The God of Underworld-Chapter 79 - 33: He’s Ready

The sky was a tapestry of fading twilight, where the final hues of sun sank beneath the horizon, casting long shadows upon the forest that remained untouched by human hands.

Deep within its heart, nestled between silver-leaved trees and mist-covered moss, was a primordial lake.

Its surface was as smooth as polished jade, a perfect mirror of the heavens above.

A lone figure stepped from the underbrush — hooded, draped in dark robes stitched with the runes of forgotten tongues.

His presence stirred neither birds nor beasts, for he walked with the silence of twilight itself.

He stood at the water’s edge, his boots sinking slightly into the damp earth, and gazed down into the still lake.

The wind held its breath as he spoke.

"Lady Hecate," he whispered.

Ripples did not come.

No wave distorted the lake.

Instead, a face slowly appeared upon the surface, a vision not of water, but of soul and starlight.

Possessing a beauty that can captivate any man — Hecate, the Keeper of Crossroads, the Guardian of Mysteries.

Her gaze met his, calm and ancient.

"Lioras," she said softly. "You’ve called. Do you have any news?"

The hooded wanderer bowed his head. "Yes, my lady. I bring news from the coalition of the rebel tribes. They have begun preparations. Armed by Hephaestus, guided by Apollo, drunk on Dionysus’ madness and driven by Ares’ wrath. They will march against Herios."

Hecate nodded slightly. "And the Olympians?"

"They watch from their thrones," Lioras said. "Some whisper. Some rejoice. But none thought of stopping it. They believe this war will break Herios... and if the humans worship them in return, it will be their gain."

A long pause. The lake shimmered with reflected stars.

"They play games again," Hecate murmured. "As they did in the Titanomachy... Always others’ blood spilled for their gain."

Lioras hesitated. "Shall I intervene?"

"No." Her voice was firm, but tired. ’You have done well. Return to the Underworld. I will summon you again if needed."

Lioras bowed once more. "As you command.’

The image faded from the lake, leaving behind only his reflection. Lioras turned and walked back into the forest, vanishing into the growing night.

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Back in the depths of the Underworld, far beyond the reach of mortal eyes, within a chamber of silver stone and flowing darkwater, Hecate leaned against her throne, massaging her temple with slender fingers.

Candles of blue fire floated in the air, casting her shadow into three directions — past, present, and future — the very symbol of her dominion.

Scrolls and maps lay scattered on the floor, glowing softly with prophetic symbols and divine equations.

But all pointed to the same eventuality: conflict, death, and collapse.

"They will fall," she whispered, her voice carrying across the silent chamber. "Herios... the boy who seeks to unite mortals, will fall. Not because of his faults, but because he was left alone."

She rose from her throne and walked toward a giant window of crystal that looked out upon the ghostly city of Nox — the center of the Underworld.

Lanterns floated like stars between its spires, divine spirits walked the streets below, and the River Lethe glowed faintly as it wound its way around the city walls.

It was peaceful, structured, firm.

All that Hades had built. And now... all that he was ignoring.

Her thoughts drifted to him ,the Lord of the Dead, the quiet brother, The King of Underworld.

Once, he had stood tall and proud, delivering judgment and protecting the realm of souls.

Now, he buried himself in a private dimension, seeking to ascend, to force strength through experimentation and obsession.

Hecate had visited him many times. Each time, he said little. His eyes were no longer filled with wisdom, but with fire and frustration, a hunger to overcome the boundaries of godhood.

And now, the world above burned while he chased shadows.

Her hands clenched.

"Hades...are you really not going to protect your believers?" she whispered in confusion.

The faith of humanity are of no use to them. The spirit energy from souls are more than enough to sustain their needs.

But still, as the first human to worship underworld gods, it would be a lie to say that Hecate doesn’t care about them.

She turned back toward her desk and summoned a parchment. Upon it, she began to write, a report, a request, a warning.

Something that would eventually find its way to Hera, or perhaps to Minthe, or Aphrodite — anyone who might shake Hades from his isolation.

Because if he would not rise soon... then everything he left behind would fall apart.

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Deep within the heart of the Underworld, in a realm no soul could wander and no god dared tread, Hades labored.

A black void surrounded him, punctuated only by the soft glow of hundreds of floating tubes and artifacts.

Each contained a different energy source: the blood of titans, the marrow of long-dead primordials, cursed fragments of Chaos-born beasts, and radiant essence extracted from lesser deities.

He worked tirelessly for what felt like centuries, breaking down the energy signatures of godhood, stripping the divine spark apart, studying how it clung to the soul, how it intertwined with one’s domain and identity.

His eyes, once cold and detached, now burned with grim determination.

And finally, the pieces began to click.

With trembling hands, Hades activated the obsidian mechanism floating at the center of the room, a divine lattice, woven from threads of metaphysical logic.

Symbols of all languages shimmered in the air as he inserted the final variables. Runes written in primordial-script whirled through the machine like a living mind.

Then, at last, a singular conclusion presented itself , simple, elegant, terrible.

A path to transcendence.

However, it is something that he himself cannot use unless he kill himself and reincarnate once again.

A method to completely transcend the limitations set on this universe by altering a being’s spiritual and physical blueprint.

For Hades, using this method would be like destroying a skyscraper and rebuilding a new one.

Basically, kill himself, get reborn, and alter his own spiritual and physical blueprint.

Although gods can revive, it can take centuries, and most of the time, they would lose their domains and have a new one.

So Hades completely refused to do this.

So he stood silently, staring at the final projection displayed before him, a metaphysical chart of unbound evolution.

He can’t use it. But his child can.

While still on their mother’s womb, Hades can alter their blueprint using this method.

A divine child, whose soul could be altered before birth. A vessel, cleansed of the laws of this universe, immune to its limitations, unbound by the cosmic threads that bound even the gods.

Such a child would be capable of breaking through dimensions, perceiving truths even Chaos might obscure.

Not merely powerful... but transcendent.

A bridge between divinity and that which lies beyond.

But there was a price.

The ritual required a spark of Chaos.

Not the diluted fragments gathered from Primordial Gods, but the living essence of Chaos itself — something Hades had once touched when he accidentally traveled beyond the firmament, and something he feared ever since.

More importantly, the child must not be ordinary.

It could not be born of casual passion or divine whim. No,the child’s soul must be forged with deliberate intention, shaped by parents whose divine cores could endure the ritual’s strain.

It had to be born of balance, between two entities whose domains were ancient and foundational.

Hades immediately thought of Gaia. freewēbnoveℓ.com

Sighing, he closed his eyes.

Gaia, the Primordial Earth, Mother of Life.

She had approached him once, expressing her desire. She offered herself not for union, but for revolution.

To birth a being that could correct the world.

To punish the Olympians.

He had refused her then. Not because he feared her, but because he feared what such a child would mean.

He had already grown tired of gods playing with the lives of mortals and monsters alike.

He had hoped to transcend on his own.

But now...

His hands curled into fists.

He knew that the world was spiraling toward conflict.

The Olympians had begun to grasp for worshippers like starving dogs. They offered blessings not out of love, but out of greed.

Herios’ vision — a unified humanity — was breaking under divine interference.

Hades knew it all. He wasn’t ignorant of the affairs of the mortal world. But he chose to turn a blind eye.

He had given humanity free will, and whoever they worship, whoever they go to war against, he has no reason to interfere.

Unless the gods themselves decided to descend and personally interfere, then Hades would act like nothing happened.

Of course, he will definitely bring judgment to the Olympians.

But he won’t be the one doing it.

He opened his eyes. A thought echoed through the chamber, his voice thunderous yet laced with unease.

"Gaia..."

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Far above the Underworld, in the overworld’s deepest mountains, Gaia stirred.

She had felt the call that is not a voice, but a vibration through the core of existence itself. She opened her ancient eyes, and the rivers stilled, the trees bowed, and the earth listened.

Her lips curled to a smile.

He was ready.