Zeus stood in the center of the smoldering crater.
His chest heaved.
Steam hissed from his wounds. Lightning coiled along his spine like a dying serpent, its energy stuttering. The raw detonation had cost him—too much. The force had torn muscle, cracked ribs. But he refused to fall.
Then—
The sea returned.
Not as a wave. But as a spear.
Poseidon's attack struck from below—compressed saltwater so dense it pierced bedrock. It launched Zeus into the air like a thrown god, hurling him skyward, where the broken clouds swallowed him whole.
Poseidon rose from the edge of the ruin, arm outstretched, trident gleaming. His body was battered—bruises dark beneath wet skin, left arm trailing blood—but his power surged. The ocean answered him without hesitation. The mountain trembled at his command.
Then came Hades.
