The God of Underworld-Chapter 57 - 12: The Trial, and Love

Olympus stood still.

The sky above the mountain, normally vibrant with clouds, sunlight, and immortal radiance, had dimmed to a solemn hush.

The great marble amphitheater, a monument of divine splendor, was filled with nearly every god and goddess that resided in the overworld.

They sat in rows of floating thrones and seats formed of clouds, vines, crystal, or gold—each reflecting the personality and domain of the gods they belonged to.

It was a rare occasion for Olympus: not a feast, nor a war council—but a trial.

Prometheus, the fire-thief, the rebel, the Titan who once sided with the Olympians to overthrow his own kin, had been captured.

And today, judgment would be rendered.

But before the trial could begin, all gods waited—some with tension, others with irritation—for the arrival of one being.

Perhaps the most important figure in this gathering. And no it wasn’t Zeus, nor Poseidon.

But the god who awaits at the end.

The god whom the Primordial Uranus acknowledged to stand beyond the heavens.

King of Underworld, God of the Dead.

Hades.

Suddenly, a thick purple mist spread across the amphitheater, rolling over the divine thrones like a storm made of dreams and shadows.

The younger gods—those born after the Titanomachy—gasped in confusion and fear.

A few stood up, gripping their weapons instinctively.

A chill ran down their spines as the mist coiled and crackled with power ancient and boundless.

Then it dissipated with a soundless exhale.

Hades had arrived.

Clad in robes darker than midnight, embroidered with threads that shimmered like starlight glimpsed through a cave, he stood tall.

His divine presence bore the weight of uncountable souls.

His eyes, deep and cold as the Styx, swept over the assembled immortals.

The gods fell silent.

Even those who had once marched with him during the war—those who now ruled the skies and lands and oceans—straightened uncomfortably.

Because they remembered.

They remembered the horrors of the war, the fury of Titans, and the merciless silence with which Hades erased his enemies.

He was not one to bark orders or roar for blood. He simply acted. And when he did, it was final.

Many of the gods now basking in luxuries and vanity could not forget the truth: that in power, Hades was someone that stands beyond anyone else in this gathering.

They had changed over the decades. Some had become complacent. Arrogant. Drunk on authority.

They became worse than the Titans whom they rebelled against and overthrown.

That’s why when Hades’ eyes swept through them, they couldn’t help but lower their heads in shame and guilt.

Although some, still feels quite close to the god of underworld.

At this moment, a soft but confident voice interrupted the reverent stillness and silent guilt.

"Greetings Lord Hades, Lord of Spirits," said a woman with grace and poise.

Themis.

The beautiful Titan Goddess of Justice, dressed in plain white robes, with eyes covered in blindfold.

After the war, she chose to refrain from interfering with the politics of Olympus. Instead, she chose to build her own temple and judge the mortal world.

Hades inclined his head.

"Themis," he greeted, simply.

She smiled softly and moved back to her place near the witness platform.

Hades scanned the space, finding a good spot to take a seat, then raised a hand.

Instantly, black crystal sprouted from the marble floor, shaping itself into an obsidian throne—a dark mirror of Olympus’ gaudy gold.

He sat, draping one leg over the other, resting a hand beneath his chin as he watched the proceedings with unreadable calm.

Poseidon, seated nearby on a throne of coral and crashing waves, nodded to his brother.

"Brother," he said with a voice like a tide retreating.

Hades returned the nod, wordlessly.

Zeus, however, was fuming.

The King of Gods, robed in white and gold, sat at the center of it all. His eyes crackled with divine lightning, and his jaw was tight with irritation.

The moment Hades arrived, the room had shifted. Whispers filled the air. The younger gods, who had once stood in awe of him, were now curiously peering at the figure in black.

He could hear them.

"Who is he?"

"Is that the god of the dead?"

"He doesn’t look like a corpse at all..."

"Why would you think he’d look like a corpse?"

"Because, I don’t know, he’s the freaking god of the dead!?"

And worst of all, Hades completely ignored his majesty and didnt even greet him! He is the King of Gods! Yet Hades simply stared at him and didn’t bother offering any greetings!

The disrespect!

However, no matter how angry he is, he didn’t dare scold or reprimand Hades. His power is enough for Zeus to completely lower his head and swallow his pride.

Finally, with a wave of his hand and a burst of thunder, Zeus stood.

"Let it be known," he declared, his voice echoing across the chamber, "that this assembly has been gathered to bear witness to the trial of the traitor, the fire-thief, Prometheus."

The amphitheater fell silent.

Chains rattled.

From a separate archway guarded by divine spirits, Prometheus was brought forth, shackled in glowing celestial chains.

Though his body was thin, and wounds marred his skin, he walked upright—shoulders back, chin lifted, and that damnable smirk still dancing on his lips.

He was placed in the center of the amphitheater.

Zeus stared down at him with storm-filled eyes.

"Do you admit your crime?" Zeus asked.

Prometheus looked up at him, his eyes calm as he stared straight at Zeus burning gaze.

"If you mean giving your precious flame to humans," he said with a chuckle, ’then yes. Happily."

A murmur rippled through the crowd.

Zeus clenched his throne’s arms. ’You dare mock us even now?"

"I mock no one, King of Gods," Prometheus said, gaze flickering over the gods who had once stood beside him during the war. "I only remind you what it means to give hope."

Zeus slammed his foot to the floor.

Thunder boomed, startling the gods who were witnessing the trial. Well, except for those whose power is at the same level, or exceeds that of Zeus.

Hades leaned forward slightly, completely unaffected by Zeus performance.

"Hope, huh." he echoed quietly, his voice calm.

Prometheus turned to him, his expression softening. "Yes. I believe, that a day will come where humanity would shine brighter than any gods."

"INSOLENCE!"

Zeus roared, the sky darkened as thunders exploded in fury.

Other gods also flared up their divine power, their eyes burning in anger at Prometheus.

"HOW DARE YOU COMPARE US TO MERE MORTALS!?"

"HAVE YOU BEEN BLINDED!?"

Hades, intrigued, raised a hand. This immediately silenced the anger of the gods who all quickly retracted their aura, bringing the place into calmness and solemnity once more.

"Why, Prometheus? Why risk your immortality, your status, your freedom—for humans?"

Prometheus met his gaze. "Hah, many have asked this question before."

Hades leaned forward slightly.

"They all want reasons. Why would I go so far to steal the flames from the gods and gave it to humanity? Hatred towards the gods? Wanting to rebel? I feel none of that. There is no reason why...."

He grinned, "Does a man need any reason to protect his children?"

Another ripple of silence.

Hades leaned back, resting his cheek on his knuckles once more.

"You are a fool." He said, as Prometheus merely chuckled, "But I admire fools like you."

He waved his hands to Zeus, "You can sentence him now. I have more questions to ask, but it seems like you couldn’t wait any longer."

Zeus’ eye twitched, but he nodded stiffly.

"For the crime of stealing the sacred flame, your sentence is thus," he announced, rising. "Prometheus shall be bound to the peak of the Caucasus Mountains. There, every day, an eagle shall feast upon his liver. And every night, it shall regrow. Eternal suffering, for eternal defiance."

Prometheus didn’t flinch.

"Sounds... messy," he said with a tired grin.

Zeus gestured. "Let it be done."

As divine spirits prepared to drag Prometheus away, he turned his head slightly toward the crowd, or rather, to Hades.

"Look after them." he said, barely a whisper.

And those who had heard him knew—he was speaking of humanity.

Then, with the chains glowing, he was pulled from Olympus.

And Hades sat silently, eyes half-lidded, appearing to be in deep thought.

Just now, he felt his heartbeat quickened, as if something tugged his heartstrings and called out to him.

It was similar to what he felt with Nyx, but more intimate.

’What was that?’

He wondered.

*

*

*

*

Somewhere, far from the shores of any known land, the sea slumbered beneath the golden glow of dawn.

The wind was gentle, the waves soft, and for a brief moment, all the world seemed to hold its breath.

Amidst the calm blue waves, a patch of white foam drifted silently.

It swirled in strange patterns—elegant, almost purposeful—yet no god nor mortal had laid eyes upon it.

But the sea knew. The sky, too, remembered.

And both trembled in anticipation.

Then, with a blinding shimmer of light, the foam pulsed.

From it, a figure emerged.

A radiant woman stood on the surface of the water as though it were stone. Her golden hair cascaded down her back, shimmering like sunlight striking a still ocean.

Her eyes gleamed with molten gold, ancient yet newborn. Her skin, kissed by starlight, was the perfect harmony of beauty and divinity.

Every curve of her body was a melody sculpted to enchant. She was a being of desire, of allure, of ineffable elegance.

And she was naked, without shame.

The sea itself swirled around her, offering waves to cradle her, but none dared touch her without her will.

She blinked slowly.

She felt the sun’s warmth... and recognized it. She felt the ocean’s embrace... and welcomed it. She breathed in the wind... and smiled.

"I... finally exists," she whispered, her voice like silk and honey.

Though her lips had never spoken a word before, she knew the language. Though her eyes had never seen the world, she knew its names.

Her mind overflowed with ancient truths—born not of experience, but of divine instinct.

She touched her heart, and a pulse of warmth responded. A soft hum called from within, not in words but in will. A direction. A purpose. A place.

Mount Olympus.

That name glimmered in her mind like a beacon. She did not know why, but she knew she had to go there.

It was as if part of her had always belonged there... waiting to be reunited.

She looked up at the heavens and closed her eyes. She could feel her authority—a divine domain—though it had not yet fully awakened.

It yearned. Not for conquest or dominion, but for something more elusive.

Connection.

Love.

Desire.

Balance.

From the sea she was born, but it was not her domain. From the sky she was formed, but it was not her father.

She was a child of chaos, born of a fragment of Uranus—of the severed sky—and nourished by the sea’s womb. A primordial miracle.

Aphrodite.

She had not heard the name spoken, but it lingered in her thoughts like a forgotten lullaby.

It was hers.

"I am Aphrodite," she said, testing the shape of the words. "Goddess of...?"

She paused. The answer was not yet clear, but it would come.

With newfound resolve, she turned her gaze toward the distant peaks of Olympus.

She lifted a hand, and the winds bent to her will. The sea gently released her as she rose from its surface.

A current of air wrapped around her like invisible silk, lifting her higher and higher into the sky.

She flew—no, floated—with the grace of a falling petal in reverse. Birds scattered in surprise. Clouds parted before her beauty. The world itself seemed to hush in reverence.

As she soared through the sky, an unseen ripple spread from her presence—an unseen song that tugged at the hearts of men and gods alike.