Crowned in the realm of death

As Hades stepped out of the glowing portal his form now regal, cloaked in shadows, horned, and crowned with the aura of countless godhoods the ground beneath him shuddered.

His feet touched the ashen soil of the Underworld…

And the realm responded.

A tremor surged across the land 

deep and low like a sleeping beast growling to life.

The souls of the dead, long drifting in sorrow and silence, suddenly wailed in unison,

not in fear…

But in recognition.

 The Master had returned.

Far in the distance, demonic beasts

hellhounds, chimeric terrors, and forgotten monstrosities raised their heads to the sky and roared.

They sensed it too an ancient authority reborn, the power that had been missing for ages.

Even the very ores embedded in the rocky bones of the underworld,

Those demonic minerals saturated in darkness and raw essence began to glow.

A deep, purple radiance pulsed across the cavern walls,

through the molten rivers,

beneath the silent ruins 

as if the realm itself had taken a breath for the first time in millennia.

The air thickened with power.

The shadows bent to his presence.

Time felt slower more deliberate as if the Underworld paused to gaze upon its rightful ruler.

This was not a mere return.

This was recognition.

This was a submission.

For the Underworld is no ordinary place.

It is alive, in its own grim, quiet way.

It knows its master.

And now, that master had returned

as a bearer of secrets, death, sleep, minerals, fear, sin, darkness, and soul.

Hades, the one who embraced what others fled from,

The one who suffered in silence and emerged stronger,

was now home.

And the realm welcomed him

not with trumpets,

But with tremors, wails, and eternal shadows bending in reverence.

As Hades walked forward, each step echoed like fate unfolding across the stone-choked caverns.

At the heart of the Underworld, buried deep beneath the veils of reality, stood the Throne of Shadows

An obsidian monolith veined with void-forged gems, pulsating faintly with ancient memory.

It wasn't carved.

It wasn't built.

It was grown by the will of the realm itself.

The throne waited through countless eras, empty, untouched… until now.

Hades reached it and stood still.

Even the air seemed to pause.

Then, slowly, with regal grace and absolute certainty, he sat.

And the moment he did, a wave of pure, overwhelming power surged through his body.

His spine straightened as if lifted by divine order.

His eyes burned brighter, glowing with violet flame.

His aura exploded outward like a second skin of living shadow.

Knowledge poured into him not from books, but from the very roots of the Underworld.

It's memories.

Its secrets.

It will.

And along with that, his divine core leapt

pushing his strength to the absolute peak of High-Level God,

just beneath the threshold of ascending to a Chief God.

But with this gift came conditions two ancient requirements etched into the foundation of the realm itself.

1. Defeat Campe, the monstrous and chaotic Gatekeeper of Tartarus,

 A primordial guardian, loyal to Tartarus, forged from the abyss to keep the deepest horrors sealed.

The Underworld demanded strength, for only one who could subdue such a beast could truly rule a realm that balances the line between life, death, and eternal punishment.

2. Recognise the True Identity of the Realm:

What had been long misunderstood by gods and mortals alike…

was now revealed to Hades alone.

"The Underworld is not merely a joint between Earth and Tartarus," the realm whispered.

"It is not an extension. It is a realm of its own."

In the beginning, it was small, fragile, and overlooked

a land too young to govern itself,

But blessed with the potential to rival the Sea, the Sky, and the Earth.

So the Primordial God Tartarus, seeing this, sheltered it.

He didn't rule it.

He guarded it waiting for the rightful ruler to rise.

And now, the throne had been chosen.

Hades.

Not just a god of death.

Not just a son of Cronus.

But the true lord of a forgotten realm is de

stined to rise.

A realm not of despair…

But of balance, judgment, and unseen power.

The Underworld had slept long enough.