Divine Ascension: Reborn as a God of Power-Chapter 79: Theomachy (Part 19)

The battlefield moaned.

Screams echoed across the ruined heights of Olympus. The winds carried dust, divine ash, and the scent of burning marble. Collapsed shrines stretched like corpses across the landscape—icons shattered, eternal fires snuffed out.

Hesperia ran through it all, golden hair tangled with soot, her sword humming with energy as she searched through the debris. Her left pauldron was gone, torn away in a clash with an Ares-born champion. Her right hand burned with divine strain from overuse of her shielding spell. But her heart was steady.

She wasn’t here to fight anymore.

She was here to find survivors—anyone who could still move, anyone from Nemesis still breathing.

A glimmer of familiar aura caught her eye. Faint, flickering.

She slowed her pace.

Down a ruined stairwell, half-swallowed by fallen pillars and dust, then, she saw her.

Red hair, impossible to mistake.

Erytheia.

One of the Hesperides. Her sister by divinity, if not by blood. Always the most complicated of the trio, always the one pretending she didn’t care—but who’d stood beside Hesperia through centuries of exile.

"Ery?" Hesperia’s voice cracked through the haze. "Erytheia! Are you hurt?"

Erytheia turned slowly.

Her armor gleamed—Olympian standard issue, not the insurgent forged gear Nemesis had distributed. Its polished blue and gold reflected the red light of fires dancing across the sky. There was no wound.

And in her hand was a spear marked with Zeus’s seal.

"...What are you doing with that?" Hesperia asked, her smile fading.

Erytheia’s expression shifted—tense, unreadable.

"I was hoping you wouldn’t find me here."

Hesperia’s heart sank, but she kept her voice calm.

"Please tell me you took that off a corpse."

Erytheia didn’t answer.

She stepped fully into view, her feet stirring the ash.

"I serve the one who’s going to fix all of this," she said. "The only one who still believes in order."

Hesperia’s lips parted—but no words came.

The implication crashed over her like a wave.

"You’re working for Zeus," she said, barely above a whisper.

Erytheia’s silence confirmed it.

Hesperia took a shaky breath. "We were cast aside. Abandoned. You remember that, don’t you? You remember what they did to us when we wouldn’t guard the golden apples anymore?"

Erytheia’s jaw clenched. "I remember."

"Then how—how can you fight for him?! After everything?!"

"I’m not fighting for him," Erytheia said, her tone colder now. "I’m fighting to survive what comes after. And Zeus offered a place in that world."

Hesperia blinked, trying to grasp it.

"You think there’ll be a world if Nemesis loses?" she said. "You think Zeus will let any of us live after this?"

Erytheia shrugged. "Maybe not. But you don’t win wars by siding with dying dreams. Nemesis is chaos. You saw what happened when Poseidon turned the sea loose. You saw what Hades did. That’s not balance. That’s destruction."

Hesperia stepped back.

Her sword tilted slightly downward, not in surrender—but in disbelief.

"I trusted you," she said. "You were with me in Kaeron. You protected the refugees. You told me you believed in what we were building."

"I did," Erytheia said, quieter now. "I still do. But Kaeron’s already a crater. And Akhon—he’s walking into his grave."

That struck harder than any spear.

"He’s alive," Hesperia said. "He’s still fighting."

Erytheia looked away. "Not for long."

Hesperia’s grip tightened.

She raised her blade, eyes glowing with the faint shimmer of divine power.

"So that’s it, then?" she asked. "You’re my enemy now?"

"I didn’t want it this way," Erytheia said, lifting her own weapon. "But you picked your side."

"And you betrayed yours."

They stood in silence for a heartbeat, the battlefield around them momentarily muffled—as if Olympus itself were holding its breath.

Then the wind rose and they charged.

The clash of their weapons sparked like lightning. The air between them warped with divine pressure as they moved, two streaks of gold and red, weaving in brutal arcs through the crumbling ruins.

Erytheia fought with clean, rigid technique—Olympian form. Spear and footwork in perfect harmony.

Hesperia fought with speed and sudden bursts—defensive counters and radiant bursts of pressure that tried to slow the flow of the fight. ƒreewebɳovel.com

They had trained together centuries ago.

And now they fought to kill.

Steel screamed while she parks burst.

Every step tore up stone and flame.

Their blades locked in a blinding flare of energy. Their faces inches apart, teeth bared, muscles straining.

"You don’t belong with them," Erytheia hissed.

"You never stood with us," Hesperia snarled back.

And then they broke apart again—clashing, spinning, wings of light and smoke exploding from their backs as they soared above the wreckage.

Two stars orbiting the last ruin of the gods.

Neither willing to fall first.

Erytheia spun midair, the shaft of her divine spear extending with a pulse of Olympian energy. Her movements were sharp, rehearsed—a perfect expression of Zeus-trained discipline. She struck downward, aiming for Hesperia’s exposed shoulder.

Hesperia tilted just enough to deflect the blow with her forearm, divine sparks bursting in the air as the spear glanced off her barrier. Her counterattack came instantly—a flash of golden light from her free hand, aimed for Erytheia’s heart.

Erytheia twisted mid-fall, the beam grazing her side. It left a burn mark trailing across her armor, steam hissing from the wound, but she didn’t flinch.

They landed on opposite ends of a ruined bridge, now severed in the middle and suspended above a divine chasm that bled light into the world below.

The two stared at each other, panting.

"I didn’t come here to kill you," Hesperia said under her breath, sword trembling in her grip. "But I will."

Erytheia’s lip curled, though it wasn’t quite a smile. "Then stop holding back."

She surged forward—blindingly fast.

The tip of her spear shimmered with compressed divine energy, and as she moved, the runes across its shaft glowed a vivid red. She leapt high, higher than any mortal eye could track, and came down with the full weight of her divine lineage behind the thrust.

Hesperia didn’t block.

She rolled beneath the strike, letting it bury into stone, then pivoted and kicked Erytheia in the back with a burst of force.

Erytheia stumbled.

Hesperia pressed the advantage—launching three strikes in a flurry. Blade, palm, elbow. Her attacks weren’t elegant, but they were furious. Rage finally gave her speed.

The second blow broke Erytheia’s guard.

The third knocked her back, skidding across the marble.

Hesperia advanced, blade aimed for the exposed gap in her sister’s armor.

But Erytheia struck the ground with her palm, and light erupted upward—a radiant shockwave that sent Hesperia flying.

She slammed into a broken column, coughed, and rolled to her feet with divine blood on her lips.

Erytheia stood now on one knee, breathing hard, smoke rising from her body.

"I should’ve known it would come to this," she muttered. "You always believed in people more than gods."

"I believe in the right to choose," Hesperia snapped. "You chose chains. I chose rebellion."

Erytheia launched forward again, spear spinning like a storm in her hands.

The battlefield blurred as they met midair—again and again, exchanging blows that cracked the sky and ruptured the ground beneath them.

At one point, Erytheia’s spear slashed through Hesperia’s thigh—blood sprayed. Hesperia screamed and returned the favor with a pulse of divine light that ripped open Erytheia’s shoulder.

They fell together, bodies crashing into stone, limbs tangled, wings twitching.

They separated in a groan of agony, both dragging themselves upright, armor melted, faces streaked with blood and betrayal.

Their weapons hung heavy as they could barely lift them now.

They weren’t made for using weapons, that was the reason and yet, they still lift them up.

Hesperia struck first—weak but wild while Erytheia blocked it.

But she couldn’t stop the knee that came next—driving into her stomach, lifting her from the ground. She choked on her own breath and crumpled.

Hesperia raised her blade.

But her hand shook because now she was hesitating.

Even after all that had happened, even after knowing that her sister may have been doing the same job as her since who knows when.

She couldn’ bring herself to do it.

And Erytheia used that moment—just one second—to sweep Hesperia’s legs and bring her crashing down.

They rolled across broken statues, punching, clawing, fighting like animals now. Technique long gone. Magic nearly depleted.

Erytheia landed on top and raised her fist.

But she froze too. Hesperia wasn’t fighting anymore.

She just looked at her—eyes wide, lips trembling.

"...We used to watch the stars together," Hesperia whispered. "You told me they’d never fall."

Erytheia’s arm trembled above her. Blood ran down her elbow.

"They haven’t," she replied softly.

So she rolled off her and landed on the ground just next to her.

Hesperia didn’t rise. Neither did she.

They just lay there in the dust, staring at the burned sky—listening to the distant war still raging around them.

Maybe tomorrow they’d try again.

But for now, the battle between sisters had reached its bitter pause.

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