The God of Underworld-Chapter 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—if 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."

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." freёnovelkiss.com

The divine spirit swallowed, still catching his breath. "There has been a breach in the western stronghold. The enemy forces—"

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—but 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—one of our informants—managed 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—we 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—figures 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—his 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."