The God of Underworld-Chapter 61 - 16:

Blood stained the soil.

Smoke billowed into the skies.

All across the overworld, humanity groaned beneath the weight of punishment—or trial.

No one truly knew.

Ever since Prometheus gifted them fire, the monsters came in waves—beasts that defied nature, creatures with eyes that glowed in the dark and bodies like twisted shadows of man and beast.

Villages burned.

Children cried.

Elders wept. And still, the gods did nothing.

But mortals, stubborn as ever, endured.

Among them was Herios.

His tribe was small but stubborn, surviving through sheer grit and clever traps, they live near a reason rhat has now become a sen of monsgees.

Herios, tall and sharp-eyed, led them through forests of ash and plains riddled with scorched bones to reach the agreed meeting place—an ancient ruin with a single circular stone table cracked in the middle, left behind by a people long gone.

Around it now sat eleven men and women, each bearing the scars of battle.

Each one a leader of a tribe.

Bronze weapons leaned beside them—swords, spears, axes. Faces were grim, jaws clenched.

The meeting began with silence.

Then, a weathered old man slammed the butt of his spear on the stone.

"We are cursed," he declared. This is the wrath of the gods for accepting the flame. Prometheus has damned us."

Another scoffed, a younger woman with a hawk-feathered cloak. "Or this is a test. The gods gave us a gift, now they wish to see if we are strong enough to hold it."

"They could test us without slaughtering our children!" another snapped, eyes red from sleepless nights and fresh grief.

Herios stood slowly, arms crossed. "It doesn’t matter whether it is punishment or trial. The monsters are real. They are killing us. If we argue while our people die, then we’ve already failed the gods, or waited for the monsters."

Silence returned.

The wind howled through the broken stones of the ruin.

"I suggest we prayed and asked the gods for help."

"Hah! As if thoses guys would even offer us any help. I suggest we attack the monsters first, annihilate tbem before they annihilate us."

"No, that would get us killed faster."

One by one, they shared their ideas—building stronger walls, migrating south, praying to the gods, sacrificing captured beasts.

None could agree. Each leader thought only of their own tribe.

Finally, Herios stepped forward and laid his hand on the cracked stone table.

"We must become one."

The leaders looked at him.

"One tribe. One voice. One shield. We will not survive as eleven weak branches. But we can become a tree."

"Who would lead this tree of yours?" one chieftain asked coldly. "You?"

Herios shrugged. "Unfortunately, I don’t have any interest in leading. We can choose, or fight, or vote. I don’t care how. But if we remain divided, we die."

They erupted.

"I have the largest tribe!"

"My warriors are stronger than yours!"

"I was chosen by my god!"

"No, I was!"

"My tribe is the best hunters, we can provide more food."

At this moment....

The table shook as tempers rose. Weapons clanged. Shouts echoed in the ruin.

Then came the scream.

A young scout, barely more than a boy, came running, stumbling on cracked stone, blood on his arms. "Monsters! They’re coming—hundreds of them! Claws, horns—they’re surrounding the camp!"

The leaders froze.

Herios grabbed his spear. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

"I don’t care about being leader or not," he said, voice hard like hammered bronze. "But I will fight. I will protect as many people as I can. If you follow, then fight beside me. If not—may the gods favor your tribes."

He turned and marched out of the ruin, his tribe already rallying behind him.

And slowly—ashamed, angry, desperate—one by one, the other leaders followed.

For the first time in history, the tribes would stand together.

But unity born in fire was unity tested in blood.

The age of tribes was ending.

And a new age for humanity... had just begun.

*

*

*

Far beneath the realm of mortals, along the rivers of Styx and Lethe, within the black-stoned halls of the Hades’ fortress, the God of the Dead observed.

A faint, silver-blue projection hovered in the air before Hades, displaying the overworld—its burning forests, crumbling villages, and, in the center of it all, a band of humans finally uniting.

The figure at their front, Herios, stood tall with a cracked bronze sword and a fire in his eyes that even gods could feel.

Hades, seated in his obsidian throne, rested his chin upon one hand. A small, knowing smile tugged at his lips.

"They finally do it," he murmured. "Unity in the face of extinction. Although a bit cruel, but with this, humanity has taken a step to becoming the lord of this land."

Just then, his chamber doors flew open, slamming against the black marble walls with a thunderous clang.

"Aphrodite," he muttered without turning, recognizing the divine signature immediately.

She stormed in like a frustrated gust of spring wind—though in truth, she looked more like she’d barely survived a hurricane.

Her golden hair was tangled at the ends, her dress slightly wrinkled, and most tellingly of all—there were dark circles beneath her eyes.

The Goddess of Beauty, clearly, had not been sleeping.

Yet as soon as Hades turned to face her, all imperfections vanished. As if the Underworld itself refused to let her appear anything less than perfect before its King.

Hades, of course, noticed—but said nothing.

"Adjusting well to the Underworld?" he asked dryly.

Aphrodite let out a soft groan. "It’s dark, it’s cold, and the spirits keep asking me if I’m some kind of hallucination."

She dropped herself onto the edge of his desk before rising again, pacing behind him instead.

"And yet here you still are."

"I never said I hated it. Besides, I do all this because Hera and Lady Hecate all told me that you like hard working woman." she replied smoothly, placing her arms gently around his shoulders, her cheek resting next to his. "I just didn’t expect to do so many things. Work. Meetings. More work. More meetings. And even more work! Underworld is incredibly understaffed!"

She leaned closer, her chest pressing against his back, her golden curls brushing against his jaw as she gazed at the floating image of Herios and the human tribes.

"They’re... not bad," she admitted. "I wasn’t expecting these glorified monkeys to actually amount to something. But look at them. Tools, courage, intelligence, and wisdom, they have developed quite well in my opinion."

Hades chuckled, low and amused. "That’s rare. You’re not one to praise others."

She smirked. "Well, perhaps it’s because I’ve grown fond od them. For centuries, they’ve done little more than rut and fight over shiny stones. They are ugly and weak. Dumb and reckless. Their lifespan is short and fleeting. They have shown no potential for greater things. Until now."

"They were never meant to advance and grow this quickly," Hades replied, voice calm and ancient. "But perhaps due to their own mortality, they learned to make the most use of their short lives. The gods are stars—burning bright and never changing. But humans... they burn, then they change. Then they burn again. That’s what makes them so fascinating."

Aphrodite hummed thoughtfully. "Perhaps. But enough of those guys."

She stood up straight and went in front of him, hands slamming on his desk. "The smell of mint is becoming too thick! It’s making me dizzy! Please tell Minthe and Lady Demeter to lay off the planting!"

"You’ll get used to it," Hades murmured. "And if not, you’ll suffer through it like the rest of us."

He tried asking them before, but their arguments after that was something he wished to forget.

For the kind and gentle women that they are, they really turned incredibly aggressive when it comes to plants.

Not even Hades can withstand them.

She stared at him straight, before a helpless sigh escaped her lips. "...I wish I could hit you for making a lady endure all these. But I can’t because I love you. You’re lucky, you know that right? You’ve got the most beautiful goddess in cosmos dancing on your palm."

"Yes, I heard that a lot."

For a while, they stood in silence, before Aphrodite draped over him once again, watching mortals fight for survival.

"Well, enough of that. Lemme see those humans."

"You really grew fond of them." Said Hades.

Aphrodite smiled at him, "Well, they are a race that is favored by the man I loved, so it’s natural right?"

Hades remained silent, not knowing how to respond to her feelings. So he can only sigh and watch the projection with her.

A goddess born from the sea, and a god forged in the depths of the earth, looking down on a race not made by either of them—yet stirring something in both.

And far above, Herios stood tall, bronze sword raised, shouting orders as a pack of monsters descended upon them.

The first battle of humanity’s new future was beginning.

And in the depths of death, two gods watched it bloom.