The God of Underworld

The battlefield split between light and darkness.

Hyperion's radiance turned the sky golden, his divine light pushing back the abyssal night Hades had conjured.

Hades, standing unmoved, felt the weight of that celestial presence.

This was not mere sunlight.

This was the essence of heavenly light, a force that rejected shadows, that sought to burn away all that lurked in the dark.

Hades exhaled.

His fingers clenched, and the black mist surrounding him thickened, pulsing as though it were alive. The divine rain of fear that once blanketed the battlefield had vanished under Hyperion's light—

But fear itself could not be destroyed so easily.

It is not something one can get rid off by strength nor power. That is because fear itself is not a feeling, it's an instinct.

And no one can escape their instinct.

Hyperion took a step forward. "Hiding in the dark will not save you, godling."

Hades responded not with words, but action.

He vanished.

Or rather, the very concept of his presence melted into the darkness.

A whisper of movement—

Then, Hades was behind Hyperion.

His fingers curled into a clawed grip, and from the shadows, a long obsidian spear emerged, aimed for the Titan's back.

Hyperion did not turn.

Instead, light erupted from his body.

A shockwave of divine radiance blasted outward, forcing Hades to retreat, his form dissolving into the black mist once more.

"You will not take me by surprise," Hyperion said. "The sun watches all."

His golden eyes locked onto the mist—

Then, he raised his arm.

A single point of light appeared above his palm, smaller than a spark, no larger than a grain of sand.

And then—

It exploded.

A sphere of pure heavenly fire expanded outward, swallowing everything in an instant.

The golden blaze turned the battlefield into a second sun, evaporating darkness, melting the ground into molten rivers.

But as the light faded—

Hades stood there, untouched.

A barrier of pure void surrounded him, an abyssal dome that had swallowed the light before it could reach him.

Then—

"Tell me, Titan of Heavenly Light..." Hades voice echoed through the dark dome, "what do you fear?"

The darkness opened its eyes.

A thousand spectral irises, violet and abyssal, flickered in the void behind Hades.

They were not mortal eyes, nor were they divine. They were concepts, manifestations of every nightmare, every horror that lurked in the dark places of the world.

This is the true power of his crown, the concept of "fear" given form.

Hyperion frowned, a shiver running down his spine. "What is this?"

"They are your fears, Titan." Said Hades, "and they will swallow you."

With that, Hades lifted a single hand—

And the battlefield collapsed.

The ground beneath them shattered as gravity distorted. The space around Hyperion blurred, stretching and warping as if reality itself rejected his presence.

And then, from the abyss—

Hands emerged.

Long, skeletal fingers made of pure darkness, clawing upward, reaching for Hyperion.

They were not mere constructs.

They were fear itself.

The fear of death.

The fear of the unknown.

The fear of what comes after.

They grasped at the Titan, seeking to pull him down into an eternity of nothingness as he struggled fiercely.

"I...! Have...! No...! Fear...!" Hyperion roared.

The sun pulsed, and in an instant, the shadows burned.

The divine hands screeched as they were reduced to cinders, and Hyperion surged forward, his fist coated in solar fire.

Hades moved, but it was too late.

The punch connected—

A flash of golden fire enveloped him he was sent hurtling backward, smashing into a distant mountain, the impact shattering stone and sending shockwaves across the battlefield.

Hyperion exhaled. "You are strong, but you cannot win."

But from the rubble, a voice echoed.

"Who decided that?"

A pulse of darkness—

And Hades emerged, unscathed.

His eyes burned with something deeper than rage.

Something colder.

"You keep yapping about light this, sun that." His voice was a whisper, yet it filled the battlefield. "But even the sun… must bow to the darkness of the night."

Darkness surged once more.

And the battle raged on.

****

Zeus ducked under Atlas' swing, the Titan's massive club shattering the rock behind him.

Lightning crackled, and Zeus thrust his hand forward—

A bolt of divine thunder struck Atlas in the chest, sending the massive Titan skidding backward.

But Atlas did not fall.

He grinned.

"You're fast, little god," he rumbled, rolling his shoulders. "But speed is useless if you can't even harm your opponent."

He slammed his club into the ground—

And the earth rose.

Jagged peaks of stone erupted beneath Zeus, aiming to skewer him—

He leapt into the sky, but Atlas was already there.

The Titan launched himself upward, his club swinging in a wide arc.

Zeus barely managed to block with his divine aura, but the sheer force sent him careening through the air.

Atlas pursued, his laughter shaking the heavens.

****

Poseidon twirled his trident, the air around him vibrating with the power of the ocean.

Across from him, Coeus stood with an eerie stillness, his violet eyes glowing with an unnatural brilliance.

"You rely too much on instinct," the Titan of Wisdom said.

Poseidon scowled. "And you rely too much on words."

With a flick of his wrist, Poseidon unleashed a tidal wave, the water twisting into razor-sharp tendrils aimed for the Titan.

Coeus did not move.

Instead, he lifted a single finger—

And the water froze.

Not into ice, but into pure stasis, as if time itself had stopped the moment the wave touched Coeus' divine aura.

Poseidon's eyes widened.

Then, Coeus whispered:

"I am Coeus, the embodiment of celestial axis. The axis in which the heavens revolve."

And the frozen wave shattered into a thousand spears, all turning back toward Poseidon.

"And you shall face the consequences of defying the heavens."

****

High above the battlefield, where the chaos of war turned the land into ruin, Cronus stood, his arms held the scythe he used to cut his father.

The King of the Titans observed the battle below, his eyes tracking every clash, every divine explosion of power.

The Olympians were faltering.

Even Zeus and Poseidon, the strongest among them, were being pushed back by the might of the Titans.

Hades, however…

Cronus narrowed his gaze. The eldest of his sons was proving to be more than just a challenge even for someone as powerful as Hyperion.

Hades was holding his ground against the Titan of Heavenly Light. Not only holding his ground—he was forcing the Titan of Light into a deadlock.

More than that, Cronus was sure Hades was still holding back. Perhaps he was reserving his strength?

But why?

Does he want to hide his trump cards until he fights him?

Curious, curious.

Cronus turned slightly, glancing at the Titan who had stood still behind him, his usually playful eyes was serious, and his blabbering mouth remained silent throughout the battle.

"You are awfully quiet, trickster." Cronus' voice rumbled like a distant storm. "Are you perhaps regretting your betrayal?"

Prometheus blinked, his eyes shone with a mischievous glint.

He doesn't have an expression of guilt.

Nor one of defiance.

It was sly and unreadable—a smile that hinted that he possessed knowledge only he knows.

"I don't know what you're talking about, my lord." he said smoothly, his arms crossed. "I stand here beside you, as your faithful subject. If loyalty were a god, it would be me."

Cronus snorted.

The Titan of Time was no fool. He knew Prometheus was a liar, a schemer. But he also knew that the Titan of Foresight played the long game.

He did not trust him.

Yet, he did not press further.

There was no need.

Whether Prometheus would betray him or not means nothing, at the end of the day, he will be the one who will emerge victorious.

Nothing escapes the clutches time.

Prometheus took his eyes off Cronus and simply continued to watch the war.

His eyes flickered, scanning the battlefield, lingering particularly on Hades.

He studied the god of the underworld with the gaze of someone unraveling a riddle.

Thoughtful.

Silent.

And unreadable.

No one knew what was on his mind.