NOVEL WEB Chapter 36: DEVOURING THE SUN
Fifteen hundred years ago, Ouranos lost his position as God King, and Soulis opened up the spiritual world on that fateful day.
At the same time, the two gods of the dark night—Nyx and Erebus—were stirred by the shifting tides of the world. Yet, instead of opposing Soulis, they forged a peculiar accord. In exchange for the soul embryo he gifted them, they returned offerings of their own.
Nyx hung a luminous star for Lion, a celestial beacon in the vast night sky. Erebus, however, handed over the bitter essence of Uranus's downfall—a dark amalgamation of hatred, betrayal, and murderous intent. This was the wrath of a father scorned by his son and the fury of a dethroned king, potent enough to carve the very fabric of existence. Soulis initially intended to use this potent negativity to craft an artifact designed to combat the Twelve Titans. However, new ideas took root in his mind.
Why target twelve gods collectively when he could focus on one with devastating precision?
With his left hand, Soulis reached for the Creation Code, the invisible law that bound order. He began rewriting it with an elegance that only the Lord of Spirituality could command. In the mortal sky above, the sun had not yet returned to its zenith. The punishment imposed by Order on Hyperion, the Sun God, still lingered. Soulis seized this opportunity, subtly altering the mechanics of the celestial punishment.
Hyperion, high in the heavens, felt a sudden unease settle over him. Glancing around, his piercing gaze found nothing but emptiness. And yet, the shadow within his heart deepened.
Standing amidst distorted time, Soulis gathered the primal energies of the spiritual world and slowly infused them into the formless black mist of negative emotions in his grasp. The recently acquired chaos energy intertwined with this malevolence, transforming it further. The hatred left by Uranus began to mutate, merging with chaotic instincts and primal chaos.
Time slowed as creation unfolded. The energy before him began to solidify, taking on a shifting, mist-like form. The black fog writhed, unstable and undefined, as Soulis meticulously washed away the mark of Uranus, leaving behind only the visceral loathing aimed at the Titans. The entity began to crystallize—a weapon born not of logic or reason but of primal hatred and malice.
Soulis gazed at his creation with satisfaction. Rationality was unnecessary; it was a weapon, not a god. A tool, not a master.
With a commanding tone, Soulis imbued the fog with life.
"Icripus, the nameless evil spirit of the spiritual world, the ever-changing mist that consumes light and heat, I give you life in the name of the Creator."
The black mist quivered violently, as though resonating with its creator's voice. Moments later, it began to move with eerie agility. Bereft of sanity but brimming with chaotic instincts, the newborn Icripus merged into the surrounding space, vanishing in a blink and rushing toward its destined target—the Sun.
By narrowing the weapon's purpose from twelve gods to one, Soulis had concentrated its lethality. The hatred of Uranus, now refined and augmented, became a scourge directed solely at Hyperion. This precision allowed its power to grow exponentially, evolving into a force that would rend the very essence of the sun itself.
In mere moments, the sky darkened. The punishment Soulis had devised unfurled as Icripus enveloped the celestial body. The black mist consumed the Sun's radiant light and searing heat, casting the heavens into unnatural darkness. Chaos tasted eternal night for the first time.
Hyperion's booming voice shattered the silence.
"What is this?! No—stop it!!"
Panic gripped him as he felt the Sun's essence drain into the malevolent mist. Unlike previous disruptions, this was no fleeting attack. This was a fundamental corruption, an intrusion into the origin of the Sun itself. Hyperion felt his divine power tremble, unraveling with every moment. If the process continued, the Sun's very nature—and his own—would be permanently altered.
"Get away!"
A deafening explosion of divine power erupted as Hyperion struck the mist with all his might, momentarily dispersing it. Light pierced through the darkness, but only for a moment. The black mist coalesced once again, reasserting its dominion. The Sun God's attacks, though powerful, could not dispel the evil spirit completely. Icripus had fused with the Sun's core, gaining immortality and resistance at the cost of rationality.
In desperation, Hyperion called out, "Theia! Help me!"
The Mother of Light responded without hesitation, summoning her divine power to assist her husband. A burst of radiance surged toward the mist, but it was futile. The light was devoured, transformed into fuel for Icripus. The gods were witnessing a creation unlike anything they had ever encountered.
At Mount Odiles, the other gods observed the chaos with growing dread. The second and third-generation Titans sensed the disturbance, but the first-generation Titans—those who had faced Uranus—recognized the truth immediately.
"Tethys, did you feel that?" murmured Oceanus.
"Yes," she replied grimly. "It felt like... the Father's wrath."
The ancient gods exchanged uneasy glances. The name Titan, once a badge of defiance, now felt hollow under the weight of their past.
"It's not him," Oceanus muttered, trying to reassure himself. "It's just... remnants of his power. But this creation—this Icripus—is terrifying. Its birth defies logic."
"Some power..." murmured Pontos, his voice heavy. "If this can target Hyperion, what's stopping it from targeting us?"
The gods fell silent as dread settled over them. Icripus was no mere weapon. It was the manifestation of their darkest fears—an unrelenting force that consumed light, hope, and power itself. Soulis had given it life, and now it was loose upon the world.
On the sacred mountain, Rhea, who had been silently accompanying the God King Cronus, suddenly spoke.
The eyes of the gods were drawn to her immediately. Rhea, the goddess of time and seasons, rarely spoke on matters unrelated to her domain. That she chose to speak now, in the midst of a celestial conflict, meant her words carried weight.
"Your Highness Soulis," Rhea addressed the enigmatic Lord of the Spiritual World. Her tone was calm, yet firm. "Your creation frightens me, but the earth cannot live without the sun, just as the underworld cannot exist without the light of the dark moon. If the day were to lose its light forever, the world would wither into chaos."
The clash in the skies continued unabated, with the Sun God's power growing ever more unstable. While Rhea's words were tinged with exaggeration, the turmoil in the sun's essence was undeniable. Hyperion's recklessness threatened the sun itself. Losing this celestial body was unthinkable under Cronus's rule, and Rhea's intervention was not merely personal—it carried the implicit approval of the God King.
Soulis, standing unperturbed amidst the gods, listened. His eyes flickered with a knowing light as he observed Rhea and the subtle shifts in Cronus's expression. When he finally spoke, his voice carried an air of measured authority.
"Hyperion deserves punishment for his arrogance," Soulis said evenly. "But you are correct—the world cannot endure without its sun." His gaze swept across the gathered gods, before settling on Cronus. "So, under the witness of the gods, I am willing to make a concession. If Hyperion apologizes to me and swears to relinquish control of the sun to his son Helios for the next five hundred years, I will spare him and his domain from ruin."
Cronus's mouth twitched ever so slightly, though he remained silent. The so-called 'concession' was anything but generous. Five hundred years might seem temporary, but Cronus understood the deeper implications: Helios, once given control of the sun, would never willingly return it to his father. This was no mere punishment—it was the beginning of a rift that would tear the Sun God's family apart. And yet, Cronus found himself quietly amused. A divided family of celestial power was far easier to manage.
Turning his attention to the embattled Sun God, Cronus spoke with unyielding authority. "Dear Hyperion, you have heard Soulis's terms. The course of celestial bodies must remain unbroken. It is time for you to share the heavens with your son."
All eyes shifted to the sky. Hyperion, battered and furious, launched a final strike against Eclipse, the malevolent creation of Soulis that had been devouring the essence of his priesthood. Yet as he observed Eclipse continuing its relentless assault on the sun's source, he hesitated. His power was being drained, piece by piece, and the gods below could sense his growing despair.
Hyperion clenched his fists, his golden radiance dimming. He took a deep breath, suppressing his anger as he addressed Soulis. His words were measured but carried a tinge of bitterness.
"Yes... you are right," Hyperion began, forcing the words out. "Your Highness Soulis, I apologize for my earlier transgressions. You hold undisputed dominion over the Moon, and I acknowledge that, as witnessed by the Mother Goddess and the assembly of gods here present."
The tension in the air dissipated slightly, but Soulis remained silent, his expression unchanged. Hyperion gritted his teeth and continued.
"I swear by the River Styx," he said, his voice laden with resignation, "that for the next five hundred years, my son Helios shall command the sun in my stead. This is the price I shall pay for my arrogance."
A ripple of divine power surged across the sacred mountain as the Styx itself bore witness to the Sun God's oath. The gods watched as the unseen laws of Chaos sealed Hyperion's promise, binding him irrevocably to his word.
"Very well," Soulis said at last, satisfaction glinting in his eyes. "Eclipse, return to me."
The monstrous creation dissolved into black mist and streamed toward Soulis, merging with him in a swirling vortex. The sun, no longer shrouded in darkness, resumed its golden brilliance. The world below sighed in relief as light once again bathed the earth.
Soulis turned his gaze back to Hyperion, his expression inscrutable. "This was merely a lesson," he said, his voice cold and calm. "But if there is a next time, it will be more than that."
Hyperion's face darkened, but he remained silent. He turned and began his descent from the sacred mountain, followed closely by Theia and Selene, the young Moon Goddess. Selene, visibly shaken, cast a wary glance back at Soulis. The sheer dominance he had displayed was a reminder of his power—one that would not soon be forgotten.
As Hyperion's family disappeared into the distance, the gods began murmuring among themselves. Some were fearful, others awed, and a few were quietly intrigued. One thing was certain: Soulis had cemented his reputation as a being not to be trifled with.
But Soulis, feeling the power of Eclipse resonating within him, allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction. The conflict had served its purpose. By manipulating the concept of a solar eclipse, he had not only subdued Hyperion but also claimed a new domain of power.
"Now that the farce is over," Soulis said, his tone light but pointed, "I will take my leave. I apologize for interrupting your celebration."
Themis, the goddess of law, nodded respectfully. "You have nothing to apologize for, Your Highness," she replied.
With that, Soulis vanished into the ether, leaving the sacred mountain and the gods behind. His departure marked the end of the conflict, yet the ripples of his actions would continue to spread.
Cronus, ever the opportunist, seized the moment. "My fellow gods," he declared, his voice booming, "the incident has been resolved. Now, let us move to my palace and enjoy the feast prepared for you all."
The gods began to disperse, their thoughts divided. For some, the day's events were a warning; for others, they were an opportunity. Oceanus pondered how to align himself with Soulis, while Cleos regretted his earlier interference. Cronus, meanwhile, could not suppress a sly grin. The God King may have remained neutral during the conflict, but he knew he had gained far more than he had lost.
And so, as the feast commenced, the gods drank and laughed, though the shadow of Soulis lingered in their hearts. A new player had risen among the divine, one whose actions had reshaped the heavens themselves.