After reaching the threshold of a low-level Chief God, my strength surges several-fold.
But power without form is like a Formula One car without a steering wheel. The realm accepts me as its ruler, but I am far from its true master.
Across the hall, Hecate steps forward. She bows slightly and speaks in a tone both respectful and guarded.
"Now, Your Majesty… what is your next move?"
As God of Sin and Secrets, I can feel the truth behind her words, the hesitation buried in her heart, the wariness in her thoughts. She doesn't trust me. She doesn't serve me out of loyalty, but out of necessity. She has been the caretaker of the Underworld. Her service is duty, not devotion.
But she is right.
Why should she trust a stranger simply because he wears a crown?
I meet her eyes and say calmly, "Hecate, from now on, I command you to speak to me as an equal when I am not on the throne."
Her expression falters.
She hadn't expected that. She, like many, assumes I will be like the kings before me, proud, distant, lording over subjects as if they were lesser creatures. But I am not Zeus. Nor Poseidon. I do not need hollow worship, I only need understanding.
"Okay… Hades," she replies softly, testing the name on her tongue.
Then, after a pause, she asks again, more directly now, "So what will be your next move? Will you seek the primordial gods… or confront Campe?"
I narrow my eyes.
This is not just a question. It is a test to see what kind of ruler I will become. Will I chase power blindly? Will I confront danger before knowing my realm?
"No," I say. "First, I'll train. Sharpen what I have and what I can become. Learn what this realm is."
In her mind, I feel her noting my reply. She measures every word, every choice. Perhaps still deciding whether I am worthy of her allegiance or not.
"So, what is the current status of my realm?"
"Currently, the Underworld is divided. In the west lies Tartarus, the pit of punishment. And the other part, which is held without a king, is the Ten Dukes. Beasts of ancient birth, sovereigns of their domains. Together, they're known as the Dukes of the underworld."
I ask coldly, "And now that I've ascended… do they recognise me? Or do they see me as a threat to their rule?"
She doesn't hesitate.
"Some of them hold power equal to the Cardinal Titans. They have ruled for too long to bow easily. So yes, they will see you as a threat. Not a king."
I nod.
Then, without another word, I leave the throne and walk to the training ground.
I remember nothing of my past life—only fragments. But in those fragments live muscle memory, instinct, and knowledge etched into the bones of a warrior.
Martial arts.
The principles remain intact: stance, footwork, centre of balance, force redirection.
But my current body is not the same as before. I am no longer mortal. I am a god, and my structure, especially my wings, gives me new leverage, new potential. The old arts must be reshaped.
I begin with the basics.
Punches. Kicks. Breathing. Flow.
Then I move through human styles: boxing, karate, taekwondo, grappling, testing everything. I learn how my wings can act as shields, how they can deflect blows like steel, how they can deliver strikes in flight—sharp, brutal, silent.
Over three months, I train in isolation.
Each day I break and rebuild, redefining what a warrior means in this new body.
In time, I create something new, a new martial style built for mid-air combat, where I can hover, glide, and dive without flapping my wings. This style relies on precision, redirection, and 360-degree awareness. My wings become my third and fourth arms as tools of defence, pressure, and devastation.
But even mastery of movement is not enough.
I need a weapon.
I test many: dagger, sword, mace, hammer and various weapons.
Each has flaws. Daggers lack reach. Swords restrict my aerial flow. Hammers and maces have raw power, but rob me of agility which is unacceptable in flight.
After countless trials, I find the balance.
A short spear, which is easy to handle in close combat and flight, and a chain blade, flexible, dangerous, and unpredictable. Together, they become the extension of my style which has precision and chaos, reach and fluidity.
But theory is only as good as the enemy it faces.
So I leave the castle.
I walk alone across the desolate plains near the edge of the western gate. Hecate has spoken of skeletal legions, an undead army that roams this no-man's land.
But the plains are silent, dry, cracked and lifeless.
Still… I wander around, and suddenly feel… My instincts are ringing loudly.
Something is here.
I unfurl my wings and conjure a spear of pure shadow—cold and humming with weight. As it forms in my hand, the ground beneath my feet trembles. The earth cracks.
Bones.
One by one, they rise from beneath skeletal hands clawing from the dust, eyeless sockets staring blankly upward.
I leap into the air to gain distance, but a skeletal grip seizes my ankle.
With a casual jerk, I shatter its arm and ascend high above the ground.
What I see next makes even me pause.
The entire plain has shifted from what was once barren is now a living sea of the dead.
Thousands of skeletons. All are armoured, armed and forming ranks.
"So this is the welcoming party…"
I dive.
With my spear outstretched, wings spread wide, I plunge into their army like a blade into flesh. The first wave is torn apart. My wings cleave through bodies like guillotines. Bones shatter, skulls fly, spines snap. I destroy half their army in a single charge.
But as I hover above the field, breathing slowly, something strange happens.
The bones… move.
No, they reassemble.
Bones slither back to sockets, torsos rejoin limbs, heads snap into place.
A low laugh rumbles in my chest.
"Now this… this is interesting," I murmur, twirling my chain blade in my hand. "Let's make this game more interesting."
I land gently among them, cracking my neck to the left… then to the right.
Thousands of skeletons turn toward me, raising shields, spears, and bows. Arrows are nocked. Halberds are lowered.
Their eyes—empty, soulless—lock onto me.
I exhale slowly and slide into my stance—knees low, wings wide, weapons humming with divine energy.
I smile.
"Alright then," I say, my voice echoing across the plain.
"Let's begin… Round Two."