The God of Underworld

The chaos had finally broken.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the air in the overworld was not choked with the oppressive miasma of the corrupted Gaia.

The skies were blue again, though streaked with the scars of battle—rent clouds where divine power had split the firmament, faint ripples where reality itself had been strained to breaking.

The earth still bore deep fissures and burned craters, but there was life in the wind once more.

On the walls of Herion, Varn leaned heavily on his spear.

He was bloodied, armor dented, and one leg shook beneath him from exhaustion, but he managed a weary smile when Erebus descended from the heavens.

The shadowy Primordial's voice rolled across the city like distant thunder, yet there was no menace in it, only solemn reassurance.

"I have come bearing news from Underworld! The war is over! Gaia has been freed! The world's order will now be restored!"

For a heartbeat, the silence was absolute.

Then, like a flood breaking through a dam, the cheering began.

First from the soldiers on the wall, then from the streets below as the news spread like wildfire.

Mortals embraced each other openly.

Some fell to their knees in prayer, tears streaming down their faces.

Others simply collapsed where they stood, overwhelmed by relief after days of unending fear.

Among the gods, the reaction was quieter but no less profound.

Zeus let out a long breath, lightning flickering out harmlessly around his form as the tension bled from his shoulders.

Poseidon gazed out toward the horizon, watching the tides begin to calm after days of violent storms, and muttered, almost to himself.

"Finally… the sea can rest."

Apollo and Artemis lowered their bows in unison.

Artemis brushed a strand of hair from her face, her eyes softening.

Apollo simply smiled faintly, tilting his head back toward the sun as though feeling its warmth for the first time in weeks.

Demeter sighed in relief, before her cheek twitched watching the devastation on earth. She knew damn well she was the one going to fix this.

"Finally! I can see the skies!" Helios exclaimed in relief.

Themis was silent, but a smile graced her lips as she looked at the cheering mortals and gods.

*

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*

Back in Underworld, the Primordials did not linger.

Tartarus gave no farewell, only a deep, echoing rumble as he sank back into the dark depths beneath all things.

Eros drifted upward in a swirl of golden motes, vanishing into the high reaches of the aether.

Pontus receded toward the ocean's farthest reaches, and Hemera's light flared once before she was gone.

Last to leave was Khronos, who paused only to say,

"You've bought this universe more time… but the eyes beyond still watch. Be ready."

Then he, too, slipped away, folding into the golden rift of his own making.

"Geez, thank you for the reminder mister gloom and doom." Nyx rolled her eyes, "Your worse than Hades on his bad day."

Hades frowned at her.

"Haha, relax. I still love you." She patted his shoulders.

*

*

*

The Patrons were now, as usual, becoming overworked, because who isn't?

Their task now was the slow, painstaking restoration of order.

The Five River Gods flowed across the scarred landscapes, their waters washing away lingering corruption and coaxing the land back to life.

Keres prowled the ruins, ensuring the twisted remnants of the entity's spawn were erased down to the last trace.

Thanatos oversaw the respectful guiding of the countless dead, while Hypnos laid a blanket of dreamless sleep over weary mortals who had not truly rested in weeks.

Even Eris, though incapable of going long without trouble, confined her mischief to harmless jests, scattering illusory apples with cryptic inscriptions just to keep the surviving Olympians on their toes.

Hera and Aphrodite were forced to deal with all the work regarding the internal affairs of underworld.

*

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*

Once everything seems in order, Hecate, Nyx, and Hades left the others to their devices to work on something of extreme importance.

The creation of Gaia's new body.

Gaia's soul, cleansed of the parasite that had consumed her, floated like a green ember between Nyx's hands.

Beside her, Hecate moved with meticulous precision, weaving ancient sigils through the air with her staff.

Hades stood over a stone table inlaid with silver veins, shaping flesh from divine essence itself.

It was not the grotesque and bloated form the entity had twisted her into.

This was the Gaia of the old age, regal and serene, her presence warm and grounding like fertile soil after rain.

Her eyes opened slowly, irises a vibrant green that seemed to hold the weight of mountains.

She sat up, looking between the three gods who had labored over her rebirth.

"I owe you more than I can say," she murmured, her voice carrying the timbre of wind through ancient forests. "If you have need of me… I will come."

Her gaze lingered on Hades for a heartbeat, her eyes look complex and emotional, before she turned into a swirl of leaves and vanished back into her domain.

"She didn't even say hello, that damn brat." Nyx cursed under her breath. "Staring at my man like that..."

*

*

*

Months passed.

The overworld healed, slowly but steadily.

Cities were rebuilt. Forests and rivers returned under the care of Demeter, Oceanus, Gaia, and Poseidon.

Olympus, fractured and abandoned, showed the first signs of life again.

Once he was sure everything was back on track, Hades did not remain in the public eye.

Once stability had returned, he withdrew into a separate dimension—a vast, cold expanse of silver mist, suspended outside the natural flow of time.

Here, in the heart of this place, lay his private laboratory.

The chamber was vast, lined with obsidian pillars carved with runes older than Olympus.

Floating crystal orbs drifted in the air, each containing an artifact of staggering power, relics claimed in battles stretching back to the dawn, and even his own creations.

He made and discovered a lot of stuff when he was obsessed with his own transcendence.

At the center of the room sat a single table of polished black stone.

Upon it rested two objects.

On the left, the Breakdown Sphere, its fractured surface glowing faintly, pulsing like the heartbeat of some ancient beast.

On the right, the Eye of the Outer Horror, bound in layer upon layer of his authority.

Its alien iris rotated slowly, almost lazily, but each movement seemed to make the air ripple, as though reality itself flinched from its presence.

Hades stood in silence for a long while, his hands clasped behind his back.

The Sphere hummed, the Eye pulsed, and the void between them seemed to thrum with an unspoken challenge.

Finally, he spoke, not to an audience, but to the artifacts themselves.

"The Breakdown Sphere… incomplete, but already feared. A weapon forged from the bones of defiance. And you…"

His gaze fixed on the Eye, the faintest edge of distaste in his voice.

"You are a fragment of hunger itself. Alien to this reality. A piece of something that devours everything it sees."

He extended one hand, letting his fingers hover just above both objects.

The moment he did, a subtle resonance rippled through the chamber, the Sphere's hum deepening, the Eye's rotation slowing ever so slightly.

"One unstable. The other… incomprehensible."

His lips curled into the faintest smirk.

"Together, perhaps something far more dangerous than either alone."

The lights in the chamber dimmed as shadows coiled outward from him, slithering across the table to wrap around the artifacts.

The power in the room thickened, as though the dimension itself was bracing for what he was about to attempt.

Hades leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a murmur meant only for himself.

"Last time, I faced those creatures unprepared. That will not happen again."

With that, his shadows tightened, drawing the Breakdown Sphere and the Eye closer together until they hovered a mere breath apart.

"Let's see," he whispered, "what happens when a god's invention meets the gaze of an Outer Horror."

And in the dim silence, the alien iris turned… and looked at him.