in frustratiin, knowing his stubbornness.


    "Then take an army. Or at least the Royal Guard."


    Herios nodded after a long pause.


    "I will take a company of trusted soldiers. Fifty men. No more."


    "Only fifty?"


    "I must not appear at war when peace is offered. That would turn the hand back into a fist."


    The council exchanged worried glances. They knew their king¡¯s will was as firm as a mountain, and once he made a decision, no force could move it.


    And in his eyes, there was no fear. Only


    "Very well," Maelion said at last. "We pray that may the gods watch over you, Your Majesty."


    Herios gave a single nod.


    As the meeting ended and preparations began, Herios looked out over the horizon from his high window, where the shadow of Mount Tharion loomed like a distant sentinel.


    He did not fear what waited there.


    Whether deception or peace, he would face it.


    For the sake of his people.


    For the end of war.


    And perhaps, for the beginning of something more.


    *


    *


    *


    Deep within the hidden chambers of the Hades¡¯ fortress, Hecate stood before a wide, suspended crystal orb.


    Its surface shimmered with bluish-white mist, swirling with scenes from the mortal realm.


    In its depths, she watched the image of King Herios, preparing for his journey toward his uncertain meeting on Mount Tharion with the pride of a lion and the heart of a boy.


    The chamber was quiet, save for the gentle hum of soul-lanterns that floated along the carved obsidian walls.


    The scent of burnt myrrh and starlight, ancient and sharp, hung heavy in the air.


    Her eyes, like twin eclipses, narrowed as Herios¡¯ figure move with certainty.


    "Tch..." she clicked her tongue, folding her arms.


    "Hopelessly na?ve," she muttered. "Marching into the lion¡¯s maw, convinced he can tame it with words. That boy¡¯s nobility will be the end of him."


    The orb flickered, momentarily darkening as Herios¡¯ image blurred in mist.


    Just then, a gentle echo of footsteps behind her made Hecate turn. Through the great onyx archway walked Hera, her poise regal, her golden gown flowing like a cascade of authority.


    Beside her, silent yet feral, strode Campe¡ªMount of Hades, cloaked in a storm of chains and scaled armor, her presence always a half-step from menace.


    "Hera," Hecate greeted, folding her hands into her sleeves. "What wind blows you down into the depths of gloom?"


    "The wind of duty," Hera replied, her voice calm but laced with urgency. "And necessity."


    Hecate arched a brow. "A rare pair, coming from you."


    The self-proclaimed Queen of Underworld smirked faintly, but decided to get straight to the point.


    "I need you to summon a gathering of Hades¡¯ Patrons," Hera said, coming closer to the central table of the chamber, where soul-scrolls flickered with underworld records.


    "An emergency council?" Hecate asked, her voice hardening. "Why?"


    Hera let out a tired and frustrated sigh as she stepped forward. "Because the Underworld gods are rotting from overwork."


    Hecate raised a brow as Hera continued, "The war in the overworld has escalated. The death toll rises each day. Our borders are flooding. Judging souls, guiding them, housing them, keeping order¡ªit¡¯s becoming unsustainable. Our personnel are stretched thin, and our dominion groans under the weight of responsibility."


    The Olympians really had it easy. It feels like all the work has been dumped to underworld gods.


    "Has it got this bad?" Hecate wondered, softly. "But what would the patrons do in this situation?"


    "I think," Hera said, her tone softening just slightly, "that it is time for a massive reforms."


    She laid a hand lightly on the table.


    "That¡¯s why I want the Patrons to approve the elevation of select Divine Spirits. We need more hands. Turn the most capable of them into Lesser Gods. Give them authority, let them serve their realms properly. Ease the burden on the rest."


    Hecate tilted her head in silence, considering.


    "It¡¯s not a small thing," she murmured. "To grant even a sliver of divinity¡ªto elevate a spirit from service to sovereignty. Their names will be carved in this realm¡¯s walls for eternity."


    "Then carve the right ones," Hera said. "Aphrodite and I have compiled a list. Divine Spirits who¡¯ve gone above and beyond."


    "We can¡¯t wait for Lord Hades?" Hecate asked, though her tone betrayed she already knew the answer.


    "Hades is..." Hera looked off, frowning. "...you know, currently unreachable. He left his pocket realm some time ago and has yet to return."


    "Of course," Hecate muttered. "I guess even Lord Hades can¡¯t escape the fate of leaders dumping all the work to their subordinates."


    She turned her gaze back to the crystal orb for a moment, where Herios now selecting the strongest and most loyal royal guards to accompany him to his journey.


    He walked like a king.


    He walked like a fool.


    For someone who had lived for long and hailed as the first king, he still couldn¡¯t abandon his foolish ideal of creating a utopia for mankind.


    He should know by now that not all humans are willing to abandon their pride and arrogance even if it means they will prosper.


    ¡¯Hopelessly na?ve.¡¯


    But even Hecate couldn¡¯t deny the strange aura around him... like something ancient had taken root in that mortal boy.


    "I¡¯ll summon the Patrons," she said at last. "Within the hour. I¡¯ll gather them in the meeting hall."


    Hera gave a graceful nod. "Thank you."


    Campe simply gave Hecate a nod, before following Hera as they turned to leave.


    As their footsteps faded beyond the obsidian archway, Hecate lingered, staring one last time at Herios through the scrying crystal.


    "You should have been born a god," she whispered. "Maybe then... No, perhaps it is because you are a human that you can shine brighter than any others."


    Then, with a flick of her hand, the image dissolved into smoke. The great chamber dimmed as she turned and strode away to summon the most powerful gods of the Underworld.


    The storm, it seemed, was still far from over.

 Chapter 84 - 38: The Reaction

    Chapter 84: Chapter 38: The ReactionUnderworld.


    Hanging Fortress of Pluto.


    Hecate summoned her lamp, and a purple flame quickly flickered to life.


    With a wave of her hand, the flame danced and drifted into the wind, carrying her message to all patron gods of Hades.


    She sighed, "...I hope those guys won¡¯t make things difficult for me."


    She have lived in Underworld with those guys long before Hades was even born. So she knew their temper better than Hades.


    Although they are submissive and loyal to Hades, that is only because they respected him and acknowledged his power.


    In truth, they are selfish, arrogant, hedonistic gods who care for nothing but their own interest and pleasure.


    With Hades gone, she doesn¡¯t even know if those gods would respond to her summons.


    "Hades... Please come back soon, underworld will be doomed without you."


    * S§×arch* The ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    *


    *


    The rivers of the Underworld wound like veins through the realm of the dead.


    Each carrying a power of an ancient sovereign, a god in their own right, and each ruled their domain with unyielding pride.


    They look down on everyone, even their fellow river gods. However, they all respected and acknowledged Hades as King, offering their undying loyalty.


    And not once had Hades done something that made them regret ever serving him.


    At this moment, a flickering flame suddenly lit up above the sky of the rivers, and along with it, a message of Hecate.


    "By the power given to me by Lord Hades, King of Underworld; I request all the presence of the Patrons in Hanging Fortress of Pluto for a council meeting."


    A silence fell across the rivers of the dead.


    Acheron, the River of Pain, heard it first.


    He sat upon a throne of basalt near his black churning stream, where the cries of the newly dead echoed like songs of mourning.


    His eyes burned with low embers.


    "Hecate? Who gives her the right to start a council meeting without our King?" His voice rumbled like tectonic plates grinding together. "I serve Lord Hades, not his shadow."


    He clenched his fists, the river beside him boiling from his fury.


    Then he exhaled, long and slow. "...No, that witch knew our temper. She wouldn¡¯t call us out if it is not important."


    He stood, the obsidian floor cracking beneath his steps.


    "I¡¯ll go. But Hecate, you better make sure your reasons are sufficient."


    *


    *


    *


    Cocytus, the River of Lamentation, also heard the summons in his cathedral of ice.


    The weeping souls frozen within his waters wailed as he stirred, their cries harmonizing with the distant chime of his sorrowful bells.


    Cocytus was tall and pale, with robes like liquid snow and a face carved from winter.


    He stared into the fiery message, then closed his eyes.


    "How arrogant... to summon the rivers as if we were mere servants," he murmured. "Still..."


    He looked upon the souls beneath the ice¡ªmillions, trapped in regret.


    "...I can also use this meeting to say my concerns."


    He rose, walking across the frozen river with steps light as feathers. "For the sake of the order that Lord Hades built, I shall listen. Once."


    *


    *


    *


    Lethe, the River of Forgetfulness, watched the message with cold detachment.


    She stood within her garden of white poppies, surrounded by sleepwalkers who had forgotten even their own names.


    Her hair flowed like mist, her eyes empty yet endless.


    "A meeting?" she whispered, voice like the last breath before sleep. "How... tiring."


    She dipped a finger into her own river, stirring it softly. "I forget why I still care for such things..."


    Then she smiled faintly¡ªdreamily. "Ah... yes. It is because this is his realm."


    She rose, every step a dance between dreams and death. "I shall attend. If only to remember that feeling."


    *


    *


    *


    Phlegethon, the River of Fire, roared as the message echoed through his volcanic domain.


    He stood amidst magma, his skin blazing with heat, his hair a crown of flame. He crushed a soul fragment in his hand and sneered.


    "Hecate summons me? My river flows for no one but the King!"


    He paced his chamber, each step igniting the floor. "But if we ignore this... Hecate might complain to Lord Hades, I would surely be reprimanded."


    He growled, his pride clashing with his loyalty.


    "...Fine. I¡¯ll go. But that witch better not waste my time or I¡¯ll burn her."


    He turned to a nearby spirit and shouted, "Take charge of my river while I¡¯m away! I shall attend this meeting!"


    *


    *


    *


    Styx, the River of Oaths, sat still as a statue on her obsidian dais.


    Her waters¡ªblack and still¡ªdid not ripple unless commanded.


    Her hair was bright as moonlight, her eyes colder than death.


    She alone of the five bore no visible reaction.


    Only after several long minutes did she move, gently lifting a scroll of ancient law from her lap.


    "Hecate cannot compel me," she whispered, her voice sharper than blades. "But she has served Hades with loyalty and precision."


    She traced the summoning message with a single finger, and for a brief moment, her lips curled ever so slightly.


    "...Just this once, I shall follow your words."


    She stood, her robes trailing like ink in water.


    "Lord Hades, I swore an oath to my river that I will serve the Underworld you lead. But you are not here."


    She whispered, voice containing a deep longing.


    She shook her head, before disappearing with a purple mist.


    *


    *


    *


    Hypnos, God of Sleep, was dreaming of drifting galaxies and forgotten lullabies.


    He lay on a bed suspended between reality and dream, wrapped in a cocoon of golden mist.


    Soft breathing echoed in his halls, as countless souls slept beneath his spell.


    However, Hecate¡¯s message slithered through the fog of his domain and into his ears.


    "Uuugh..." Hypnos groaned, eyes still closed. "Why must anyone speak during my nap hours?"


    He turned, clutching a pillow tighter. "Unless it¡¯s Lord Hades... no one has the right..."


    But the message would not fade.


    With a long, exaggerated sigh, he rolled off the floating bed, his misty robe trailing behind him like clouds.


    He mumbled, "Hecate, you heartless lamp-sniffer... always ruining good dreams."


    Still, he rose.


    Because no matter how much he loathed it, Hades entrusted him with this role. As one of the Twelve Patron Gods.


    *


    *


    *


    Thanatos, God of Peaceful Death, stood alone in his chamber of silence.


    He had just finished ushering the soul of an old human soldier into gentle rest, guiding him through death like a silent guide in a snowstorm.


    The summons reached him mid-step.


    His eyes narrowed like storm clouds forming on the horizon.


    "Hecate..." he muttered.


    His voice, like cold iron, filled the chamber. "Who gave her the right to call us while Lord Hades still remains in seclusion?"


    His hands curled into fists. The audacity boiled beneath his calm face.


    But then, after a long pause, he unclenched his fist.


    "...No matter. She had also served as the King¡¯s right hand. So she shouldn¡¯t do something meaningless. Let¡¯s hear her first."


    His footsteps were silent as he vanished into shadow.


    *


    *


    *


    Keres, Goddess of Violent Death, was basking in the wails of the fallen.


    Deep in Tartarus, where even gods feared to tread, she danced barefoot across blood-soaked chains.


    The screams of tortured Titans echoed as she dug her clawed fingers into one of their chests.


    Her laughter rang out like a sickle scraping bone.


    Then¡ªsilence.


    Hecate¡¯s message echoed through the flames.


    Keres froze mid-motion.


    "Hecate?" she growled, turning her blood-soaked face toward the ceiling. "Interrupting me?"


    She let out a shriek that sent lesser spirits fleeing.


    "Cursed puppet witch! Even if Lord Hades is gone, you have no right to order me!"


    She tossed the dismembered limb aside, hissing.


    Still, she walked away.


    Dripping in gore, blade still hot, Keres ascended from Tartarus.


    Not out of obedience¡ªnever that.


    But out of twisted curiosity.


    Why would that woman bother calling for a meeting?


    *


    *


    *


    Eris, Goddess of Discord, was having the time of her life.


    Two lesser Underworld gods were clawing at each other over a minor goddess of beauty, both driven mad by planted thoughts and whispered lies.


    Eris lounged nearby, sipping wine from a skull, cackling as one of them screamed in jealousy.


    "Yes, yes! Gouge his other eye! Say it was his fault that she left!" she howled.


    Aphrodite was right, conflict regarding love is most interesting thing to watch!


    Her joy was cut short, as Hecate¡¯s message drifted with the wind, into her ears.


    She froze. Her grin faded.


    Her wine shattered against the floor.


    "Oh, for Hades¡¯ sake¡ªreally?" she snapped. "Right when it was getting good!"


    She rubbed her forehead with a groan.


    "Hecate, always stepping on my fun like a funeral dirge..."


    Still, she grabbed her golden dagger and disappeared in a flash of crimson mist.


    "Fine. But I¡¯m picking a fight the moment I get there."


    Truly a goddess of discord.


    Always looking for trouble.


    *


    *


    *


    Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love, reclined on a throne of silk and roses, her legs swinging giddily.


    Her chamber was perfumed with warmth, music, and beauty, unlike all the dark and gloomy chambers of Underworld.


    She watched two mortal men¡ªnoble warriors of rival tribes¡ªlean in and kiss through the shimmering crystal projection.


    She giggled, clapping her hands. "Oh, I love forbidden love..."


    These two were trying to kill each other just moments ago, but with simple flick of her wrist, she made the two fall in love.


    It gets boring in Underworld, so she¡¯s looking for fun.


    She stretched her legs, humming, when Hecate¡¯s message arrived.


    Aphrodite blinked. The projection flickered, vanishing into mist.


    She sat up.


    "...Hecate?" she whispered, voice low and curious.


    Her smile faded into pout as she leaned back, arms crossed. "Of course she¡¯d interrupt."


    She glanced toward a portrait of Hades and her, gazing at each other with love. A painting she painted herself, using her imagination as a reference.


    Oh how she wished Hades would look at her like that.


    "She always ruins the moment."


    Still, she sighed, stood, and adorned herself in crimson silk embroidered with gold roses.


    "She may call herself his right hand..." she whispered, brushing a hand over her chest, "But Hecate, soon I will be his heart."


    And with a flutter of petals, she vanished.


    *


    *


    *


    The call was answered.


    Twelve gods¡ªtwelve sovereigns of the realm of death.


    One by one, with protest or pride, with fury or fondness, they stirred.


    The Council of the Underworld was about to begin.


    And the halls that had been dormant for years would once again tremble beneath the feet of gods.


    With this meeting, the future of Underworld will be decided.

 Chapter 85 - 39: The Meeting

    Chapter 85: Chapter 39: The MeetingIn the cold, cavernous depths beneath Hades¡¯ Hanging Fortress, there existed a chamber, hewn from obsidian and lined with flickering torches of blue Underworld fire, this was the Hall of Silence, the meeting chamber of the Twelve Patrons of the Underworld.


    No spirits had ever seen it. Even many gods feared to step inside.


    But now, for the first time in yeaes, the patron gods returned.


    One by one, they arrived.


    First came Thanatos, cloaked in shadow, quiet and grim.


    He said nothing, merely walked to his seat with the air of judgment itself. Cold mist clung to his cloak.


    He crossed his arms and closed his eyes, breathing steadily.


    Then came Hypnos, floating lazily into the hall, yawning, his eyelids heavy even now.


    "Do we really need all twelve for this?" he muttered, plopping into his chair like a tired cloud.


    Keres entered next, blood still drying on her hands, her grin sharp as her nails.


    "You better have a damn good reason, candle-witch," she spat at Hecate, her crimson eyes already gleaming with violence. "I was in the middle of pulling out a Titan¡¯s spine."


    "Scary~" Hypnos muttered.


    Keres glared at him, and he quickly shut his mouth.


    Almost immediately, Eris appeared beside Keres, her hair wild, laughter still lingering on her lips. "I was watching my newest play unfold... It was going so well. Then¡ªpoof¡ªyour little summons ruins it. You owe me, Hecate."


    Hecate didn¡¯t flinch. She didn¡¯t respond. Her cold eyes remained fixed on the head of the table, waiting.


    "You bitch!" Eris spat out, her aura flared up, causing the room to shudder. "Don¡¯t ignore me, you candle sniffer!"


    "Eris!" Thanatos called out, "Sit down."


    Eris furrowed her brows as she glared at Thanatos, "You¡¯re no boss of mine. How dare you order me like I¡¯m beneath you."


    Thanatos opened his eyes, and just like that, the room darkened as an oppressive force engulfed the room.


    The others remained unaffected, but Eris alone took the full brunt of this power, forcing to stumble and almost kneeled down.


    "You...!" Eris gritted her teeth.


    She wanted to fight back, but Thanatos strength was too much for her.


    In the end, she can only compromise. "Fine... I apologize."


    With that, the pressure instantly vanish. Eris took a deep breath as she stood up straight and glared at Thanatos.


    Without saying any more words, she sat down on her seat, grumbling.


    A few moments of silence englufed the room, before Aphrodite glided in like moonlight on water, her gown shimmering.


    She didn¡¯t speak, but she gave Hecate a narrowed glance, clearly disapproving of her ¡¯audacity¡¯ to call for this meeting without Lord Hades¡¯ orders.


    Then the Five River Gods came as a group¡ªAcheron, Lethe, Phlegethon, Cocytus, and Styx¡ªthe embodiments of grief, forgetfulness, fire, wailing, and oaths.


    Their presence darkened the hall, the floor briefly warping under the weight of ancient emotion.


    And finally, Hera herself entered¡ªgraceful, tall, and regal, her posture echoing Olympus, but her eyes hardened by Underworld fire.


    Campe, the monstrous mount of Hades, walked in silence beside Hera, chains coiled like snakes around her arms.


    She took no seat but stood behind Hera like a sentinel.


    Hecate stood at the head, motionless, like a statue of night.


    When all twelve seats were filled, the air grew tense. The weight of their divinity pressed down like a mountain.


    Thanatos was the first to speak. His voice cut through the room like a scythe.


    "You summoned us, Hecate. Speak. Or have you finally grown so arrogant as to believe yourself our ruler in Lord Hades¡¯ absence?"


    Hecate opened her mouth to reply, but Hera stepped forward, her voice calm yet firm.


    "It was I who called for this meeting."


    The room went utterly still.


    Then¡ªeruption.


    Keres leapt up, her blood-stained hands clawing at the air.


    "YOU?!" she bellowed. "How dare you act like Queen of this realm? Do you really believe yourself to be Lord Hades¡¯ wife!?"


    Eris followed, smirking and hissing, "Goddess of marriage, Hera. Who gave you authority? You¡¯re not Lord Hades. We follow him, not his wife prentender."


    Phlegethon, fire boiling at the edges of his skin, roared, "Not even Hecate has this right, and she has bled for this land."


    Cocytus, normally silent, wept sorrowful rivers, yet his voice came heavy with disdain: "The Lord is absent, and vultures already pick his throne clean?"


    Hera raised a hand, calm as glass.


    "Enough." S§×ar?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The hall shook¡ªnot from magic, but from the authority in her voice.


    "I do not claim rule," Hera said, meeting each of their gazes. "But I do care. This realm is crumbling. The dead flood in from every war, every plague, every divine punishment. But the river guides are exhausted. The courts are overburdened. Reincarnations are delayed. And the balance is failing."


    "Isn¡¯t it because of those Olympians?" Acheron growled, "Those fools mess around the mortal world too much."


    Hera¡¯s eyes narrowed. "Yes, we can blame the Olympians all we want, but that wouldn¡¯t change the fact that we are lacking in power. I¡¯m sure you know this. Hades chose you for a reason, so you shouldn¡¯t be dumb enough to not see this."


    Her words stung.


    Even Keres stilled.


    Hera continued. "I request¡ªnot command¡ªthat we promote capable divine spirits to lesser gods. They will manage the Outer and Inner sections, relieve your burdens, and restore order."


    "Only Lord Hades can bestow that right," grumbled Styx, her voice like oath-bound steel.


    Hecate finally spoke, her voice calm and firm. "Lord Hades left me as his voice. He trusted me to act when necessary. With your support, I can¡ª"


    "No," Thanatos cut her off. "He trusted you to protect, not to rebuild. There¡¯s a big difference."


    "Then tell me," Hera said, walking slowly to the center of the hall, "how many souls have drowned in your river, Phlegethon? How many forgotten spirits roam, Lethe? How many screams go unheard in Tartarus, Keres?"


    There was silence.


    Hera turned her back to them, looking toward the great black obsidian throne where Hades would one day return.


    "If we do nothing," she whispered, "this realm will rot before Hades returns. Do you want him to come back to a ruin?"


    That cut deep.


    Silence returned¡ªbut it was not one of defiance.


    It was thought.


    Hypnos was the first to speak. "...If it means I can sleep more... then fine. I¡¯ll vote yes."


    Thanatos clenched his fists. "...This goes against order. But... if it prevents greater imbalance..."


    Styx nodded solemnly. "Then I agree... with limits. Only a few may rise. And only those worthy."


    Aphrodite, arms crossed, rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Just don¡¯t expect me to help train them."


    Keres growled. "One mistake, and I will gut your new gods myself."


    Eris smirked. "I can¡¯t wait to see them fail. But fine. I¡¯ll watch."


    One by one, grudgingly, reluctantly, the gods nodded.


    The vote passed.


    Hera exhaled deeply, though her face remained composed.


    The Council of the Underworld had spoken, and soon, new gods would be born, and the whole Underworld would usher in massive reforms.


    The patrons discussed the promotions for a few more hours before they all left to tend to their own domains.


    Later, as the gods departed, Hecate remained behind.


    She stared into the shadows, her thoughts already on the next step.


    "May your return be swift, my king," she whispered.


    Because even with this fragile alliance... the Underworld stood on the edge of breaking.


    And the shadows were deepening.

 Chapter 86 - 40: The Meeting(2)

    Chapter 86: Chapter 40: The Meeting(2)The sun had long dipped below the horizon, but the firelight from Herios¡¯ torch flickered valiantly, casting shadows across the jagged cliffs.


    He rode at the front of a small column of horsemen¡ªhis Chosen Guards, clad in dark bronze armor trimmed with silver.


    Their armor bore no divine symbol, no god¡¯s crest, only the banner of Herion, symbolizing the flame of humanity, born not from Olympus or Chaos, but from the will to survive.


    Herios, cloaked in a dark traveler¡¯s mantle, leaned slightly forward over his horse.


    His face was lined with the burdens of leadership. His eyes, sharp and unwavering, scanned the horizon.


    It had been three days since they left the capital of Herion.


    Three days of riding through hills, forests, and winding rivers.


    But no monsters stalked them. No divine beasts crossed their path.


    The rebels had honored their message of truce¡ªan invitation to speak, one final time, before the war consumed both sides.


    At dawn on the third day, they arrived.


    The rebel encampment sat in a wide valley between two mountain ridges, built in the ruins of an ancient temple, its columns long since crumbled.


    Banners bearing symbols of foreign gods¡ªeagles, lightning bolts, golden suns¡ªwaved in the cold wind.


    Soldiers in polished armor lined the outer perimeter, their spears crossed when Herios approached.


    Then, a man emerged from the central tent.


    Tall, elegant, and disarmingly beautiful, he moved with the grace of an aristocrat, golden hair cascading like silk down his shoulders.


    His armor glimmered unnaturally, woven with divine threads, and a white cloak trailed behind him like the wings of a swan.


    Herios dismounted calmly, his guards forming a wall behind him.


    Veron smiled, stepping down from his horse with theatrical elegance, extending a hand.


    "King Herios of the Herion Kingdom," he said. "The mortal who defied Olympus. I must admit... I was curious to meet you."


    Herios shook his hand. "And I, you. I¡¯ve heard stories. You rose from a humble priest to a god-kissed warrior."


    Veron¡¯s smile widened. "Praise be to Lord Zeus."


    There was tension in the air, like the hum of an arrow moments before it flies.


    They sat at a stone table prepared in the shade of a dead tree, guards keeping a cautious distance.


    Herios noted the sigils carved into the stones around them¡ªsymbols of divine protection, almost certainly meant to suppress sudden violence.


    Neither trusted the other.


    The talks began civil.


    They spoke of war¡ªhow it had already claimed thousands, and how it would soon claim thousands more.


    "You know why we must talk," Veron began. "Your soldiers are fierce. Brave. But this war is strangling both our futures. For every man we kill, a dozen more families cry. This land bleeds."


    Herios nodded slightly. "I agree."


    Veron was clever, eloquent.


    "This war is a wound," he said. "It festers. It burns. I do not desire more blood. We can end this before it consumes us both."


    Herios nodded, but said nothing.


    Veron leaned in. "All I ask is that you allow us to pray. Let the people of Herion worship gods as they choose. Let temples be built to Zeus, Apollo, Athena. That is the price of peace."


    Herios¡¯ eyes grew hard.


    "No."


    Veron blinked. "No?"


    "I can bend on trade, on borders, on prisoner exchanges," Herios said, his voice quiet but firm. "But I will not allow my people to kneel to those who once laughed as we starved. We rose from the ashes of a world they shattered. Why should we offer them our prayers?"


    "You would let your people suffer and die just because to deny us to build temples?"


    "No," Herios said. "I would never make them abandon their dignity, even if it means dying for it."


    Veron¡¯s eyes narrowed, still with a smile on his face. "What is dignity to grace? We can have peace. We can have wealth. Power. Strength. Anything we can ask for, and all of it for just a temple. Why must you refuse?"


    Herios¡¯ voice sharpened. "You ask me to allow temples to gods who called us vermin. Who left us to rot in famines and fires. You ask me to let my children kneel to those who once crushed us for sport. I can agree to many things. But not this."


    Veron¡¯s smile faded.


    "Then you¡¯re more foolish than I thought," he said coldly. "You¡¯re just a mortal. Fragile. Temporary. You¡¯re not even a demigod. Hades hasn¡¯t given you divinity, hasn¡¯t made you one of his blessed. You have no bloodline, no heritage. Just your pride and your dirt-born kingdom."


    Herios said nothing.


    He could have told him. He could have said that Hades had offered to make him divine¡ªhad offered him immortality, power, and the chance to become a true god-king.


    He could¡¯ve told him that if he prayed for Hades¡¯ help, the God of Underworld would immediately ascend to the overworld.


    But Herios had refused.


    He wanted to live and die as a man, because if mortals were to prove they were not pawns or playthings of the gods, one of them had to walk that path to the very end.


    And that would be him.


    But he did not say this.


    He only stared at Veron and said, "A mortal I may be, but I will be a mortal who defies your gods. And if I fall, it will be a noble end, for I did not yield before the heavens, but resisted it with my being."


    Veron¡¯s lips curled.


    "You¡¯re defending a dream, Herios. An illusion. I am a Divine Spirit. I¡¯ve been blessed by Zeus himself. My body no longer knows disease. My blood burns with celestial fire. Even if a god descended to this battlefield, I would not fear him."


    "Then come," Herion said as he stood, "Bring your gods, your flames, your banners. We will stand, as we always have. For each brick of our city was laid by mortal hands. And we will defend it with mortal hearts."


    Veron¡¯s fury exploded then. "Then remember this. One week from now, at dawn, my legions will descend. The earth will split with thunder. The skies will weep fire. And Herion will be erased."


    Herios simply turned and walked away.


    "Then one week from now," he said over his shoulder, "the world will remember that there was once a kingdom that defied gods and chose dignity over divinity."


    Herios returned to his horse, quiet.


    The enemy forces did not stop, they did nothing but simply watch.


    One of his guards, a young man named Calen, asked, "Shall we prepare the city for siege?"


    Herios nodded.


    "We will ready every stone, every sword, every soul. They march with gods. But we..." he looked toward the horizon, where Herion waited beyond the hills, "...we march with human will. And that will be more than enough."


    *


    *


    *


    That night, around a campfire, Herios stared into the flames.


    He did not fear death.


    But he feared failure.


    Not for himself, but for the belief that mortals could forge their own destiny.


    That humans, born without wings, could still reach the heavens, not through prayer, but through will.


    He placed his hand over the earth.


    "Let it come," he whispered.


    For the greatest battles were not of armies¡ªbut of faith. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    And the gods were listening.


    "Lord Hades," He looked up to the night sky, "I pray not for victory nor protection, but simply for your attention. Please bear witness to the courage and conviction of your greatest champion."

 Chapter 87 - 41: Nekyria

    Chapter 87: Chapter 41: NekyriaIn the caves beneath fate¡¯s roots, where time thickened and space rippled, Gaia and Hades had ¡¯united¡¯ again and again, entwining Earth and Death, womb and void.


    Their union was not carnal, but cosmic¡ªrivers boiling, mountains groaning, stars dimming each time they came together.


    And from that dark and divine union came the Giants.


    One by one, they rose like monoliths from Gaia¡¯s womb¡ªeach one mightier than the last.


    Bronze-skinned colossi whose breath scorched valleys.


    Six-armed berserkers who could hurl islands across oceans.


    Serpent-legged warriors whose screams could crack celestial gates.


    Gaia named them proudly¡ªAlkyoneus, Porphyrion, Enceladus, and others¡ªchildren stronger than the Titans, bred to overthrow the gods who had defiled her world.


    But Hades was not satisfied.


    He watched the Giants wrestle mountains and shake the sky with their roars¡ªbut with his eyes, he saw flaws.


    "They are strong," he murmured to Gaia as another Giant tore through a large¡¯ stone walls, testing his own strength. "But they are still bound. To this world. To flesh. To rage. They do not have the qualities to transcend the boundary of this reality."


    "I altered them to be soldiers," Gaia said. "A weapon to be used against the Olympians."


    "But they are not what I¡¯m looking for," Hades replied, his eyes turning towards Gaia.


    The Primordial Earth smiled gently, opening her arms. "Then come. Use me as much as you like."


    And so, he returned to Gaia, again and again.


    And again, she bore his seed.


    Years passed¡ªthis realm had different spacetime axis than Earth.


    Each child grew stronger, stranger¡ªsome with wings of obsidian, some with mouths behind their eyes, some that could speak to the dead before birth.


    And yet none satisfied Hades.


    Until her.


    She was not born in violence.


    No lightning split the sky. No mountains fell. No rivers reversed course.


    Her birth came with a whisper, a breath of wind in a sealed cave, a sudden bloom of white flowers in a land of bone.


    She was small. A child.


    A little girl.


    With skin like pale marble, faintly veined with gold and deep green, her hair a cascade of ink and moonlight.


    Her eyes were vast¡ªentire skies trapped within them, and something more terrifying beneath.


    Her presence made Titans kneel, and shadows scatter.


    When she cried, the rivers of the world flowed backward.


    Gaia held her gently, awed despite herself.


    "She is not a Giant, nor a Titan...not even an Olympian." Gaia whispered.


    "No," Hades said, kneeling beside the girl. "She is beyond the Giants. Beyond the Titans. She is the convergence of Underworld and Earth, Sky and Stone. The first being born of three layers of creation."


    A children born from Hades¡¯ authority over the Primordial Sky and Underworld, and Gaia¡¯s Primordial Earth.


    "What will you call her?" Gaia asked, brushing strands of black-silver hair from the girl¡¯s brow.


    Hades stared at the child, entranced.


    "Nekyria," he said. "The one who walks between."


    *


    *


    *


    Kingdom of Herion.


    Temple of Hecate.


    At this moment, a hush had fallen over the temple.


    Its torches burned with pale violet fire, casting ghostlike shadows on black stone columns etched with silver sigils.


    It was one of three biggest temple in Herion, built before the first walls of the kingdom had been raised.


    No guards stood at its gate. No priests sang hymns.


    This was a place of quiet paths and silent prayers.


    This was a place for crossroads.


    Herios, king of Herion, stepped barefoot across the temple threshold.


    He wore no crown, no armor. Only a robe of humble wool and the weight of a thousand decisions hung upon his shoulders.


    His city was preparing for war.


    His people hoarded supplies, forged blades, and whispered songs to give themselves courage.


    Any normal man would¡¯ve gone to temple to ask for help.


    But Herios had come not for strength.


    He had come for truth.


    He walked past flickering altars, past the statue of Hecate¡ªthree-faced and veiled¡ªuntil he reached the sacred dais at the heart of the temple.


    There, a priest was kneeling and praying.


    Herios did not disturn him and simply stood beside the priest.


    Then, he knelt on cold stone beside the lone priest, who is robed in twilight purple.


    The priest, still with his close, simply and silently handed him a bowl of consecrated ash.


    Herios placed both hands in the bowl, smeared ash across his brow, and bowed.


    He whispered, "Lady Hecate... at this crossroad, I seek your light."


    Just like that, the temple vanished.


    The world fell away like silk curtains torn from their rails, and in an instant, Herios found himself drifting in a void of endless dark, a space where no stars burned and no ground supported his weight.


    Only the stillness of unchosen paths surrounded him.


    Then... mist bloomed from the darkness, rising like perfume.


    Purple and violet mist, soft and swirling, coiled into the shape of a woman¡ªa goddess wrapped in veils of mystery and moonlight.


    Her face was hidden, her eyes aglow with faint silver. She stepped forward from the fog as though walking through time itself.


    Hecate.


    Goddess of crossroads. Keeper of hidden paths. Lady of decisions that divide destinies.


    Herios dropped to his knees instantly and bowed his head.


    "Lady of the veils," he said. "Guardian of Underworld. I greet you with humble reverence."


    Hecate observed the man, a man who was praised and glorified by his fellow humanity.


    Then, she opened her mouth.


    Her voice, when she spoke, was soft but boundless¡ªlike a river whispering in dreams.


    "You who walk toward your end," she said. "Do you seek my divinations, mortal king?"


    Herios nodded. "Yes, my lady."


    She raised one pale hand and with it, conjured a thousand mirrors in the air, each swirling with fog and flickers of light¡ªscenes of futures untold.


    Herios watched them pass like a man watching falling leaves. He saw himself bleed. Burn. Collapse beneath rubble. Stand defiant. Fall with sword in hand.


    Hecate¡¯s voice was quiet, but final.


    "In every future I behold, you die, Herios."


    The words struck like a bell tolling across a battlefield. Herios felt his heart hammer in his chest but kept his face calm, his spine straight.


    She continued. "Your enemies are not alone. The rebels are backed by many gods. They are protected by six Divine Spirits, warriors who now walk with the strength and glory of Lesser Gods. Alone, you cannot overcome them."


    The mist shifted, and he saw the enemies of Herion¡ªmen glowing with divine power, swords forged in heavenly fire, priests whispering in the name of Olympians.


    He saw cities burning, mountains cracked, and the Herion banners trampled in the mud.


    "You must ask for aid," Hecate said. "Call upon the Patron Gods of the Underworld. You have earned their notice. Call them, and you may survive. Refuse, and your body will rot beneath the earth long before your name is carved in stone."


    Herios was quiet for a long moment.


    Then he asked, softly, "Will Herion survive?"


    There was a pause.


    Even the mist stilled.


    Hecate, goddess of thousands of fates, tilted her veiled head as if surprised by the question.


    She searched the mirrors, turned their reflections like pages, and then gave a slow shake of her head.


    "No," she said. "Herion will fall. Its walls will break. Its stones will scatter. But..."


    She raised one hand again, and from the darkness came a soft light¡ªglimpses of children herded to safety, of mothers and elders rebuilding villages on distant hills.


    Of stories being told by firelight, stories of Herion¡¯s last stand.


    Of courage.


    Of pride.


    Of defiance.


    "Your people will endure," she said. "And through them, your flame will remain." sea??h th§× Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Herios bowed deeply.


    "That," he said, voice quiet, "is more than enough."


    The goddess regarded him for a moment, as if seeing something rare¡ªa soul who could carry his fate without asking it to change.


    "You walk your path with unshaken feet," she said. "The world is full of those who fear death. But you... you remind it why it should fear you."


    Herios smiled. It was not a proud smile. It was a small, tired one¡ªthe smile of a man who knew his duty and had made peace with it.


    "Thank you, my lady," he whispered.


    And with that, the vision faded.


    Herios returned to the temple, his eyes filled with starlight and ash still upon his brow.


    The priest stepped back respectfully as Herios rose.


    He said nothing as he exited the temple.


    Outside, the sun was rising, casting gold across the walls of a kingdom that would soon become legend.


    A few days remained.


    Herios would make every moment count.


    Not for himself.


    Not for a crown.


    But for the people who would one day whisper his name at their own crossroads.

 Chapter 88 - 42: Glory of Herion

    Chapter 88: Chapter 42: Glory of HerionThe thunder of hooves had long since faded as Herios, First King of Herion, walked through the wide stone corridors of his castle.


    Word of his return had already reached the capital, and the high council awaited him in the throne room of Herion.


    The heavy doors creaked open, revealing a semicircle of cloaked figures surrounding the high obsidian throne.


    There were dozens of them, old and young, generals and sages, masons and scholars¡ªall chosen for their deeds and dedication to the people of Herion.


    The torchlight flickered over their expectant faces as Herios walked the black stone path toward his throne.


    Silence hung in the air, thick and heavy. The council bowed low, but did not speak until Herios sat.


    He did.


    Only then did the eldest among them, an old sage, stepped forward.


    "Your Majesty," he began, "we have been awaiting your word. May we ask what did the goddess of crossroads said about our future?"


    He hesitated.


    The room held its breath.


    Finally, Herios¡¯ eyes met theirs, calm and clear.


    "She showed me fire," he said, voice like iron dragged across earth. "Herion will burn. Not through treachery, nor divine wrath¡ªbut war. We will be overrun. Our walls will fall. And Herion will be buried."


    A few gasped, others clenched their jaws.


    "But," Herios continued, "she also showed me a choice. If we call upon the help of our gods, then our city may be spared."


    The room fell into uneasy silence again.


    Then one of the younger councilors, a female, spoke up. "So... we must decide whether to ask the gods for help?"


    Another councilor, a muscular middle aged man, slammed a fist into his palm. "Better humbled than dead, I say! If it saves our people¡ª"


    "Is it truly saving them?" interrupted Kaerion. "We built this land with our own hands. Must we need to trouble our gods for mortal disputes? Our people believed in the eternal paradise in the realm of Hades. Death is glory."


    Before things could escalate, Herios raised a hand, silencing the debate.


    Then, with slow grace, he leaned forward on his throne. The obsidian seemed to pulse beneath his fingers.


    "I ask you now, not as your king," he said, "but as your brother, your comrade, your kin who walked with you across the scorched plains, who built this city with calloused hands and sleepless nights¡ªI ask you: What is Herion? What does it mean to you?"


    They looked at one another.


    Then, a councilor stepped forward, face full of pride. "Herion is... pride. It is stone laid by mortals, for mortals. It is ours. We have built it with our own mortal hands."


    "It is our home," said a female councilor, voice trembling slightly. "A dream we made real, not through miracles, but through unity."


    "It is blood," growled Kaerion. "Our fathers and brothers died to build it. Our sons and daughters were born within its walls. No divine savior built our walls. No god fed our starving."


    "It is proof," said another councilor. "That mankind can rise. That we are not doomed to beg at divine feet for every crumb of life."


    Their words filled the room like rising wind, each voice a thread in a tapestry of mortal pride. S§×ar?h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    And Herios smiled.


    A small, tired, but true smile.


    He stood again, voice quiet but unshakable.


    "You have answered well. The gods did not build Herion. They offered no tools. No guidance. And yet here we stand, proud and prosperous."


    He looked each councilor in the eye.


    "If we can make this miracle with our own hands, why can¡¯t we protect it ourselves?"


    The silence that followed was not uncertain¡ªbut resolved.


    A heavy, solemn silence that belongs to people who have made peace with their choice.


    Herios turned toward the large map carved into the far wall¡ªa map of Herion and the lands beyond.


    He laid his palm upon it.


    "Let them come," he said. "Let them bring their blessed armies, their Divine Spirits, their god-kissed champions. Let them come with fire and fury."


    He turned back to his council. His eyes blazed not with despair, but with certainty.


    "And we will face them not with divine favor, but with the fire beneath our feet. The fire we forged ourselves."


    The council bowed as one.


    And the drums of war began to echo through Herion once more.


    *


    *


    *


    The city of Herion stood cloaked in twilight.


    The wind swept through its high white walls, carrying with it the scent of smelted iron and olive oil, of sweat, blood, and faint blossoms from the king¡¯s courtyard garden.


    Torches blazed along the avenues, casting flickering shadows over stone homes and statues carved in the likeness of mortal heroes.


    Above all, the heart of the city¡ªThe Forum of Flame, where the people gathered in times of trial¡ªwas alight with whispers and fearful murmurs.


    And upon its highest platform, overlooking a sea of citizens, stood King Herios.


    His silhouette burned like a sword against the dusk. No crown adorned his brow. No armor wrapped his form. He wore only a black cloak fastened by a silver pin.


    He raised one hand, and silence followed like a loyal dog.


    Even the children ceased their fidgeting.


    The old men straightened their backs.


    The soldiers by the gates stopped murmuring prayers.


    Herios looked upon his people¡ªnot as a god looks at mortals, but as a man looks upon his family.


    Then he spoke.


    "I have not called you here to whisper false hope. I will not offer you comfort made from lies, nor rally your hearts with shallow glory."


    His voice, clear and unwavering, echoed across the square.


    "I have come to tell you the truth."


    There was a pause. A stillness. Then he breathed deeply and said:


    "Herion will fall."


    A collective shudder rippled through the crowd. Some gasped. Some wept quietly. Some only stared.


    "That is a fact that we cannot change," Herios continued. "A few days from now, the armies of Veron¡ªblessed by gods, armored by Olympus itself¡ªwill descend upon us. They march not for land. Not for gold. But for our will."


    He clenched his fists.


    "They wish to destroy what we built with our hands. A kingdom not born of divine blessing, but of mortal labor, of mortal courage, and of mortal dreams."


    He let that sink in.


    "You may choose to flee. There are roads out of Herion still open. You may seek sanctuary in distant cities. You may even kneel and offer prayers the god"


    His gaze was calm. Gentle.


    "If you wish to drown your fears in wine, to spend your last nights in joy or oblivion¡ªdo it. This kingdom was always about choice. That is what makes us free."


    He paused, then stepped forward.


    "But if there is even one among you who still believes that our story is worth continuing... Then stand."


    A hush followed.


    Then a child rose to his feet.


    Then a mother.


    Then a soldier.


    Then hundreds.


    Thousands.


    Herios raised his hand again, and the silence returned.


    "Herion will fall. That is the truth. Not because we are weak, but because the gods fear what we represent."


    He turned slowly, arms outstretched.


    "But hear me now¡ªthe fall of Herion does not mean we also fall Just because they burn our homes does not mean they erase our values."


    He pressed a hand to his chest.


    "If just one among us see the dawn of victory... if one soul carries the fire of our dream forward... then our values, our way of life, will be engraved in that one¡¯s heart."


    The people stared, eyes wide, some trembling, some standing tall, emboldened by the fire in his words.


    "I will not promise survival. I will not promise victory. But I promise you purpose. If we die, let it be for something greater than ourselves."


    He took a deep breath, voice rising like a roar from the mountains.


    "Offer me your lives¡ªnot because I am your king¡ªbut because I am your voice. Let me carry your dreams, your love, your pain. Let us pass on the glory that is Herion to those who come after. Not one of you shall be forgotten. Not one of you shall be small."


    He looked down at them now¡ªevery man, woman, and child¡ªas if they were gods in their own right.


    "So decide now¡ªlive and scatter, or die and become eternal."


    A heartbeat.


    Then another.


    Then one voice rose.


    "For Herion!"


    Then another.


    "For the King!"


    And then the plaza exploded in a storm of voices, fists raised, tears streaking across ash-covered cheeks.


    Herios closed his eyes, letting the sound fill him, move through him.


    They would fall.


    But the gods would remember them.


    The world would remember them.


    And perhaps, in some distant age, a child would hear their name and wonder.


    "Who were the people of Herion?"


    And then they would know the truth.


    They were not gods.


    They do not have divine blood.


    They were just men and women... who stood unbending, down to the last one.

 Chapter 89 - 43: A Greedy Divine Being

    Chapter 89: Chapter 43: A Greedy Divine BeingThe wind that swept across the mortal world carried with it the echoes of drums¡ªwar drums, the chants of soldiers, the cries of hearts too proud to kneel.


    From the shadows of the hidden realm where he had lain with Gaia, Hades, King of the Underworld, stepped into the gray veil that separated godhood from mortality. S~ea??h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The air shimmered around him, the subtle warping of space that followed divinity wherever it tread.


    His obsidian robes flowed like shadow given shape, and his purple eyes pierced through the layers of time and destiny like twin orbs burning in twilight.


    He turned his gaze to the mortal plane, to a soul not born of divinity or deep design.


    A soul whose prayer reached him like a whisper beneath an avalanche.


    Herios.


    A man who chose mortality in a world ruled by gods.


    High atop a hill beyond Herion, Hades stood, unseen by all save the winds and stones.


    From this place, he watched as the entire army of Herion lined the walls and plains outside the city.


    Tens of thousands¡ªevery sword sharpened, every banner lifted, every eye burning with resolve.


    Behind them, in the marble streets of Herion, the civilians remained.


    Not one had fled. Women, children, the elderly¡ªall had chosen to stay.


    Bakers became archers.


    Farmers prepared boiling oil.


    Children carried water for warriors.


    They would not run.


    This was their home. Their dream.


    This was the final glory.


    Hades smiled faintly. Not in amusement, nor condescension. It was a smile of kinship. Of understanding.


    "I will bear witness," he murmured. "To the moment your soul burns its brightest."


    At this moment, the sky split with thunder, though there were no clouds.


    The heavens roared, and six radiant figures descended from the storm, suspended in air like false suns.


    Their cloaks flowed like fire, and divine energy bled from their forms like molten gold.


    At their center floated Veron, arms crossed, sword gleaming with celestial enchantments.


    His eyes swept the battlefield below¡ªwhere Herion¡¯s banner stood defiantly against the odds.


    Beneath Veron, thousands of soldiers in lesser armor marched into formation.


    They were outmatched in steel, but empowered by the Olympians¡¯ blessings. They had tasted divinity, and believed themselves invincible.


    Silence fell upon the field as Veron¡¯s voice, amplified by divine will, rang across the distance.


    "Herios!"


    The mortal king stepped forward, armor forged in the flames of Herion¡¯s last mountain, cloak stitched by the hands of the city¡¯s people.


    "Do you regret it?" Veron called, voice calm but cold. "You still have time. Surrender now. I will ensure peace. Your people will live. You will be remembered not as a traitor to Olympus, but as a wise king who knew when to yield."


    Herios looked up at the shining figure in the sky. His face was serene, yet his eyes blazed like wildfire.


    "You ask if I regret it?" he echoed, raising his voice for all to hear. "Veron, I have many regrets. I regret not planting more wheat in the last harvest. I regret not accompanying my loved ones more often. I regret not building more schools for the children."


    He lifted his sword.


    "But this?" He gestured to the people behind him. "This stand for dignity? This refusal to bow to tyrants in silken robes? This fight for a world where we are not born to serve?"


    His voice deepened.


    "I do not regret this. Even if your god descends and force me to yield, I will not kneel. I will point my sword to his throat and tell him...Humanity needs no gods, we were born to conquer the stars."


    Gasps and murmurs spread through both armies. Even among Veron¡¯s ranks, a few soldiers glanced at one another.


    Veron¡¯s smile twisted into a frown.


    "Then you have chosen death."


    Herios nodded, calm.


    "Then let it come." He turned to his army, raising his sword high. "This is the day! The day the world remembers who we are! Let them write songs, let them forge tales, and even if we fall¡ªour fire will not die!"


    The soldiers erupted into thunderous cheers.


    Even the civilians on the walls pounded drums, banged pots, raised voices.


    Veron¡¯s face twisted into anger, "Just you!? Then watch as I reduce you and your kingdom into dust! Forgotten in history!"


    Herios smiled, "That is impossible... Know this, dog of Zeus. Just like my soul, Herion is eternal."


    And from the distant ridge, Hades watched, silent and still.


    He felt it.


    The ember in Herios¡¯ soul¡ª


    Igniting.


    Not with rage. Not with fear.


    But with brilliance.


    The gods had come to smother a rebellion.


    But what they had found was the first flame of a war greater than any they¡¯d ever known.


    And as the sun climbed above the plains, the sky prepared to witness a kingdom¡¯s final stand¡ªand perhaps, the birth of a legend that even the gods could not kill.


    Hades smiled.


    Not with irony. Not with pride or amusement. It was soft¡ªa rare, tender thing, as fleeting as dew on stone.


    He looked up.


    Above, the sky held no mercy. Six gods hovered like judgment incarnate, cloaked in radiant fury.


    The one called Veron¡ªfavored by Olympus, carved from lightning and decree¡ªhad called Herios to heel.


    But Herios had not knelt.


    Instead, he had lifted his sword, not with wrath, but with a truth so human, so profound, that even the gods dared not interrupt him.


    Hades let out a quiet breath, barely a whisper, and covered his face with his hand. His fingers curled against his skin as if to hide a crack that had just opened within him.


    "So this is a king..."


    His voice was not meant for the wind. It was for no one. Not even himself.


    It was an admission.


    And with it came a laugh. Soft. Bitter. Almost ashamed.


    He laughed¡ªnot because he found the moment amusing¡ªbut because he could not cry.


    Because what Herios had done with words and will, Hades had failed to do with years of power.


    For ages, he had ruled the Underworld as a figure of fear and isolation.


    He had claimed dominion over the dead, carved cities from black stone, negotiated with Nyx, and whispered into the ears of fate.


    He had amassed power, forged alliances, made war and shadowed peace¡ªbut in all that time, had he ever once truly ruled for his people?


    He thought of Hecate and Hera, whom he had pushed aside in his pursuit of ambition.


    He thought of the spirits who toiled beneath his fortress.


    He thought of the gods who whispered of him with awe and admiration, and of the mortals who feared him, and mortals who adores him.


    And he thought of how Hera and Hecate tried to persuade him, telling him that he should be satisfied with what he has, and there is no need to pursue more power when he already stood at the pinnacle of power.


    He had dismissed it at the time, he was obsessed with power.


    But now, watching Herios standing unbroken before impossible odds, he felt the weight of their words.


    For the first time in an age, Hades did not feel like a king. He felt like a child who had wandered too far into the labyrinth of ambition, only to find the thread back home had long since vanished.


    And yet¡ªhere stood a mortal man. No throne. No bloodline of divinity. No ancient power to his name.


    Just a sword.


    A voice.


    And a city that believed in him.


    Hades lowered his hand and looked once more upon the hill where Herios stood, backlit by a thousand raised fists and burning hearts.


    The god¡¯s eyes shimmered¡ªnot with divine light, but with something older.


    Something mortal.


    "Thank you," he murmured. The words barely escaped his lips, but they rang louder in his soul than any battle horn. "For reminding me."


    He didn¡¯t need to finish the sentence.


    Thank you... for showing me what it means to be king.


    "But sorry..." Hades¡¯ eyes remained firm. "They were right, I should be satisfied with what I have now..."


    But he must move forward.


    He must seize fate with his own hands.


    For who¡¯s sake?


    For the sake of other people? For his realm?


    No. For his own desires.


    He must transcend chaos and control everything.


    That¡¯s what he is.


    "In the end, I am merely...a greedy divine being."


    In that moment, the battlefield below had not yet erupted into chaos. Swords remained sheathed, banners unmoved by the breathless air.


    It was the stillness before a legend takes root¡ªbefore gods commit folly, and mortals rewrite history.


    But Hades knew.


    This moment would not end with simple bloodshed.


    This was a fracture in the divine order. A seed of something vast. Something dangerous.


    Something true.


    And so he stayed.


    Not to interfere.


    Not to tip the scales.


    But to bear witness.


    To watch the soul of a man shine so brightly, it cast shadows even upon Olympus.


    For kings were not crowned by fate alone.


    Sometimes, they were chosen by the people who believed in him.


    And sometimes, just sometimes... even gods were made to remember why thrones were built at all.

 Chapter 90 - 44: Crystalization of Humanity’s Glory

    Chapter 90: Chapter 44: Crystalization of Humanity¡¯s GloryOn Olympus, the air shimmered with golden light.


    The wind that swept through its marble halls carried the scent of olive blossoms and divine ink. But Athena felt none of it.


    Her gaze pierced the veil between realms as she stood upon her balcony, eyes locked on a distant battlefield where fate was being rewritten by mortal hands.


    In one hand, she held a scroll¡ªaged but blank, waiting.


    In the other, her quill¡ªfeathered from the wing of a chimera, hunted and given to her by Artemis, dipped in ink brewed from the wisdom of ages.


    She watched, breathless, as Herios¡ªking not by blood, but by soul¡ªstood with sword raised beneath the looming shadow of six divine champions.


    The chosen of Olympus hovered like suns above him, yet still he did not flinch.


    Athena¡¯s heart beat faster. Not in fear, not even in concern, but in thrill.


    "So this is the pivot," she whispered, her gray eyes alight with fierce wonder. "This is the beginning."


    She began to write.


    Each stroke of her quill carved myth into memory, truth into tale. The parchment drank her words eagerly, knowing it was about to birth the first of a new kind of epic.


    Herios.


    A name that would outlast empires.


    The man whose defiance broke the silence of the gods.


    Athena¡¯s lips curled into a subtle smile, though her eyes glistened with the weight of truth.


    She knew.


    He would not survive.


    No prophecy, no vision, no divine intervention would change that. The threads of fate had twisted too tightly, woven into a tapestry whose end was now too near.


    But that did not matter.


    For Athena, Goddess of Wisdom, of War, and self-proclained Architect of Heroes, understood something the others didn¡¯t.


    It was not how a man died that shaped the ages.


    It was why.


    And Herios... his death would not be a whimper lost to history.


    It would blaze across the sky like a falling star, too bright to ignore.


    Too eternal to forget.


    A mortal man standing against Olympus.


    A city that did not flee, but stood tall.


    A people who followed belief rather than divines.


    And at the center of it all¡ªa king, carved from hardship, crowned by loyalty, guided not by prophecy, but by will.


    Athena trembled, cheeks flushed with anticipation.


    She could already see it¡ªthe aftermath.


    The tribes that would rise, inspired by his name.


    The poets who would sing of his stand beneath the thunder of gods.


    The smiths who would forge blades in his likeness.


    And the children¡ªyes, the children¡ªwho would grow not dreaming of pleasing gods, but of challenging them.


    Herios was not merely leading a rebellion.


    He was beginning an era.


    The Age of Mankind had begun when he declared Olympus did not own the earth and built a kingdom for humans.


    And it would be his death that would start what Athena now named silently,


    The Age of Heroes.


    An age of mortal resolve. Of strength drawn from spirit, not lineage.


    Of people who rose¡ªnot because they were born to¡ªbut because they chose to.


    Her breath hitched, and she could no longer remain silent.


    From high atop Olympus, beneath the silver dome of heaven, Athena shouted down toward the mortal realm.


    "Herios!" she cried, voice ringing through wind and sky like a bell. "O King Where All Began! Show me your resolve! Shine brighter than any stars! And stand prouder than any gods!"


    It was not a blessing.


    It was a coronation.


    Not of gold, nor laurels.


    But of memory.


    Of myth.


    And of meaning.


    He would not hear her. Not now.


    But the wind would carry her words. The stars would echo them in their silence.


    And the world... the world would remember.


    Athena turned back to her scroll.


    There were many more words to write. Many more tales to prepare.


    Because this was only the beginning.


    Herios would die.


    But from his ashes, a thousand would rise.


    And from their tales, she would carve a new sky.


    A sky not ruled by gods...


    ...but shared with mortals who dared to challenge the sky.


    *


    *


    *


    The battlefield groaned under the weight of destiny.


    The skies darkened, not with storm, but with the presence of many gods who had gathered as silent witnesses.


    From mountaintops, celestial palaces, and distant stars, they came¡ªnot to interfere, but to observe what should have been a mere final act in a mortal¡¯s rebellion.


    Above the field stood six figures¡ªserene, glowing, and unshaken. They were the Divine Spirits, gods¡¯ favored extensions, blessed with celestial fragments of divinity.


    One stood foremost among them: Veron, clad in armor of divine crystal, his eyes glowing with disdain.


    He pointed his blade¡ªa silver crescent forged in the moon¡¯s core¡ªand roared:


    "Enough of this theater! Destroy him! Reduce this insect to ash!"


    His voice, like thunder cracking through mountains, rippled across the battlefield.


    The chosen soldiers of Olympus, blessed mortals, warriors, and monsters born from sacred rites, surged forward like a tidal wave of divine fury.


    Yet Veron and the five other Divine Spirits remained still.


    To them, this was beneath their station¡ªa mere formality. A cleanup. They would not stain their pride in a war between gods and men.


    It was then, it happened.


    Herios moved.


    He stood alone, feet dug into cracked earth, his cloak fluttered, his eyes burned with fire of determination.


    He did not tremble. He did not falter.


    Instead, he raised his sword.


    And the world paused.


    It began as a flicker¡ªlike a candle being lit in a storm.


    Then it surged.


    A golden flame ignited around Herios¡¯ body.


    Not divine.


    Not arcane.


    But something older. Purer. Something born not from Olympus, not from Chaos¡ªbut from faith.


    The kind of faith that mortals gave freely, with love.


    From the city behind him, where farmers wept and warriors knelt in prayer...


    From children clutching handmade charms and mothers whispering his name into the night...


    From the countless who had followed him through hunger, storm, and endless war...


    That faith poured outward.


    The golden light gathered in the air, swirling like a living spirit, coiling around Herios¡¯ blade.


    It thickened, burned brighter, until it became something real¡ªtangible, like the arm of the people reaching through him.


    The gods who watched from the sky leaned forward.


    Even Zeus¡¯s thunder paused mid-cloud.


    "Impossible..." whispered Dionysus, eyes wide.


    "That¡¯s our power," murmured Apollo. "The power of faith..."


    "How could a human harness that power!?" Poseidon exclaimed.


    Faith is the power that can only be harnessed by gods that comes from mortals who believed in them.


    But this... it was not the gods being believed in.


    It was Herios.


    His people believed in him.


    Their king.


    Their shield.


    Their sword.


    Herios breathed slowly, his grip steady. His blade now glowed like a star being born.


    Its steel had disappeared¡ªreplaced with radiant gold, runes etched not by blacksmiths, but by hope.


    Veron¡¯s gaze narrowed. He stepped forward at last, lips curling in irritation.


    "What is that sword...?" he asked.


    But Herios did not answer.


    He simply raised it to the heavens, light cascading over his form, his cloak flaring like wings.


    Then he spoke¡ªnot to Veron, not to the gods, but to the people who could no longer hear him from behind the walls.


    "This battle is not for conquest," Herios said. His voice echoed louder than drums of war. "It is not to take back land, or to steal from gods."


    "This battle is to protect. To protect every soul who gave me their trust."


    The light surged around him. His sword hummed, the air rippling in heat and awe.


    "Their faith gave birth to this sword," he said. "Forged not from iron, but from belief. Condensed into a single strike."


    "This sword is the crystallization of humanity¡¯s glory."


    "A sword that promises victory."


    He looked to the heavens¡ªtoward a god he had only met once, but always honored.


    The silent King of the Underworld.


    The watcher of souls and keeper of afterlife.


    "I name it," Herios said, lifting the sword until it eclipsed the sun, "Pluton."


    "The Sword of Truth. In the name of the god I worship¡ªHades."


    At that moment, the battlefield cracked.


    Veron¡¯s eyes widened. "Wait¡ª"


    But it was too late.


    Herios swung.


    Pluton cleaved the sky.


    And the world was bathed in light.


    Golden light, pure and absolute, burst outward like a sun collapsing in reverse.


    It roared over the battlefield, swallowing monsters, divine champions, and armies alike.


    Mountains bowed.


    Rivers parted.


    The heavens themselves trembled beneath the weight of that single, impossible strike.


    The gods turned away, shielding their eyes.


    In the distant future, Athena would talk about this moment to her worshippers.


    "That," she whispered to them, "was the day the gods learned fear."


    Because from that day forth, Pluton¡ªthe Sword of Truth¡ªwould be passed into legend.


    A weapon not forged by divine hands, but by mortal faith.


    A symbol not of destruction, but of hope.


    And Herios, the man who had no throne, no crown, no divine blood¡ªwould forever be known as,


    The First Hero,


    Lord of Humanity,


    And The King Where All Began.


    S§×ar?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 91 - 45: Mortals and Divines

    Chapter 91: Chapter 45: Mortals and DivinesThe golden light faded.


    Silence fell like a veil over the battlefield.


    The wind carried no cries, no clash of blades¡ªonly the faint hum of sacred energy slowly dissipating into the air, like the final breath of a vanishing god.


    Where once stood a vast and terrible army blessed with divinity, armed with celestial steel, and trained by the will of Olympus, now, there was nothing.


    Not even ash.


    The very essence of the divine army had been obliterated, erased from reality by a single, world-shaking swing of Pluton, the Sword of Truth.


    Only six figures remained.


    Veron, at the center, knelt with one hand plunged into the earth, his armor fractured, the silver plating dimmed to dull gray.


    Divine blood¡ªluminous and silver-gold¡ªoozed from the cracks in his form.


    Around him, the other five Divine Spirits groaned and struggled to rise, their radiant mantles torn, their once-proud forms bruised and bent.


    Their pride had suffered more than their bodies.


    From the other end of the battlefield, a sound broke the stillness.


    It began as a whisper.


    Then a cry.


    Then a roar.


    "KING HERIOS!"


    "KING HERIOS!"


    "KING HERIOS!"


    The mortal soldiers of Herion, their armor glinting faintly in the dusk, raised their weapons and cheered with voices that trembled with disbelief and glory.


    Men wept.


    Women screamed in joy.


    Veterans fell to their knees, clutching their hearts.


    Something impossible had happened.


    A man had defeated the divine.


    A king had held back the heavens.


    Just in that moment, the world changed.


    Humanity have already touched the skies.


    However, Herios did not join the cheers.


    He remained where he stood, sword still planted in the ground, his body trembling with fatigue.


    His cape billowed slightly in the soft breeze.


    Blood dripped from his chin, showing how much the attack affected him. His eyes, though dim, still glowed with purpose.


    His back¡ªstill firm.


    Still proud.


    Still unyielding.


    Then, a scream of divine fury tore through the heavens.


    "HERIOS!!!"


    Veron rose.


    His body was bathed in lightning¡ªjagged bolts that cracked through the sky like branches of a dying tree.


    The wind howled as his wrath took shape. Every fiber of his being surged with divine power¡ªauthority that had been gifted by Zeus himself.


    "You dare!" he roared, his voice layered with thunder. "How dare a mortal raise a hand against the divine? This is blasphemy of the highest order! I will bring you judgment!"


    Lightning gathered in Veron¡¯s hands, coiling into a massive spear formed from pure celestial wrath.


    The very clouds twisted, darkened, and bled electric fury.


    Herion¡¯s soldiers gasped in horror. Some fell back. Others raised shields in vain.


    But Herios didn¡¯t flinch.


    Even as his knees trembled beneath him.


    Even as his breath came in shallow gasps.


    His body moved before his thoughts. A final reservoir of strength answered his people¡¯s fear.


    He surged forward like a phantom of light.


    And in a blink...


    He stood before Veron, sword raised high.


    Veron¡¯s eyes widened.


    Pluton came crashing down.


    The divine spirit twisted just in time, narrowly dodging the strike.


    Herios¡¯ sword cleaved the air, splitting the ground in a chasm of burning gold. Veron skidded back, lightning flickering across his armor.


    "NOW!" Veron shouted to the skies. "Aid me, brothers! Kill him! KILL HIM NOW! AND DESTROY HERION!"


    At once, three of the Divine Spirits grew wings and took to the skies, their wounds crackling with forced regeneration, fueled by borrowed divinity.


    They descended upon Herios like falling stars, blades drawn, wings burning.


    Meanwhile, the other two Divine Spirits, still staggering but seething with pride, turned their fury elsewhere.


    Toward Herion¡¯s army.


    They flew like comets of wrath toward the mortal soldiers, determined to do what Veron¡¯s army could not¡ªannihilate the people behind the king.


    Herion¡¯s warriors raised their weapons, hearts filled with courage¡ªbut the glow in the distance promised annihilation.


    "STAND FAST!" bellowed a certain knight, "STAND! FOR HERIOS!"


    But no mortal had ever survived the full wrath of a Divine Spirit.


    The two spirits hurtled toward the front line.


    And Herios saw it.


    In that moment, between battle cries, lightning storms, and the trembling earth, he turned.


    Exhausted, nearly drained, he turned his gaze to his people.


    His eyes widened.


    His mouth opened, but no words came.


    They would be slaughtered.


    And he couldn¡¯t reach them in time.


    The three Divine Spirits had now surrounded him, swords raised, preparing to pierce his flanks and heart in unison.


    Veron grinned behind them, ready to strike a final blow once Herios was distracted.


    But still, Herios stood firm.


    He would protect them.


    Even now.


    Even at the cost of his life.


    His grip tightened on Pluton.


    Golden sparks flared again.


    His foot moved.


    But¡ª


    Something else moved first.


    A blur of silver iron that carved a line through the sky.


    Kaerion.


    The General of Herion had moved like a comet, his tattered red cloak fluttering violently in the wind.


    His armor shone with light, and his eyes¡ªthose burning, storm-born eyes¡ªgleamed with undying defiance.


    He held no divine weapon. No armor blessed by gods. Only an iron spear, worn from countless battles that accompanied him since he could remember.


    This fragile mortal, he charged, he bellowed a cry so fierce that it startled the heavens.


    "TO ME, SONS OF HERION! THIS DAY IS OURS! BARE YOUR FANGS TO THE SKY! SHOW THEM THE GLORY AND STRENGTH THAT IS THE KINGDOM OF MAN!"


    One of the Divine Spirits sneered. "You dare approach the divine with that twig of mortal iron?"


    Kaerion didn¡¯t reply.


    He leapt.


    A single leap, born of desperate will and unbreakable loyalty, and his spear slammed into the shoulder of the surprised descending spirit.


    Sparks burst.


    The attack did nothing, but it caused the divine spirit to pause for a moment.


    The second Divine Spirit dove in retaliation, his blade streaking like moonlight.


    Kaerion rolled beneath the slash, pivoted on one foot, and hurled his spear with a cry that echoed like a hymn.


    The iron weapon spun like a meteor¡ªand struck.


    The spirit¡¯s wing clipped, his balance shattered mid-air.


    Kaerion drew his backup short-sword and bared his teeth. "COME AT ME! YOU DOGS OF HEAVENS!


    Behind him, the stunned Herion soldiers blinked.


    Then one cried out, "THE GENERAL STANDS!"


    Another shouted, "FOR HERION!"


    And then¡ªa thousand soldiers roared as one.


    They surged forward.


    Steel met divinity. sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Mortals, once trembling before the divine, now ran toward it with fire in their hearts.


    What they lacked in celestial power, they made up for in raw will.


    Shield walls locked.


    Spears thrusted.


    Arrows flew in defiance of fate.


    Kaerion, still leading the charge, blocked a divine strike with his forearm.


    His bone cracked, but he didn¡¯t stop. He screamed as he stabbed his short-sword into the spirit¡¯s flank.


    The Divine Spirit howled and kicked him away. He tumbled across the battlefield, bones rattled, coughing blood.


    And then¡ªhe stood again.


    Spitting out blood, he raised his voice once more.


    "We bleed. We break. But we do not bow! THIS IS HUMANITY¡¯S AGE! THIS IS THE WILL OF HERION!"


    From the distance, Herios watched it all unfold.


    He breathed¡ªdeeply, painfully¡ªand a small smile touched his lips. His eyes, though strained with exhaustion, gleamed with gratitude.


    "Kaerion..."


    His hand rested on the hilt of Pluton, still warm with the faith of his people.


    He turned back toward Veron and the three Divine Spirits flanking him.


    Veron sneered. "Your army delays the inevitable. Even if they buy you time, Herios, what hope have you? You¡¯re alone now. You cannot win."


    Herios raised his head.


    "No," he said firmly. "I am never alone."


    He took a step forward, dragging Pluton beside him. The blade glowed faintly again¡ªsoftly, like a heartbeat syncing with the cries of his people.


    "You believe divinity makes you untouchable. You think your blessings elevate you above us." His voice rang like a bell, clear and sharp. "But you¡¯ve never understood. Our power doesn¡¯t come from gods. It comes from each other. From our dreams. Our struggles. Our pain and joy."


    Another step.


    "You call this a war of mortals. You see it as beneath you. But this..."


    He raised the blade high.


    "...this is humanity at its peak."


    The three Divine Spirits stepped forward, but Herios raised a single hand.


    "Let me show you what you failed to see."


    He pointed to Kaerion, now engaged in a brutal clash with the spirits.


    To the soldiers who fought even when their bones broke.


    To the archers who fired arrows through divine flame.


    To the wounded who still crawled just to throw a single stone.


    "This... is the strength of a people who believe."


    Veron scowled. "You speak of faith like it is a weapon."


    Herios nodded. "It is. And right now, it is sharper than any blade the heavens have ever forged."


    He took his stance once more.


    And the sword of faith¡ªPluton¡ªflared gold again, pulsing with the collective will of every soldier fighting below.


    Even the Divine Spirits, for the briefest moment, hesitated.


    Then¡ªHerios moved.

 Chapter 92 - 46: Mortals and Divines

    Chapter 92: Chapter 46: Mortals and DivinesThe battlefield had become a storm.


    Herios moved¡ªa blur of motion, golden light trailing in the air behind his sword, Pluton.


    Each strike he unleashed aimed to cleave through the Divine Spirits that hovered around him like vultures, circling and taunting.


    Yet they were cautious, keeping their distance.


    They had seen the Sword of Truth fell Veron¡¯s army in a single, blinding arc of light.


    They would not take that risk again.


    So they bombarded him instead.


    Blades of wind, bolts of heavenly fire, shards of frozen light¡ªall rained down from the sky.


    The heavens themselves felt like they¡¯d turned against him.


    Herios gritted his teeth, cloak torn and body coated in soot and blood, his muscles screaming with every breath.


    He swung his sword upward to slice through a wave of searing light.


    He spun to deflect a jagged bolt of lightning that might have torn his side open.


    He staggered from the shock of a divine blast exploding behind him.


    But still, firm as ever, he stood.


    His hands trembled. His legs buckled. His breaths came ragged and shallow.


    The Sword of Truth, once blazing like a golden sun, now flickered.


    Not because his people no longer believed¡ªbut because his mortal body was running out of fumes.


    Out of strength.


    Out of time.


    He needed to close the distance. He needed to strike. But they would not let him.


    Just then..


    A scream tore through the battlefield.


    Herios¡¯s head snapped around.


    In the distance, beyond the line of broken spears and burning catapults, he saw them¡ªtwo Divine Spirits descending upon his army like avenging stars.


    Soldiers were thrown aside like leaves in a storm.


    Dozens fell in moments.


    Some tried to fight back.


    Others stood their ground, only to be incinerated in seconds.


    "No..." Herios whispered.


    "DON¡¯T LOOK AWAY!" roared Veron, and a bolt of pure divinity struck Herios in the chest like a hammer of judgment.


    The world turned black for a moment.


    Herios flew backward, crashing through the earth, digging a trench with his body.


    His bones cracked. Blood gushed from his mouth. His armor bent inward, puncturing his side. His sword clattered beside him, dim.


    Veron descended slowly, the skies crackling with divine fury around him.


    His eyes burned not with rage¡ªbut with disdain.


    "Why?" he asked, approaching Herios, who lay in a crater of blood and dirt. "Why do you keep resisting?"


    Herios coughed violently, trying to sit up, his body wracked with pain.


    "You¡¯re just a man," Veron continued. "You will die here. Your people will follow. This rebellion... this defiance of the heavens... will be forgotten. You could have lived in peace. You could have accepted your place. So why?"


    Herios did not respond immediately.


    He reached out slowly, wrapping his fingers around the hilt of Pluton once more.


    The sword flickered faintly in his grasp¡ªits golden light answering even his weakest breath.


    He used it to push himself back to his feet.


    He wobbled, barely able to stand, blood dripping from his lips. But his eyes¡ªthose eyes¡ªstill burned.


    Not with anger. But with conviction.


    And then he spoke.


    "Why do I resist...?" His voice was hoarse. "Maybe the better question is..."


    He looked up into Veron¡¯s divine gaze and asked, "...why do you bow?"


    Veron blinked. The question struck deeper than the wound Herios bore. The god-chosen warrior hesitated, his shoulders twitching.


    "You claim to serve the gods," Herios continued, stepping forward now, each word like a blow. "But do you believe in them? Or do you obey because it is easier than standing on your own?"


    Veron said nothing.


    "You call us weak because we bleed and die as quickly as a candle in the wind," Herios whispered. "But that is exactly why we are strong. Because we know pain. Because we rise again. Because we choose to fight even when we know we couldn¡¯t win."


    He lifted his sword.


    "And now," Herios said, voice growing stronger, "I will show you the power that no divinity can ever command."


    Pluton burst into light.


    But this time¡ªit wasn¡¯t golden.


    It was white. Pure. Blinding.


    The faith of his people. Their pain. Their love. Their memories. Their hope.


    All of it¡ªchanneled into a single, mortal man who refused to kneel.


    The three Divine Spirits around Veron recoiled, shielding their faces.


    The very air around Herios trembled, not from divine pressure¡ªbut from something older.


    Something human. A force that had built civilizations. Toppled tyrants. Endured countless wars.


    The force of will.


    Veron stepped back. "That light... it¡¯s not faith nor divine."


    "No," Herios replied. "It¡¯s our will and conviction."


    *


    *


    *


    The battlefield quaked beneath the boots of men.


    Kaerion, the great general of Herion, stood at the front of the charge¡ªhis iron spear gripped tightly in his hands, blood streaking across his armor, his eyes burning with a fury that mirrored the sun itself.


    Behind him, thousands of mortal soldiers surged like a tide, the ground shaking with their war cries.


    "FOR HERIOS! FOR HERION! FOR HUMANITY!" Kaerion roared, his voice booming like thunder across the scorched plain.


    "GLORY TO THE KING OF HUMANITY!"


    His men echoed the call, steel clashing against shields, banners flapping in the ash-ridden wind.


    They had seen their comrades slaughtered.


    They had watched the divine descend upon them like wrathful stars.


    Yet they marched still¡ªinto death, perhaps¡ªbut also into immortality, where their names and deeds will forever be engraved in history.


    Before them floated the two Divine Spirits, luminuus beings cloaked in celestial fire, who had turned entire legions into dust with a wave of their hands.


    Their expressions were cold, detached and yet now, a flicker of something else had begun to show.


    Annoyance.


    The humans came at them like ants, endless and tireless.


    Their weapons did little against divine flesh, their attacks easily parried or turned aside.


    A swing of a spirit¡¯s hand would tear through rows of men, bodies tossed like dolls.


    And yet, they kept coming.


    One divine spirit¡ªThalureon, the Spirit of Azure Flame and blessed by Hephaestus¡ªraised his hand again.


    A gout of blue fire erupted from his palm, sweeping across a column of soldiers.


    Men screamed and burned, but from the smoke, more humans emerged, eyes crazed not with madness but with unbreakable conviction.


    Kaerion is at the tip of that spear. He leapt into the air, iron weapon glowing from the heat of battle, and struck down at Thalureon¡¯s shoulder.


    It didn¡¯t pierce¡ªbut it stung.


    The divine spirit recoiled, grimacing.


    "They sting now, don¡¯t they?" Kaerion smirked.


    Thalureon snarled, touching the spot where Kaerion had struck. "Like mosquitoes. Persistent. Pathetic."


    The second divine spirit¡ªElathys, Spirit of Falling Stars¡ªfloated higher, preparing to cast a wave of heavenly arrows down from the sky.


    "Enough games," he said, light beginning to shimmer around his body. "Let¡¯s wipe the insects out."


    But then¡ªKaerion shouted again.


    "INSECTS, ARE WE?" he bellowed, his voice somehow reaching every man on the field. "YOU REMEMBER THIS¡ªWHEN MEN ROSE FROM THE MUD, WE HAD NOTHING BUT STONES AND HOPE! AND YET WE BUILT CITIES! WE SAILED OCEANS! WE DARED TO CURSE THE GODS!"


    The soldiers screamed in answer, rallying behind their general.


    "WE DO NOT NEED DIVINITY TO STAND! WE ONLY NEED EACH OTHER!"


    And with that, they charged once more.


    Spears shattered. Shields broke. But the soldiers of Herion moved not as isolated fighters¡ªbut as a single tide.


    When one fell, another rose in his place. When a spirit lashed out with divine flame, Kaerion would leap into the blast to shield his men with his own body, roaring back in defiance. S§×ar?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "WE ARE HUMANITY!" he shouted, face bloodied, eyes wild. "AND THAT IS ENOUGH!"


    The divine spirits were no longer amused.


    Elathys grimaced as a sword scraped his thigh, a mortal weapon, empowered only by the wielder¡¯s sheer rage.


    Thalureon grunted as a spear struck his arm and left a shallow cut. Their power was still vast, but even the sun tires of scorching the same earth.


    They fought back harder now, striking not to frighten but to kill.


    But the humans did not break.


    The wave continued, crashing again and again against divine flesh.


    A thousand spears against a single star.


    It was madness.


    And yet, it began to work.


    Their endless attacks, though weak, began to wear down the divine spirits.


    Every movement cost them power.


    Every blast depleted a sliver of their immortal reservoir.


    Every moment they remained in the material world was another moment they had to exert energy just to exist.


    Even gods grew exhausted.


    Kaerion drove his iron spear once again into Thalureon¡¯s chest, this time finding a soft gap between the spirit¡¯s shoulderplate and neck.


    A shallow wound, but a wound nonetheless.


    The divine spirit screamed in anger and struck Kaerion aside.


    The general flew through the air and slammed into the earth, but rose again, bloodied, but breathing and alive.


    Thalureon glanced at his wound before sneering at Kaerion, "All that, for a drop of blood."


    "You bleed," Kaerion said, limping forward.


    Thalureon spat in disgust. "I am a divine¡ª"


    "You¡¯re just another tyrant too proud to admit it," Kaerion said. "You think yourselves above us. But you bleed."


    He raised his spear again, rallying his troops with a single war cry.


    "THEY BLEED!"


    And thousands answered.


    "THEY BLEED!"


    The battlefield, once hopeless, had become a crucible.


    Not of destruction¡ªbut of rebirth.


    Kaerion, though just a man, had shown them that divinity could be challenged.


    That humanity could rise.


    And in the distance, across the battlefield, Herios heard the cries of his people¡ªand smiled.

 Chapter 93 - 47: The Respect of War

    Chapter 93: Chapter 47: The Respect of WarThe battlefield fell silent for a breathless moment...


    All eyes turned to the center of the field, where the battered figure of Herios, King of Herion, stood shrouded in a radiant storm of white light.


    It poured from his body like a second sun, wrapping his figure in blazing arcs of raw will. It is not magic, not divine blessing, it is something else entirely...


    The unyielding will of mankind.


    The power of dreams, the power of unity, the power of belief, all manifested into something tangible.


    Into something divine.


    The gods who were watching this war all couldn¡¯t look away, their eyes focused on the figure of the King of Humanity.


    On Olympus.


    Ares sat on his throne, his eyes firm and focus.


    A warrior whose heart had known only the rhythm of battle, whose eyes had only ever sought out strength and victory.


    His crimson armor, forged from the screams of dying stars, glistened beneath the heavenly light.


    His hands, stained with the memory of countless wars, rested upon the arms of his obsidian throne, each finger like a coiled spear.


    But now, those hands trembled.


    Before him floated the divine scrying mirror, a rippling window into the mortal realm.


    And within it, he saw the impossible.


    Herios, broken and battered, standing alone against six divine spirits.


    A mortal of flesh and blood, bleeding, gasping, barely able to hold his sword.


    But remained firm and unbent.


    Surrounded by the light of humanity¡¯s will and courage, he stood to fight.


    Not for glory.


    Not for gods.


    But for his people.


    For their dreams.


    For the right to exist.


    And Ares, who had long dismissed humans as fleeting shadows, could not look away.


    His breath caught in his throat.


    His body moved before his mind did.


    He stood.


    Then, tears... they streamed down his cheeks like rivers, cutting paths through dust and pride and centuries of distance.


    His war-hardened heart ached, twisted in his chest with something he hadn¡¯t felt in an age.


    Pride.


    "They bleed... and yet they fight," he whispered, voice hoarse. "They burn, and yet they rise again."


    He placed a gauntleted hand to his chest, where his heart thundered like a drum.


    "For so long, I believed only gods could embody the purity of battle. That only we could define courage, strategy, power..."


    He smiled, "But that man... Herios... he fights without blessing. Without immortality. Without certainty of tomorrow. And yet, he didn¡¯t back down once."


    He stared deeply at that man, the King of Humanity whom the heavens couldn¡¯t force to kneel.


    "Heroes..." The word escaped him before he even knew it had formed.


    His mind wandered to that moment when Hades had once declared that word.


    It had been Hades who had spoken of humans capable of rising beyond mortality, who believed in them even as Olympus laughed.


    "Heroes," Ares said again, louder this time, his voice echoing across Olympus. "They are real."


    His laughter came like thunder.


    Raw, triumphant, and joyful.


    "I see it now! I see it!" he shouted. "They are not insects to trample. They are not fleeting sparks. They are great warriors worthy of respect!"


    He turned to the skies, to the realm where the mortal world raged and burned with battle.


    "I swear it," he said, raising his hand to the heavens, vowing with the power of a god. "As long as I exist¡ªso shall humanity. As long as my blood flows through Olympus. No god shall erase them. No divine law shall silence their will. No tyrant shall smother their courage. They are warriors. They are dreamers. They are men and women worthy of my respect."


    Behind him, the throne of war cracked, unable to contain the fury of his oath.


    And the stars above Olympus flared in kind.


    For the first time in eternity...


    The God of War had knelt.


    Not in submission.


    But in respect.


    Back in the mortal world.


    The Sword of Truth, Herios¡¯ sacred weapon born from the prayers of a people who refused to bow, pulsed at his side like a heartbeat.


    Its edge hummed with searing, golden light.


    Even the gods paused.


    From his perch above the burning fields, Veron, the Divine Champion, narrowed his eyes.


    "This man..." he muttered. ¡¯I hate to admit it, but even if I¡¯m already a divine spirit... I can tell for certain that I am no match for him. How absurd. Is this really a power that a mortal can achieve?¡¯


    He felt it, a ripple in the divine plane, a tremor of instability. A shift in reality that even those reclusive Primordials have surely felt.


    Herios had touched something no mortal should.


    This man, through his sheer will and belief... He had transcended the realm of mortality and ascended to the realm of gods without having any shred of divine blood nor divinity.


    "KILL HIM!" Veron roared in alarm. "We must strike now! We can¡¯t let this man survive!"


    He turned his attention to the sky and shouted to the heavens.


    "Elathys! Thalureon! Return to me! This is no longer a war of mortals¡ªthis is a challenge to Olympus itself!"


    Far in the distance, where the soldiers of Herion still pushed desperately against divine might, the two Divine Spirits hesitated.


    Their eyes turned back toward the light erupting in the center of the battlefield.


    They understood.


    Without a word, they flew toward Veron, divine trails tearing through the sky. sea??h th§× n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    But Thalureon, ever vengeful, turned before leaving. He lifted his burning hand toward the earth and muttered a word in the old tongue.


    The ground cracked, and from beneath the soil erupted hundreds of gleaming metallic beasts¡ªgolems wrought from forged bronze, black iron, and fire, blessed with the smith-god Hephaestus¡¯s fire.


    They landed with ground-shaking thuds, their glowing cores humming, eyes red with cold obedience.


    "Destroy the city," Thalureon ordered. "Let them scream and leave no one alive."


    Then he turned and vanished into light.


    Kaerion, still standing in a bloody crater with his soldiers, shouted at the approaching machines, "DEFENSIVE FORMATION! DON¡¯T LET THEM THROUGH!"


    Back at the battlefield¡¯s center, Herios barely had time to look up.


    A blazing wind tore through the sky as six divine beings descended at once.


    Veron, Elathys, Thalureon, and the three divines who were with Veron¡ªMireos of the Moonlight Lance, Varan of Echoing Blades, and Solmyra of Judgment Flame.


    Together, they formed a ring around Herios, hovering above the ground like gods of destruction, six storms of celestial might.


    And then, they attacked.


    The earth shattered.


    Elathys unleashed a hail of radiant arrows that pierced the ground like falling stars.


    Thalureon summoned blue infernos that spiraled like dragons.


    Veron led the charge, his lightning-imbued spear hurtling forward like a thunderbolt.


    Herios raised his sword just in time.


    He parried Veron¡¯s first blow, the clash sounding like metal screaming, but the force sent him skidding backward, boots tearing lines in the stone.


    Mireos blinked forward with terrifying speed, his lance shimmering with moonlight.


    Herios twisted, barely dodging, but a cut appeared on his ribs¡ªdivine weapons could ignore mortal armor.


    He grunted, ignoring the pain, and counterattacked.


    His blade struck Thalureon¡¯s shoulder, sending the spirit stumbling back¡ªbut fire burst from Thalureon¡¯s palms in retaliation, engulfing Herios¡¯s side.


    The king screamed as his cloak caught fire and rolled to extinguish it, only to be blasted skyward by Elathys¡¯s arrows.


    In the air, Varan appeared above him, swords spinning, moving too fast to track.


    Herios barely raised his blade in time.


    CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!


    Each blow echoed like a bell tolling death.


    Finally, he twisted in the air and kicked Varan away, using the recoil to flip and land hard on his feet, panting, bleeding, burning¡ªbut alive.


    They closed in again.


    "Is that all your will can do?" Veron sneered, raising his spear. "Pathetic."


    "That¡¯s rich coming from a bunch of self-proclaimed god ganging up on me," Herios gasped. "You needed help dealing with a mere mortal."


    He threw his blade into the sky, where it caught the light of a thousand prayers.


    The Sword of Truth spun like a sunbeam, then shot downward, cutting through Veron¡¯s spear and sending the divine champion flying with a thunderous shockwave.


    Three spirits followed, hammering Herios with divine fury, but he danced between them, taking shallow wounds, gritting through the agony.


    Blood flowed freely from his arms and chest, but his eyes burned brighter.


    He parried Elathys¡¯s arrows with a swipe, blocked Mireos¡¯s lance with his forearm, grunting as divine steel sliced his gauntlet.


    He roared and struck back, driving the Moonlight Spirit into the ground with a brutal shoulder slam.


    But Solmyra descended then¡ªher hands glowing with searing judgment.


    She whispered a curse and placed her palm to his chest as divine fire burned through Herios¡¯s ribs.


    He howled in agony, fell to one knee¡ªthen gritted his teeth, grabbed her wrist, and threw her across the battlefield with all the power left in his body.


    For a moment, the world froze.


    Herios stood again, wobbling.


    Breathing heavily and barely alive.


    But still holding his sword.


    The six divine spirits circled him again, stunned.


    Veron scowled. "Why won¡¯t this man just die!?"


    "Just keep attacking. I don¡¯t believe he can continue fighting with the state he is in."


    Herios looked up, blood staining his mouth.


    "It is humanity¡¯s birthright, Veron," he said hoarsely. "To resist. To rise. To fight the impossible."


    He raised his sword again, despite the tremble in his hand.


    "So come. Strike me down, if you think your gods are stronger than my will."

 Chapter 94 - 48: Judgment

    Chapter 94: Chapter 48: JudgmentThe battlefield trembled.


    Dust swirled.


    The air shuddered with divine pressure.


    Even the clouds seemed to recoil from the center of the storm where one man stood, back arched, lungs heaving, eyes burning like twin suns.


    Herios, King of Herion, mortal-born, steel-tempered by war and purpose, raised his sword once more.


    It glowed brighter than the sun.


    Lines of ancient runes ignited across its length, pulsing with radiant heat, reacting not to divine command, but to human will.


    And Herios¡¯s will had never burned brighter.


    He roared... a terrible, primal cry that tore through the air, shaking even the heavens.


    With a thunderous blast of light, he rushed forward, his speed tearing a crater in the ground behind him.


    The six divine spirits reacted instantly.


    "Varan, flank!"


    "Solmyra, above!"


    "Thalureon, box him in!"


    Commands shot between them like lightning, and they closed in¡ªflashes of divine color and raw power converging on Herios like a pack of celestial wolves.


    But something was different.


    Herios was much faster, much stronger. Fiercer.


    His blows came like falling mountains, shaking the bones of the gods themselves.


    Varan¡¯s bow shattered from a parried strike.


    Elathys twin blades were knocked from his hands.


    Thalureon caught a backhanded blow to the jaw and was hurled into a mountain, reducing it to rubble.


    Each motion from Herios was laced with something the divine couldn¡¯t quite understand.


    And that is... Conviction.


    Not fueled by immortality. Not summoned from some infinite reservoir of divine energy. But drawn from the raw, unfiltered, human heart.


    Veron lunged again, lightning wrapped around his spear like a serpent, shouting, "You are still mortal! You can¡¯t keep this up forever! You will get tired, and then die!"


    Herios blocked the strike with one hand, sword catching the spear.


    Sparks exploded, and the ground split beneath them.


    "Maybe... but I will endure." Herios growled.


    Veron roared.


    Lightning coiled around his arms like twin vipers, his bronze armor cracking from the sheer heat of his fury.


    He lunged with a speed that broke the sound barrier, his spear now glowing with heavenly lightning blessed by Zeus himself.


    Herios twisted to parry.


    CLANG!


    The spear met Pluton in a flash of gold and blue, sending shockwaves through the battlefield.


    Both men were flung back, tearing furrows through the earth as soldiers, machines, and even mountains quaked from their clash.


    But Herios was back on his feet in a breath. Exhaustion racked his body, but the light of humanity still surrounded him, roaring louder than his heartbeat.


    The other divine spirits attacked in unison.


    Elathys conjured a dozen golden arrows that split the sky, each carrying the weight of starlight.


    Solmyra summoned a massive mirror-like disc, which hovered above Herios and began absorbing light before firing it back tenfold as an incinerating solar beam.


    Mireos hurled boulders of ice infused with Poseidon¡¯s wrath, shattering the very ground with every strike.


    They came from all angles, a storm of godly wrath.


    Herios spun Pluton in an arc, creating a shield of faith¡ªthe blade¡¯s energy expanding outward like a barrier.


    Arrows exploded on contact.


    The solar beam was split like a curtain of flame, and the ice boulders were vaporized before touching him.


    Still, the power was immense. Each block rattled his bones, his muscles screaming, his vision blurring from the divine pressure.


    But he endured.


    He fought like a beast cornered by giants, with precision, rage, and the strength of millions behind him.


    Then Solmyra appeared behind him, sword of reflected light in hand.


    She stabbed.


    But Herios turned, grabbing her blade bare-handed.


    His palm sizzled. Blood poured from the wound¡ªbut he didn¡¯t flinch.


    With a grunt, he headbutted her with brutal force. She staggered back, and Herios kicked her full-force in the chest, sending her crashing into a hill, turning it to rubble.


    Before he could breathe, Varan lunged, striking with a hammer that created tremors.


    Herios ducked under it and thrust upward, Pluton slicing through divine steel.


    Sparks flew. The blade didn¡¯t kill him, but it gouged a burning wound through Varan¡¯s chest, sending the god sprawling.


    Kaerion and the Herion soldiers still fought fiercely against the machines and summoned constructs.


    Thousands were falling, but they did not retreat.


    Their shields were shattered.


    Spears broken.


    But they pushed forward, roaring the name of their king.


    Veron screamed and unleashed his full divinity.


    The sky split open. sea??h th§× Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    A colossal thunderbolt fell from the heavens, aimed directly at Herios.


    It could obliterate a city. A mortal soul would never survive it.


    But Herios didn¡¯t run.


    He held Pluton high and whispered. "Lord Hades, bear witness to the power of your champion. The power of humanity!"


    The sword pulsed, and a titanic white wing of light exploded from it.


    It wasn¡¯t made offeathers, but of memories; scenes of children laughing, lovers embracing, builders raising cities, scholars lighting candles in the dark.


    The thunderbolt struck.


    And the wing met it.


    The sky turned white.


    The divine bolt collided with the will of humanity.


    And for the first time, divinity bent to mortals.


    The bolt cracked apart.


    Veron stared in disbelief.


    Herios advanced through the smoke, slow and steady.


    "Even with all your power," Herios said, voice low but echoing across the battlefield, "...it seems, you still are not qualified to judge humanity."


    With a sudden burst, he vanished.


    Appearing behind Veron¡ªhe slashed downward, Pluton wailing like a chorus.


    Veron barely raised his arm to block¡ªbut the blade cleaved through divine metal and carved a burning line down Veron¡¯s back.


    He roared, pain etching across his face.


    Then Elathys and Solmyra returned, flanking Herios again.


    The fight surged anew.


    They fought like stars crashing together.


    Herios parried arrows, ducked beneath divine fists, flipped over spear strikes, and retaliated with brutal efficiency of a man who refused to kneel.


    Every strike was faster. Every step was heavier.


    Pluton glowed with each heartbeat of Herion¡¯s people.


    He caught Solmyra¡¯s blade again and this time, with a scream, shattered it.


    He turned to Elathys and drove Pluton forward¡ªgrazing the god¡¯s side and burning a strip of divine flesh.


    He caught Veron¡¯s spear in a lock, spun around, and threw him skyward, sending the god crashing into his own summoned storm clouds.


    And then...


    He stood alone again.


    Bruised. Bloodied. But upright.


    The six divine spirits floated back into the air, circling him with wrath, confusion, and fear.


    They... were being pushed back.


    By a mortal.


    "Allow me..." Herios gripped his sword, "To judge the gods."


    "Arrogant!" Mireos roared as he disappeared, darting towards Herios.


    But just then, Herios spun, momentum building, and cleaved the air in a wide arc with Pluton.


    And then, the world held its breath.


    His sword swung down¡ªnot at Veron, but at the fastest one¡ªMireos, who had just blinked in behind him, lance drawn, aiming for his exposed back.


    But it was too late.


    The blade met flesh.


    A massive pillar of white-gold light exploded from the point of contact, engulfing the entire battlefield.


    It rose like a tower to the heavens, searing the skies, illuminating the entire world.


    The very air screamed as the light vaporized everything in its path.


    The earth cracked. The clouds recoiled. Mountains in the distance trembled as if the laws of nature themselves had been challenged.


    And then¡ªsilence.


    When the light faded, the battlefield was still. The gods, the soldiers, even the machines summoned by Thalureon¡ªall stared in stunned silence.


    Herios stood with his sword lowered, chest heaving, body bleeding, arms trembling.


    And across from him...


    There was nothing.


    No trace of Mireos.


    Not dust.


    Not smoke.


    Not ash.


    Gone.


    A divine spirit¡ªerased from existence by a mortal blow.


    The silence deepened. Even the winds refused to move.


    The first death of a god by a mortal hand... since the birth of time.


    From high atop Olympus, the gods watched in stunned disbelief.


    Athena, hand to her lips, eyes wide with awe.


    Ares, frozen mid-step, his war-hardened mouth slack with shock.


    Zeus, King of the Gods, stood from his throne for the first time in centuries, the sky trembling with his rising fury and... fear.


    In the battlefield, Veron staggered back.


    His mouth moved, but no sound came out.


    It was Elathys who whispered what all of them now feared to admit.


    "He killed... a god."


    "Impossible," Solmyra breathed, her body trembling.


    But it had happened.


    The impossible had been made real.


    Herios, mortal king, stood in the crater of his own defiance. He was bleeding from dozens of wounds, swaying from exhaustion, but he stood tall.


    Pluton glowed brighter than ever.


    The white light of humanity¡¯s will had not faded¡ªit burned stronger, now fed not by hope alone, but by victory.


    He lifted the sword once more and pointed it at Veron.


    "I have said... I will judge the gods." He breathed, heavily. "This mortal king declare you, guilty. Your sentence, death."


    His soldiers, watching from the ruins, screamed with awe and triumph.


    "ALL HAIL HERIOS!"


    "THE GODSLAYER!"


    "LONG LIVE HUMANITY!"


    The tide had turned.


    But the war was far from over.


    After all, Olympus... had just been challenged, by a mere mortal.

 Chapter 95 - 49: The End Of A King

    Chapter 95: Chapter 49: The End Of A KingSmoke and divine sparks swirled in the air as the battlefield trembled with silence.


    The five remaining divine spirits floated above, their once-glorious forms now dimmed with wounds and fatigue.


    Even gods were not immune to despair, and now, they gazed upon a man who had slain one of their own.


    Veron, bloodied and furious, clenched his jaw.


    Though his wounds burned and his divinity felt frayed, his sharp eyes caught something others missed...


    Herios was breaking.


    The once-glowing light that enveloped the mortal king flickered like a dying torch.


    His breath was uneven, each exhale a rasp of strained lungs.


    His armor, once regal, now hung in pieces, drenched in blood.


    The great sword Pluton still pulsed in his hand, but even it seemed to dim slightly, as though mourning the wear of its master.


    Veron¡¯s lips curved into a cruel smirk.


    "He¡¯s reaching his limit," the god murmured, a glint of twisted satisfaction in his gaze. "Even a bright star dies, much less a mortal man."


    He turned to Thalureon, who hovered nearby with heavy breath and a hand over his earlier wound.


    "Bring them," Veron commanded, his voice calm, cruel, and absolute. "Bring the golems. If he wants to stand against gods, then let him drown in stone and steel. He wants a war of will? We¡¯ll give it to him."


    Thalureon gave a slight nod, raising his hand. Divine symbols glowed in a spiral around his wrist.


    The air cracked open.


    And from the torn earth, from summoned vaults blessed by Hephaestus and infused with Poseidon¡¯s will, thousands of golems rose.


    Towering automatons of iron, obsidian, and gold, their bodies marked with runes that shimmered in hellish red.


    Each golem carried weapons forged in divine forges, massive axes, saw-blades, cannons of flame.


    The sky turned darker as they cast long shadows across the field.


    Herios steadied himself, leaning heavily on Pluton as his body trembled.


    Blood seeped from his nose, ears, and eyes.


    The divine pressure crushed him like a mountain, and his bones ached with every movement.


    Still, he did not fall.


    He watched them come, showing no thread of fear nor hesitation.


    "So this is your strategy now, Veron?" he muttered, his voice a hoarse rasp. "What a shame. To think a god would fall so low."


    Veron didn¡¯t respond.


    Thalureon, with an emotionless wave, sent the golems forward.


    A wave of iron death surged across the battlefield.


    They came in legions, grinding earth beneath their feet, shaking the skies with their mechanical roars.


    They attacked in formation, relentless and cold, their only purpose was to crush the mortal king in front of them.


    Herios raised Pluton once more.


    His back cracked.


    His knees nearly buckled.


    But he charged.


    He dove into the mass of golems like a dying star plunging into a black sea.


    Clang!


    Pluton slashed through a golem¡¯s neck. Sparks exploded as the massive construct tumbled.


    Boom!


    A hammer came down, but Herios sidestepped and retaliated, cutting through the core of another. S~ea??h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The battlefield became a hurricane of motion.


    Each breath was agony. Each swing bled more of his strength. But Herios did not stop. He fought like a man possessed with unrelenting will.


    The golems overwhelmed him from every angle.


    They struck with inhuman precision.


    Steel fists slammed into his back.


    Blades carved into his side.


    A cannon of divine flame scorched across his chest, burning skin to the bone.


    He dropped to one knee.


    Blood poured from his mouth.


    But his eyes burned.


    He stood up.


    And kept going.


    Hours passed.


    The divine spirits did not intervene. They watched¡ªsilent, cold. Their confidence rising.


    However...


    The golems fell, one by one.


    Hundreds. Then thousands.


    And the longer they watched, the less confident they become.


    "How?" Solmyra whispered, wide-eyed. "How is he still standing?"


    "He shouldn¡¯t be alive," Thalureon growled. "No mortal body can survive this long..."


    But Herios did not care what mortals should or shouldn¡¯t do.


    Pluton, his sword of truth, hummed lowly in his hands.


    His body was broken beyond imagination. His ribs cracked, his left arm barely moved, and his right eye was blinded from blood and smoke.


    And still he fought.


    He dropped to one knee.


    But he didn¡¯t fall flat.


    He still held Pluton.


    And slowly, ever so slowly, he raised his gaze to the remaining golems.


    Despite being mechanical, they seemed to have felt fear and refused to approach him.


    "Is that all?" he coughed, smiling through the blood. "I guess even artificial beings fear death."


    Veron, watching from afar, said nothing.


    The divine spirits looked at each other, and for the first time, true fear returned to their eyes.


    Because Herios, the mortal king, still stood.


    Broken.


    Bleeding.


    But undefeated.


    "Come on..." Herios smiled, "Aren¡¯t you humiliated? Make me pay. I stand here, alone."


    Blood soaked the earth beneath him. His armor had long since broken away, revealing torn flesh, bruised bone, and divine burns that marred his once-proud form.


    His sword, Pluton, remained upright, wedged in the ground beside him like a grave marker.


    "Attack him!" Thalureon roared in anger and humiliation.


    With his command, the golems moved.


    They roared and all rushed towards him.


    Herios did not falter. He gripped his sword and met their charge.


    And just like before, he was completely dominating the golems.


    However...


    Under the intense battle.


    There was a flash of movement.


    Thalureon.


    In a blink, the divine spirit appeared behind Herios, his blade glowing with a pulsing blue flame.


    No hesitation. No declaration.


    Only death.


    Shhhkt¡ª


    The sword plunged through Herios¡¯ back and out through his chest, the divine steel singing as it tasted mortal heart.


    "Hghk¡ª!"


    Herios gasped violently. Blood erupted from his lips, spilling onto the broken ground. His body spasmed. His limbs trembled.


    But he did not fall.


    He swayed.


    Then, he looked over his shoulders, seeing the grinning face of Thalureon.


    "You¡ª" Herios couldn¡¯t finish his words as his eyes seems to have lost its strength and closed, his body went limp.


    Yet still, he remained standing.


    Thalureon quickly retreated, a sickening grin still on his face. His blade sliding out with a sickening sound.


    Herios¡¯ chest wound gushed freely, steam rising as blood sizzled on the earth.


    Veron, hovering above the scene, let out a breath.


    He stared at the limp body of Herios, and slowly, let out a loud laughter.


    "Hah... hahahaha!" His voice cracked like thunder over the field. "It¡¯s over! Herios is no more! Hahaha! Victory is ours!"


    "Even in death, you refuse to fall. Hmph, stubborn to the very end, mortal." He approached the swaying figure, raising his sword high, intent on finishing the job. "This is your final act."


    He stepped forward...


    But Herios¡¯ hand twitched.


    His fingers gripped the hilt of Pluton tighter.


    And as Thalureon raised his sword, Herios¡¯ eyes snapped open¡ªsilver-white and burning with light.


    "Got you... " Herios whispered.


    And in that moment, his entire body exploded with light.


    A searing white-silver brilliance engulfed the battlefield like a second sun had descended upon the mortal plane.


    The Will of Humanity.


    A force born not of magic, nor divinity, but of every heart that refused to kneel.


    Of every mortal that dreamed.


    "Let this sword bring you judgment..."


    With a roar that cracked the heavens, Herios swung his sword in an arc so wide it tore through the air itself.


    A wave of light surged out like a divine tsunami, unstoppable and absolute.


    The remaining golems caught in its wake were instantly incinerated.


    Not a trace remained, not even dust.


    Thalureon¡¯s smile froze on his face. His eyes widened as the light overtook him.


    "No¡ª!" He tried to flee, but it was too light.


    He coughed once. Blood burst from his mouth in a sudden spray.


    He looked down.


    A thin line of light had carved from his left shoulder to his right hip.


    No wound showed at first.


    But slowly...


    His body began to split.


    Cleanly.


    As if judgment itself had declared his existence false.


    "This... this can¡¯t be..."


    With one final cough, his form shattered in two, collapsing like a broken statue.


    The divine spirit known as Thalureon, forger of machines and flame-bearer of Hephaestus, was no more.


    Veron watched in stunned silence.


    Solmyra stumbled back, her radiant eyes wide with disbelief.


    Even the gods above, those peering down from the celestial dome of Olympus gasped in horror.


    The halls of immortality shook, for they had just witnessed what should not be possible.


    Not once.


    But twice.


    A mortal had slain a divine.


    Herios stabbed his sword to the ground, using it to hold himself up like a cane, the slowly, he raised his head


    And then his eyes, those silver, burning eyes, locked onto the remaining divine spirits.


    Veron.


    Solmyra.


    Varan.


    And Elathrys.


    The four divine spirits who remained after Thalureon¡¯s fall.


    The moment Herios stared at them, each of them took an involuntary step back.


    They could not explain why.


    Herios, broken and bleeding, should have been harmless.


    And yet the way he glared, the way the wind wrapped around him as if the very world bowed to his will, made even these divine beings falter.


    "Come," Herios said.


    His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper.


    But it rang out like a thunderclap across the field.


    "Come at me, if you still have pride."


    Silence.


    Not one divine spirit moved.


    The only sound was the crackling of fire and the distant groans of the dying.


    Herios coughed violently, blood splattering across his chest.


    His knees buckled slightly, but he forced himself back up.


    His body was beginning to betray him.


    His bones shifted unnaturally.


    His skin began to pale. His soul, the very force keeping him alive, flickered.


    Like a candle in a storm.


    And yet...


    The divine spirits did not move.


    He took a shallow breath and bared his teeth in a bloody grin.


    "Are you afraid?" he asked.


    No one answered.


    Not a word. Not a murmur.


    They couldn¡¯t.


    Their tongues had grown heavy. Their limbs unmoving.


    Fear, true primal fear, had taken hold of them.


    Herios lifted his head to the sky.


    Even the heavens above seemed to pause.


    And then he spoke, not to the divine spirits, but to the gods themselves, watching from their golden thrones far above the clouds.


    "Remember this moment. The moment, when a mortal..." He gritted his teeth. "...broke through fate. This moment, when a man, one born of fire and mud, stood above the heavens and dared to fight back."


    His eyes dropped to the divine spirits again. They were still frozen in place.


    "I may die here," he said, voice rising like a storm, "but know this¡ª"


    He pulled Pluton free from the ground and raised it with one last act of defiance, the blade now gleaming not with divine power, but with the hope and pride of all mankind.


    "In this moment, a mortal has surpassed the divine!"


    His voice shook the very foundations of the world.


    Lightning cracked across the sky.


    Mountains trembled.


    Oceans stirred in distant corners of the earth.


    Even in Olympus, gods who had grown fat and indifferent stood in silence.


    And then...


    The blade fell from Herios¡¯ hand.


    And with that, the world stilled.


    It took the divine spirits a few minutes to realize that Herios, the proud king of humanity, had already died.


    His knees did not bend, his back did not yield.


    He died standing, pride etched in every sinew, a monument to the indomitable flame of mankind.


    Not once did he kneel, not once did he despair. For in this final stand, he bore the weight of all men¡¯s dreams.


    Not as a god, not as a beast...


    But as a human, proud and eternal.


    A hush fell over the battlefield.


    The divine spirits did not move.


    No one dared to approach.


    Veron stared, unable to understand what had just happened.


    Solmyra¡¯s hand trembled.


    Elathrys looked away.


    Even Varan, cold and detached, could not suppress the twitch in his brow.


    For all their power¡ªfor all their divinity¡ªthey feared that if they stepped forward, Herios might rise again.


    That he was not dead.


    That no matter how broken, how bloodied, he would stand back and fight.


    And so they remained frozen.


    For seconds.


    For minutes.


    For hours.


    No one dared to disturb his body.


    No one dared to claim the battlefield.


    For though the king of humanity had fallen, in that moment, in that silence¡ª


    He had already won.

 Chapter 96 - 50: The Aftermath

    Chapter 96: Chapter 50: The AftermathAbove the clouds, past the mountain peaks that pierced the heavens, stood the mighty Mount Olympus¡ªresplendent in its glory, veiled in golden mist, and humming with divine energy.


    But on this day, the splendor of Olympus was not comforting.


    It was shaken.


    In a grand hall, where all divine eyes watched the affairs of the mortal realm through the Mirror of Skies, a scene had just played out.


    One that silenced even the most ancient of gods.


    A mortal had defied them all.


    A mortal had stood against six divine spirits.


    A mortal had died... like a king, with no chains, no fear, and no master.


    And the halls of Olympus were reeling.


    *


    *


    *


    In her own room, Athena, goddess of wisdom and war strategy, had watched it all with bated breath.


    And then, in a rare moment unbecoming of her composed nature¡ª


    She squealed.


    Not the reserved hum of approval a goddess might show after a well-fought war.


    Not the cold satisfaction of a plan coming to fruition.


    No. This was a girlish, excited, emotional squeal.


    Her hands trembled as she held her quill. Scrolls of divine parchment scattered across her chamber as she burst into a frenzy of motion.


    "That moment! That glare! That defiance! That speech!"


    She twirled on her toes like a muse overtaken with inspiration. Her eyes sparkled as she furiously began to write.


    "This...this shall be the climax of the first true epic!" she cried out. "The Epic of Herios!"


    She dipped her divine quill into ink made of stardust and dreams, writing every word he spoke, every wound he bore, and every god he defied.


    Her quill moved faster than lightning. Her mind was a torrent.


    And then she stopped, as if struck by the thunder of her own thought.


    "Oh yes, yes. This... this is not an end. This is a beginning."


    She clutched the scroll to her chest.


    "The age of heroes begins now."


    *


    *


    *


    In another chamber, lit by flames of eternal battle, Ares, god of war, had watched in silence.


    At first, he¡¯d scoffed.


    "Foolish mortal," he had muttered. "Suicidal pride."


    But as the fight dragged on... as Herios pushed forward, alone, bloodied, still swinging...


    As he stood upright with a blade in his chest and dared the gods to approach...


    Ares¡¯ lips trembled.


    And when Herios finally fell, declaring that a mortal had surpassed the divine¡ª


    Tears fell down Ares¡¯ cheeks.


    He didn¡¯t speak for several heartbeats.


    And then, slowly, in a voice more reverent than any prayer ever spoken to him.


    "So this... is what a beautiful death looks like."


    Since his existence, Ares had loved war for its savagery. He had admired strength, slaughter, chaos.


    A savage, barbaric war where everyone may die any second.


    But Herios showed him something else, something purer than meaningless slaughter.


    A death not of madness, but of meaning.


    "I... I want to fight like that," he whispered. "I want to die like that."


    He stood from his war throne, fists clenched, his chest rising with emotion.


    "That... was a true warrior."


    *


    *


    *


    But not all hearts on Olympus were moved by inspiration or beauty.


    In the central throne room where majority of the Olympians gathered, lightning cracked across the heavens.


    Zeus, king of the gods, roared with fury.


    "BLASPHEMY!" he bellowed, and the sky trembled with his voice. "Just who is that mortal to say that he has surpassed us!?"


    With one titanic strike, his fist smashed the marble arm of his throne. Divine energy sparked and shattered the walls of the chamber.


    Thunder rolled across the mortal realm as if the sky itself were crying in rage.


    "A mortal, claiming to surpass the divine?!" His eyes were twin storms of wrath. "This insolence shall not be written in song¡ªit shall be ERASED from memory! I will flood the world and make them forget this transgression!"


    Beside him, Poseidon, lord of the seas, slammed his trident to the floor.


    Waves surged violently in oceans far below, crashing into coasts and dragging ships to the deep.


    "Who gave that boy such power?" Poseidon growled. "There is no way someone like that is just a mere mortal! Hades! It must be Hades! He must¡¯ve helped that man! After all his talks about not interfering in the overworld! What a hypocrite!"


    He could not accept it.


    Herios¡¯ words¡ª"A mortal has surpassed the divine"¡ªrang in his ears like a curse.


    His pride as an Olympian and lord of the seas had been wounded deeply.


    "He is dead," Poseidon spat. So let the sea wash away his legacy."


    "Why don¡¯t I take away his soul so that we may punish him for eternity?" Suggested Hermes, who was swinging his legs back and forth.


    "Good idea!" Apollo laughed.


    However, unlike the younger gods who seems to agree with that idea, Zeus and Poseidon¡¯s expression darkened.


    Take a soul directly from Hades? What¡¯s more, a soul of his champion? Do they want Olympus to cease to exist!?


    Even Zeus almost blasted his filial sons with his thunderbolt and send them straight to Tartarus.


    Poseidon snorted, thanking Chaos that he has no such idiotic sons.


    He may have some stupid children, but no one was stupid enough to intrude on Hades¡¯ domain.


    "Enough!" Zeus glared at the younger gods, "We are Olympians, the guardian of order! Disrupting the flow of souls goes against the very order we have sworn to protect!"


    Yes. Yes. They don¡¯t want to disrupt the world¡¯s order, so they wouldn¡¯t purposely mess around with the flow of souls.


    It definitely isn¡¯t because Hades was terrifying.


    The king of gods fears nothing!


    Zeus glared toward the mortal realm. "For now, we shall let them write their epics. Let them crown their false heroes. But one day, we shall remind them what it means to defy Olympus."


    His words were quiet, but every god felt them like a blade across the throat.


    A storm was coming.


    One born not from rebellion, but from Olympian vengeance.


    But far away, alone in her room, Athena was listening to the Olympians and chuckled to herself.


    "Let them rage. But the spark has already been lit. A king has fallen. But his flame will ignite a thousand more."


    She was sure that soon, somewhere, deep in the mortal world, as words of Herios¡¯ last stand will start to spread...


    Boys who were weak will pick up wooden swords.


    Girls who were afraid will begin to dream of defiance.


    And all across the world¡ª S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Heroes will be born.

 Chapter 97 - 51: Goodbye

    Chapter 97: Chapter 51: GoodbyeHigh atop a hill, far from the effects of the war between men and divine, Hades, Lord of the Dead, wore his shadowed crown with a solemn dignity.


    His dark robes fluttered gently with the windless air.


    He sat upon a lone boulder, hunched forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees.


    He had been watching the battle, from start to now, when Herios¡ªthe Unifier of Man, the God-Slayer, the King of Humanity¡ªhas diedd.


    Hades breathed deeply, a sad, wistful smile playing on his lips.


    "...Aah, so it¡¯s finally over." he murmured. "A mortal who defied the divine... yet died not with hatred, but honor. Herios, you are truly a great man."


    Hades stood, looking behind him over his shoulders, "So? Are you ready to move on?"


    Behind him, a shape materialized slowly from the mist and shadow, stepping into the soft glow of the fields beyond.


    It was Herios


    His eyes were calm, deep, and full of a strange peace... and sorrow.


    Hades turned to face him.


    And then, to the surprise of the god, the man who had refused to kneel to gods in life, who had challenged fate itself and spat into the face of destiny....kneeled.


    Herios kneeled.


    His one good knee touched the soil. His head bowed low.


    Not in submission.


    But in reverence.


    Not for all gods.


    But for this one god.


    "My lord," Herios whispered. "I have come home."


    Hades¡¯ smile faded. Not in disappointment, but in ache and understanding.


    He stepped forward, voice deep and kind. "You do not need to kneel to me, Herios. You earned your place by walking upright when all others fell."


    Herios lifted his head slightly. His voice trembled with emotion.


    "Please, allow me to show my respect this way, lord Hades."


    There was a deep and heavy silence.


    Hades looked down at the soul of the mortal king and asked softly. "Very well. So then, are you ready to go?"


    But Herios looked at him in the eyes, his mouth curving upward. Not quite a smile, but something near it.


    "Can we speak for a while... before I cross?"


    Hades tilted his head. Then, he walked past Herios, motioning for him to rise.


    "Come. Walk with me, king of men."


    The two figures¡ªone god, one mortal¡ªwalked side by side as a gentle breeze pass by them.


    Leaves swayed, animals parted, as if giving way to the two great figures.


    "Ask what you will," said the god.


    Herios closed his eyes, although he couldn¡¯t feel the wind, he still felt a sense of serenity...like a child laying under the shade of a tree, enjoying the gentle caress of a cool wind.


    "Did I do right?" he asked. "All that I¡¯ve done, fighting gods, uniting tribes, dying alone... was it worth it?"


    Hades was quiet for a time. His gaze was heavy.


    "You did more than right," he finally said. "You reminded the world that greatness is not born in Olympus. It is forged in fire, tested in loss, and defined in the moment one refuses to fall."


    "You inspired gods to cry," Hades continued. "And made mortals believe they could reach the stars. That is a legacy no divine wrath can consume."


    Herios bowed his head. For once, tears rolled down his cheeks. Not from pain. Not from loss.


    But from a strange, warm peace.


    "I thought I would burn out, and be forgotten."


    Hades shook his head.


    "You will not be forgotten."


    Herios looked toward the fields again, "Will the gods come for mankind now? Will Zeus strike them down?"


    Hades¡¯ face darkened slightly, and then he nodded. "They won¡¯t. I can¡¯t personally prevent them from granting blessings to their believers, but I promise that they will not be able to directly interfere with the humans."


    Herios nodded at that, "That will be more than enough."


    The then arrived under an olive tree, where Hades created a seat made from stone for them to sit down.


    Herios sat slouched on the stone bench beside the god,


    Hades regarded him with an unreadable expression¡ªsomething between fatherly care and quiet mourning.


    Herios broke the silence first, staring down at his hands. "I was afraid. The whole time. I didn¡¯t want to die."


    Hades turned toward him, more fully now. "Courage isn¡¯t never fearing death. It¡¯s standing anyway, despite the fear."


    The words made Herios flinch¡ªnot from pain, but from the unbearable kindness of them. His lip trembled slightly, and his voice came out hoarse.


    "Did you see it? My last stand?"


    Hades smiled faintly. "Yes. I saw it. From beginning to the end."


    Herios swallowed hard. "Was my death worth it?"


    Hades nodded. "Very much so. I am sure, that once people heard of your tale, they will gain courage and power to be more than they are. To be greater than what the gods have decided for them. You will inspire an entire age, an age of heroes."


    Herios looked away quickly, blinking tears from his eyes.


    "I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d cry in death." he muttered.


    Hades smirked softly. "Souls cry more than you¡¯d think. The dead remember what the living try to forget."


    They sat in silence again for a while, the weight of memory draped over both of them.


    Then Herios asked, barely more than a whisper. "Are you proud of me?"


    It struck Hades in the chest. He had seen thousands of great figures, gods, and titans pass through his realm.


    But none had ever asked that. Not like this.


    He didn¡¯t answer at first. Instead, he reached out slowly and placed a hand on Herios¡¯ shoulder.


    "Yes," he said. "More than you know" sea??h th§× N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Herios closed his eyes tightly, trembling like a child held after a storm.


    "I tried so hard not to bend," he said. "They kept telling me I should kneel. That it was foolish to fight gods. That humanity was meant to obey."


    He looked up, eyes burning. "But I couldn¡¯t. Not after everything we suffered. I couldn¡¯t pretend it was alright."


    Hades nodded, "You made your choice, and defied the will of gods. No need to lament, you have chosen your own path."


    He laughed bitterly. "I wanted to be a farmer, once. Just a boy with dirt under his nails. No sword. No crown."


    Herios turned toward him fully now, eyes red and aching. "Lord Hades... Will they be alright? Will they continue what I started? Will humanity truly, one day, conquer the stars?"


    Hades looked out over the horizon of the mortal world, where faint echoes of mortal prayers have reached him.


    "They will. Slowly. Painfully. But they will. No gods or monsters can take that away from them."


    Herios let out a long breath and leaned back on the bench.


    "I didn¡¯t get to say goodbye to anyone," he said. "Didn¡¯t even tell them to keep fighting."


    "You said it, Herios," Hades said. "With every breath you took in that final hour. With every wound you refused to die from. That was your goodbye."


    Herios smiled faintly. "Maybe you¡¯re right. Kaerion will do well even without me. My council will make sure everything is in order. My people will mourn and grieve, but would rise again."


    Hades looked at him, "...Yes, you can leave everything to them."


    Herios¡¯ looked up and closed his eyes. "I¡¯m tired."


    Hades rose from the bench. "You¡¯ve earned your rest."


    Herios stood too. His hands had stopped shaking. The weight on his shoulders seemed lighter, not because it was gone¡ªbut because he no longer carried it alone.


    They began walking again, this time toward a massive gate that appeared out of nowhere, giving off a serene yet eerie feel.


    However, before they could enter, Herios paused once more.


    "If I forget who I was, in the next life... will you remember me?"


    Hades smiled.


    "I will remember, always. And when your name is sung by future generations, I will whisper to the stars; That was my champion."


    Herios nodded, chest full of something indescribable¡ªpride, sorrow, peace.


    He turned to face the gate. As its light touched him, he whispered one last question.


    "Do you think I was a good king?"


    Hades didn¡¯t hesitate.


    "You were the first true king."


    And with that, Herios stepped forward.


    The gate opened.


    And the king walked into his next destination.

 Chapter 98 - 52:

    Chapter 98: Chapter 52:The battlefield was silent.


    The sky, once blackened with smoke and fury, had calmed into a gray stillness, as if the heavens themselves mourned. S§×arch* The N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Amid the shattered earth, fallen weapons, and broken banners, there stood a single figure¡ªunmoving, resolute.


    Herios. Or what remained of him.


    His corpse stood upright, planted like a monument to defiance.


    His eyes, once fierce and commanding, were closed gently now, like a warrior at rest.


    No wind stirred his cloak, no birds circled above.


    The world, it seemed, had paused to grieve.


    And at his feet knelt Kaerion.


    His right arm was gone, torn away in the final charge against the divine constructs. His body bore the wounds of battle like scripture. Dried blood caked his face, and his breathing was shallow, raspy.


    But he knelt, spine straight, head bowed not in defeat, but in reverence.


    Three days had passed since the final breath of Herios echoed into the wind.


    Three days since the remaining divine spirits felt despair and fled in awe and fear of what they had witnessed....a mortal king who did not kneel, who declared his final truth with blood and blade.


    The golems they had left behind¡ªsoulless, tireless, machines of war¡ªhad stayed.


    But they were no match for the fury of a kingdom mourning their king.


    For three days, Kaerion and the last soldiers of Herion had fought them, tearing metal from metal, bone against brass, until the last glowing core was shattered beneath their blades.


    Now, it was over.


    Kaerion gazed up at Herios¡¯ lifeless form, tears carving silent trails through the grime on his cheeks.


    "My king," he whispered, voice cracking. "You stood when the gods turned their eyes upon us. You bled for every child behind our walls. You gave your last breath not for glory, but for hope."


    He paused, swallowing his grief.


    "I¡ªI was not strong enough to die beside you. I lived when you did not. I crawled away, ashamed that I still drew breath when your light had gone out."


    He reached out with his remaining hand and touched the base of Herios¡¯ sword.


    "Now, I kneel to you. I cannot promise anything else, but I swear in my life that what you have done, what you believed in, will never be forgotten."


    Kaerion¡¯s voice grew louder, stronger.


    "You were the greatest king this world has ever known. Past, present, or future¡ªnone shall match the weight of your crown, nor the fire in your eyes. Not even the gods shall birth a ruler like you again."


    Behind him, quiet footsteps stirred.


    One by one, soldiers emerged from the fog¡ªbandaged, limping, but alive.


    And behind them are civilians.


    Old men who had taught the young to read in Herios¡¯ schools.


    Children who had grown up beneath the protection of his walls.


    Mothers, farmers, craftsmen, and scholars.


    Thousands gathered, drawn as if by instinct, by something deeper than law.


    They came not to look upon a corpse, but to bear witness to the end of an era.


    And when they saw Kaerion kneeling, they too knelt.


    Tens, hundreds, thousands.


    The last citizen of Herion dropped to their knees before their king.


    There were no horns, no songs.


    Only silence. And grief.


    But it was a sacred grief, a reverent sorrow that bound them together in a moment that would be etched into the stone of history.


    And then Kaerion spoke again, rising shakily to his feet.


    "He did not kneel, not to gods, nor spirits, nor monsters. But we kneel, all of us now, not in worship, but in farewell. In thanks for what he gave, and what he bore."


    The people did not cry out. They did not scream or chant.


    They whispered, as if too loud a sound would disturb him.


    "Herios."


    The name passed from lip to lip, a sacred hymn.


    "Herios."


    A name that would echo in tombs and temples, in scrolls and song, for ages to come.


    Kaerion reached forward and gently laid a worn crown¡ªretrieved from the battlefield¡ªat Herios¡¯ feet.


    "This world will change," Kaerion whispered. "But not without you. You will remain in our hearts, in our memory, in the fire we pass to those who come will after."


    And then he fell to his knees again, not in ceremony, but in exhaustion. He wept, openly, and the crowd did not look away. They, too, allowed their tears to fall.


    High above, the clouds parted, and for a moment, a shaft of golden sunlight pierced the gloom, touching Herios¡¯ body.


    It was the first light the battlefield had seen in days.


    Some said it was coincidence.


    Others said it was the heavens weeping.


    But those who were there that day¡ªwho knelt with blood on their clothes and love in their hearts¡ªthey knew.


    It was Herios¡¯ final blessing.


    And so, beneath that fractured sky, the Kingdom of Herion laid their king to rest¡ªnot with fire or stone, but with memory.


    And Herios, the king who would not kneel, stood tall.


    Forever.


    *


    *


    *


    Underworld.


    The River Styx whispered with silence and reverence as the soul of Herios drifted across its black waters.


    Charon did not speak, did not glance down as he rowed. Even the overworked boatman seemed reverent, sensing the weight of the soul he ferried.


    On the opposite bank stood Hades, cloaked in shadows, completely unseen. He did not walk forward, nor call out, but merely watched.


    He does not want to disturb the final journey of the once great king.


    Herios stepped onto the banks of the Underworld with quiet dignity, saying his thanks to Charon as the ferryman left to ferry other souls.


    "...after life." Herios whispered.


    No spirits cheered for him. No gods greeted him.


    The land was completely still, and yet, there was no fear in his eyes, only relief peace.


    He made his way to the River Lethe, the silver current that took memory in exchange for rebirth.


    He does not want to live in Underworld as a ¡¯Heroic Spirit¡¯, spirits of great figures who can live together with the underworld gods.


    He gazed into the river for a long time, watching the swirling shimmer of his past: the battles, the betrayals, the fires, the monsters.


    And then, his people. Their hope, their tears, their voices chanting his name as he died standing.


    He turned to the attendant spirit overseeing rebirth¡ªa quiet, pale godling in gray robes.


    "Can I be reborn as a farmer?" Herios asked.


    The lesser god blinked in surprise. "A farmer?"


    "Yes. A man of the soil. One with no crown, no sword, no legacy to bear. Just a man who tills the earth, loves his wife, and watches his children grow old."


    The spirit looked unsure, but nodded solemnly.


    "Your request... shall be honored. The threads of fate will bend for you, just this once."


    From the shadows, Hades allowed himself a faint smile.


    He followed as Herios stepped into the mists of reincarnation, his soul shining faintly¡ªthen flickering, then vanishing into the world above.


    Hades tinkered with the reincarnation a little bit, making sure that Herios will be reborn in a completely new world he will enjoy.


    Once he was gone, Hades finally moved.


    He turned, vanishing through the folds of the Underworld¡¯s veils and ascending the dark tunnels between realms.


    His destination: the deepest forest where stars kissed the earth and roots whispered secrets¡ªthe Dwelling of Gaia.


    There, amid wild flowers taller than men, and trees older than memory, sat the Mother of Earth, cradling a child in her arms.


    Her body, vast and verdant, hummed with life. Her skin shimmered like moss over ancient stone. Her eyes were deep pools of green.


    Around her danced the Giants¡ªtheir children, titanic and raw in power, though not yet fully grown.


    Some shaped mountains with their fists.


    Others drank sunlight like nectar.


    Despite these, Gaia¡¯s eyes were on the smallest one in her lap.


    Nekyria.


    A child not born for the purpose of punishing the gods, but from the need of a man to be transcend.


    A union of two ancient forces¡ªHades, Lord of the Underworld, and Gaia, Mother of All.


    She was a perfect being, still infantile, but radiant with a terrifying potential.


    Hades stepped forth, his aura parting the tall grass.


    Gaia looked up at him, and for a moment, the world itself seemed to pause.


    "You watched him?" she asked.


    Hades nodded. "From the River Styx to his final wish at Lethe. He has chosen to be reborn in the world of men as a farmer."


    Gaia smiled faintly, brushing a leaf from Nekyria¡¯s golden lashes.


    "A fitting end for a soul who carried the world."


    Hades stepped forward and crouched beside her, eyes on their daughter.


    "I¡¯ve come to take Nekyria to the Underworld for a time. I wish to introduce her... to my vessels. To the spirits who serve me. To the place that will one day be part of her legacy."


    Gaia tilted her head. "You wish for her to be your successor?"


    "If she wants to, then maybe one day." Hades replied gently. "But I doubt it. She is born to be far greater than any beings in existence. She won¡¯t just be a mere ruler of the dead."


    Gaia studied him for a long time, as the trees swayed gently around her.


    Then, she nodded. "Take her. Let her see the lands of the dead. Let her feel the weight of what you carry."


    Hades carefully picked up the infant. Nekyria stirred but did not cry. Her dark eyes blinked once, then focused on her father.


    She reached for his hair, grasping it softly. The Lord of the Dead, who had known no true tenderness for eons, felt his heart ache with something ancient and unspoken.


    He turned to leave¡ªbut Gaia¡¯s voice stopped him.


    "Hades."


    He glanced back.


    Gaia stood now, tall and commanding, her hair flowing like vines through the sky.


    "The time is coming," she said, eyes hardening. "The Olympians grow fat and arrogant. Their age of order is built on the bones of my children. I will not allow them to choke the world further. Once the Giants have reached their maturity, I will start my plans."


    A silence passed between them, old and vast.


    "You mean your war." Hades stated.


    "It is not war." Gaia replied. "It is retribution. I will punish those who are destroying me."


    Hades remained silent.


    Gaia continued, "I ask you, when my retribution begins... will you open Tartarus?"


    The question lingered like poison in the air.


    Hades¡¯ eyes narrowed. "You want me to release the Titans?"


    "Yes. They are your prisoners. You hold the keys."


    Hades was silent. His gaze lowered to Nekyria¡¯s peaceful face, then rose again to Gaia¡¯s eyes.


    "No," he said at last. "I will not free them. I will not allow any beings imprisoned in Tartarus to be released."


    Gaia¡¯s face showed no anger, nor disappointment.


    She had expected such answer.


    "Then will you oppose me?"


    Hades shook his head.


    "I will not interfere. My realm is of the dead, not in the overworld. Let the world burn if it must¡ªbut I will not raise my hand for or against."


    A moment passed. Then Gaia smiled, a slow, knowing smile.


    That is more than enough," she said. "In fact, that is the best outcome. I cannot predict what will happen with if someone like you got involved."


    Hades hummed, giving her a nod before he turned away without another word, cradling his daughter.


    As he vanished into the shadows, the roots beneath the earth seemed to tremble, and the wind grew heavy with the scent of ash and new life.


    War was coming.


    And in the dark halls of the dead, a child would learn of silence, sorrow, and the future her bloodline was destined to shape.

 Chapter 99 - 53: The Return

    Chapter 99: Chapter 53: The ReturnThe gates of the Underworld did not open with sound or grandeur.


    They simply recognized the presence of their master and yielded without resistance.


    The air shimmered as Hades crossed the threshold, no longer veiled in shadows or illusion.


    For the first time in many years, the Lord of the Dead walked openly through his own dominion.


    And on his arms, his child, born from the union of the three realms.


    *


    The Core Section of the Underworld was unlike the desolate outskirts where sinners wailed or souls wandered aimlessly.


    Here, cities floated in the dark sky, tethered to one another by bridges of starlight and mist.


    Massive fortresses and palaces constructed from black marble and stygian glass hovered in the endless twilight, their structures glowing faintly with runes of old magic.


    This was where gods, divine spirits, and great souls dwelled¡ªa divine capital for the ruler of the dead.


    At the very center of it all floated the Hanging Fortress¡ªa structure suspended by chains of pure divinity and divine law.


    There resided the seat of power, the Throne of Hades, and the council halls of the twelve Underworld Patrons.


    And it was there that she felt him.


    Hecate, goddess of magic and crossroads, stirred from her spellwork. Her senses, sharpened by centuries of silence and sorcery, prickled with a familiar presence.


    Hades had returned.


    "Lord Hades... So you finally chose to return."


    She looked up, and quickly, her form dissolved into a mist of starlight and shadows.


    In the space of a breath, she reappeared before him, in the grand entrance of the floating fortress where no guards stood, for none were needed.


    He walked slowly, draped in black robes that fluttered like smoke, his presence made the fortress walls pulse softly in recognition.


    Hecate halted, her eyes widening.


    "You¡¯ve returned," she said with a soft smile. "....done with your experiments?"


    Hades inclined his head, his expression unreadable, but his aura warmer than it had been in years.


    Before he could speak, Hecate¡¯s gaze fell upon his arms.


    There, wrapped in a bundle of rich emerald cloth¡ªwas a child.


    A female baby.


    Her skin shimmered faintly with the glow of new divinity, and her dark eyes looked around the world not with fear, but with curiosity.


    Her breath caught.


    She stepped forward slowly, as if drawn by a spell. Her hands hovered over the child, not touching, but feeling something.


    "This child..." she whispered.


    A current passed through her, like the meeting of two primal rivers.


    She felt Hades¡¯ power, the unmistakable sovereignty of death, of mortality, of primordial sky.


    But interwoven with it was another primal force¡ªrich, fertile, ancient beyond memory.


    The power of life, of earth, of the first mother.


    Instantly, she felt an unprecedented feeling of anger and betrayal, a feeling she have rarely felt aside from when Hades would spend time with Hera or Aphrodite more than her.


    Or when he would enjoy the company of Demeter and Minthe more than hers.


    A completely illogical feeling.


    Something she wished she wouldn¡¯t feel because it makes her depressed.


    "She bears your divinity," Hecate said slowly, awe blooming in her voice. "But there is more... Gaia." S§×ar?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Hades nodded. "Her name is Nekyria."


    The name echoed through the air as if the Underworld itself had paused to listen.


    "Born of me and Gaia."


    Hecate blinked. Once again, for a brief moment, her stomach churned from a foreign feeling. Her heart beat faster, as the feeling like she was betrayed by someone she trusted the most butned intensely


    She had known Hades for eons, stood beside him when he has yet to claim his throne.


    If he wanted an heir, then shouldn¡¯t he choose to have a child with someone close to him? Someone he could trust? Someone that remined loyal and accompany him for everything that he¡¯s been through?


    Of course she wasn¡¯t talking about Hera.


    Nor was she talking about that love-obsessed fool.


    And definitely not that mint-sniffer.


    "Why?" Hecate asked flatly. "Do you like Gaia? Let me tell you, that old hag may look motherly and gentle, but she¡¯s a total b¡ª, terrible person."


    "Aren¡¯t most gods?" Hades raised a brow.


    Hecate has no counter to that. But once she does, oh he¡¯s so gonna get it!


    Hades looked down at the child, brushing a lock of dark hair from her cheek.


    Damn him and his irrefutable logic!


    Someday, she will get her revenge!


    Doesn¡¯t he know that she¡¯s already burning with intense feeling of ¡¯uncertain¡¯ emotion!?


    What would he feel if she choose to have a child with someone!?


    ...urgh. On second thought, better not.


    She¡¯s going to puke just thinking of laying with another god.


    "Back to your question...no, I have no romantic feelings for Gaia if that¡¯s what you¡¯re asking."


    Hecate studied his face carefully, and immediately felt a wave of relief wash over her.


    Come on, he should¡¯ve said that earlier!


    "And this child... what is she to you?" She asked, this time, her tone of voice was much happier.


    Hades met her gaze. He noticed it also, but didn¡¯t comment on it.


    "Someone... important." He answered.


    A silence followed, not cold or fearful, but full of gravity. As if the Underworld itself shifted its weight in acknowledgment.


    Hecate turned her eyes to Nekyria again. The infant reached toward her, fingers glowing faintly with green light.


    A vine sprouted from her sleeve, coiling in the air like a serpent made of blossoms.


    "She has both your calm... and Gaia¡¯s wildness." Hecate smiled. "A flower blooming in the dark."


    "Yes." Hades smiled faintly, "Truthfully, I wasn¡¯t supposed to care this much for a mere child... But I guess, some ¡¯people¡¯ really changed my mind."


    Hecate nodded, asking no further. "Will she be your heir?"


    "Maybe. For now, I want her to see the underworld. Understand my realm. Understand my domain. Then she will walk the surface. See what the gods have done. What men have become."


    She gazed again at the child. "...a child born from the union of the three realms. This child will surely be feared."


    "She will be, surely." Hades answered. "But she will also be loved. That is why I brought her here first. To know what it is to be a vessel for others, not a tyrant over them."


    Hecate¡¯s gaze deepened. "You seem to want her to be a great ruler."


    Hades said nothing for a moment. "Herios asked me if what he did mattered. If I was proud."


    "And were you?"


    Hades gave the faintest nod. "He died standing. Not for gods. Not for glory. But for his people. That is what I want Nekyria to understand."


    Just then, the fortress doors opened behind them, as if responding to his words.


    "Call my patrons. I will meet with them and introduce my daughter to them."


    "As you wished, my lord." Hecate bowed.


    A faint smirk appeared on her lips.


    His subjects will now meet with the heir of their most respected king.


    Hecate can already imagine the reaction of Hera and Aphrodite.


    The time she spent creating a spell to record and preserve events and situations was so worth it just for that moment!


    "Will you walk with me?" Hades asked Hecate.


    She raised her head, and extended her hand toward Nekyria, who grasped one of her fingers tightly.


    "Always."


    She will follow him.


    Until the end of her existence.

 Chapter 100 - 54:

    Chapter 100: Chapter 54:In the deepest core of the Underworld, where the Hanging Fortress floated in eternal twilight above the city of Nox, a single magical pulse reverberated across the realm.


    It was Hecate¡¯s call¡ªsubtle to mortals, but thunder to gods.


    A summoning that needed no words.


    Across the vast dominion of Erebus, they felt it.


    Hera, still wrapped in divine grace despite the age-old embers of resentment from being left to deal with all internal affairs of Underworld that clung to her heart, looked up from her chambers carved in white obsidian.


    She knew this call, and she did not hesitate.


    With a wide smile, she vanished in a shimmer of gold.


    Thanatos, the God of Death, paused from his silent vigil among the souls of the recently departed.


    He whispered one last comfort to a frightened spirit before fading into shadow.


    Hypnos, his brother, roused from a dreamless slumber beneath a willow tree beside his personal spring.


    His eyes, still drowsy, opened as he let the winds of sleep lift him toward the throne.


    The Five River Gods¡ªStyx, Acheron, Cocytus, Phlegethon, and Lethe¡ªheard the call through the very waters they governed.


    Waves shifted against gravity and currents flowed in reverse, stirred by the heartbeat of their king¡¯s return.


    They left their domains, water trailing behind them like ribbons.


    Keres, draped in a bloodstained shroud, soared above the desolate battlegrounds of the damned, her fierce and bloodthirsty eyes gleaming.


    She followed the call without question, dragging the scent of iron with her.


    Eris, goddess of discord, arrived with a smirk, trailing whispers and illusions in her wake.


    The Underworld rumbled uneasily as she moved.


    And finally, Aphrodite¡ªradiant and resplendent, untamed by the darkness¡ªgathered herself in silken petals and streaked toward the Hanging Fortress in a storm of pink and gold.


    They all converged in the Throne Hall, a vast, vaulted chamber of black crystal and floating sigils.


    At its center stood the Throne of Hades, carved from fragments of the first stone that sealed the Gates of Death.


    It had remained empty for years¡ªuntil now.


    Hades sat upon it once more.


    He did not speak. He did not move. But the very air around him bowed in reverence.


    He held a child¡ªNekyria, the daughter born of death and earth, wrapped in emerald cloth and glowing with a gentle light that seemed to soften the shadows around them.


    The eleven gods appeared in a swirl of divine motion.


    One by one, they materialized in the throne hall, each bearing the distinct scent and weight of their domains.


    Finally, as the last god arrived, Hecate stood in front of them and bowed to Hades.


    "My king, the Twelve Patron Gods have gathered. We hear and obey."


    " "We Hear And Obey!" "


    Without a word, they all knelt.


    A sign of their utmost respect and reverence to the god seated on that throne.


    Even Hera, his sister, knelt.


    Only a certain goddess of love and beauty did not.


    Aphrodite, full of life, passion, and recklessness, darted forward in a burst of wild rose petals.


    "Welcome home, my love!" she cried, flying straight toward Hades, arms wide, eyes glittering with delight.


    Before she could reach him however, a cold wind surged across the room.


    Vines of silver mist materialized mid-air, wrapping around Aphrodite and halting her movement inches away from Hades¡¯ throne.


    Hecate, still kneeling, had raised a hand with two fingers held upward in a silent sign. Her golden eyes glowed softly. S§×arch* The N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Compose yourself, Aphrodite," she said coolly, not looking at her, but at Hades.


    Aphrodite wriggled like a frustrated child. "I was just¡ª"


    Thanatos stood, casting his icy gaze toward her. "You do not fly at the King of the Dead as if he were a lover returned from war. You stand as his subject."


    Aphrodite¡¯s lips parted in protest, but seeing the unflinching stare of Hades, who remained silent, she sighed and lowered her head.


    "Forgive me, my king." The words tasted bitter on her tongue, but she bowed nonetheless.


    The mist unwrapped and faded into the stone.


    Hades finally stirred, eyes landing on Aphrodite as he offered a small smile. "...we can spend some time alone later, just the two of us."


    Aphrodite¡¯s eyes gleamed in joy, and sent Hades a flying kiss much to the anger and disgust of Hera and Hecate.


    Hades simply nodded and swept his eyes across the room slowly¡ªdark as the abyss, but never cruel.


    They lingered briefly on each face, seeing not only their form, but the weight they carried.


    He looked to Hera and nodded once. She inclined her head in quiet understanding.


    To Thanatos and Hypnos, his first companions after the Titanomachy, he gave a rare flicker of warmth.


    To Styx, he merely gazed. She placed a fist to her chest.


    Then he spoke¡ªhis voice quiet, but undeniable, like the echo of a stone dropped in eternity.


    "I have returned. I believe you managed my realm while I was away?"


    Hera quickly stood up and reported, "I have promoted several divine spirits into lesser gods to help lessen the workload of our workers."


    Hades nodded, "You did good. Thank you Hera."


    "Anytime, brother."


    "Well... " Hades raised the child to show it to the patrons, "Enough about that for now. This time, I will introduce you to my daighter, Nekyria."


    He stood from the throne, child in arms. Nekyria blinked as the divine lights of the hall reflected in her eyes.


    The hall held its breath.


    "This child is my daughter. Born of Gaia and me. Her name is Nekyria."


    Shock rippled through the hall like a tremor.


    Whispers stirred.


    Eyes widened.


    Even Hera, always composed, looked stricken for a moment.


    At the same time, she felt an endless sense of unhealthy jealousy as she, for a brief moment, glared at the child. But she soon snap out of her thoughts and mentally slap herself for thinking of something bad to a child.


    Hades¡¯ child no less!


    Thankfully, they weren¡¯t married yet, or else her authority would¡¯ve already made her go insane.


    Aphrodite...well, Aphrodite is Aphrodite.


    "My king! I want a child too! Please impregna¡ªmmphg! Mmphg?!"


    Before Aphrodite could finish her words, Hecate completely sealed her mouth shut.


    "Please continue your majesty," Hecate looked urgent but respectful.


    Hades nodded.


    "She will walk among us," Hades continued. "Learn from us. And one day... she will rule. Not as a tyrant. Not as a destroyer. But as one who understands life and death alike."


    He stepped forward, allowing the child to look at the kneeling gods.


    "You are my patrons. You are her family. You will guide her, each in your way."


    Hecate rose to her feet first and walked to Hades¡¯ side. "I will teach her the mysteries between light and dark, sleep and waking, the known and the unknown."


    Thanatos stood next. "And I will show her the mercy in endings."


    Hypnos followed. "And the power in rest."


    Styx stepped forward. "She will know what it means to honor her word."


    One by one, they all rose, pledging their role in Nekyria¡¯s life.


    Even Aphrodite, quieter now, walked forward and knelt again, gazing at the child.


    "If she is to be loved... let her know love that does not burn to ash."


    Keres, with her ghostly voice, whispered, "She will learn what should be feared... and what must be endured."


    Eris only smiled and said, "She¡¯ll know how to break the world... and how to stitch it back together."


    The hall pulsed as each god offered their vow.


    Hades looked down at his daughter, her tiny fingers clutching the edge of his cloak.


    A new Chapter had begun in the Underworld¡ªone not built on judgment or vengeance, but hope.


    And all twelve patrons¡ªtwelve forces of death, change, chaos, and love¡ªstood behind the child who would one day inherit the balance of the world.

 Chapter 101 - 1: The Gigantomachy

    Chapter 101: Chapter 1: The GigantomachyThe Epic of Herios¡ªthe tale of the first man who rose against the darkness, the king who united tribes and held back the monstrous tide, the First Hero.


    His name echoed through the annals of time like thunder trapped in the bones of mountains.


    It was said that the goddess Athena herself had written the epic in golden script, engraved on the walls of her hidden sanctuary¡ªa place mortals could not reach, yet whose influence shaped every bard¡¯s tale and every child¡¯s dream of valor.


    She had watched him from afar, silent and curious at first, but over time, the goddess of wisdom became captivated¡ªno, obsessed¡ªwith the mortal man named Herios.


    Not because he wielded magic or power, but because he stood without them.


    He stood against monsters born of divine wrath.


    He stood when death was certain, and in dying, he changed the course of the world.


    A man who started the era of humanity with his birth, and began the age of heroes with his death.


    It had been centuries since Herios fell in battle, his body buried but eternally entombed in the hearts of mankind.


    Over time, the Kingdom of Herion¡ªthe kingdom he had forged with blood and fire¡ªdwindled into a city-state, a powerful remnant of the world¡¯s beginning.


    However, Herion remained a global power that terrifies many states. It remained the land of heroes and the capital state of underworld gods believers.


    Even as empires rose and fell, Herion endured like a scar that would not fade.


    Nestled between mountains and rivers, Herion had become a land of philosophers and soldiers, of old laws and older legends.


    Pilgrims came from distant shores just to walk its ancient avenues, where the stones still bore the heat of Herios¡¯ final march.


    And within Herion, in the upper quarter reserved for the divine, stood the Temple of Hecate.


    It was a towering, spired cathedral of onyx and silver. Torches burned with purple flames, and beneath the high arch of its inner sanctum, the statue of Hecate loomed¡ªserene and mysterious.


    Her triple faces(carved from human imagination) stared into past, present, and future.


    In her hand she held a lamp that never extinguished, the Flame of Forewarning, as it was known to the faithful.


    There, knelt before her, was Priest Malchior, the High Seer of Herion.


    Robed in black and violet, his face gaunt with sleepless nights, he bowed low until his forehead touched the obsidian floor.


    The scent of lavender and ash lingered around him, remnants of the offerings burned earlier that morning.


    He had been praying, as he did every dusk, for clarity¡ªfor signs.


    Then, it happened.


    The flame in Hecate¡¯s statue flared, casting the room in flickering violet light.


    A chill swept through the chamber, though no wind had entered. Malchior¡¯s eyes snapped open.


    The world around him faded.


    Darkness fell.


    Then, a voice¡ªnot a sound, but a presence¡ªentered his mind like a whisper made of lightning.


    "Malchior..."


    He trembled. He knew the voice of the goddess.


    "A great war comes... fire and blood will soak the soil of mortals. Kingdoms will burn, faiths will be tested. You must prepare."


    As suddenly as it began, the presence vanished.


    Malchior fell backward, gasping. The flame in the statue dimmed to its original glow, as if nothing had occurred.


    But the priest sat there frozen, drenched in sweat, his chest heaving.


    For a moment, he could not speak.


    But soon, he rose with the swiftness of panic, robes trailing behind him as he moved through the candle-lit halls.


    Outside, a young worshipper, perhaps no older than twenty, waited patiently beside a basin of holy water.


    Malchior approached him and gripped his shoulder. His eyes burned with purpose.


    "Go," he said. "Go to the City Lord. Tell him the Flame has spoken. The goddess has foreseen a war that will consume the world. He must ready the armies. Prepare the walls. Begin the summoning rites of the Patrons. We must awaken the Sentinels."


    The worshipper blinked. "The... the Sentinels, my lord? They have not been called since¡ª"


    "Since the age of Herios," Malchior interrupted.


    Sentinels.


    Elite warriors descended from the soldiers who accompanied Herios in his final moments.


    The strongest spear of Herion that can only be called upon when the state is on the verge of being destroyed.


    Most of the time, they remained on Mount Herios, a mountain where people have build a temple along with the grave of Herios, guarding it.


    Rumors says that Sentinels can even kill a Divine Spirits, if this was true or not, no one knows.


    And no one was willing to try and test it out.


    "We don¡¯t have much time. Now the wheel turns again, and a war on a scale never seen since the Fall of Herios may happen soon."


    The worshipper nodded with trembling reverence and sprinted down the stairs, disappearing into the street like a streak of smoke. S~ea??h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Left alone in the sanctum, Malchior returned to the statue and knelt once more, his voice a whisper.


    "Lady Hecate... please... let us survive what is to come."


    *


    *


    *


    That night, the bells of Herion rang for the first time in a hundred years.


    The City Lord, old and gray but still sharp-eyed, ordered the walls reinforced.


    The city gates were sealed.


    Smoke rose from smithies as weapons long rusted were reforged.


    The sacred texts of Herios were read aloud in the central plaza, reminding the people of the last time darkness had threatened the world.


    Herion is the city of Heroes.


    No one here was born a coward.


    They were ready for war any time.


    And so, across Herion, as stars blinked overhead, families huddled in their homes. The winds felt colder. The air heavier. Priests in temples across the city lit purple flames in silence.


    Something was coming.


    Something ancient.


    And Herion, the city of beginnings, would once more be its first battleground.


    *


    *


    *


    In a pitch black space, separated from the very fabric of reality itself, Gaia can be seen sitting on a stone throne, eyes closed.


    Her beautiful figure was emphasized by a revealing white robe, her breath causing the very foundation of the world to bow in reverence.


    Too long.


    Too long has she waited.


    Waiting for this moment.


    The moment when her children wound grow up and be able to defeat the Olympians.


    Then her eyes opened.


    And the world trembled.


    A single breath¡ªone drawn through immortal lungs¡ªechoed across the tapestry of existence.


    Earthquakes rolled beneath distant seas. Forests bowed as though in reverence.


    Volcanoes stirred, rumbling as if it was about to explode.


    Gaia inhaled.


    And in that breath, the mountains heard her. The deep roots of trees straightened in attention.


    The very tectonic plates groaned, shifting subtly as if they were her bones stretching awake from slumber.


    Suspended in that immeasurable realm beyond perception, her eyes¡ªtwin orbs of green and obsidian, reflecting both nurture and fury¡ªopened wide and sharp.


    With a gaze capable of unraveling reality, she turned her face to Olympus.


    She saw the gilded marble spires, the nectar gardens, and the radiant halls of the gods who had once been her favourites.


    She saw the library of Metis, the lightning-forged throne of Zeus, and the simmering pools where gods feasted while the mortal world toiled.


    She stared.


    Unblinking.


    Unforgiving.


    "It is time."


    Her voice never reached the ears of gods or men.


    No sound echoed in the mortal realm. But the core of the world quivered. Deep-sea creatures stirred. The animals of the land paused mid-motion. Even the stars in the sky twinkled in uncanny synchronization.


    Behind her¡ªemerging like stone rising from the sea¡ªcame her children.


    The Giants, born of the fusion between underworld , primordial sky and primordial earth, stood tall and solemn.


    Each one bore a unique shape and strength, forged by nature¡¯s hand and godly will.


    Some were covered in scales made from volcanic rock; others had skins of polished obsidian.


    Horns curled like ancient mountain ranges; eyes blazed with molten hatred.


    Their height dwarfed mountains, their breath carried the wind of continents.


    They were not monsters. Nor were they gods nor titans.


    They were Gaia¡¯s vengeance given form.


    At the very center stood the largest of them¡ªAlkyoneus, the oldest, the tallest, the most silent.


    He carried no weapon, for he was a weapon. Where he walked, the earth bloomed and cracked simultaneously.


    Next to him was Porphyrion, with a crown of twisted branches and a cloak made from the hides of beasts extinct for millennia.


    There were twelve of them in total¡ªtwelve Giants conceived with Hades, the Lord of the Underworld¡ªeach with a spark of sky, the life of earth and the inevitability of death within them.


    Her thoughts wandered to her daughter whom she had grown fond of, Nekyria.


    The child born from the perfect union of the three realms and will one day, surely transcend even primordials like her.


    However, perhaps it is the universe¡¯s way of restricting her, Nekyria grows slowly.


    While most gods where born an adult, Nekyria was born a baby. While most gods already indulged in all sorts of depravity and succumbed to desires within a hundred years, Nekyria was still struggling to walk straight.


    However, perhaps it is because of that phenomenon that Gaia¡¯s motherly instinct awakened, and she had dote on her daughter too much.


    Unfortunately, she is currently in Underworld, and Hades would only bring her once every few years.


    Gaia¡¯s gaze lingered in that direction briefly, her lips pressing into a tight line¡ªbut then, she looked again to her warriors.


    "My sons," Gaia said, her voice thrumming through their souls like magma through stone, "the time of Olympian excess has reached its end."


    The Giants stood still.


    They had waited lifetimes in silence, slumbering beneath continents, hidden in caves older than mortal memory, shackled in mountain tombs and oceans deeper than words.


    But now they lifted their heads. Their eyes glowed.


    "Your blood is sacred," Gaia said, rising as she spoke, the womb of relity stirring around her. "Forged under the sky, from the womb of the world and the shadow of death. Your existence is more nobler than any gods or titans. Now, we must punish them for what they have done to this world."


    One by one, the Giants began to arm themselves.


    From caverns in the void, they pulled up ancient weapons forged in silence.


    Alkyoneus reached into the earth itself and pulled forth a spear made from the petrified spine of a sea beast.


    Porphyrion summoned lightning not from the sky, but from underground, coiling it into a greatbow with arrows that screamed as they were drawn.


    Others bore clubs made from fossilized forests, nets of woven stone, and chains rusted with the blood of Titan jailers.


    They readied armor that had not been worn since before the first Titanomachy, polished by lava and shadow.


    Gaia floated before them, growing with every breath she took. Her voice boomed:


    "Today, we shatter Olympus."


    Her hand stretched toward the dimensional veil separating their dark realm from the divine summit.


    "They perverted my land, insulted my authority," she said, eyes smoldering. "They drunk from sacred springs and laughed while mortals screamed. They abandoned balance for vanity. They call themselves gods, but they are nothing but a mistake."


    The Giants raised their weapons in unison.


    The space around them cracked. Reality fractured. The scent of rain and stone and blood filled the dark.


    "You will march upon the sky. You will break their temples. You will unseat their thrones. You will burn their false paradise down to its marble bones."


    A single, massive footstep fell forward.


    Alkyoneus moved first.


    Behind him, eleven others followed.


    The war was not yet declared to Olympus.


    But Gaia had spoken.


    And when the Primordial Earth breathes, even the gods must hold theirs.

 Chapter 102 - 2: Underworld

    Chapter 102: Chapter 2: UnderworldMIn the vastness of the Underworld, deep within the Core Section where immortal souls shimmered like stars and divine law was etched into obsidian walls, the Hanging Fortress floated over the ever-turning city of Nox like a silent moon.


    Below it, entire districts thrived¡ªhomes carved from crystal, gardens blooming with eternal night-flowers, and temples devoted to forgotten gods.


    What once was a land of sorrow and judgment had now become a sovereign realm¡ªorganized, prospering, divine in both order and mystery.


    It was a reflection of its master.


    On the highest level of the fortress, through black-stone archways guarded by river-born spirits and divine specters, lay the Throne Hall of Hades.


    And upon the throne, carved from midnight and adorned with underworld gold and sleeping gems, sat the god himself.


    Hades, King of the Dead. Master of Souls. High Patron of the Chthonic Realm.


    He sat not in shadow or silence, but in thought.


    On his lap sat a child¡ªsmall, bright-eyed, brimming with divine energy barely contained in her mortal-sized form.


    Nekyria, daughter of Gaia and Hades, their most perfect creation.


    She was the youngest among their children, yet her aura shimmered with incomprehensible potential.


    Her hair curled around her shoulders like vines, and her eyes sparkled as she kicked her feet in the air, humming softly.


    She did not understand the weight of the silence in the room. But her joy was enough to make it bearable.


    In Hades¡¯ hand¡ªhis other hand, the one not gently supporting Nekyria¡ªwas a sphere the size of a golf bolf.


    The Breakdown Sphere.


    It pulsed softly, a dim black-purple light flickering at its core like a trapped heartbeat.


    It was not divine, not mortal, not even magical in the traditional sense.


    It was conceptual, a condensation of laws and potential.


    Every breakthrough Hades had made in his long quest to surpass the limits of godhood¡ªthe limits placed even on those born from Chaos¡ªwas embedded in this artifact.


    Every calculation, every forbidden theory, every metaphysical venture into the invisible border between god and something beyond.


    The Breakdown Sphere was the sum of his obsession.


    It could work.


    It should work.


    And yet...


    He stared at it. Something was missing.


    A component he could not name, a material or essence he could not quantify.


    Not divine ichor, not titan marrow, not chaos thread.


    Something unknowable, something perhaps yet to be discovered.


    "Why doesn¡¯t it shine?" Nekyria asked softly, her small hand reaching toward the orb. "Aunt Hecate¡¯s orb can shine."


    Hades looked at her. Her innocence was like an open flame in a world of frost.


    "It¡¯s not ready," he replied, his voice like deep water over ancient stones. "It lacks its heart."


    She pouted, then leaned her cheek against his chest. "Will it help you fly?"


    "You don¡¯t need this to fly." Hades chuckled.


    Nekyria grumbled, "Then why can¡¯t I fly?"


    Hades has no answer to that. But it has been theorised by him and Gaia that it is the universe¡¯s way of suppressing something that can break out of it.


    Despite clearly having the greatest potential, Nekyria has shown no remarkable abilities, her power now despite being centuries old, is still barely comparable to a Divine Spirit.


    Not to mention her physical and mental growth has been slowed down drastically, making her behave like a normal, mortal child.


    Hades smiled, "Because you¡¯re still young. One day, you¡¯ll be able to do it, I promise."


    "Really?" Nekyria smiled brightly, "Then I can¡¯t wait to grow up!"


    Hades chuckled, a rare moment for the ever silent and brooding(he does not brood) god of underworld.


    At that moment, mist gathered before the throne. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    From the swirling grey stepped Hecate, her form briefly visible in the veil of fog. Her staff was alight with purple fire, and her cloak trailed behind her like liquid dusk.


    She bowed with a soft smile, her eyes shifting to Nekyria for a moment, who waved at her enthusiastically.


    "Greetings Hecate," Hades greeted, tucking the sphere away in the folds of his robes. "I trust you¡¯ve completed my command?"


    "Yes, my lord. I¡¯ve completed your command," she said. "The priest in Herion received my message. The city now knows the prophecy: war is coming."


    Hades nodded.


    "Good," he said. "Let them prepare. Let them prepare. They will surely be engulfed in this war against the giants.


    Just then, Hecate raised her head and asked. "Will you not intervene, lord Hades? Herion is still a state that believes in us. It has been with us since before kingdoms even rose."


    For a moment, Hades didn¡¯t speak.


    His gaze drifted beyond the throne room, through the walls, through the mists of the Underworld, past the rivers and rebirth gates.


    His mind touched upon the memory of Herios¡ªthe mortal king whose soul he had watched cross from the River Styx to Lethe, and then willingly cast himself into reincarnation.


    The First Hero.


    The first man Hades truly admired.


    "Herion does not need the gods then, and they don¡¯t need us now." Hades turned towards her, "Do you believe so little of humanity?"


    "...my lord," Hecate bit her lips, "...I just don¡¯t want to see that place fall."


    "If it falls, it falls by its own strength or weakness," Hades interrupted, calmly. "I will not intervene. Herios believed that humanity can conquer the stars, this war will show him that he is right."


    Hecate stared at him for a few moments, but soon sighed in helplessness.


    Nekyria looked up at him again, puzzled by the seriousness of the voices around her.


    "Will there be a big fight?" she asked softly.


    Hecate smiled at the child, a rare gesture for the feared witch of underworld. "Yes, my lady. But if the world burns, the Underworld will remain. And so will you. So you don¡¯t have to worry."


    "The world will burn?" Nekyria¡¯s eyes widened, "Then I won¡¯t be able to play there anymore!"


    Hecate chuckled softly, "Yes, princess."


    Nekyria puffed her cheeks. Then turned towards Hades, smiled, and smugly looked at Hecate. "Then Papa will make it not burn."


    Hades chuckled faintly, brushing her hair with a rare tenderness. "Maybe princess, maybe."


    The room grew quiet again.


    Finally, Hecate stood and lowered her head. "I will continue my vigilance. The mortal world shifts rapidly. Gaia¡¯s breath is already stirring volcanoes in the east. I sense a strong giant advancing to Olympus ."


    Hades leaned back into his throne, the weight of eternity pressing against his shoulders once more.


    "Is that so?" He said, "Then Olympus better be ready, the war will begin soon."


    "And you?" Hecate asked.


    He looked down at Nekyria, then beyond, the orb pulsed faintly in his robe.


    "I will continue my search... Don¡¯t worry I won¡¯t leave," he said. "I promise you that."


    Hecate¡¯s eyes softened faintly, but she said nothing. She bowed again and disappeared in mist.


    And in the great throne hall of the Underworld, silence returned¡ªbroken only by the quiet hum of a child¡¯s lullaby, and the heartbeat of something far, far beyond godhood, waiting to be born.

 Chapter 103 - 3: Declaration of War

    Chapter 103: Chapter 3: Declaration of WarOn this day¡ªthe day that would one day be remembered as the Twilight of the Skies¡ªOlympus was ablaze with light and laughter, unaware of the storm that loomed at its gates.


    The grand feast of Olympus, a tradition that had once been noble and sacred, had decayed into a hollow excuse for self-indulgence.


    The sky palaces thrummed with drunken music, tables overflowed with ambrosia and nectar, and golden goblets clinked while laughter echoed across marble columns.


    Gods and goddesses, nymphs and divine spirits filled the feast hall, their figures cloaked in divine light, but their hearts cloaked in darker pleasures.


    The younger gods chased nymphs with slurred promises, and the elder gods boasted of past glories they no longer deserved.


    Apollo dueled another god in boastful song, Dionysus had long since fallen beneath a table in a puddle of his own wine, and Hermes was trading divine secrets for kisses and wagers.


    Amid this gathering of glittering decay, Themis stood.


    The Titaness of Divine Law and Unyielding Justice. She who had helped the Olympians overthrow the tyranny of the titans... Something she was starting to forget.


    Clad in robes of starlight and with a blindfold over her eyes, Themis stood at the edge of the hall like a shadow against the flame.


    She hold a goblet of wine on her hand, taking sips from time to time.


    Zeus, bloated with pride and wine, leaned near her, whispering honeyed nonsense in her ear, reminiscing about their old camaraderie and how they should get to know each other through ¡¯friendship of thighs¡¯.


    But Themis said nothing.


    She did not slap him. Nor did she scold him. That would require acknowledgement.


    She simply turned her head away from him, eyes hidden beneath the blindfold, voice soft but cutting, "King of Gods, do not mistake patience for affection. Not every girl will spread their legs for you."


    Zeus, mildly stung but far too drunk to reflect, laughed it off and turned to chase after a laughing Horae instead.


    Themis, silent, turned and left the hall.


    The gardens of Olympus were untouched by the corruption that plagued its halls. Moon-flowers bloomed without witness, starlight shimmered in still pools, and silence reigned where it had long been banished.


    She stepped into the quiet with a sigh, breathing in the night air tinged with ambrosia and arrogance.


    ¡¯How far this place have fallen..." she murmured, her voice thick with sorrow.


    Her fingers trailed along the marble balustrade as she walked slowly beneath the silver trees.


    Themis¡ªwho once stood against Cronus, who remained when Olympus was forged¡ªhad watched this golden mountain rise and rot.


    She remembered when Zeus declared that Olympus will be a place of harmony, where gods ruled not only with power, but with purpose.


    Now?


    The Underworld, she mused, had more order than Olympus. Hades, brooding and stern, still kept his realm in divine balance.


    Law thrived in the lands of the dead¡ªwhile chaos festered on the mountain of gods.


    "I guess I should leave," she whispered aloud.


    She was not mortal. She owed these gods nothing. Her allegiance had always been to Justice, not thrones.


    "Maybe I¡¯ll go to the Underworld," she said to herself, more firmly now. "There, I may still judge souls rather than endure the stench of ego and lust."


    Ever since Hades took over, although the entrance to Underworld bas become harder to cross, the realm itself maintained law and order.


    There was never a complain about how the circulation of souls became interrupted or something ever since Hades became the king.


    But as she spoke the words, her blindfolded eyes snapped toward the great hall behind her.


    A pressure¡ªimmense and terrible¡ªwas rising. The divine threads of Olympus trembled as if something vast and ancient had broken through a sacred veil.


    And then it came.


    A deafening roar, not of sound, but of force, exploded across the heavens. The very sky above Olympus cracked as if struck by a world-sized hammer.


    Celestial flames erupted, and from the heart of the feast hall, a blast of crimson energy shot into the sky.


    The earth beneath her sandals shook.


    "W-What happened!?" Themis exclaimed, "Who is so bold as to attack Olympus!? Do they think that they are Hades?!"


    Without hesitation, Themis raised her arm, and in a flash of white fire, her sword forged in the fires of primordial balance materialized in her grip.


    She leapt into the air, wings of law and starlight erupting from her back as she flew toward the hall.


    As she soared, the divine smoke cleared. The feast had been reduced to rubble. Gods lay strewn across the floor, moaning and broken.


    Columns had shattered. Fires burned across the mosaics. Blood, divine and monstrous, stained the golden stones.


    And at the center of it all stood a colossal figure.


    His body was armored in bone-like plates, forged from the crushed remains of mountains and monsters.


    His eyes were like pits of molten earth, and his aura made the very concept of breathing a struggle.


    Porphyrion.


    The King of the Giants.


    Son of Gaia.


    Destroyer of Skies.


    He stood tall, with a size that seems to cover the sky, and in his clawed hands he held something small, yet infinitely precious.


    A woman, her silver robes torn, her body limp but breathing. Her presence shimmered with wisdom and power even in defeat.


    Metis.


    Queen of Olympus.


    Wife of Zeus.


    First Mind.


    Mother of Thought.


    Themis froze, the weight of the moment crashing against her heart.


    The titan in her screamed rage. sea??h th§× Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Porphyrion turned to the gathered survivors¡ªApollo, bloodied but rising, Hermes, dazed and furious, Hephaestus, crushed beneath marble.


    Zeus, however, was nowhere to be seen. But Themis can feel his presence and he seems to have been buried under a rubble.


    The giant¡¯s voice shook the very heavens.


    "I am Porphyrion. King of the Giants. Son of the Earth Mother. I have come to Olympus only for one thing..."


    He lifted Metis for all to see, smirking in satisfaction seeing the expression of all the gods who witnessed the scene.


    "That is to declare war. The era of Olympians is over, we, the Giants, are the new overlord of this age!"


    Silence followed.


    They can only stare at the powerful figure that completely wrecked their divine place.


    Themis, angered by the actions of the giant, have descended. Her sword gleamed in the darkness, and her voice rang like bells of doom.


    "Porphyrion," she said, "Let go of Metis, and surrender. You may be strong, but this is Olympus. You will die if you want to fight."


    The giant¡¯s eyes turned to her, and for the first time, his smile faltered.


    "The Earth has spoken. Olympus will fall. Justice will be reclaimed¡ªby force."


    She stepped forward, blade ready, heart blazing.


    "Then you will face my justice first."

 Chapter 104 - 4: Declaration of War(2)

    Chapter 104: Chapter 4: Declaration of War(2)The sword of Themis rose high, gleaming like moonlight carved into steel, ready to strike divine judgment upon the monstrous form of Porphyrion.


    But just as her blade began its descent, the sky screamed.


    A sound not of thunder¡ªbut of anger.


    The shattered ceiling of Olympus roared as a cascade of lightning tore through it, bursting from the broken rubble of a once-great column.


    From the rubble rose a god.


    His skin glowed like burning marble, his veins surged with stormlight. His beard, wild and crackling, flowed with electric wind, and his eyes¡ªhis eyes were twin storms, spinning with blinding fury.


    Zeus.


    King of Olympus.


    King of Gods.


    Lord of the Skies.


    He stood among ruin, cracked and scorched, blood running down one arm, but still godly, still the king.


    His gaze locked on the giant.


    More specifically, on what the giant held.


    "Metis..." he whispered.


    His queen¡ªhis wife¡ªher hair tangled in the claws of the monster. Her body limp, though still glowing faintly with divine essence.


    And then his voice thundered.


    "HOW DARE YOU TOUCH MY WIFE!"


    The skies shattered open as Zeus raised both hands. Thunderclouds rolled in, blacker than night, and lightning coiled around him like serpents of pure wrath.


    From his fury, a bolt was born.


    Not a mere strike, but a celestial punishment¡ªa divine spear of judgment, forged by the very soul of the storm god.


    Zeus hurled it, roaring.


    "DISAPPEAR FROM THIS WORLD!"


    The bolt tore across the sky, screaming with fury, a light too blinding for mortals, too hot for the air itself.


    But Porphyrion did not move.


    Instead, he smirked¡ªand lifted Metis into the path of the lightning.


    "NO!" Zeus eyes widened as he cried.


    At the last moment, with a panicked twist of will, Zeus diverted the strike. The lightning arced violently to the side¡ªand struck a distant mountain on the edge of the mortal world.


    The mountain did not explode.


    It simply ceased to exist.


    Reduced to glowing ash and silence.


    Themis blinked, surprised. Even she had not known Zeus capable of such raw power.


    It seems he had grown stronger despite indulging in depravity all these years.


    She began to wonder how much stronger he¡¯d be if he actually mastered his powers, perhaps he¡¯d actually be a match for Hades....


    ...on second thought, she can¡¯t imagine that.


    Porphyrion let Metis slump against his chest, clearly satisfied with the chaos he had caused. His voice was calm, mocking, "I am not here to fight you, Son of Rhea. Not yet. As I have said earlier, I come only to speak. To declare war."


    He spread his massive arms.


    "The war has begun. The Earth has awakened. Olympus will fall. Your thrones that are built on stolen blood and lies will be destroyed. The time of Giants has come."


    And then, the shadows at his feet twisted.


    A circle of dark mist¡ªa portal, ancient and black as night¡ªunfolded like a gaping mouth below him.


    Themis frowned, finding it eerily familiar.


    "No! Metis!"


    Zeus lunged, desperate to reach Metis, but the shadows snapped shut just as his fingertips brushed the hem of her robes.


    They were gone.


    All that remained was silence¡ªand the distant echoes of Porphyrion¡¯s promise.


    A howl of rage tore from Zeus.


    Lightning shot from his body in all directions, striking sky, stone, and the remains of the feasting hall.


    Statues cracked.


    Pillars fell.


    The sky wept thunder.


    "METIS!!!" he bellowed.


    And in that moment, even the gods feared their king.


    Suddenly¡ªa flash of light, twin bursts of silver and crimson dropped from the skies, and the gods immediately prepared dor battle.


    But soon, they all sighed in relief seeing two familiar figures.


    Ares and Athena.


    The two gods appeared atop the ruined stairs of Olympus.


    Athena, her armor scratched with the dust of battle, a mortal blade slung on her back, wisdom burning in her eyes.


    Ares, clad in warplate, blood on his hands¡ªnot divine blood, but mortal. His face tense, as if ripped from a campaign.


    They stared at the wreckage, at the bloodied gods, at Zeus surrounded by sparks of devastation.


    "By Olympus..." Athena whispered. "What happened?"


    Ares frowned, "Seems like a fight occured."


    At this moment ...


    "Where were you?!" a voice snapped.


    It was Hephaestus, emerging from rubble, leaning on his molten hammer. His usually kind eyes were red with anger.


    He pointed at them with his scorched hand. "Where were the two of you when Olympus was attacked?!"


    Ares frowned at his accusing tone, but did not comment. "I¡¯ve been overseeing my daughters, the Amazons. I don¡¯t like to stay here, you know that."


    "As for me, I¡¯ve been in the mortal world for years now. I¡¯m creating a quest for this mortal to complete so he¡¯d become a great hero." Said Athena.


    "Honestly, I¡¯m not expecting that someone was dumb but powerful enough to attack Olympus." Ares sighed, thinking of fighting that being.


    Hephaestus glared at them, but said nothing more.


    Then Themis stepped forward, her voice clear and cold.


    "It was a giant who called himself Porphyrion. According to him, he is the son of Gaia. He shattered Olympus¡¯s defenses through unknown means and escape unharmed.


    She looked to Zeus. "He took Metis. Used her as a shield, and declared war."


    Athena¡¯s eyes narrowed. "He took mother!?"


    Ares cracked his knuckles, a grin curling his lips. "Finally. A true war. Not politics and feasts."


    But Themis did not share his excitement. She stepped past the wreckage, kneeling beside a fallen goddess, checking her wounds.


    "Too many are already hurt," she said. "And Porphyrion... for him to attack Olympus directly... He must be confident of his escape, or his strength."


    Athena paused, then shook her head, "No, if he was confident in his strength, he wouldn¡¯t have used mother as a shield."


    Themis thought for a moment and nodded, "You are right. It seems he wasn¡¯t confident on taking on Zeus, so he went to grab Metis and used her as a shield."


    Silence fell for a moment. It seems they aren¡¯t dealing with a mere barbaric and brainless opponent, but someone who actually uses their brains.


    At this moment, Zeus stood up straight and spoke at last, his voice lower, more dangerous, "I will raze the earth to find her. I will summon every bolt until the heavens scream. Porphyrion will suffer. I swear it upon the throne of the sky."


    His fists trembled, sparks dancing around them.


    Athena stepped forward, "Calm down, father."


    Zeus looked at her, pain and rage warring in his soul.


    "We have no intel about our enemies. Finding them is more difficult than finding a needle in a haystack. We must first gather our forces and plan our next move."


    Zeus stared at her for a moment, before he reluctantly nodded once.


    "Then summon them all," he commanded. "Every Olympian, every gods, every ally. Call the Hekatonkheires. Speak to the Fates. Even the Underworld must be warned."


    He turned toward the broken hall. Sear?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Let the heavens be cleansed. Let Olympus rise again in war."


    And above them all, the sky darkened.


    The world was changing.


    The War of Gods and Giants had begun.

 Chapter 105 - 5: The Sentinels

    Chapter 105: Chapter 5: The SentinelsMortal world, State of Herion.


    The wind howled gently atop Herios Mountain, carrying with it the breath of ancient time.


    Wisps of cloud clung to its jagged cliffs like ghostly fingers, forever swirling around its peak.


    Each step up the sacred stairs felt like a journey between the world of men and the cradle of gods.


    Lord Calion of Herion, descendant and named after General Kaerion, now in his twilight years, ascended the final flight.


    His hands, weathered by the weight of both sword and scepter, grasped the smooth marble rail.


    His white cloak, trimmed with gold thread, billowed in the mountain winds like a banner of the old world.


    Behind him, no guards followed.


    After all, although the Temple of Herion was not off limits and can be visted by anyone, what lies ahead is something not just anyone is qualified to traverse.


    Beyond where the temple was located, is said to be where the tomb of Herios is located, and is guarded by elite warriors.


    This final stretch¡ªthe Path of Silence¡ªwas one only the City Lord of Herion was permitted to walk.


    The city lay far below now, hidden beneath a sea of clouds.


    Above, the Gate of Herios stood waiting¡ªan enormous pair of golden doors embedded into the very mountain itself.


    Runes glowed faintly on its surface, and mist curled around it like veils on a sleeping giant.


    Beyond this gate is a tomb.


    But not just ordinary tomb.


    This was the Sanctum of the First Flame, where the founder, the savior, the legend of humanity¡ªHerios, The King Where All Began¡ªwas entombed.


    Calion reached the gate and placed both palms upon its surface.


    "Open," he whispered.


    A sound like a breath exhaled from the mountain itself echoed through the air.


    The runes pulsed once, then the gates creaked open¡ªnot outward, but inward¡ªrevealing a world of cloudlight and shadowed marble.


    No matter how many times he have seen this scene, Calion couldn¡¯t stop himself from feeling awestruck at the beauty of this place.


    He stepped inside.


    The mist thickened immediately, curling like spirits around his feet.


    The pathway into the sanctum was long and lined with statues¡ªdepictions of Herios in every stage of his life.


    A youth, a warrior, a leader, a king. And then at the very end: Herios seated upon a stone throne, eyes closed, hands resting upon his knees, his form carved of obsidian, veins of gold running through the stone like frozen lightning.


    But Calion did not get far.


    Suddenly, the fog stirred unnaturally.


    A sharp, metallic tremor resonated through the air¡ªclang... clang... clang...


    From every shadow, they emerged.


    A hundred figures, clad in obsidian-black armor, stepped silently from the mist. Each bore no symbol, no banner, and no exposed flesh.


    Their visors were featureless helms of nightglass, smooth and polished like river stones.


    And from within their armor pulsed a soft, dull red glow¡ªas if embers lived inside their chests.


    Their formation was perfect. A circle, wide and unbroken, surrounding Calion in the middle of the temple court.


    The Sentinels.


    An order so secretive that most dismissed them as legend.


    An elite brotherhood created the descendants of the soldiers who accompanied Heriod, tasked with guarding his tomb, his legacy, and the world against ancient threats that mortals were never meant to know.


    They moved like ghosts. Soundless. Deadly. Eternal.


    "Greetings Sentinals, I am Calion of Herion."


    And then, one stepped forward.


    His armor was darker than night, trimmed with scarlet, and a long, curved greatsword rested across his back.


    His helmet had no eye holes, yet a deep red line ran across it like a silent glare.


    When he spoke, it was with a voice layered in both man and echo¡ªas if multiple beings spoke through him.


    "Lord Calion. It¡¯s been 30-years since you last visited ....you look old."


    Calion did not flinch nor offered a response.


    He bowed deeply, a gesture of honor, not submission.


    "Commander Varn. I have come not as a lord, but as a messenger. I bring a prophecy... one spoken by the Oracle of Lady Hecate. And I feared that I may have to disturb you and the rest of Sentinels to aid us soon."


    A pause.


    The mist swirled.


    "... Tell me the details." Varn said.


    Calion stepped forward, eyes steady despite the encirclement of a hundred silent warriors.


    "According to lady Hecate, war is rising¡ªnot between men, but between the divines who resided in the skies. Already Olympus trembles, the heavens are cracking, and the earth is breaking. If the war really starts, the one who will suffer first will be us, the mortals.


    He looked around, locking eyes with the faceless helms.


    "You must know, we have always been hated by the gods, but simply tolerated us for the sake of our faith. If they can get rid of us through this war, then..."


    A chill swept through the temple.


    The red glow in the Sentinels¡¯ armor seemed to pulse faster.


    Varn did not move. But his voice changed¡ªmore solemn, more alert.


    "Herion will not fall. Not even gods can make us kneel. We didn¡¯t bow down centuries ago, and we won¡¯t bow down even now."


    Calion nodded. "The mortal world will become a battlefield. As the birthplace of heroes, I am sure that we will be targeted first. Our state is a threat to any would be conquerors." Sear?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Varn slowly raised a hand.


    Immediately, the Sentinels dispersed, stepping away from Calion¡ªbut not out of sight. They stood at the edges now, watching like shadows behind pillars.


    Then Varn unsheathed his sword with a sound like metal breathing.


    The blade shimmered¡ªnot steel, but something older. Black metal with red veins that moved like lava beneath the surface.


    "Then we must awaken the old defense."


    Calion stiffened.


    "You mean the¡ª?"


    Varn nodded.


    "The Eclipse Protocol. The last order of General Kaerion, given in whispers before he died. If ever a threat from the heavens or below threatens mankind again... we do not wait. We do not pray. We act."


    He turned to the statue at the end of the tomb.


    Behind it, hidden by illusion, was a second set of stairs¡ªspiraling deep into the mountain.


    "Come with me, Lord Calion. If this war truly will consume the world, then we must ensure we will be able to protect it."


    Calion nodded, following after Varn.


    And as they walked into the depths of the tomb, mist curling behind them, the Sentinels followed in perfect silence.


    Above them, in the skies beyond the mountain, thunder cracked once more.


    War was coming.


    And in Herios¡¯ resting place, the weapons of old began to stir.

 Chapter 106 - 6: The Giants

    Chapter 106: Chapter 6: The GiantsAN: I made a mistake, I thought there was like, 12 giants, but apparently there are a hundred of them.


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    Deep beneath the earth where even sunlight dared not trespass, within a hollowed cavern whose walls trembled with dormant fury, the King of the Giants stood.


    The cavern was enormous¡ªmiles wide and taller than the highest mountain peak¡ªand yet the air inside felt tight, oppressive, weighed down by a thousand thundering heartbeats and the rage of giants.


    Porphyrion, the dread king of the reborn giants, stood at the highest ledge overlooking his kin.


    His skin was like storm-dark granite, runes glowing faintly across his body, pulsing with a chaotic rhythm.


    His hair fell in black cords down his shoulders, and in his eyes lived only war.


    Below him, over a hundred giants had gathered¡ªtowering monstrosities with armor of bone, stone, and volcanic iron.


    Some bore horns like minotaurs, others bore wings folded against their backs, or arms like tree trunks.


    Their presence cracked the very cavern with each motion.


    This was not an army.


    This was a force of nature.


    But behind Porphyrion, in cruel contrast, a woman knelt in chains. S§×ar?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Metis¡ªthe Titaness of wisdom and Queen of Olympus¡ªwas bound in celestial metal that shimmered like moonlight dipped in oil.


    Her hair, glistening as starlight, clung to her face. Her breath was shallow, but her eyes burned with defiance.


    No cries escaped her lips.


    No pleas.


    Only silence¡ªpiercing and proud.


    Porphyrion raised a hand, and the low murmuring among the giants ceased instantly.


    He was about to speak, but was interrupted as one voice rang out.


    A massive brute named Thamios, twice the height of the others and covered in armor fused from molten obsidian, stepped forward with fury in his every stride.


    "Why did we not crush Olympus when we had the chance?!" he bellowed, his voice shaking stalactites from the ceiling. "You held their queen in your hands! Zeus crawled from rubble like a worm! Their halls lay broken! Why retreat?! Why plan like cowards when we could have feasted on their bones?!"


    The other giants stirred¡ªsome nodding, others pounding fists on chests in agreement.


    Porphyrion turned his head slowly, his expression unreadable.


    Then he stepped forward.


    The ground cracked beneath his steps.


    "Because, Thamios," Porphyrion said, his voice deep and deliberate, "Olympus is not as simple as it seems¡ªit is a sleeping beast. Wound it foolishly, and it rouses. Cut too shallow, and it strikes back stronger."


    He looked down on the horde of giants, his gaze sweeping over them like a storm cloud passing over a city.


    "Thos Olympians? They are not without strength, no matter how they indulged in depravity, they still ruled the cosmos. They also have allies. Spirits. Gods of the earth, sea, and sky. If I had stayed, I would have faced not just Zeus, but Poseidon, Athena, Ares, Artemis and even Themis as well. Perhaps even the primordial ones. I dared to go there because I know most of them are away."


    A murmur of unease passed through the ranks.


    Porphyrion raised his hand again.


    "So you must remember, one does not strike a beast¡¯s head when it still has claws. We must cut those off first."


    He gestured behind him¡ªtoward Metis.


    "With her in chains, Zeus is crippled. Not because of power¡ªbut because of heart. He is a fool, but a fool in love. He will not think clearly. He will not lead wisely."


    He turned back to them, eyes narrowing.


    "And now we must target Athena."


    Gasps rose from some of the giants. Even among them, the wisdom and ruthlessness of Athena were feared.


    Porphyrion continued.


    "She is her mother¡¯s mind incarnate. Clever, patient, and dangerously quick to adapt. She will seek to uncover our weaknesses, and if she does, she will move gods, mortals, and spirits to resist us. She must die before her mind awakens to our game."


    Another voice called out, this one mocking and laughing.


    A leaner giant with skin like black marble and eyes glowing red¡ªZamakros.


    "Why do we scheme and plot like mortals? We are giants! War is our tongue! Destruction our prayer! Let them come. We¡¯ll drown them in blood and ash."


    Porphyrion turned sharply, and for the first time, his voice thundered.


    "Because I want them to suffer."


    Silence fell.


    The sound of dripping water echoed eerily in the cavern.


    Porphyrion took a slow step forward, and then another. Every movement exuded a quiet, terrible fury.


    "I want them to feel fear before death. To hear the cries of their cities before their own bones are broken. I want them to despair¡ªslowly, painfully¡ªuntil their minds rot. I want them to experience what mother has experienced as they slowly destroy her land!"


    He stopped before Zamakros, staring down at him.


    "I do not simply destroy Olympus. I want them to experience pain and torment as they slowly die! Watch as their numbers dwindled to a handful! And fall into despair and hopelessness as they realize they cannot win!"


    His voice dropped to a growl.


    "We sow dissent. We awaken ancient enemies. We tear down their allies in the mortal world. We silence the voices of hope¡ªAthena, Hermes, Apollo. And only then... only then do we burn the last ruins of their pantheon with our bare hands...that kind of thing, is the best form of revenge for our mother, right?"


    A ripple of darkness pulsed from his body, and the very walls of the cave shook as if in agreement.


    Metis stirred in her chains for the first time, her head lifting just enough to speak.


    "You Giants are really cruel. You think destroying Olympus would make you the ruler of cosmos? Laughable. You will never be gods."


    Porphyrion looked over his shoulder at her, not unkindly, but like one would to a relic of the past.


    "No. We are not gods. And we don¡¯t dream to be one."


    He turned back to his army.


    "We are Giants, the end of gods."


    The giants roared in approval, their voices shaking the earth.


    Porphyrion raised a hand and traced a symbol in the air¡ªone that glowed crimson.


    A floating map of Olympus and its surrounding domains appeared, projected in flame-light against the stone.


    "Begin the hunt. Athena moves through mortal lands. She is our first blade to break. Then we strike the next. And the next. Until the skies are silent."


    And so, in the shadows of the world, war brewed not just with weapons¡ªbut with vengeance and ancient hate.

 Chapter 107 - 7: The Prison Visit

    Chapter 107: Chapter 7: The Prison VisitFar away from Olympus, across wind-scoured cliffs and wastelands soaked in silence, there existed a land the gods no longer tread¡ªa canyon carved by wrath and fire, where thunder never ceased rumbling deep below the crust of the world.


    It was here, bound upon the jagged rock of a mountain, that Prometheus remained chained.


    Years passed. Centuries, even. And still he endured.


    Each morning, the eagle came¡ªits wings blotting out the sun as it descended with shrill cries to tear at his divine flesh.


    Each evening, the Titan regenerated, pain-wreathed and defiant.


    His chains were divine and old, forged by Hephaestus himself at Zeus¡¯s order¡ªso ancient now they shimmered with time-forged rust and power.


    But on this day, before the eagle could arrive, two goddesses approached.


    The winds parted. The skies grew momentarily clear.


    From the horizon walked Athena, goddess of wisdom and war, her eyes sharp with thought and her steps brimming with purpose.


    She wore no armor, only her usual flowing robes and a silvery cloak that flickered with starlight¡ªan illusion that hid the polished bronze plate beneath.


    At her side was Themis, the embodiment of divine law, walking tall and serene, her presence balanced and unshaken despite the rising dread in the world.


    They walked in silence for some time¡ªuntil Athena broke it.


    "I didn¡¯t expect you to be thinking the same as me aunt Themis," she said, glancing at the barren rocks. "The others only think of revenge, they haven¡¯t even thought of asking for advice. How dumb they are."


    Themis offered her a faint smile.


    "I¡¯m not like those brutes, I know how to prepare for war, and right now we need any knowledge from the Titan of Forethought."


    Athena nodded, "Yes, when it comes to prophecies, only the Fates can claim to be better than him...but those three only serves Lord Hades, so yeah, we can¡¯t really ask them for help."


    "True. There¡¯s a certain irony in Prometheus. He knows how to shape what seems hopeless. He did it with men. Perhaps he can do it with gods."


    Athena huffed softly.


    "Speaking of men," she said, her expression warming slightly, "I guided one recently. A mortal. Just a child when I found him¡ªbarely knew how to hold a spear. But now? He slew a chimeric beast with only a shattered sword and his wit."


    Themis gave a nostalgic chuckle. "You always had a soft spot for mortals."


    Athena waved her finger at her, "Not mortals, heroes. And you can blame Herios for that, aunty. He ruined me. He was the one who made me obsessed with heroes."


    Themis chuckled, "Seems like you¡¯re quite fond of him."


    "Absolutely!" Athena smiled softly, "If he didn¡¯t die. I would¡¯ve made him my husband. Even now, I¡¯m still searching for his reincarnation in the mortal world."


    Themis blinked, surprised. She didn¡¯t think that Athena would be this obsessed over a mortal man.


    "Besides! Triumphing over impossible odds, shining brighter than any star, carving your name in history...those kinds of people, are really just the best aren¡¯t they?" Athena exclaimed, eyes brightening like stars.


    The elder goddess gave a slow nod, her golden eyes reflecting the clouded sky.


    "How about you aunt?" Athen turned towards her, "Have you had any stories to tell? I read from a book that you sided with father in the Titanomachy."


    Themis hummed.


    "Once, long ago... before Olympus was even thought of," she murmured, "Prometheus, Epimetheus, and I fought beside each other. Against Atlas. You would¡¯ve liked it¡ªhe thought he could win by crushing everything. We proved him wrong."


    Athena raised an eyebrow. "Wow, so you fought in the frontline?"


    "Not often," Themis replied, "but when I do, it is to bring order, not ruin."


    The conversation died as they arrived.


    Before them, across the broken cliffs of the mountain, the chained Titan lay¡ªPrometheus, bound to stone by shackles older than any city.


    His body was ragged and covered in old scars, his form lean and worn¡ªbut his eyes sparkled with undimmed mirth.


    He looked up as they approached and gave a crooked grin.


    "Ladies!" he said, voice echoing against the canyon walls. "Don¡¯t tell me Olympus has finally agreed to let me down. I knew this century was lucky!"


    Themis smiled faintly. "We¡¯re not here to free you, old friend."


    "Pity," he said with mock sadness. "I even prepared a freedom speech."


    Athena stepped forward, arms folded, eyeing him closely. "You¡¯re still joking, even now?"


    Prometheus laughed, his chains rattling with the movement. "If I didn¡¯t joke, I¡¯d go mad. Well... madder. Besides, your faces were so serious. I heard an explosion coming from Olympus, was there a gas leak?"


    Neither goddess responded.


    Prometheus pouted theatrically. "No laughs? Really? Oh wait, do you two know what a gas leak is? No? Wow, uncultured. Come on, slime."


    They didn¡¯t.


    "You two are no fun. I used to be considered charming, you know."


    Themis stepped closer, voice firm now. "We came for knowledge, Prometheus. The giants have attacked. War is coming, and we need your insight."


    Prometheus tilted his head, his playful tone quieting, though the smile didn¡¯t fully leave. "Giants, huh? Took them long enough."


    Athena¡¯s eyes narrowed. "You knew?"


    "Darling, of course I did. I hear the birds. I hear the earth groan in its sleep. And I saw your stars start shaking weeks ago."


    "Then speak," Themis urged. "What must Olympus do?"


    Prometheus sighed, a long breath that carried the weariness of centuries.


    "I don¡¯t think those guys will like it," he said.


    "We¡¯re past the point of liking anything." Said Athena.


    He looked up at them, the wind tugging at his hair, his chains creaking like old bones.


    "Heroes. That¡¯s what you need. Not armies. Not prophecies. But Mortal heroes. Especially demigods. They are the key."


    Athena exchanged a glance with Themis, confusion and concern flickering in both their eyes.


    "How." Themis asked, voice sharper.


    Prometheus grinned¡ªbut now it was that old, sly grin, the one that had unsettled Zeus long ago.


    "Now, now," he said teasingly. "I¡¯ve given you a torch. Do you want the whole bonfire, too?" S§×ar?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    He stretched his arms, as if yawning despite his imprisonment.


    "I think my visit hours are over."


    Athena stepped forward, fists clenched. "Prometheus¡ª"


    But Themis touched her shoulder.


    "Leave it," she said quietly. "He¡¯s said enough."


    They turned to go.


    "Oh, come now!" Prometheus called after them, pouting like a child denied a sweet. "You¡¯re not even going to say goodbye? No farewell? No ¡¯we¡¯ll bring you nectar next time¡¯?"


    Silence.


    They didn¡¯t turn back.


    Prometheus exhaled and leaned his head against the cold stone, staring at the vast grey sky.


    "Hmph," he murmured. "Gods. No sense of humor."


    Far above, the eagle shrieked.

 Chapter 108 - 8: The Night’s Worry

    Chapter 108: Chapter 8: The Night¡¯s WorryWhile the Olympians worry about the coming Gigantomachy, one primordial was worrying about the fate of the cosmos itself.


    Deep withing a forgotten forest, night had fallen.


    Not simply over the mortal realm, but across the tapestry of the world¡¯s soul.


    A silence, ancient and heavy, rolled like mist over mountains, through valleys, across cities where gods no longer walked and mortals prayed more out of habit than faith.


    And in this silence, Nyx moved.


    She did not fly or walk, for those were crude motions.


    She unfolded, slipping through the layered veils of reality like ink through water.


    It has been centuries since she last felt it, and she had never rested searching for it, but she had not found a clue.


    That entity that slipped through thr cracks of the universe that was formed due to the battle between Hades and Uranus during the Titanomachy.


    For centuries, she had sensed nothing but whispers. Murmurs in forgotten tombs, chill winds where none should be.


    But years ago, she felt something.


    A man.


    A mortal.


    He was nothing, at first glance. Thin, young, cloaked in threadbare robes, his home a crumbling stone tower at the edge of a dying village.


    But his mind¡ªNyx could feel that this mortal comprehends knowledge beyond the current era.


    He had not just abandoned belief in the gods. That was not uncommon. Many mortals did in this age.


    No, this man had begun to write new laws¡ªnot of divinity, but of mechanics, of logics, of the very nature of the world.


    His thoughts moved like rivers unseen, carving through future centuries.


    With chalk and ink and charcoal, he sketched machines that had not yet been dreamed¡ªgears that turned without fire, harnessed lightning in wires, used pressure to store and unleash force.


    He wrote formulae that described the curvature of light and matter.


    He measured time with precision only the gods possessed.


    He called the stars by names no mortal had ever spoken. He whispered of "gravitational constants" and "wave duality" as if they were common terms.


    And more troubling than anything, he predicted things¡ªtruths buried so deeply in the nature of this world that only beings like Prometheus or Nyx herself had ever come close to understanding them.


    He should not exist. Sear?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Yet he did.


    And if he had been allowed to live, his inventions would have dragged humanity out of superstition and starlight and into a world of steel and thought.


    His very presence tilted the path of history. The world¡ªthe universe¡ªshould have responded with awe.


    But instead?


    It rejected him.


    He was called mad. Not by the fools or the fearful, but by priests, scholars, kings. As though something whispered behind their ears, twisting admiration into revulsion.


    They chained him in a town square, tore his papers to ash, and silenced his mind with fire.


    As his body burned, he laughed¡ªnot from madness, but defiance.


    And when he died, Nyx, hidden in shadow above, saw the way the sky shimmered, as if sighing in relief.


    She narrowed her eyes.


    "That man ... shouldn¡¯t exist."


    She descended then, not to intervene¡ªtoo late for that¡ªbut to touch the ashes of his work.


    They should have been mundane, and yet, what she saw was beyond that.


    Because there, amid the cinders, were sigils. Incomprehensible, old, ancient, and ¡¯wrong¡¯ sigils that seems to have not come from this world.


    A pattern older than this universe, a taste of something alien.


    Nyx stood silently as the wind blew the ashes away, her hair cascading behind her like a sea of midnight.


    Then, she moved. Faster than time, her consciousness expanded, casting her awareness over the world.


    And she began to see it.


    Incidents. Moments. Anomalies.


    In the deserts of the south, a child born blind began carving star charts that predicted comets that wouldn¡¯t appear for a thousand years.


    In a snow-choked valley, an old woman dreamt of numbers and awoke to build a machine of copper and ice that spun endlessly on its own.


    In a jungle swallowed by vines, a tribe constructed aqueducts and generators with no source of knowledge or outside influence.


    Each time, progress bloomed too fast.


    Each time, progress was snuffed out just as quickly.


    Floods. Fires. Invasions. Executions. Murders. Coincidence upon coincidence.


    "Something..." she whispered, standing atop a mountain of shadows, "...wants them to advance."


    But not out of kindness. Not like Prometheus, who gifted fire in defiance of fate.


    No, this was acceleration. Like rushing a fruit to ripen faster than it should be.


    This is a trap.


    Something, or someo was fattening the mortal world for slaughter.


    And she knew exactly who is the culprit.


    She clenched her jaw and raised her hand.


    The shadows churned.


    "Erebus." She called out.


    From behind her, space seemed to crack as her child, her brother, her mirror, rose from the folds of night.


    Erebus was the breath of shadow, the ink between thoughts. Where Nyx was the queen of quiet, Erebus was the void behind sound.


    "You summoned me, sister," he said, his voice a tremor beneath the world.


    "I need you to watch the mortals. Closely. Something is stirring. Knowledge not accessible for this era has been planted into the minds of mortals, as if trying to use those knowledge to accelerate humanity¡¯s advancements."


    Erebus tilted his head, his hollow gaze seeing what few could bear to witness.


    "I see. You want me to observe because you believe it has begun to act?"


    "I do."


    Erebus nodded, giving no argument. "Very well, I shall observe the mortal world as you have instructed sister."


    He stepped backward and vanished¡ªhis presence folding into a shadow that slipped beneath time, beneath cities, beneath every stone cast and story told.


    Nyx remained alone atop her mountain of dusk.


    Her thoughts turned grim.


    "So... you finally decided to make a move."


    The stars above seemed to twitch, subtly wrong in their rhythm.


    And Nyx, who had walked through the womb of the universe before Chaos herself sang, whispered to no one but the dark.


    "Since you have shown your tail, you better be ready for it to be grabbed. I will eliminate your kind that dared to invade my territory."

 Chapter 109 - 9: Memories

    The scratching of the quill against parchment had long become a rhythm in the underworld¡ªa quiet, relentless sound in the dim golden chamber beneath the Hanging Fortress of Pluto.


    Hades, King of the Dead, Lord of the Spirits, sat in silence, his dark robes flowing around him like living shadows.


    In his hand, a bronze-feathered quill moved across a scroll documenting soul intake statistics, border disputes in the Inner Sections, and temple offerings from the surface world.


    He paused, eyes drifting upward¡ªnot toward anything specific, but into a corner of the ceiling where no one ever stood. His thoughts wandered.


    "I wonder if she''s still playing. Those two better return her before dinner."


    That ''she'' that he''s talking about is his daughter.


    The little one who had sprung into his world like a star in the night, radiant and curious.


    She was supposed to be with Hera and Aphrodite today, playing in the blooming gardens of the Underworld''s Core Section, where divine spirits had shaped a miniature paradise.


    He smiled faintly. Hera would teach her posture. Aphrodite would likely spoil her with honeyed fruit and flowing silks.


    Hades can already imagine Hera being the strict but kind aunt, and Aphrodite being the indulgent and playful aunt.


    His smile, however, was brief.


    A sound interrupted the stillness¡ªa ripple in the veil. Before he could glance up, a voice pierced the silence.


    "Lord Hades."


    He didn''t flinch. He never did. His eyes on his work, doing his job.


    "Hecate," he said, setting the quill aside, "you enter unannounced. How...unlike you. You aren''t one to act so disrespectful to me."


    "Apologies, but I came with unrest." she replied.


    Her form emerged from the flickering shadow near the corner of the hall¡ªtall, pale, her cloak dark as the night, her lamp flickering .


    Her eyes¡ªserene yet sharp¡ªbore a strange urgency today.


    Hades gestured toward a chair carved from obsidian. "Sit, then. Share your unrest."


    She did not.


    Instead, she stepped forward, putting her hands on Hades'' desk. "We have¡­ received souls lately. Quite a number of them."


    "That''s... everyday." he replied. "Mortals die, Hecate. It is the one constant."


    "These are not like others," she continued. "Some were executed as heretics. Others died as outcasts. But all of them¡ªevery single one¡ªpossessed knowledge that should not exist."


    He arched a brow. "You''ll need to be more specific. Knowledge of what? War? Magic?"


    "No," she said softly. "They talk about weird things to complicate numbers by adding alphabets. They even spoke of things called atoms, and of stars that were not gods but balls of burning gas. Some died trying to build things¡ªsomething called engines, turbines, machines. They even tried to teach others, but most were killed for it."


    Hades leaned back slightly. "Then they were simply¡­ visionaries...or delusional, take your pick."


    "No," she said, voice now tinged with something rare in Hecate, uncertainty. "It''s wrong. It feels wrong. Not divine inspiration. Not Prometheus'' flame. Something else."


    The shadows in the chamber grew longer.


    Hades studied her carefully, then sighed.


    "Take me to them," he said, standing slowly. "If your instincts are stirred, then it is worth a look."


    *


    *


    *


    They descended into the deeper vaults of the Underworld, through spiraling black stairs and gates carved from the bones of dead stars.


    Eventually, they emerged on the banks of the River Lethe, where memory came to drown.


    The waters shimmered silver-blue beneath a starless sky.


    Mist curled upward from the currents like whispering spirits.


    Lethe, the goddess of forgetfulness, stood knee-deep in her waters, brushing her fingers along the surface.


    When she saw them, she smiled faintly.


    "My king," she said, bowing slightly.


    "Hecate says you''ve been busy," Hades murmured.


    Lethe nodded, her expression unreadable. "These souls¡­ they do not wish to forget. Even after the touch of my river, some fragments remain. As if their memories do not belong to this world, and thus¡­ cannot be erased." S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Hades frowned. "Show me."


    Lethe raised her hand, and the river shifted.


    Dozens of floating memory-fragments emerged from the waters¡ªsmall orbs of light, each flickering with visions, equations, sounds, and diagrams.


    They began to pass before Hades, one by one.


    A man drawing a parabola, speaking of gravity not as a divine force, but as curvature of space-time.


    A woman designing a turbine powered by water pressure, speaking of energy conservation.


    A child naming elements by number and weight, long before alchemy had even become a whisper in the minds of men.


    Hades stared at them in a daze, as if his mind was trying to process a forgotten memory.


    And then¡ª


    A chalkboard.


    An old, grey classroom.


    An argument with a professor.


    A textbook filled with dense formulas.


    A memory of being late for exams.


    A memory of wearing fabric that didn''t exist in this world.


    A memory lf walking under electric lights.


    Hades stepped back, eyes widening¡ªnot in fear, but in recognition.


    The symbols.


    The words.


    They were not foreign to him. They were not mystical, or divine. He had once written them. Long, long ago.


    "This... this is calculus," he muttered. "Trigonometry. Electromagnetism. The standard model. Quarks. Bosons¡­"


    His voice grew quiet.


    At this moment, he remembered.


    A lecture hall. A cool afternoon. Books clutched in his hands. A city of glass and steel. Skyscrapers. Airplanes. Earth.


    Before he became Hades, he had been a man.


    Not a god.


    A student.


    A mortal.


    He had died, he remembered...or did he? He didn''t know how he ended up here, or he how he became Hades.


    He was sure that he was on...


    No.


    He couldn''t remember. It was foggy. Faint. Buried beneath layers of divine power and rebirth. But the memories now stirred like hornets.


    He had known this world. The modern world. And so had these souls.


    Hecate was watching him closely now, her expression worried, "My lord, is something the matter? Are you unwell?"


    Hades snapped out of his thoughts and stared at Hecate, shaking his bead slowly. "Y-Yeah, I''m fine."


    Lethe, her voice gentle, asked, "Shoul I stop? It seems like looking at these memories made you uncomfortable, my king."


    Hades turned to face the river, the flickering memories still hanging in the air. "No need. I was just surprised. It seems like these souls aren''t supposed to exist. Or rather, they aren''t supposed to be born yet."


    Hecate''s eyes narrowed. "Are you saying, they are Souls¡­ that should''ve been born in the future?"


    "Maybe." Hades replied, voice like thunder now. "But they could also be souls from another world entirely. Perhaps¡­ another universe, brought here by someone...or something."


    He looked to the sky, though there was none, and felt something watching. Not from above, but from outside.


    "...Something that shouldn''t be here," he whispered.


    Hecate stepped closer. "Then...what should we do? Should we erase any of traces of these anomalies?"


    Hades thought for a moment, but soon shook his head. "No need. These people died because someone was already doing that. We don''t need to interfere right now."


    He turned towards Lethe, "That is enough."


    Lethe nodded as the river quieted. The memories dissolved back into the mist.


    Hades gazed at the sky.


    ''It seems like something bigger than thr Gigantomachy is brewing. I must prepare."

 Chapter 110 - 10: Entity

    Before the birth of shape or song, before time had rhythm and gods had names, there were creatures that ventures outside of reality.


    They had no name, for names were a thing of inside-worlds¡ªrealms where meaning coagulated into sound, and where beings thought language could grant them power over things older than logic.


    And ''it'' is one of them.


    It came from a place that could not be spoken of, only fled from. A place beyond the veil of cosmos, where reality had no anchor, and thought dissolved into shrieks.


    It was a tiny, feeble parasite surviving due to the mere indifference of an incomprehensible creature.


    But one day, it was shaken off and drifted into countless universe.


    It continued to drift, going from reality to another.


    But soon, it became afraid because it had not found any universe for what seems to be an eternity.


    But


    then one day, as it drifted through the void, it saw a crack.


    A fracture in the seal of one of the infinite universes.


    It was not large¡ªno more than a sliver, a moment of weakness, an exposed throat in the fabric of spacetime¡ªbut for something like The Entity, it was enough.


    The crack had been carved during an ancient battle known as Titanomachy, where Hades, the quiet and formidable son of Kronos, had clashed with Uranus, the Sky Father, on a plane near the very edge of Creation.


    Their divine might echoed into the seams of the universe like hammer-blows upon glass.


    And through this scar, a ripple had opened¡ªa wound in the breath of the cosmos.


    A door, just wide enough for something to slip through unnoticed.


    So it came.


    A whisper, a flicker, a wrongness in the corner of the universe''s eye.


    No one saw it arrive.


    Even Nyx, who dwelled deeper than the roots of existence, barely felt its presence.


    The gods were too preoccupied with war and blood and thrones, and even if they aren''t , they are far too weak to sende it.


    And so the universe moved on, unaware that something entered and observed.


    And observe it did.


    The Entity did not act. Not yet. It was not foolish. It did not know this place, and its instincts¡ªshaped over the deaths of ten thousand universes¡ªwarned caution.


    It began to observe.


    Centuries passed. And as it drifted in places no mind could map, it began to judge the threads of this reality.


    It found many beings¡ªsome arrogant, some proud, many loud with their light and fury.


    But of all the gods and ancients who bloomed from this reality, it marked five whose very essence repelled it.


    They are threats. Not in strength alone, but in influence, in insight, in instinct.


    Hades, the Silent One, whose domain stitched together the metaphysical laws of death. A terrifying opponent for the entity and considered as the number one threat.


    Nyx, the Primordial Night, who was born from Chaos itself and descended into this lower plane of existence.


    Erebus, twin of Nyx, a veil and a silence even The Entity found hard to pass through. S§×ar?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Kronos, the Devourer of Ages, who once had teeth sharp enough to bite time itself.


    Gaia, the World Mother, who bore the shape of this universe, whose presence was too deeply embedded in its flesh.


    These five were problems. This realm had many gods, yes, but these were the ones who made it inhospitable to a creature like It.


    So it hid.


    It coiled into the cracks, the voids, the in-between spaces¡ªwhere even Nyx''s senses thinned and Erebus'' darkness could not reach it.


    There, in the hollows between gravity and thought, it waited.


    But it did not wait passively.


    The Entity was a predator. A consumer. A farmer of cosmos.


    It had fed before.


    When universes matured¡ªwhen their civilizations became bright and seething with energy and collective thought¡ªit would harvest them.


    Civilizations made energy, and energy was life.


    The more complex the mind of a species, the more flavor it produced when consumed.


    It was not physical flesh it devoured, but essence¡ªthe culmination of philosophy, sorrow, invention, hubris, and ambition.


    In every skyscraper was a thousand flavors.


    In every monument, a century''s worth of hope.


    A highly civilised universe is the best source of food.


    But this universe?


    It was young.


    Despite its age, its timeline seemed strangely sluggish, like an organism stunted in its growth.


    The mortal species here¡ªhumans, primarily¡ªhad only begun to crawl from mud into myth.


    Their minds were still chained to gods and superstition. They had fire now, yes, and soon would have more.


    But they were not ripe.


    They wre not ready.


    And that disturbed The Entity.


    Why? Why was time so twisted here? Why did civilizations not rise and fall in great blazing arcs as in other realities?


    It studied more. Peered into the folds of time. And what it saw disturbed even It.


    This universe was being interfered with. Not from outside, like Itself, but from within.


    Something¡ªor perhaps someone¡ªwas slowing time''s rhythm.


    Whether consciously or not, a force within this realm resisted advancement, shielding the mortals from ripening too soon.


    As if the universe had grown wise to predators like It¡­ and was trying to delay the feast.


    But time, even when slowed, must flow.


    And so it waited. Patient. Impossibly patient.


    Because one day, Nyx would surely stop hunting it.


    She was tireless now, yes¡ªforever gliding through shadow-realms and dreams, chasing flickers of foreign essence.


    But nothing could hunt forever. Even Primordials must eventually retreat into sleep.


    And when she did, when Erebus blinked away...


    Then it would move.


    Then it would begin to prod.


    To tempt.


    It had already planted seeds. Small ones. Whispers in the ears of gods. Whispers in the hearts of kings.


    It was subtle. A knowledge here. An inspiration there. A war that didn''t quite make sense. Monsters that killed not for blood, but to savor thought.


    Just to test the waters.


    And just like it expected, every seeds it planted was crushed before it could bloom.


    Making it sure that something was preventing this world from advancing too fast.


    But no matter, it can wait.


    And when the mortals finally reached the point where their minds could dream cities of steel and sorrow, where their towers pierced clouds and their science rewrote fate, when their gods no longer walked beside them¡ª


    Then the feast would begin.


    Until then¡­


    It watches.


    It listens.


    It waits.

 Chapter 111 - 11: Athena

    The clouds curled and split as Athena cleaved through the sky like a silver spear hurled by fate itself.


    Wind coiled around her bronze-plated form, her cloak of owl-feathers flaring like wings behind her.


    Lightning surged far below, thunder groaning like a weary beast beneath her feet.


    But she paid none of it any mind.


    She was angry.


    Not the kind of fury that scorches the earth, like Ares.


    Not the cruel, coiling rage of Zeus.


    This was the cold, cutting kind.


    A diamond-edged wrath that brewed in silence until it bled into every breath.


    "Fool," she muttered. "Foolish old tyrant."


    Her fists clenched at her sides, gauntlets groaning from the pressure.


    Her eyes glared ahead, but she didn''t see the mountains or forests.


    She saw him¡ªher father¡ªsitting on that blasted throne of white marble and lightning, his hand resting on his chin in that lazy, arrogant posture.


    Zeus.


    Once the beacon of Olympus. Now, a hollow echo of himself. The ''hero'' who ended the tyranny of the Titans and became a tyrant himself.


    He had laughed when Athena said what Prometheus prophesized that only mortals could turn the tide of this war.


    His pride and arrogance refused to accept such words. How could someone that is no different from an ant possibly help someone as great as them?


    "Humans?" he''d scoffed then. "The dirt-born, the weak-willed, the ever-bleeding insects of the earth?"


    He had laughed¡ªand the others followed.


    Like they always did.


    Instead of heeding Prometheus'' prophecy, Zeus instead ordered all Olympians to gather for a counterattack¡ªas if this was a war they could win with strength alone.


    As if those Giants hidden in the shadows, whose numbers and powers remained completely unknown, could be bested by a swing of Poseidon''s trident or a thunderbolt hurled across the sky.


    Don''t they know that they literally have no idea about how strong the giants are? Where they are hiding? How many they are? Why would they counterattack when they knew nothing!?


    Athena clenched her jaw. Her helm nearly cracked from the pressure.


    They had no idea what they were dealing with.


    Not even her mind could come up with a plan to counter an enemy they had no knowledge of.


    She looked to the horizon.


    Artemis would surely not listen to Zeus and not attend this gathering.


    The moon-huntress had likely retreated with her sisterhood into the sacred groves, watching the stars for omens.


    She had no time for Olympian bluster¡ªnot when her girls, her loyal huntresses, could be in danger.


    Astrea wouldn''t answer the call either. She never did. The star-born enforcer of justice roamed alone, guided only by her silver scales.


    She''d likely scorn Zeus''s plan, choosing instead to impose her own righteous judgment on whatever forces threatened balance.


    Even Ares, the bloodthirsty storm of war, had grown¡­ reluctant.


    Athena''s brow furrowed at the thought of him.


    Her brutish, reckless, often unbearable half-brother had changed.


    Amd she was sure that Herios had changed him.


    There had been a time when Ares would have leapt at this war, driven by the scent of blood and fire.


    But now? Despite all his talks of excitement at finally going to war, he didn''t make any move and simply left Olympus.


    Why? Well, he has children.


    Daughters he adored, sons he trained with patience she never thought he possessed.


    In the past, Athena would''ve never thought that Ares could possess such paternal instincts like he does now.


    His love for his children was so strong that there was a time where he personally slaughtered one of Poseidon''s own spawn for laying hands on his daughter, completely disregarding any consequences.


    He had even dared to come knocking on Poseidon''s door and look for a fight.


    That was the day Athena realized Ares had learned what it meant to protect, not just conquer.


    "Herios changed you," she''d once told him.


    He hadn''t denied it.


    The way that King of Men stood against all impossible odds, his back facing the kingdom he has built and protected...


    It was a glorious moment that stuck to the God of War.


    Athena paused mid-flight, hovering like a hawk above the low-hanging stormclouds. Wind howled around her, but she was unmoved.


    Below, the mortal world stretched out like an ancient tapestry¡ªvalleys carved by time, forests humming with life, cities of stone and fire nestled in cradle-like hills. It was so small, so fragile, and yet¡­


    "How?" she whispered aloud. "How can they¡ªmortal men and women¡ªhope to kill something that stands beside gods?"


    She raised countless heroes, hailed as their patron even, but deep in her heart, she knew that none of them can even hope to touch the realm of gods.


    No one can, unless they are blessed by gods themselves.


    Her lips tightened as she paused her thoughts.


    Her mind drifted to Herios.


    The mortal who united the scattered human tribes.


    Who faced monsters born from divine wrath and stood unflinching.


    Who carved cities where once there was wilderness, forged the first law, sang the first anthem of mankind''s sovereignty.


    Who spoke not with prophecy, but human will.


    A man who had looked into the abyss¡ªand built a bridge across it.


    A man who boasted human power, in an era of god-believer.


    "...could they all be as great as him?"


    Her heartbeat slowed.


    Impossible.


    "What am I thinking? No gods or humans can be as great as him. No one can compare to him," she murmured. "His hands built what gods deemed impossible, who can even match a man like him?"


    The words echoed in the wind, swept away before the world could hear.


    Athena''s chest tightened¡ªnot with grief, but with the raw weight of truth and longing.


    Herios had done more with mortal hands than most gods had with divinity.


    "He had believed in the power of humanity. And so does Prometheus and Hades." Athena stared at the mortals below.


    Why would she doubt them?


    Athena took a breath, held it, and exhaled slowly.


    There would be no victory through divine firepower.


    No glory in celestial arrogance.


    If anything was to be won, it would be through those below¡ªthose fragile souls who dared resist even fate itself. S~ea??h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    But would they rise in time?


    Athena didn''t know.


    But she would find out.


    She turned in the sky, her wings of thought and light folding around her.


    The assembly on Olympus could wait.


    Let her father shout into the wind.


    Let his lightning fall like rain.


    She had something more important to do.


    She would find the mortals who still dared to think, to learn, to create. And she would protect them.


    For in them, Herios lived again.


    And in them, perhaps, the last hope of gods as well.

 Chapter 112 - 12: Athena

    AN: I fell asleep editing this chapter. Sorry.


    *


    *


    *


    Athena hovered above the town, cloaked in mist and moonlight.


    Her eyes gleamed beneath her crested helm as she watched the streets below, where torchlight flickered in the hands of mortals going about their nightly routines.


    The roofs were made of thatch and clay, the walls of mud-brick and limestone, and yet¡ªeven in this simplicity¡ªthere was something stirring.


    A presence.


    A ripple in the air.


    A pulse of fate.


    There¡ªwalking down the main road like a lion among lambs¡ªstrode a man unlike any other in this era.


    Towering. Muscled like a statue come to life.


    He wore a lion''s pelt across his shoulders, its fangs resting just above his brow.


    In his hand was a sword, longer than a man''s body, bound in a sheath of bronze and bloodstained leather.


    Children whispered his name as he passed.


    Women peeked from windows.


    Men made way.


    This man is Alcides.


    Son of Zeus and a mortal queen.


    A demigod.


    A hero who had faced the twelve impossible labors¡ªand lived.


    He had wrestled the Nemean lion, slain the nine-headed Hydra, captured Chimera with his bare hands, and done more with his mortal hands than most gods with a pantheon behind them.


    His name was already legend.


    His deeds sung from the Aegean isles to the edges of the Red Sea.


    And yet¡­ Athena''s lips curled downward.


    "Still can''t compare to Herios," she whispered to the wind.


    Alcides was strength and bravery made flesh¡ªbut Herios had been something more.


    A thinker.


    A builder.


    A unifier.


    Herios had not just killed monsters¡ªhe had raised cities, built law, bound tribes into nations with nothing but vision and will.


    Alcides fought for mankind.


    Herios fought as mankind.


    Still, Athena watched him with a thoughtful gaze. If gods truly needed help in the war to come, if mortal arms were required to face the impossible, then this one¡ªthis son of Olympus¡ªwould be the first sword she would raise.


    Silently, she extended her hand, her fingers glowing faintly with divine light.


    A mark appeared on Alcides'' back¡ªa hidden glyph of wisdom and war, visible only to those who walked among the heavens.


    "Later," she murmured. "Not now. Not yet. I''ll bring you with me soon."


    Then, with a flutter of wings that did not beat and a gust of wind that stirred no dust, Athena rose into the sky.


    She soared westward, high above the mountains.


    The stars watched her, silent and cold.


    The wind whispered across her skin, brushing the gold-trimmed edge of her cloak.


    But as she cut through the sky, she felt it¡ªa tremble.


    A ripple.


    Something¡­ was wrong.


    The sensation was like oil on water, like shadows slithering against the back of her mind.


    Unease coiled around her like a serpent.


    She accelerated.


    Faster. Higher. Sharper.


    But then, completely unaware and caught completely off guard, something struck.


    A pressure¡ªheavy, deadly¡ªdescended around her.


    The sky seemed to shiver.


    Birds in flight scattered in terror.


    And from behind her, a whisper of movement


    Athena twisted, instincts honed through eons flaring.


    A spear¡ªblack as obsidian and wreathed in red flame¡ªripped through the air just inches from her throat.


    She barely dodged, the edge slicing her cheek like a whisper of death.


    She spun through the sky, halting mid-air, summoning her spear and shield in twin flashes of divine brilliance.


    Her shield shimmered, her spear etched with the secrets of battle.


    She turned, gaze narrowed¡ªand froze.


    There, standing upon the very air as if it were solid ground, was a being with a very familiar presence.


    Her eyes narrowed.


    A Gigante/Giant, born of Gaia as their king claimed, shaped by her wrath and anger towards the Olympians. S~ea??h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Truthfully, not even Athena herself is confident in this battle.


    The giant was as tall as a temple, with skin like stone and muscles rippling with volcanic power.


    His eyes burned red, and his long black hair whipped like serpents in a storm.


    He wore no armor¡ªonly chains that still clung to his limbs like ornaments from a forgotten war.


    His spear, jagged and burning, pulsed with raw hatred.


    "I thought you''d die from that," he said, his voice like boulders grinding beneath the earth. "You''re quite quick. I guess that is to be expected from a goddess?"


    Athena''s grip tightened on her spear.


    "Don''t think a mere sneak attack can finish me off. I am Athena, Goddess of Wisdom! I will not fall to such underhanded tactics! State your name giant, so I may write tales of your defeat!"


    He grinned¡ªa savage, cruel thing. "I am Enceladus! Born of Gaia! And I have come to take your head, Goddess of Wisdom!"


    Athena''s heart pounded once, hard.


    "You came for me? Well then, you are doomed to fail."


    "So you say, but I''m sure you realize that I am far superior to you." he said, spinning his spear.


    Don''t worry, you are just first of many. Our mother gave her order, the time of gods and mortals ends. The age of giants begins."


    Lightning surged across the sky. The clouds spiraled in unnatural arcs, forming a vortex above them.


    Athena raised her shield, stepping into a battle stance, her voice cold and commanding:


    "Come, then. Let me remind you why Olympians are the rulers of the cosmos."


    With a roar, Enceladus lunged.


    Their weapons clashed, a shockwave exploding through the heavens.


    Spear met spear, shield shattered flame, and the night sky lit with the fire of gods.


    Athena''s eyes widened for a moment. From this exchange alone, she knew that Enceladus has far surpassed her in strength.


    But...


    She twisted beneath his next strike, her movements sharp and fluid, delivering a blow to his ribs that cracked the sky.


    Enceladus laughed, blood dripping from his mouth, and retaliated with a sweep that tore through the clouds.


    The battle raged above the mortal world, unseen, but felt in sudden gusts of wind and distant thunder.


    Down below, Alcides paused mid-stride, brow furrowing.


    He felt something. Something vast and ancient¡ªbattling just beyond the veil.


    Unknown to him, that in that moment, far above, Athena fought not just for her life¡ªbut for the future of both gods and mortals.


    The sky cracked open with thunder.


    Lightning flared in wild streaks across the sky as Athena soared backward, her shield slammed by a force that sent her hurtling through the clouds.


    She caught herself mid-flight, gritting her teeth as her arm throbbed from the impact.


    A sharp pain radiated up her shoulder¡ªbruised, maybe even fractured.


    Enceladus stood tall among the clouds, his jagged spear dripping with divine ichor.


    Not his¡ªbut hers.


    He laughed.


    "Is that all, daughter of wisdom?" he roared, his voice shaking mountaintops. "You are small, so small! I guess even if the owl''s feathers are pretty, they burn all the same!"


    Athena narrowed her eyes, spinning her spear with calculated precision.


    "You talk too much," she hissed.


    She shot forward, a streak of silver and flame, but Enceladus was faster than she expected.


    His spear met hers mid-thrust and batted it aside.


    The sheer power behind his movement cracked the wind like a whip. Before she could adjust, he struck with his fist.


    Her shield caught the blow¡ªbut the shockwave sent her crashing into a mountain of floating stone that shattered under her weight.


    Dust and divine sparks scattered in all directions.


    Athena rolled to her feet, knees bent, chest rising.


    ''He''s stronger than I expected,'' she admitted grimly. ''Far stronger.''


    But strength wasn''t everything.


    She was Athena.


    Wisdom. War. Precision. Strategy.


    And he¡ªfor all his raw might¡ªwas swinging like a blind beast.


    Enceladus lunged again, grinning wide, believing the battle nearly won. His spear slashed toward her neck, fast and brutal. But this time, she anticipated it.


    Athena ducked low and stepped inside his guard, driving the butt of her spear into his gut.


    It sank in deep.


    He gasped¡ªand she was already twisting around behind him, jamming her knee into the back of his.


    The giant stumbled, caught off balance.


    She was on him like lightning.


    Strike¡ª


    Dodge¡ª


    Feint¡ª


    Cut¡ª


    Her spear danced across his legs, slicing tendons and knees.


    He swung blindly, but she was already above him, driving her spear straight into his shoulder with all her strength.


    It pierced through flesh and bone, and he howled as black blood exploded into the air.


    They spiraled in the air, locked in divine combat.


    Clouds split.


    The stars dimmed.


    And below them, the mortal world shivered.


    Animals screamed in terror.


    Rivers twisted.


    The moon cracked and bled light


    Their intense battle sent shockwaves throughout the world.


    On Mount Olympus, gods paused.


    Zeus, seated on his storm-throne, felt it like a wound in his chest.


    "Athena," he murmured, standing. "And that presence.... She''s fighting a giant?"


    Apollo looked up from the strings of his lyre.


    Hermes paused mid-step, sandals glowing.


    The heavens trembled.


    Without second thought, Zeus flew towards the battlefield, with Apollo and Hermes following behind him.


    Back in the fight.


    Athena didn''t stop.


    She spun once¡ªthen drove her spear through Enceladus'' throat, the divine metal erupting from the back of his neck.


    He gurgled, blood spraying in molten arcs.


    She didn''t let up.


    She summoned all her strength and drove her shield against his face, smashing him backward.


    Then, in one final motion, she ripped her spear free and hurled it with such force that it tore through his chest and launched into his skull...


    ...blowing his head clean off.


    The force of it exploded the sky.


    His body collapsed like a mountain falling into the sea. Headless and lifeless.


    Athena hovered above him, panting, covered in bruises and divine ichor. Her limbs trembled, but she refused to fall.


    She had won.


    Or so she thought.


    Because at that moment...


    his body twitched.


    Black smoke leaked from the neck stump.


    A sound, low and growing¡ªlike laughter echoing from a cave of bones.


    His head¡­ regrew.


    The flesh rippled, bones cracked, and before her stunned eyes, Enceladus stood once more, whole and grinning, blood still dripping from his lips.


    "That¡­ hurt," he said, his voice colder now. "You got lucky, goddess."


    Athena stared in disbelief.


    "How?"


    Enceladus spat aside a tooth and stepped forward.


    "Fool. You think a god can kill us?" he growled. "We were born from Gaia''s hatred, from her desire to completely crush the gods of Olympus."


    He spread his arms wide.


    "As such, we possessed anti-divine attributes. Your powers slide off us like water. You could cut me into a thousand pieces, and I would still come for your throat."


    Her mind raced.


    Anti-divine?


    So is this the reason why we must seek the help of mortals? But since mortals can''t fight giants, the gods might need to weaken them enough for mortals to deal a fatal blow.


    "I see." she said softly.


    He only laughed again.


    Then suddenly, he stopped, stiffened.


    Eyes turned toward the east.


    Lightning.


    Golden light.


    Three presences tore through the sky like stars on fire.


    Zeus. Apollo. Hermes.


    They were almost here.


    Enceladus growled, disappointment flickering in his gaze.


    "Tch. Saved by your father," he sneered. "You''re lucky, Athena."


    The shadows around him rose, thick and oily as the air turned cold.


    "Tell your kin," he said, fading into smoke and darkness. "The war is coming. The real war. And you¡ªnone of you¡ªare ready."


    Then he was gone.


    Silence returned.


    Athena floated in the shattered sky, wounded and shaken, her shield cracked, her spear trembling in her grip.


    Moments later, Zeus arrived, thunder crashing in his wake.


    He saw his daughter, and his eyes went wide.


    "Athena¡ª"


    "I''m fine," she said softly, even though she wasn''t.


    Zeus nodded, "That''s good. Now where is that giant!? Did he flee!?"


    Athena sighed, not bothering to offer a response.


    Hermes hovered beside her, wide-eyed.


    "What happened here?"


    Athena slowly turned towards him, eyes looking at him like an idiot. "Didn''t you come here because you felt me fighting against a giant?"


    Idiots.


    The lot of them!


    Her family are idiots!

 Chapter 113 - 12

    Hades sat in his office. The air within was deathly still, save for the soft humming of countless fragmented souls suspended midair before him.


    A constellation of memory shards, regrets, identities fractured beyond repair.


    He observed them in silence.


    He was trying to see if he can uncover the creature who has been trying to implant knowledge beyond this era into the minds of mortals.


    But it yielded no result.


    However, he did confirm his guess that something or someone was already eliminating any influence of that creature.


    Although it might seem ruthless, but Hades would rather have that than some ''alien'' lifeform completely wrecking havoc in the overworld.


    As he thought that, he felt a tremor from the overworld.


    A fight have broken out.


    He looked up.


    Far above, beyond the veil of the Underworld and through the skein of divine perception, a flare of power rippled across reality¡ªdistant, but unmistakable.


    A clash.


    A goddess against a giant.


    His niece Athena, against one of his children, Enceladus.


    He tilted his head, feeling like due to his bloodline, the giants have gotten quite stronger than they are supposed to be.


    Even Athena, arguably the strongest Olympian after Zeus and Poseidon, was struggling against Enceladus, who wasn''t even amongst the strongest giants.


    "How noisy..." Hades whispered, sighing.


    Although their fight haven''t reached the underworld, but Hades can perfectly feel and hear it.


    Despite so, Hades didn''t make a move.


    He merely watched, eyes glowing with that quiet, timeless light that had outlived empires.


    The battle had begun¡ªthe first true battle of the Gigantomachy.


    Athena against Enceladus.


    His pale gaze lingered on the celestial echoes for a moment. Then he exhaled a long, weary breath and returned to the floating puzzle before him.


    Souls twisted in silence.


    He had been collecting them for weeks now, even halting his usual duties to study their essence.


    He traced one shard with his finger. A mother''s soul, torn in half. Her memories flickered: laughter, sunlight, a child''s name¡ªand then¡­


    Darkness.


    Screaming.


    A voice not her own speaking through her.


    Then, knowledge that went beyond this era poured into her mind, completely driving her into madness.


    Hades couldn''t see what the woman have seen as something seems to be erasing its presence.


    She couldn''t handle the knowledge and what she had seen and lost her mind, eventually taking her own life.


    And this wasn''t just a first case, there were many others like her.


    It feels like they were used as an experiment to see how humans would react when forcefully inserted with knowledge beyond understanding.


    Hades frowned.


    "What touched you?" he murmured.


    He had returned to Nyx''s domain thrice already, hoping to ask the Primordial of Night if she had sensed the same disturbance in the darkness.


    But she had been absent, her throne empty, her realm colder than usual.


    He wasn''t really disappointed, after all, Nyx has always been aloof. Hades himself had never seen her after they had their first ''intimate'' moment.


    But still, having her, the first creation to appear in the cosmos and the closest to chaos, would certainly help him uncover all these mysteries.


    He pressed two fingers to the soul shard again and whispered an old incantation of Truth-Revealing¡ªa spell created by Hecate that only worked in the Underworld''s core.


    It showed him layers beyond identity. sea??h th§× n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    And just like that, that eerie feeling of being stared at by something one cannot see engulfed him.


    He flinched.


    There it was again.


    Something ancient.


    Something not from this world.


    Not a Titan.


    Not a Giant.


    Not an Olympian.


    Not a Primordial.


    It was like something had stitched a foreign language into the soul, not just memories but command lines, infecting the very code of being.


    And it was spreading. Fast.


    If he wasn''t holding into these souls, they would slowly disintegrate and vanish from existence.


    No after life. No reincarnation. Nothing.


    They''ll just... Disappear.


    Hades cancelled the spell and leaned back on his office chair.


    Suddenly, the massive obsidian door to his study opened with a slow groan.


    Hades did not turn. He already knew the scent, the gait, the soft pulse of wheat and warmth in the air.


    "Demeter," he said.


    His sister stepped inside, dressed in robes of deep gold and olive, her face unusually grim.


    No flowers in her hair. No scent of harvest on her breath.


    She said nothing at first, simply looking at him. Hades didn''t press, he waited for her to speak.


    Finally, after a moment, she spoke.


    "I need to return to the overworld," she said. "Something¡­ urgent has come up."


    Hades studied her. She stood stiffly, fingers clutched at her sleeves, gaze not quite meeting his.


    "Is it because of the giants?"


    She hesitated, but replied. "Yes."


    But she said no more.


    Hades nodded once, without prying further.


    "Go, then."


    Demeter blinked in mild surprise, as though she''d expected resistance. Instead, he turned his gaze back to the fragmented souls.


    His voice, though calm, carried weight. "I won''t stop you. But be careful. The overworld is¡­ you know, currently in a state of war."


    Demeter''s expression softened.


    She walked forward, placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.


    "Thank you, brother."


    Then she turned and left, golden robes trailing behind her like falling wheat stalks.


    The door shut.


    Hades remained still for a long time.


    Then he lifted a new shard.


    This one belonged to a soldier, a proud warrior who had once defied death to save his comrades.


    Now the shard trembled, as though it were alive, and whispered a sound in a language Hades did not recognize.


    It was not human.


    It was not divine.


    He placed the soul into a floating bronze casing, sealed it with primordial script, and locked it within his sanctum.


    Whatever is happening in the overworld, will surely shake the very cosmos.


    And he wasn''t talking about the Gigantomachy.


    But the foreign thing that gave those knowledge to humans.


    He doesn''t who or what it is yet, but since it''s hiding itself, it means it wasn''t confident on taking on the strongest beings of this universe just yet.


    Hades will make sure it stays that way.


    He will never allow anything to mess up the world''s order.


    Hades finally stood, walking to his darkened balcony that overlooked the vast Core Section of the Underworld¡ªhis great city, Nox, glittering beneath him like an inverted constellation.


    He stared upward through the blackened dome of the sky, eyes unblinking.


    "Hide. Hide whatever you are. Because once I found you, I will carve your screams to the void and make it echo for eternity."