CHAPTER 128: CHAPTER 27

The air across the realm throbbed with residual divine energy. Olympus was wounded—but the gods, too, were ready to fight in a new way.

As Athena’s bold mandate echoed through the shaken halls, each Olympian found their paths diverging from divine dominance toward alliance with mortals.

In temples across the world, priests bowing before statues received word of the divine looking for champions.

In sacred groves and hidden monastery, words traveled swiftly: The gods need you.

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In a distant, scarred wilderness, the descendant of Zeus—Alcides—fought a monstrous boar.

Athena watched unseen, her owl avatar perched on a blackened oak. As the boar charged, Alcides raised his sword.

Her divine voice echoed in his mind: ’Son of Zeus. I need your power.’

Alcides killed the beast with a measured thrust that nearly faltered after hearing a sudden voice from his mind.

He paused, breathing hard beneath the moonlight, and scanned the trees. A gentle hand touched his shoulder. Athena materialized, eyes serious and grateful.

"You fight well, strong and wise."

Alcides eyes widened for a moment. "Lady Athena..."

"The gods requested your strength, Alcides. Would you lend it to us?"

Alcides felt pride and a sense of responsibility. He nodded at Athena without any second thoughts.

"My sword is yours to weild, Lady Athena."

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In the shadow of Mount Parnassus, by star-bleached ruins, Atalanta crouched in ambush.

And Artemis, lithe in moonlight, watched her.

A doe stamped nearby, unaware. Atalanta pulled her bow, and released it, hitting the doe as it fell to the ground, dead.

Artemis’s voice spoke above it all, soft and proud. ’Atalanta, my pride and joy, I need your speed and skills. Will you lend it to me?’

The doe twitched as Atalanta looked around, looking for her goddess who spoke to her just now.

Just then, Artemis appeared before her.

"My chaste huntress, will you help me?"

Atalanta nodded without second thoughts. "For you, Lady Artemis—and for the hunt."

Artemis smiled as she handed her a moonlit arrow.

The pact was sealed.

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In Delphi’s golden temple, Hyacinthus, a mortal soldier renowned for his skill and devotion to Apollo, knelt before the god’s statue.

His blade was chipped, but his eyes still flame-bright.

Apollo descended, radiant. He circled Hyacinthus. "Your voice has guided prayers these past months. Now, let it guide hope in battle."

Hyacinthus rose, pride in his chest. He clasped his sword and replied, "If the sun-god wills, I will stand for Olympus."

Apollo smiled gently and blessed him with a bow, lightweight, but humming with cosmic power.

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High atop a storm-beaten peak, a humble shepherd named Melanthios gazed upward at the gathering clouds, praying for divine protection.

Zeus listened.

He had used his authority and found how this simple man, with nothing but fists and a pitchfork, defended his home from the monsters that ravaged the world.

It was then that Zeus decided, this man is worthy to be his champion.

Zeus descended in thunderous glory. Melanthios flinched, kneeling.

"Rise," said the King of Olympus. "I have seen your courage and strength. The world is now in peril, and the Gods requires your help."

He handed him a spear inscribed with lightning sigils. "Defend Olympus."

Melanthios looked stunned. But feeling a sense of responsibility after being asked by the King of Gods, he accepted the spear.

"By the will of the King of Gods."

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On storm-lashed shores, Euryalus, a veteran sailor whose ship survived the monsters’ wrath, preached to his scattering crew about hope.

Tattered sails and bleeding wood hadn’t extinguished their will.

Just suddenly, Poseidon emerged from the waves. Euryalus stared in shock and reverence.

This is the god he worships.

Poseidon’s voice cracked like surf. "Your vessel is battered, but so is Olympus. Help us rebuild and protect both."

He stepped closer, breath salt-laden. Poseidon gave him a trident harpoon with sea-god enchantments.

Euryalus clutched it, breath coming in deep gasps. "By Poseidon’s name...I will."

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In an underground tavern, Philemon, a common vintner whose wine had given comfort to the afflicted, toasted to his friends and family after surviving the monster onslaught.

Dionysus found him amid ale barrels and song as he appeared before the man.

"Your wine is the best I have tasted from a mortal," the god said. "It gives comfort to the hurt and afflicted."

Philemon blinked, rubbing his eyes a few times to make sure he was not drunk and hallucinating.

"L-Lord Dionysus!" Philemon stood up straight, "It is an honor..."

Dionysus laughed, the air filling with sweet grape scents and young joy.

He handed Philemon a gilded thyrsus. "Guide the hearts of men, so they may stand when next needed."

Philemon gulped but held the gift. "I will carry that mission with my life."

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Deep within Olympus’ volcanic bellows, Hephaestus worked.

He didn’t seek champions for he doesn’t need them. Sparks and steel shared the sulfurous air.

Shapes formed—armor, swords, weapons etched with runes.

He readied the Anti‑Zeus Armor, an immense exoskeleton harnessing the power of both gods and Titans. A weapon meant to fight the King of Zeus should he ever turned tyrant.

He forged weapons for the chosen mortals and for divine spirits who will lead the frontlines. They needed this much to at least be of use.

Once he was ready, he stepped out himself.

His arms were still strong and robust.

He held one of the finished swords. "I stand guard."

He clasped it.

If they fail—Olympus will fall.

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Astraea remained silent. She camped atop Olympus’ highest pillar, meditating.

She didn’t call any mortal, she has no need to. Or rather, she believed that mortals shouldn’t participate in a divine war affairs.

The problems of gods, must be solved by gods as well.

She knew those giants couldn’t be killed, but her authority over justice grants her absolute sealing capabilities to imprison those she deemed evil.

Giants might be a problem for the others, but to her? They are merely a little troublesome.

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In a war camp on the shores of the Black Sea, the Amazons trained.

Too long kept hidden from the world, the daughters of Ares were fierce—deadlier than most heroes.

Ares descended in a whirlwind of red light.

Immediately, the Amazons dropped what they are doing and kneeled before the god.

"Greetings to father! The great God of War!"

They rose again, spears at the ready.

"Daughters, the time has come!" he said, voice booming. "We shall show the world the beauty and strength of my, Ares’, daughters! Let us crush those giants beneath our feet!"

The Amazons roared, raising their spears.

They are ready.

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At the entrance to the Underworld, Themis stood before massive obsidian gates.

She held scales of perfect balance, her eyes reflecting the dim glow of souls beyond.

She had long since wanted to leave the overworld and join the Underworld, but this damn war just so happen to start.

She sighed, looking up at the sky.

She turned back to the gate and waved her hand, and the gate immediately closed.

Not now.

She must protect the world first before leaving for underworld.

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Soon, from scattered villages to hidden camps, heroes emerged; Alcides and Atalanta, Melanthios, Hyacinthus, Euryalus, Philemon, the Amazons.

They came at divine summons, each bearing weapons touched by godfire.

They gathered beneath Olympus, under tattered banners of hope.

They stood before the surviving gods, defeated but not yet fallen. Despite the state of the divine mountain, the gods still look determined.

Zeus spoke, "You are mortal, but not lesser. You carry the will of Olympus. Will you stand?"

Every hero nodded, voices steady.

"For the world we love, for the gods who protect it... we stand. United."

Athena felt a burst of pride.

Artemis smiled at Atalanta.

Apollo placed a hand on Hyacinthus’ shoulder.

Poseidon clasped Euryalus by the arm—their destinies entwined.

Dionysus offered Philemon a flask of wine in fellowship.

Hephaestus observed their weapons, making sure they are taking good care of it.

Ares’ Amazons lined the front ranks, shields locked.

Astraea observed quietly, and although she did not approve of this, she did not voice any complaints.

In the fading light, Olympus no longer stood alone.

For the first time, the gods would not walk above their champions but beside each other.