The chains hoisted Zeus higher, the metal groaning under the strain of divinity.
His arms were pinned. Legs bound. The thick chain around his neck pulsed with infernal power—tightening with every breath. Tartarus rose beneath him, floating in silence, wings of shadow curled behind him like curtains drawn before execution.
"You always thought yourself untouchable," Tartarus whispered, voice layered and slow. "Crowned by thunder. Worshipped by mortals. Feared by gods."
He hovered closer, Ares's face twitching beneath the cracks. "Now look at you. Bound. Hanging like a trophy."
Zeus didn't answer.
Not with words.
He closed his eyes.
The storm inside him stirred.
The air snapped once—then twice. Then exploded.
CRACK-KRAKABOOM!
His aura flared. Golden and white, the storm broke free of the chains—not all at once, but enough. Electricity shot through the bindings like wild snakes, and the one around his left wrist shattered.
Zeus clenched his freed fist, spinning in midair.
