The God of Underworld-Chapter 80 - 34: The Witness

The sun had just begun to dip beneath the horizon, casting long shadows across the stone walls of the grand city of Herion, capital of the unified human kingdom.

From the high windows of the magnificent palace, golden light filtered in, bathing the throne room in a somber glow.

Herios sat atop his throne of blackstone and silver, one leg crossed over the other, chin resting on a closed fist.

His eyes were distant, almost troubled.

Around him, his advisors and generals whispered to one another in tight circles, wary of breaking the heavy silence.

The door to the chamber burst open with a loud clang.

A young soldier — barely a man — stumbled in, armor scratched, dust clinging to his boots and cloak.

He fell to one knee and bowed his head deeply.

"Your Majesty!" he shouted, his voice hoarse from the long ride. "A dire report — the coalition of the free tribes has begun their assault!"

The room erupted with voices.

"What?!"

"They dare?!"

"Those traitorous snakes!"

Herios’ eyes narrowed as he slowly rose from his throne, his long dark cloak unfurling like a shadow.

The room fell silent once more.

"Continue," he commanded, his voice cold, yet calm.

The soldier gulped and continued, trembling. "They struck under the cover of night. Six of our outer villages... are gone. Razed. Survivors report warriors bearing the symbols of the Sea God, the Warbringer, the Sun, and others. They are being guided by divine blessings. The resistance is stronger than we anticipated."

Murmurs filled the hall again. Faces turned pale. Some looked to Herios in fear. Others, in doubt.

General Kaerion, Herios’ most trusted general, quickly kneeled down in front of him.

"My King, allow me to lead our legions. Give me ten thousand, and I will burn their rebellion to the ground. Let them see what fate awaits those who betray the vision of unity!"

Herios walked down the steps of his throne platform slowly, boots clicking against polished obsidian.

"Resistance..." he murmured. "Even though those gods have abandoned us. Even though they sent monsters as punishments for having hope... They still worshipped them."

He stopped before the general, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"You shall have your ten thousand, General Kaerion. No — take fifteen. I want this fire stamped out before it spreads. Leave no stone unturned. But spare those who surrender. We are not beasts. We are builders of a new world."

Kaerion nodded fiercely. "By your will, my King."

Herios turned his gaze to the rest of the court.

"Let this be known: Herion will not fall. These lands were raised by the hands of men — not gods. The resistance seek to drag us back into servitude, to kneel before those who have already forsaken us once. But we... we will not kneel. We will stand. And we will remind the world that the age of men will never end."

A thunderous cheer erupted throughout the throne room.

Herios’ eyes, however, remained cold as stone.

*

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Far above the veil of clouds, beyond the reach of mortal birds and Olympian eyes, rose a colossal mountain untouched by time or weather.

Its peak shimmered with threads of stardust and the echo of ages. This mountain was one of the few remnants of the world before form—before gods, titans, or men.

A primordial mountain where existence first condensed into stone.

Atop its windless summit, Gaia stood.

The Mother of Earth, eternal and vast, took the form of a beautiful woman crowned in wild vines and dressed in a white robe.

Her feet were bare against the stone, but grass grew beneath her toes as though the mountain itself bloomed in her presence.

Her expression was hard—an ancient anger stirring in her chest as she watched the world below.

The forests were burning again.

The rivers ran black where humans dumped their refuse.

And the Olympians... those arrogant children once again toyed with mortal destiny, raising armies of worshipers like pieces on a divine game board.

"Soon... You will all pay for your sins."

At that moment, the air suddenly shifted. A soft tremble across the threads of reality.

From a shimmer in the fabric of the world, a tall figure stepped forth, cloaked in black and crowned with quiet authority.

Hades had arrived.

His presence was weightless yet undeniable. His eyes, deep and cold like the River Lethe, met Gaia’s without a word.

Gaia’s grimace softened slightly.

"You came," she said, her voice carrying the tone of rocks grinding beneath the sea. "I was beginning to think you will not accept my offer and remain down there entirely."

"I was thinking, researching." Hades replied simply. "You should know that."

Gaia gestured beside her, and a stone grew upward from the mountain, forming a seat.

Hades stepped forward, his black robes whispering across the stone, and sat beside her in the silence that only gods and ancients could endure without discomfort.

For a long moment, neither spoke.

Below them, the world continued its dance of ambition and destruction.

Villages were raised and razed.

Prayers soared into the sky like smoke.

War drums echoed through valleys like thunder.

Finally, Gaia asked, her tone quiet but piercing:

"Is it enough to simply watch, Hades?"

The King of the Underworld did not answer immediately.

She turned her gaze upon him, those ancient eyes of hers gleaming with something deeper than accusation — sorrow, perhaps, or hope long denied.

"You favored him," she continued. "That boy — Herios. You believed in his fire. Yet now he stands alone, surrounded by enemies, betrayed by his kind, and devoured by war. Is it truly enough to remain still?"

Hades closed his eyes, drawing in the silence like breath. freewēbnoveℓ.com

Then he opened them, gazing at the endless sky.

"He is my believer," Hades said at last, his voice low. "If he had asked for help, I would immediately hear and answer his prayers..."

Gaia remained silent, waiting for Hades to finish his words.

Soon, he continued. "But did you know? He prays to me not for victory... not for miracles... not even for protection. He only prays for one thing."

Gaia arched a brow. "And that is?"

"To be witnessed."

Hades’ gaze sharpened. "Not to be saved. Not to be led. Merely... watched. For me to watch him walk his path, make his choices, win or lose, on his own strength."

Herios does not pray for blessings, nor for strength or victory. He simply wanted the god he believed in to watch him. Watch his choices, watch his valor. And respect his will.

Gaia was silent.

"That is what he asked of me," Hades continued. "And that... I will honor."

The Earth Mother leaned back slightly, wind threading through her moss-colored hair.

"You gods of this world," she muttered, "always so bound by will. By laws. By contracts. Yet you, Hades... you were always different. You respect mortals more than any of the others."

"Perhaps, maybe because I can relate to them. Or maybe because I have a special relationship with their race." Hades said. "Whatever the case, it will not change the fact that I love humanity."

A breeze drifted across the summit, carrying with it the cries of battle from far away.

Gaia clenched her fists.

"Still," she said. "How long can you stay your hand? If Herios dies... if his kingdom crumbles, what then? The Olympians will grow stronger. Humanity will break. And the earth itself—my body—will suffer."

"I know," Hades said softly.

He turned toward her now, facing the great Earth Mother with calm resolution.

"That is why I came."

Gaia’s expression flickered. "So... have you made your decision?"

"I have," Hades said.

A pause.

Then, quietly, he whispered. "I will accept your offer."

The mountain shivered.

Gaia’s eyes widened, not in surprise, but in solemn understanding.

"You will father a new race," she said, her voice trembling with layered emotion. "With me. Not of mortals, not of gods. But something beyond."

"I know." Hades confirmed. "Besides, I also have my selfish reasons why I wanted to do this..."

He paused, his eyes straed straight at her. "I have found a way to ascend further. But I cannot use it on myself for now. I hope to use this method on our child. With them, I may be able to find out more about ascension, and maybe I can transcend this limitations without having to start over."

"Do you honestly believe that our offspring could be suitable for that menthod?" Gaia asked.

"I do," Hades said. "You are the foundation. I am the gate."

The Earth trembled again, subtly — not in violence, but in anticipation. Roots shifted far beneath the soil. Mountains tilted toward the stars.

Gaia stepped toward him, her eyes glowing with green-gold fire.

"Then let it be so," she said. "For the sake of this world. And the next."

The two stood atop the primordial peak, no longer as gods or forces, but as the architects of a new possibility — a child born of death and life, of domain and origin.

A being who might one day walk into Chaos itself and not be devoured.

Below, Herios marched to war.

And far above, two ancient powers made a pact that would change the fate of all creation.