The defeat of Hera sent a shockwave through the divine pantheons. It was not just a military victory; it was a statement. A mortal had not just defied a goddess; he had humiliated her. On Olympus, Zeus's rage was a physical storm that shook the foundations of his golden palace. The other gods were silent, their own ambitions and plans thrown into chaos by this new, unpredictable variable.
In Portentia, the victory was celebrated with a grim, determined fervor. They had faced the wrath of Olympus and survived. Their loyalty to their Silent King was no longer born of fear; it was forged in the fire of a shared, impossible victory.
Nox, however, was not celebrating. He was in his throne room, the holographic map of the world spread out before him. Vexia stood beside him, her face a mask of intense concentration.
