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Chapter 76: Chapter 30: Experiments
Deep 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.
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—each 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—a 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—but 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—though 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—this 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—if I force them to kneel to Herios—then 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—but 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—back to his desperate, maddening search for transcendence.
Somewhere above, the world moved slowly.
And deep below, a god reached for infinity.
