CHAPTER 33: TRUE LOVE IS STRONGER THAN GUILT

"Tch..." Allen hissed, exhaling slowly.

He was floating in a space of pure darkness. Galaxies of shadow blazed passed him, weaving through his body like silent tempests. Within the silence, one thing was certain—the heat.

It was getting hotter with every passing second.

Allen’s skin reacted instinctively, the fine hairs standing upright as if to shield him from dehydration. But it wasn’t enough. Sweat poured from his body like he’d been baptized in saltwater. His breathing grew heavier, his limbs more sluggish.

Then came the light.

Not white. Not pure. But a dull, flickering orange—the color of wild, relentless fire.

This was the Underworld.

The skies above churned with dark clouds, like the bruised skin of some fallen god. The ground beneath him was chaos incarnate—a floor of scorched black rock cracked and broken, rivers of lava flowing like veins of living flame.

The air was thick, stifling. It reeked not just of ash, but of pain—burnt suffering, as if every breath carried the scream of a damned soul.

All around him, the lithosphere trembled with movement. Shadows walked—some curved, twisted, others jagged like broken bones. These were no longer flesh and blood. They were curses given form.

Some were Grudges—souls who had died with vengeance still rotting in their hearts.

Some were Demons—those who had surrendered entirely to evil, acting as ushers in hell.

Others were abominations—stone-bodied monstrosities with partial flesh, grotesque beings who had sold themselves while still alive, dragged into hell body and soul.

"Welcome to Hell," Allen whispered, trying to steady his breath beneath the suffocating pressure. But even that whisper faltered as the weight of the Underworld pressed into his bones.

He glanced upward, hoping to trace where he’d fallen from—but there was nothing. Just those suffocating black clouds, mocking him with their impenetrable gloom.

Worse yet was the irony of his new immortality. Now, both his body and soul could be tormented eternally.

’No...’ Allen thought. That’s not just cruelty. That’s the grandfather of death.

His gaze dropped. What he saw below stole the air from his lungs.

A vast cliff stretched endlessly in both directions, a scar across the Underworld’s skin. And on it... were souls. Endless, trembling lines of them—humans, vampires, elves, goblins, werewolves—all herded forward by demonic figures toward the edge of the cliff.

Below the precipice, a green-colored vortex churned in a bottomless spiral. It wasn’t water, but something far worse. It glittered like poisoned glass, a tornado of screaming souls sucked into the unknown. A cursed stream that swallowed essence.

The cries—oh, the cries—were soaked in agony and despair. But amid the chorus of sorrow, one voice rose, sharper than the rest.

"LET ME GO!"

It wasn’t the tone that caught Allen’s attention. It was the voice. Familiar. Etched into his memory.

"Natasha!" Allen roared.

And there—near the cliff’s edge—stood Hadas, towering, monstrous, holding Natasha’s soul with a single hand behind her back.

Her eyes met Allen’s just as he landed several meters away, his heart punching against his chest.

She was just as he remembered—except for the weight in her eyes. A burden of betrayal. Of death.

’She died because of me... it was always me.’

Allen trembled, guilt crawling up his spine like worms. Tears welled in his eyes, burning silently. His lips moved, but no words came out. Nothing could break through the knot in his throat.

"Never thought I’d see you again, soulmate," Natasha whispered.

The tears she shed weren’t of sorrow—but joy.

Those words were salvation, slicing through the heavy air around Allen. He breathed again.

Peace.

Acceptance.

"I’ll fix all this, my smile," Allen whispered. "I promise."

And for a brief moment, it was just the two of them. Nothing else mattered.

"What better gift than seeing you again before I die a second time—"

"Seeing me every day," Allen cut her off, voice sharp and certain.

Natasha smiled faintly. "You know, Allen..." she called his name for the first time, and his heart skipped. "I would really love that. I mean, look at you—all grown up and strong. Not to mention..." Her gaze dropped. "Your dick. Did you do cock workouts or something?"

Allen’s face turned crimson. His lower half twitched involuntarily. The nudity didn’t even register until now. He was completely naked, standing before the love of his life.

"I... uh..." he stammered.

"I don’t know what happened, or how it got to this," Natasha murmured again, tears tracing her cheek. "But please... don’t leave me again."

"I won’t," Allen answered immediately, his voice a promise of steel. "Not for anything in this world."

’And that’s exactly why you’ll walk right into my trap,’ Hadas smirked silently.

Then, aloud, he spat:

"Enough."

His voice was a curse, slicing through the fragile reunion like a whip.

"Tell her how you cursed everything. How you forgot her the moment you had power. Tell her the truth."

Allen’s eyes locked on Hadas’ shadowy figure—one with the dark itself. But his words did not pierce Allen’s mind. And Natasha’s expression didn’t shift.

Not anymore.

Not now.

"So, Natasha," Allen smirked, completely ignoring Hades in a way that made the god’s craggy smile melt away. "Where do you want to go first after we leave here?"

"Hmm..." Natasha hummed, her eyes fixed on the black sky. Her body hung limp in Hades’ grasp, yet her voice held steady. "Somewhere you won’t disappear... so, not your house. Just... somewhere I can finally explore the mystery behind your huge cock."

’What?... What’s going on?’ Hades rasped internally, his gaze flicking between their strangely light-hearted smiles, eyes wide with disbelief. ’Where’s the guilt? After all Dolonides and I did to him—and even her—where’s the pain? She abandoned everything for this moment?’

"Shut up... Enough of that nonsense," Hades snapped, yanking Natasha closer to him with a violent pull. "You stand in the presence of a god!"

"Let her go, Hades," Allen warned, standing tall and unshaken, his voice calm but filled with power.

"Don’t tell me what to do, mortal. You’re both sinners. You belong to me!"

"Not all sinners remain under your control."

Hades’ decaying expression twisted in fury. His rotting teeth gleamed in the darkness like a perfect chameleon hidden in the night.

"Then we’ll see about that," he snarled—and in one swift motion, he flung Natasha’s soul into the swirling green current of the river below.

Time seemed to freeze.

Their eyes locked. Arms outstretched. Their hands almost touched in some other reality where time bent for lovers. But in this world, it all happened in less than a second.

"Allen!" Natasha screamed as her soul began plummeting down the cliff.

"Natasha!" Allen roared, dashing through Hades without hesitation and launching himself after her. He knew this wasn’t just a simple trap—Hades had a plan. But love didn’t wait for logic. This was the price Allen had to pay to finally wash away his guilt.

"It’s all in place now," Hades grinned, laughter bubbling with malice. "That’s the River Styx. Mortals don’t survive there... they get drained, you fool!"

He chuckled deeper, a laugh older than time itself.

"Not only will your flesh be erased, but your cursed Copy System—that power—will be distributed among the souls of the Styx. They will become monsters, twisted mortals with abilities born from their fear. Each one a tormentor in the world of the living. Each one shouting my name. In days—days!—Zeus will tremble at my feet. Olympus will fall. I will reign over every god... and they will kneel to me, not in reverence—but in chains!"

Beneath the cliffs, Allen plunged into the river. Unlike the countless formless souls that slipped in like mist, the river responded to his body. Matter—real mass—had entered.

The Styx acknowledged him.

And then, it began.

Agony.

His skin shriveled like dried parchment, his flesh collapsing in on itself as if he’d aged nine hundred years in seconds. But his will was titanium. Allen pressed forward, swimming through torment itself, as Natasha’s soul floated farther down the current.

He couldn’t speak. Only think. But every thought was of her.

’What more could she have suffered... because of me?’

Whip—

He reached out, a frail arm of near-skeletal flesh trying to catch her toes. But it failed inches away.

His vision blurred. His motion stalled.

Then... silence.

His heartbeat stopped.

Hades watched from above, squatting like a gleeful demon watching a cinematic execution. His smile widened—

—and then vanished.

Allen’s finger twitched.

A breath returned—twice as strong.

His eyes snapped open just as his soul had begun to slip away.

The cruel irony? The immortality ability—created by Hades himself—was keeping Allen alive.

But not just alive.

Stronger.

Lightning crackled. It surged along Allen’s body, boiling the cursed water around him.

Then—steam.

The river hissed and recoiled.

Allen surged forward, seized Natasha, her body floating limp like a drowned bride, her hair trailing into the depths. She was fading... but not lost.

Allen held her tight, even as the river continued trying to devour him.

But he no longer swam.

He ascended.

Beneath him, lightning condensed into a crackling orb—a sphere of pure destructive force. And with one massive boom, it exploded upward, launching him like a cannonball of divine rebellion.

The river evaporated. Each droplet of greenish water transformed into steam, leaving behind a molten, cup-shaped crater carved into the Underworld.

Allen landed atop the cliff in one swift flash.

He didn’t speak.

He didn’t hesitate.

He gave Hades—frozen in disbelief—a wicked smile.

Then he vanished in a bolt of light, Natasha held gently in his arms like a sleeping child, his speed ripping through the Underworld’s eternal landscape. Around him, there was no end—only darkness, cliffs, and the remains of a fallen paradise.

"Damn it," Allen spat under his breath, eyes burning forward. "System... how the hell do we get out of here?"

The system’s voice returned, calm and loyal:

[Create a dimensional portal to another world.]

Allen blinked. "Can I even do that?"

[New Gene Ability: "Pathmaker." Dimensional traversal is permitted.]

He grinned, recalling something Tamara once said—cryptic, ironic, and now suddenly... prophetic.

"That’s why she gave it to me," he whispered with a smirk. He raised a hand. No words needed.

A swirling vortex of darkness ignited before him—gas-like mist coiling into a single, unstable breach through reality.

Without a second thought, Allen dashed through it—out of this world, into another.

Behind them, at the cliff’s edge...

"ALLEN!!!" Hades roared, tearing at his own jaw, his veins bulging with wrath. The souls had stopped flowing. The river Styx had vanished, replaced by vapors.

Hades stumbled to his feet, exhaling breathe of air, to recreate the river... but it was too late.

"Come on, you worthless fools!" he shouted at the demons. "Help me! Breathe! Bring it back!"

They scrambled like insects, blowing air from their mouths like dying bellows—but it was futile.

Not even a drop returned.

"No..." Hades gasped, falling to his knees.

It had taken centuries to prepare. Rare ingredient the Three Witches had prescribed. And now it was....

All gone.

All because of love.

Because of lightning.

Because of an immortal he saw to be a mortal.

"HUMAAAAANS!!!" Hades howled, his scream echoing through the hollows of the Underworld—bitter, primal, and defeated.