The God of Underworld

Hades and Hyperion stood apart, their divine auras clashing violently in the space between them.

One was darkness incarnate, a god whose very presence warped the shadows.

The other was the embodiment of heavenly radiance, his golden light rejecting all that was hidden, all that was unknown.

"Fear is a powerful weapon," Hyperion said, his voice a deep, resounding force. "But fear crumbles before light. The unknown becomes nothing when illuminated."

Hades didn't respond. He simply lifted his hand. Shadows coiled around his fingers, forming jagged spears of pure void. He flicked his wrist.

The spears shot forward, the air shrieking as they tore through space itself.

Hyperion didn't move.

Instead, his body shined.

A pulse of golden light erupted from him, so blinding that the darkness itself recoiled. The spears disintegrated mid-air, melting like ice before a scorching flame.

And then, Hyperion moved.

He crossed the battlefield in an instant, his fist wreathed in holy fire.

Hades barely had time to react.

BOOM!

The first punch landed square in his chest.

The force sent him flying back, crashing through the remnants of broken temples and shattered statues.

The impact carved a deep trench into the earth as his body skidded across the battlefield.

Hades exhaled sharply, staggering to his feet. It doesn't hurt as much as he expected, but it did hurt.

These titans are far stronger than he had initially thought.

But, so what? He isn't weak, either.

He stretched out his hand.

The sky darkened once more.

And then—

It fell.

Shadows rained down like spears, but they were different this time. They did not simply aim for Hyperion.

They devoured.

Each drop of darkness was an abyss in itself, a void that sought to consume all existence.

Hyperion's light clashed against it, but the more he burned, the more the darkness fed.

Hyperion frowned.

"How annoying…" he murmured.

And then—

He raised both hands.

Light exploded outward.

It was not mere illumination.

It was divine order.

A force that banished all the darkness.

The shadows shattered.

Hades clicked his teeth in annoyance.

Hyperion appeared before him once more. A fist wreathed in pure, burning divinity slammed into Hades' face.

The impact cracked the air itself.

Instantly, Hades activated his crown. His body was covered in shadows, transferring him to another dimension where attacks couldn't reach him.

Hyperion continued, his movements relentless. A knee to the gut. A crushing elbow to the back. A golden boot slamming Hades into the ground.

The world shook with every impact.

Hades took a deep breath as he stood up from the ground, completely unharmed.

Hyperion stood in front him, his radiance unchallenged.

"You are really strong, Hades," Hyperion declared. "But your darkness cannot conquer the light."

Hades' fingers twitched.

Then—

He smirked.

"…Light?" he rasped, lifting his head slightly. "You think my domain is limited to darkness?"

Hyperion frowned.

And then—

The battlefield trembled.

Not from an attack.

Not from divine energy.

But from something primal.

The air became heavy, thick with a presence that should not be.

Hyperion's golden glow flickered.

His heartbeat stilled.

The Titans watching from afar suddenly shuddered.

A new fear gripped the battlefield.

Not the fear of darkness.

Not the fear of the unknown.

But the fear of something inevitable.

A god not of mere shadows—

But of the Underworld.

Of the realm where light had no meaning.

Where divine radiance held no power.

The place where all things—Titans, Gods, Mortals—would one day fall.

Hades exhaled slowly, lifting his head fully.

And Hyperion saw it.

The void behind his eyes.

Not just absence, not just darkness—

But the end.

Hyperion stepped back instinctively.

But it was too late.

The moment his foot moved, Hades struck.

Faster than sight.

Faster than thought.

His fist, wrapped in the authority of the Underworld itself, slammed into Hyperion's chest.

A shockwave rippled outward.

Hyperion choked.

Not in pain.

But in terror.

His light flickered violently, struggling against a force that denied existence itself.

Hades moved.

He spun, delivering a crushing backhand to Hyperion's face. The Titan staggered.

Another strike.

A spear of pure abyss shot through his stomach.

And then—

Hades stood behind him.

His hand gripped Hyperion's neck.

His voice was a whisper.

"Fall."

He pulled.

Hyperion's divine essence wavered, dragged downward, as if an unseen force was claiming him.

For a moment, Hyperion saw it.

The gates of the Underworld.

A place not even Titans could escape.

His fingers trembled. His light dimmed.

His knees buckled.

And then—

He collapsed.

The Titan of Heavenly Light fell.

Hades stood still, his breath heavy, his dark robes fluttered with the wind. His divine aura flickered, but his grip on his spear remained firm.

Hyperion, the Titan of Heavenly Light, lay before him, motionless. The once-mighty titan groaned, his golden radiance reduced to mere embers, his chest rising and falling in labored breaths.

Hades exhaled slowly. This was it. With Hyperion down, he could—

A shadow loomed over him.

A massive hand wrapped around his throat.

Hades' eyes widened as he was lifted off the ground with overwhelming force.

Atlas.

The Titan of Endurance held him effortlessly, his grip like a vice, unyielding.

"You fought well, Nephew," Atlas rumbled. "But your fight ends here."

Hades clicked his tongue in annoyance, activating his authority over darkness, but before he could summon his power—

A sharp presence approached from behind.

Boom!

A colossal fist crashed into his gut.

Hades was sent hurtling across the battlefield, his body crashing into the broken earth. Raising his head, he saw another Titan.

Iapetus.

The Titan of Mortality stood beside Atlas now, his knuckles still smoking from the impact.

Hades barely had time to react before another presence descended upon him.

Coeus, the Titan of Wisdom and Intelligence, landed with eerie silence, his sharp, calculating gaze locked onto Hades.

From the other side, Crius, the Titan of Constellations, cracked his knuckles, divine power surging around him.

One by one, the Titans surrounded him.

The battlefield, once filled with clashing gods, was now eerily silent.

Zeus was down.

Poseidon had been struck unconscious.

Hera, Demeter, and Hestia stood in the distance, their divine robes torn, their bodies trembling as they tried to hold their ground.

The few remaining Olympian forces—mere thousands now—were too exhausted to fight.

Hades couldn't help but show his annoyance, his expression dark.

The war… was lost.

A chuckle echoed through the battlefield.

It was Cronus.

The King of the Titans watched from above, his scythe resting lazily in his hand.

"How utterly tedious," he muttered. "This little rebellion of yours had some entertainment value, but now… it's simply boring."

He sighed, raising his hand.

"Let us be done with it."

The air shuddered.

The sky cracked.

And then—

The world began to unravel.

A monstrous storm of golden and violet light erupted from Cronus' scythe.

A temporal storm.

Not merely destruction.

Not merely death.

A force that erased all that it touched—returning it to the time before it had ever existed.

The battlefield itself began to disintegrate.

The bodies of the fallen vanished as if they had never been born.

The very land beneath them faded into nothingness, unraveling like a tapestry being unwoven.

Hera's eyes widened in horror. "No… what is this…?"

Hestia staggered backward, staring at the storm. "It's erasing everything…!"

Demeter clenched her fists. "That sick bastard."

Rhea trembled as she clutched Themis' weakened form. Her lips parted in horror. "Cronus, you monster… you're erasing them from history itself!"

The Titans and their forces retreated, backing away from the storm as it expanded.

Hades' fingers twitched.

No.

This wasn't how it will end.

Clenching his fist, he rose himself to his feet.

Darkness erupted from his body, consuming the battlefield, swallowing everything in a void so deep that not even time should be able to reach it.

"Come," he commanded, his voice cold, final. "To the Underworld."

He could've defeated them. He could've won. He hasn't used Desmos yet. He hasn't used the true power of his darkness that he used against Campe. He hasn't used the domain he got from Gaia.

But if he insisted on continuing this war, no one from his side would've survived even if he won.

The abyss spread, coiling around his allies, dragging them away from the storm—away from Cronus' wrath.

But—

The storm twisted.

Space itself warped, its very coordinates distorted.

Hades' eyes widened.

Something was wrong.

The moment his darkness connected with the Underworld, a pull came from all directions.

The coordinates—

They were shifting.

His power was scattering them.

No, no, no…

Hades gritted his teeth, pouring everything into the abyss, trying to hold it steady.

But the storm was too strong.

It twisted even the foundations of reality itself.

The moment they crossed into the Underworld—

Everything collapsed.

****

Hades stumbled.

The Underworld loomed around him, dark and vast.

He had made it.

But—

His gaze flicked around, scanning the area.

His sisters—Hera, Hestia, Demeter—stood nearby, shaken but alive.

Rhea and Themis were there as well.

Hundreds of gods and spirits who had fought for them had survived.

But that was all.

No Cyclopes.

No Hecatoncheires.

No Zeus.

No Poseidon.

The air felt hollow.

Hestia turned, eyes confused. "Where are we?"

Demeter whispered, her voice weak, "This place is depressing."

Rhea's hands trembled. "This is...the underworld?"

Silence.

And then—

Hades closed his eyes.

What a miscalculation. The titans were far stronger than he anticipated. No wonder the Olympians took ten years before winning the war.

Although he was confident on winning, but Cronus himself is a problem.

When he finally opened his eyes, his gaze was cold, dark, unrelenting.