The God of Underworld-Chapter 96 - 50: The Aftermath

Above the clouds, past the mountain peaks that pierced the heavens, stood the mighty Mount Olympus—resplendent in its glory, veiled in golden mist, and humming with divine energy.

But on this day, the splendor of Olympus was not comforting.

It was shaken.

In a grand hall, where all divine eyes watched the affairs of the mortal realm through the Mirror of Skies, a scene had just played out.

One that silenced even the most ancient of gods.

A mortal had defied them all.

A mortal had stood against six divine spirits.

A mortal had died... like a king, with no chains, no fear, and no master.

And the halls of Olympus were reeling.

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In her own room, Athena, goddess of wisdom and war strategy, had watched it all with bated breath.

And then, in a rare moment unbecoming of her composed nature—

She squealed.

Not the reserved hum of approval a goddess might show after a well-fought war.

Not the cold satisfaction of a plan coming to fruition.

No. This was a girlish, excited, emotional squeal.

Her hands trembled as she held her quill. Scrolls of divine parchment scattered across her chamber as she burst into a frenzy of motion.

"That moment! That glare! That defiance! That speech!"

She twirled on her toes like a muse overtaken with inspiration. Her eyes sparkled as she furiously began to write.

"This...this shall be the climax of the first true epic!" she cried out. "The Epic of Herios!"

She dipped her divine quill into ink made of stardust and dreams, writing every word he spoke, every wound he bore, and every god he defied.

Her quill moved faster than lightning. Her mind was a torrent.

And then she stopped, as if struck by the thunder of her own thought.

"Oh yes, yes. This... this is not an end. This is a beginning."

She clutched the scroll to her chest.

"The age of heroes begins now."

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In another chamber, lit by flames of eternal battle, Ares, god of war, had watched in silence.

At first, he’d scoffed.

"Foolish mortal," he had muttered. "Suicidal pride."

But as the fight dragged on... as Herios pushed forward, alone, bloodied, still swinging...

As he stood upright with a blade in his chest and dared the gods to approach...

Ares’ lips trembled.

And when Herios finally fell, declaring that a mortal had surpassed the divine—

Tears fell down Ares’ cheeks.

He didn’t speak for several heartbeats.

And then, slowly, in a voice more reverent than any prayer ever spoken to him.

"So this... is what a beautiful death looks like."

Since his existence, Ares had loved war for its savagery. He had admired strength, slaughter, chaos.

A savage, barbaric war where everyone may die any second.

But Herios showed him something else, something purer than meaningless slaughter.

A death not of madness, but of meaning.

"I... I want to fight like that," he whispered. "I want to die like that."

He stood from his war throne, fists clenched, his chest rising with emotion.

"That... was a true warrior."

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But not all hearts on Olympus were moved by inspiration or beauty.

In the central throne room where majority of the Olympians gathered, lightning cracked across the heavens.

Zeus, king of the gods, roared with fury.

"BLASPHEMY!" he bellowed, and the sky trembled with his voice. "Just who is that mortal to say that he has surpassed us!?"

With one titanic strike, his fist smashed the marble arm of his throne. Divine energy sparked and shattered the walls of the chamber.

Thunder rolled across the mortal realm as if the sky itself were crying in rage.

"A mortal, claiming to surpass the divine?!" His eyes were twin storms of wrath. "This insolence shall not be written in song—it shall be ERASED from memory! I will flood the world and make them forget this transgression!"

Beside him, Poseidon, lord of the seas, slammed his trident to the floor.

Waves surged violently in oceans far below, crashing into coasts and dragging ships to the deep.

"Who gave that boy such power?" Poseidon growled. "There is no way someone like that is just a mere mortal! Hades! It must be Hades! He must’ve helped that man! After all his talks about not interfering in the overworld! What a hypocrite!"

He could not accept it.

Herios’ words—"A mortal has surpassed the divine"—rang in his ears like a curse.

His pride as an Olympian and lord of the seas had been wounded deeply.

"He is dead," Poseidon spat. So let the sea wash away his legacy."

"Why don’t I take away his soul so that we may punish him for eternity?" Suggested Hermes, who was swinging his legs back and forth.

"Good idea!" Apollo laughed.

However, unlike the younger gods who seems to agree with that idea, Zeus and Poseidon’s expression darkened.

Take a soul directly from Hades? What’s more, a soul of his champion? Do they want Olympus to cease to exist!?

Even Zeus almost blasted his filial sons with his thunderbolt and send them straight to Tartarus. freёnovelkiss.com

Poseidon snorted, thanking Chaos that he has no such idiotic sons.

He may have some stupid children, but no one was stupid enough to intrude on Hades’ domain.

"Enough!" Zeus glared at the younger gods, "We are Olympians, the guardian of order! Disrupting the flow of souls goes against the very order we have sworn to protect!"

Yes. Yes. They don’t want to disrupt the world’s order, so they wouldn’t purposely mess around with the flow of souls.

It definitely isn’t because Hades was terrifying.

The king of gods fears nothing!

Zeus glared toward the mortal realm. "For now, we shall let them write their epics. Let them crown their false heroes. But one day, we shall remind them what it means to defy Olympus."

His words were quiet, but every god felt them like a blade across the throat.

A storm was coming.

One born not from rebellion, but from Olympian vengeance.

But far away, alone in her room, Athena was listening to the Olympians and chuckled to herself.

"Let them rage. But the spark has already been lit. A king has fallen. But his flame will ignite a thousand more."

She was sure that soon, somewhere, deep in the mortal world, as words of Herios’ last stand will start to spread...

Boys who were weak will pick up wooden swords.

Girls who were afraid will begin to dream of defiance.

And all across the world—

Heroes will be born.