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Chapter 71: Chapter 25: Hades’ Thoughts
The sky above had long since darkened, but it bore no stars—only 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—it 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—of gods bickering, of humans beginning to write their legend—faded 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—almost 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.
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—to 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—an 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—but 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—her 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."
"Touché." 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—not just into the heart of his domain, but into a choice that would change the fate of the cosmos.
