The God of Underworld-Chapter 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. ƒreewebɳovel.com

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—waiting 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—move out!"

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—Hera, 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—"

He tightened his grip.

"We will break them."