CHAPTER 225: EXISTENCE

When Hades was on the way to the village where Luna was trapped, Zerathos’ voice echoed in his mind.

[He is one of those who once tried to stand by my side.]

Hades narrowed his eyes. *So, you expect me to show mercy?*

[I expect nothing. This is your life, your path. And Mytheon... he is a snake. He slithers anywhere that keeps him alive.]

Hades stayed silent, torn between the conversation and the thought of Luna lying helpless somewhere ahead.

Zerathos’ tone grew sharper.

[Listen carefully. Do not get swayed by his offers. That creature cares for nothing but his own survival. Revenge, loyalty, pride—none of it matters to him. He lives to save his own skin. Don’t fall for his traps.]

...

When Hades finally arrived, he stared straight at the misty figure forming in front of him—the Primordial himself.

"You shouldn’t have touched my wife," Hades growled.

"Touch?" Mytheon chuckled lightly. "I was simply playing. Testing her loyalty. And she passed wonderfully."

Peri held Luna by the shoulder, glaring like she was ready to tear him apart. "And here I thought only mortals relied on cheap tricks. You’re a damn clown, you absolute asswipe!"

Mytheon’s grin only widened. "I’ve heard worse, girl. I was never the weakest, but I was always the most disrespected Primordial. Insults don’t shake me."

Hades inhaled deeply, mana surging through his body. A crimson glow burned in his eyes.

"She isn’t trying to rattle you," he said coldly. "You’re not worth the effort."

Mytheon’s smile stayed, but the air shifted.

"The Chaos Heir," the Primordial mused. "Has Zerathos told you everything? We were friends once. I helped him on—"

"Don’t give a damn," Hades groaned, rubbing his forehead.

Mytheon froze.

Hades’ gaze sharpened into slits, his voice dropping into a deadly calm.

"Every Primordial I meet wants to lecture me about Zerathos and his sins. Let me make it clear—" his pupils thinned, mana crackling around him, "I don’t care about the past. I care about *now*. And right now, I want to erase the blemish of the dragon race from existence."

Silence swallowed the graveyard.

Then the corpses twitched.

Dozens of bodies slid across the dirt, pulled toward each other as bones snapped and flesh warped. They fused into hulking shapes—flesh, poison, and clotted blood twisting into three monstrous behemoths, each more than ten feet tall. Their red eyes flickered open, locking onto Hades.

Averis stepped in front of him, blood swirling around her arm before blooming into a giant scythe.

Peri took the chance to drag the unconscious Luna farther back.

Hades didn’t move. His hands glowed, crimson claws forming along his fingers like blades eager to taste blood.

Behind Mytheon, the behemoths let out a low, guttural growl.

"I’ll give you one chance," Mytheon said. "Join me. Help me rebuild my empire, and I will protect you from the rest. Even Zerathos fell... you won’t survive what’s coming. Don’t repeat his mistake. Shake my hand."

Hades said nothing.

Mytheon’s face twisted. "Kill them."

The ground shook as the behemoths charged.

Averis burst forward, her scythe carving an arc through the air. She spun and brought the weapon crashing toward the nearest monster’s neck.

At the same moment, a golden arrow streaked from the back, drilling into the chest of another behemoth and exploding, sending it stumbling.

Peri darted in from the right, golden arrow gripped tight, her hair whipping behind her like a trail of light as she lunged toward the third monster.

The battlefield erupted into chaos—

and Hades finally lifted his claws.

*Thud*

*Thud*

The middle behemoth stormed toward him, each step shaking the ground like a drum announcing doom.

Hades didn’t wait.

He exploded upward—mana twisting, blood humming, Chaos stirring under his skin like a beast freed from its cage. His crimson claws carved a wide, violent arc across the air.

The behemoth’s hand barely brushed his shoulder before—

**SHRACK—**

Its knees buckled.

Its head rolled back, thudding into the earth as the massive body crumbled.

But something else stirred.

Tiny black motes—shimmering like dying embers yet pulsing with ancient hunger—began drifting off Hades’ claws.

Chaos particles.

Wild. Untamed. Refusing all laws.

Hades’ pupils thinned as he landed, breath harsh, a growl rumbling in his chest. Without hesitating, he dashed straight at Mytheon.

The fog-like Primordial waited, face stiffening just a little—not out of fear, but recognition.

Hades tore through the mist with his claws—

—and that’s when the world changed.

The Chaos particles clinging to his fingertips scattered into the air, moving like tiny stars breaking formation. They didn’t shimmer with beauty; they writhed, twisted, and warped everything they touched.

The mist recoiled with a violent hiss.

A burn appeared across Mytheon’s form, not from heat... but from rejection. Chaos denied the dragon’s essence, eating the edges of his mist like rot spreading through silk.

"You—!" Mytheon snarled, his form flickering.

Hades wasn’t listening.

He bit his lip, blood dripping, Chaos reacting like a loyal beast sensing its master’s desire.

"I’ll make you bleed," he growled. "Even if I have to tear apart your existence."

He slashed again—

and Chaos followed.

Every swipe unleashed trails of black motes that devoured the mist, twisting it, choking it, making the very air ripple.

The world reacted.

Grass shriveled as the particles brushed it.

Stones cracked.

The corpses behind Mytheon twitched violently, their bodies jerking as if invisible strings were being yanked from a broken dimension.

Even the air screamed.

A sharp ringing cut through the graveyard as reality struggled to stay intact around the Chaos Heir.

Peri and Averis felt it.

A pressure that wasn’t pressure.

A presence that wasn’t presence.

A force that wasn’t meant for mortal senses.

It was Chaos—the oldest rule-breaker.

Hades slashed again, roaring with a rage so raw it made the heavens tremble.

His claws cut nothing and everything—

ripping through mist, slicing the space within it, forcing it to collapse around Mytheon like shattered glass.

*SLASH*

*SLASH*

*SLASH*

Chaos particles burst with every strike, drifting through the battlefield like cursed snowflakes. Wherever they landed, the world warped—soil rising, bones melting, shadows bending the wrong way.

Mytheon staggered back, snarling as the particles clung to him, burning not his body, but the concept of his existence.

"You dare unleash that filth here?!" he roared.

Hades’ answer was a guttural growl, a voice scraped raw by fury and devotion.

"You touched my mate."

The Chaos around him surged—

a swirling, hungry storm ready to devour anything that stood between him and his target.

"You’ll suffer for that."

Mytheon staggered back—panic twisting his expression for the first time.

Even in his elemental form...

Even as mist...

Even as a Primordial...

He felt it.

Danger.

It wasn’t just burning him—it was *erasing* him.

Bit by bit.

Concept by concept.

He couldn’t endure it.

"C–Charge!!" he barked, voice cracking.

The beheaded behemoth twitched... then snapped upright, the cut neck bubbling, spraying out clots of blood that hardened into tiny soldiers. Dozens of them. Each no taller than a child, but feral, rabid, screeching with poison-laced rage.

They launched themselves at Hades.

Claws digging into his back.

Fists hammering against his ribs.

Teeth trying to tear into his skin.

But Hades didn’t even flinch.

He didn’t spare them a glance.

He kept clawing at the mist in front of him—

digging into the Primordial’s essence,

pulling at the very fabric of Mytheon’s being,

ripping chunks of existence out of him like pieces of wet paper.

Every slash brought more Chaos particles spraying out—

dust that shimmered like stars and devoured like beasts.

Peri, having crushed her own behemoth into the ground, turned sharply toward her husband.

She froze.

His emotions hit her like a tidal wave—

rage, protectiveness, despair, manic love, fury so deep it warped the air.

Her heartbeat stuttered.

Her breath paused.

Her instincts screamed.

She crouched low, feet digging into the soil as she pulled her bowstring back.

Energy swirled, golden and pure, gathering into a long, spear-like arrow—too bright, too heavy for the night to hold.

She didn’t aim at the battlefield.

She aimed at the sky.

Eyes closed, she whispered a prayer—not to the gods, but to the fate that bound her to him.

Then she released.

**FWOOOOSH—**

The arrow shot upward, tearing through the dark like a streak of dawn.

For a heartbeat, the world paused.

Quiet and still

Then the arrow fell.

Descending like a divine executioner—

a death angel drawn in gold—

the arrow tore the night open as it plunged straight toward Hades.

.

"KHIEEKK"

Every small golem shrieked the moment the golden light touched them. The arrow slammed into the ground, exploding into a blazing wave that burned through their bodies, turning them into melting lumps of poison and blood.

Those who managed to leap past the blast and reach Hades never made it further.

A crimson chain shot out, twisting around their necks, ankles, and waists. It yanked them backward with brutal force, dragging them across the dirt like dolls.

Averis stepped forward, her entire arm wrapped in writhing, living blood-chains. Her voice was cold, almost gentle—but sharp enough to cut bone.

"Consider this mercy," she said as the chains tightened, crushing the golems instantly. "Better to die by my hand... than by the enraged King."

The ground trembled beneath them, Chaos and blood clashing, as the battlefield shifted once more.