CHAPTER 284: CHAPTER 42

Overworld, in Olympus.

A thunderous sound rippled through the skies as a massive portal tore open above the highest peak of Mount Olympus, its golden light cascading across the divine realm like a river of molten dawn.

The radiance was so intense that even the sacred marble pillars of Olympus seemed to shimmer in awe.

Startled by the sudden phenomenon, the Nymphs tending the gardens of ambrosia and the Divine Spirits who maintained the flow of celestial energy all froze in shock, their gazes lifting toward the heavens where the portal spun like a luminous storm.

Whispers spread like wildfire among them.

Some trembled in fear, others in reverence, for such a portal could only mean one thing—the return of the Olympians from beyond the realms.

Without hesitation, a group of Nymphs dashed through the golden courtyards, their steps echoing through the marble halls as they hurried toward the grand throne chamber to inform Hera of what had transpired.

Then, with a crackling surge of lightning, a muscular figure emerged from the swirling light—Zeus, the King of Olympus himself, his divine presence heavy enough to make the air tremble.

His eyes scanned the familiar landscape, his expression immediately turned confused as he felt that the world seems to have become different.

Poseidon followed close behind, trident in hand, his eyes narrowing in confusion just like Zeus’.

Then, one by one, the Olympians stepped through the portal, Athena, Ares, Apollo, Artemis, Hermes, and the rest, each of them gazing around the overworld with an expression that hovered between awe and disbelief.

For though this was Olympus, it felt like it was not the same realm they had left behind.

The sky gleamed clearer than ever, not a single cloud daring to mar its perfect blue.

The rivers sparkled like threads of silver weaving through emerald valleys.

The air itself seemed to sing, carrying a harmony that felt neither wild nor forced, but naturally divine.

Every breath of wind was in rhythm with life itself, as if the world had finally found its heartbeat.

It was beautiful—too beautiful.

It was also peaceful, and too balanced for the chaotic rule the Olympians had once maintained.

Poseidon was the first to speak, his voice gruff yet uncertain. "Brother... what happened to this world?"

Zeus remained silent, his thunderbolt dim at his side. His pride refused to admit it aloud, but deep within, he could feel the truth: the world was thriving, even without them.

Was Hera really ruling their realm better than them combined?

Then, from the final glimmer of the portal, two figures stepped forth, Hades, calm and composed, with Nyx, the primordial of night, gliding behind him like a shadow crowned in stars.

The moment their feet touched the ground, both of them sensed it, the divine order woven into every inch of the overworld.

Hades smiled faintly, a trace of admiration glinting in his eyes.

"So," he murmured, "she truly didn’t disappoint. Hera managed the overworld better than the entire council of Olympians combined."

Before anyone could respond, a commanding presence filled the air.

The sky shimmered gold as Hera appeared from the grand temple of Olympus, her divine aura radiant yet tinged with irritation.

She floated above the steps, her expression stern as her eyes locked onto Zeus and Poseidon, glaring daggers that could pierce even divine pride.

But when her gaze fell upon Hades, the sharpness in her eyes softened, and a rare warmth melted her composure.

"Husband," she whispered, before descending gracefully and wrapping her arms around him.

For a moment, Olympus itself seemed to sigh in relief.

After a long silence, Hera pulled away, her eyes turning towards the Olympians, her gaze cold and serious.

"While you were gone, I cleaned up the centuries of chaos you all left behind. The skies, the seas, the earth, I made sure that everything works in in order. All you have to do..." her gaze swept across the silent Olympians, "is that you maintain it."

Zeus looked away, his pride cracking beneath the weight of her words. A woman, his sister, was actually able to manage his domain better than he does.

How humiliatingnis that?

Poseidon grunted softly, his trident lowering as even the gods of war and wisdom remained wordless.

Then Hera turned back to Hades, her expression weary but genuine.

"Let’s go," she said softly. "I’ve had enough of this place. Staying here only exhausts me."

Hades smiled, his eyes gentle as he nodded. "Very well. Let us return to Underworld."

He turned toward the silent council of gods, his cloak of shadows billowing like the whisper of eternity. "Farewell. Olympus is in good hands now. Try not to break it again."

With that, he stepped into the portal once more, followed closely by Nyx and the other gods of the Underworld, their presence fading into the luminous veil.

The portal pulsed one final time, and then vanished, leaving the Olympians standing in silence beneath the perfectly ordered sky, surrounded by a world that no longer needed their rule.

*

*

*

At this moment, deep in the Underworld, above the magnificent Capital City of Nox, a vast rift of light shimmered open across the ashen skies.

The citizens below paused in awe as its brilliance poured like molten gold over the eternal twilight.

From within the portal, Hades, Nyx, Hera, the Underworld gods, and even the towering giants stepped out, descending upon the obsidian platforms that overlooked the entire city.

But the moment Hades’ sandals touched the marble, he froze.

This was not the Underworld he remembered.

The somber and solemn dominion that once stretched beneath the veil of eternal dusk was... alive, radiant.

The air that was once heavy with the whispers of the dead now thrummed with laughter, music, and perfume-scented winds.

The black stone streets of Nox, once cold and silent, were draped with vibrant ribbons and glowing lanterns that floated like captured stars.

He blinked several times, uncertain if his divine eyes were deceiving him.

Everywhere he looked, the scene unfolded like a fever dream.

Heroic spirits, those who had once walked the mortal world with valor, were dancing in the streets, their ethereal forms flickering with joy.

Divine spirits were singing in harmonious tones that filled the air like a festival, some even flirting shamelessly with passing gods.

Gods were clapping along to the rhythm, laughing heartily as though their pride and arrogance had been buried under mountains of confetti.

Hera groaned, rubbing her forehead as she muttered under her breath, "Aphrodite..."

Her tone carried the weight of divine exasperation. She knew, without a shadow of doubt, that only that idiot woman would turn the underworld into this.

Hades’ expression softened into a weary smile as he let out a long sigh.

"Of course," he said, his voice echoing through the realm like the quiet resignation of a man who had already seen too much. "Who else could turn my realm of rest into a lovers’ carnival?"

He looked down at the streets again, and despite himself, he chuckled. "She even put heart-shaped lanterns on the ferryman’s docks..."

Nyx, arms folded and eyes glowing like twin crescent moons, tilted her head slightly. "Your queen seems to have... redefined the concept of death’s tranquility."

Hades glanced at her and shrugged, amused. "That’s one way to put it."

But then a thought struck him.

Aphrodite had already gone this far, sk where were Thanatos, Hypnos, and the others?

Normally, they would have restrained her, gently, of course, out of respect, but still restrained her.

There was no way the stoic God of Death or the sleepy god of dreams would allow the Underworld to turn into a festival ground.

Then it dawned on him.

Ah, of course.

Before, Aphrodite had been their colleague, a fellow patron, occasionally indulgent but not above reason.

But now? Now she was their queen. His queen, and with him gone, her word was law. No one would dare deny her, not even the most steadfast among his retinue.

And Aphrodite, clever, scheming, mischievous Aphrodite, surely knew this.

She must have realized her newfound freedom and embraced it with the enthusiasm of a goddess long restrained by Underworld’s dark and gloomy atmosphere.

And now, with no one above her authority, she had given herself entirely to her whims.

Hades closed his eyes, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

He couldn’t even bring himself to be angry. Truly, how could he?

Despite the gaudy decorations and the blinding brightness of his once-muted city, everything seemed... functional.

The flow of souls continued unhindered, drifting peacefully to their respective realms.

The judges were still at their posts, the Furies still kept order, and even Cerberus, wearing a wreath of flowers on each head, much to Hades’ quiet amusement, remained loyally stationed at the gates.

The Underworld, for all its absurd festivity, was still operating perfectly.

He sighed again, this time softer, his tone carrying more affection than annoyance.

"Well, at least she didn’t break anything," he murmured, watching a parade of spirits twirl beneath glowing petals. "Only Aphrodite could turn the land of the dead into paradise and still keep the order intact."

Hera folded her arms, half glaring, half smiling. "You praise her too much, husband."

"Perhaps," Hades replied, glancing toward the grand palace at the heart of Nox, now adorned with rose-colored banners and golden vines that climbed its spires. "But after everything... maybe she deserves a little fun of her own."

He turned to Hera with a faint grin. "Come, dear. Let’s go meet our queen before she redecorates Tartarus next."

Hera sighed, but nodded.

And with that, Hades descended the marble steps, the faint laughter of gods and souls following him through the glowing city of the dead, a realm that, under Aphrodite’s rule, had somehow become more alive than ever.