CHAPTER 155: CHAPTER 54

"Well then, the alliance has been officially established."

Nyx smiled, her clasp as she observed everyone present.

"If there’s nothing else, I’d be taking my leave." Said Amaterasu, "I can’t leave my universe with my siblings for too long or it will collapse on its own."

"Same here."

"I’ll be taking my leave as well."

One by one, the gathered deities began to depart. The space-between-realities shimmered each time a god’s essence vanished into the rift connecting them to their home universe.

Lugh rose from his throne with a casual grin, his golden spear dissolving into motes of light as he strode toward the exit.

"Let’s hope this alliance doesn’t die of old age before it does anything," he quipped before vanishing into a streak of radiant gold.

Odin followed, his single eye glimmering with cunning.

"We’ll see where this path leads," he said, his words heavy with both promise and warning. A swirling vortex of runes enveloped him, and then he was gone.

Quetzalcoatl and Kukulkan left together, twin serpentine forms spiraling into the distance, their departure a storm of feathered light and divine winds.

Amaterasu bowed gracefully toward Nyx and offered Hades a faint but polite smile before stepping into a glowing sun-gate that dissolved behind her.

Nuwa gave a silent nod, her serene presence fading into a ripple of creation energy.

Ra, the ever-proud sun god, simply spread his wings and soared into a blinding arc of light.

Anu’s departure was quiet yet unsettling, as though the very concept of authority withdrew with him, leaving an odd hollowness in his wake.

At last, only Shiva remained.

The Destroyer stood from his throne, his presence so vast and steady that even the void seemed to hum in resonance.

He stepped forward, closing the distance between himself and Hades.

The two gods regarded each other in silence for a brief moment, two powerful forces measuring one another without hostility, but with a shared understanding of their own strength and superiority over the others..

Shiva extended his hand.

"I would love to have a proper duel with you soon," he said, his voice carrying the tone of a promise rather than a mere challenge.

Hades took the offered hand in a firm but measured shake.

"When the time comes," he replied evenly.

A faint grin touched Shiva’s lips before he turned, striding toward the swirling gateway that awaited him.

His silhouette dissolved into threads of starlight, leaving only the fading echo of his immense power behind.

And then, silence.

Only Nyx and Hades remained.

The vast expanse of the space-between-realities felt different now, so much quieter and heavier, as if the very fabric of this place acknowledged the significance of what had just been decided.

The round table, now absent its divine occupants, floated alone in the shimmering void of shifting colors.

Nyx exhaled softly, lowering herself back into her throne with a grace that suggested both relief and exhaustion.

"Well... that’s that. Eons of distrust, rivalries, and grudges, and somehow you walked in and made them sign on the same day."

Hades remained standing, his black robes whispering against the unseen floor. His gaze followed the vanishing point where Shiva had disappeared.

"They didn’t agree because of me, Nyx. They agreed because they’ve finally understood that even gods can be prey."

Her lips curved faintly, though her eyes studied him carefully. "Perhaps. But I saw their faces when Shiva tested you. That kind of fear doesn’t fade easily."

He glanced at her, expression unreadable. "Fear is a blade. It cuts both ways. We’ll see if they remember the edge when it matters."

Nyx rose, her shadows coiling and shifting with her movement. She stepped closer, stopping just short of touching him.

"Ah, does achieving transcendence made you change?" She wondered, "The Hades I knew was arrogant and prideful, now it seems like you don’t even care that your power has already reached far beyond what any other gods can dream of."

"I’m beyond such petty feelings now," Hades replied quietly, though his voice carried a weight that seemed to vibrate in the space around them. "Power without purpose is wasted. I intend to use mine."

Nyx tilted her head, her eyes searching his face. "Then tell me, Lord of the Dead... what purpose do you see now?"

He looked past her, into the kaleidoscopic infinity beyond the table. "To make sure that when the next horror comes, there’s something left worth saving."

For a moment, silence hung between them, heavy yet oddly comfortable.

Nyx finally smirked. "Then let’s get to work. The alliance is only the first step."

Hades gave the barest nod. "Agreed."

*

*

*

Human World.

Far below the realms where gods convened, on the fragile surface of mortal worlds, the silence after chaos felt almost alien.

The skies—once blackened and choked with storms of unnatural color—were now washed in a pale, timid blue.

The howls of twisted beasts had faded, replaced by the uneasy quiet of a land trying to remember what peace felt like.

In the ruins of an old city, a young woman in tattered clothes stood barefoot among collapsed buildings.

Her face was smeared with ash, but her eyes, wide and trembling, lifted to see sunlight breaking through the haze.

The warmth touched her skin, and she wept without sound.

Months have passed since that disaster passed, but they can still feel the devastation brought by that world ending battle.

Across a shattered coastline, a fisherman stood knee-deep in shallow waters. The sea, once a black, sludge-like expanse, had turned clear again.

Dead waves were replaced by gentle ripples. He lowered his net and watched silver fish dart through the shallows, as if the ocean itself was breathing again.

In a barren desert once turned to glass by Gaia’s rage, a caravan of survivors trudged forward.

The cracked earth was sprouting fragile green shoots, small, almost pitiful, but alive.

A child stopped to kneel in the dirt, staring at the sprout as though it were a miracle.

On a distant mountaintop, monks rang ancient bells they had not touched since the corruption began.

The deep, resonant tones rolled across the valleys, carrying not just sound but a prayer, a wordless message that the world had survived.

But in every pair of human eyes, there was the same look: relief, yes... but also wariness.

The disaster had passed, but the memory of it was carved deep, and none could shake the feeling that the world had only been given a reprieve, not a true ending.

*

*

*

Far above the mortal realm, in the gleaming heights of Olympus, the damage left by Gaia’s corruption was slowly being undone.

Marble palaces once veined with black, pulsating roots now stood white again, their gold inlays gleaming under the divine sun.

The sky over the peak, once torn open by swirling voids, was restored to its eternal azure, dotted with drifting clouds that carried the scent of ambrosia.

Metis knelt beside a broken fountain, her fingers trailing through the crystal waters as they flowed clean again for the first time since the disaster.

She smiled faintly, though her reflection in the water still looked weary.

The scars left behind from being captured and tortured by the Giants would never leave.

In the grand training arena, Ares barked orders to his legion of hoplite spirits, rebuilding their ranks after so many were lost in the corrupted battles.

His armor was freshly repaired, but the long scar along his forearm was a reminder of how close even a god of war had come to falling.

Apollo stood upon a terrace, playing his lyre. Each note shimmered in the air like sunlight, knitting cracks in the surrounding halls.

Where his music reached, flowers bloomed along the marble railings. Yet, between verses, his golden eyes flickered toward the horizon, as if expecting the darkness to return.

Deep within the throne room, Zeus sat upon his throne, his thunderbolt resting across his lap.

The air around him still thrummed faintly with the residue of his rage during the battle.

Athena stood beside him, her expression composed but her hands clasped tightly before her, as though holding something unspoken.

Far at the mountain’s edge, Hermes oversaw the return of mortal offerings.

The temples below, once abandoned, were lighting incense again, small wisps of smoke curling upward like a timid but hopeful prayer.

Yet, even in their restored splendor, Olympus bore invisible scars.

The memory of Gaia’s twisted form rampaging through the world and almost devouring all existence lingered in every god’s mind.

Their laughter was softer, their celebrations shorter.

On a lone balcony above them all, Astraea stood in silence, her eyes watching the restored world below.

She adjusted the strap of her shield and whispered to herself, "Peace is only the space between battles."

*

*

*

Deep beneath the mortal world, in the eternal dusk of the Underworld, the air was thick with movement and purpose.

The Twelve Patrons of Hades, his chosen pillars of dominion, were immersed in relentless work, their efforts flowing like clockwork in the shadowed empire.

Hecate stood at the Gate of Underworld, her eyes scanning every soul that approached, each one seeing through different layers of truth.

Sigils blazed in the air as she wove barriers against any lingering taint from the outer horror.

Hera, regal even in this realm, oversaw the redistribution of mortal souls displaced during the chaos, her voice as sharp as a whip to any who disobeyed her order.

Aphrodite, bathed in an ethereal glow that stood out in the gloom, moved among the grieving shades.

Her touch was soft, her words warm, easing the weight of despair from countless spirits.

The Five Rivers themselves—Styx, Acheron, Lethe, Phlegethon, and Cocytus—manifested in their divine forms, godlike figures of water and will, guiding the endless tides of souls along their currents, each river murmuring in its own tone, oath, sorrow, forgetfulness, fire, and lament.

Thanatos, silent and stoic, worked alongside his dark twin, Keres.

Together they reaped and ferried the backlog of lingering souls still caught between life and death, moving with the precision of seasoned executioners.

Hypnos, his presence a balm in the chaos, brushed a hand over restless spirits, sending them into dreamless slumber before their final judgment.

Eris, chaos incarnate, surprisingly toiled in perfect synchronicity with the rest, her smirk the only hint that she was weaving small strands of disorder to keep the Underworld sharp and vigilant.

Above them all, the floating fortress of Hades loomed, an obsidian citadel wrapped in chains of starlight, drifting like an unmoored island in a sea of shadow.

Within its highest chamber, a ripple of void opened, and Hades stepped through.

His presence silenced the air.

Every Patron, whether they looked up or not, felt him arrive.

He walked to the edge of the obsidian balcony, gazing over the sprawling, ceaselessly moving kingdom beneath.

His eyes reflected the rivers, the towers, and the legions of shades.

A faint smirk curved his lips.

"Let’s get to work."

The fortress drifted deeper into the endless dark, its chains rattling like the herald of a coming storm.