The God of Underworld-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—a 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—Herea’ 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—but 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—something 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—the 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—her 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—taken 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—something 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—until 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—rare, 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.

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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—defied me!"

He turned sharply toward the kneeling spirit.

"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—his divine image—had 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—each 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.