A scream of steel tears through the battlefield as Hades hurls his spear with divine force. The weapon slices through the charging undead like a blade through silk, tearing a clean line through dozens of ribcages and skulls before vanishing into the distant haze.
With a sharp breath, Hades wraps the chain blade around his left arm and charges forward, feet skimming over shattered bone. A skeleton lunges toward him, slashing horizontally with a rusted sword.
He drops low, sliding beneath the arc of the blade. Dirt and bone dust trail behind him. In one fluid motion, he smashes his left fist into the skeleton's ribcage, sending its spine arching backwards.
As the creature's weapon clatters to the ground, Hades snatches it mid-fall and hurls it like a dagger, pinning another skeleton to the earth.
Without hesitation, he snatches up his spear again, spinning into a wide arc and cleaving through a cluster of skeletal warriors, their skulls flying into the air like shattered porcelain.
But the next attacker is different.
A skeleton dashes toward him with twin daggers, its footwork precise, its speed unnaturally swift. Hades brings his spear down in a vertical strike but with surprising dexterity, the skeleton crosses its daggers and blocks the blow. With a shriek of metal, the spear cracks in half.
He lets the broken spear fall from his hand and lowers his body slightly, sliding into a boxer's stance. Fists up. Eyes locked. The skeletal assassin lunges again, stabbing toward his ribs.
Hades twists, parrying the blow with a sharp strike to its wrist, forcing the dagger aside. He follows with a hook toward its head, but the creature ducks low, slipping beneath the strike and countering with a sudden upward slash.
Hades jumps back just in time, the blade kissing air where his flesh had been.
As it rises again, he sees the opening.
His knee comes crashing upward, smashing into its skull with a sickening crunch, shattering the bone like dry bark. The skeleton collapses, unmoving.
He doesn't stop. He can't.
Bones crack underfoot as he launches into the horde once more, fists and wings tearing through rows of undead. He moves like shadow and thunder, his martial form a blur of speed, precision, and raw violence.
And then a piercing, metallic scream echoes across the plain.
Everything stops.
The skeletons—every last one—freeze mid-attack. Then, as if pulled by some invisible force, they turn and begin retreating, running toward a single point at the edge of the field.
Hades narrows his eyes.
From the dark horizon emerges a figure twice the size of the others. A skeletal commander. Its armour is thicker, darker, laced with old enchantments and worn emblems from forgotten wars. Its empty eye sockets glow with faint blue light, and its presence causes the very bones of the battlefield to stir.
And then… the impossible.
The skeletons begin to fuse.
Bone merges with bone, blade with blade, forming a grotesque colossus—a giant skeleton, stitched together by necrotic energy and the will of the commander embedded within its chest like a beating, cursed heart.
Hades exhales slowly.
"…Alright then. Round Three."
He steps back, wings unfurling wide, and raises his arms. Shadow pulses at his feet, then rises like a storm cloud. Darkness twists, condenses, and forms behind him, shaping itself into a colossal avatar, a giant of living darkness, mirroring the size and form of the skeletal behemoth.
With no more words, the skeletal giant lunges, throwing a massive punch.
Hades meets it with his own.
The fists collide mid-air—a thunderclap cracks the skies, and the shockwave flattens the nearby hills. The very ground beneath them ripples from the force of impact.
The skeletal giant swings a kick.
Hades crosses his arms, absorbing the blow, then grips its leg with both hands. With a roar, he twists, spinning the monster around like a cyclone, and with a final heave, hurls it across the sky.
The creature slams into a distant mountain, shattering the cliffside, burying itself in an avalanche of stone.
But even that isn't enough.
The bones are clicking shifting and reforming
The creature rises again, untouched.
Hades sighs, almost disappointed.
"Persistent."
He looks at his avatar's hands—the fingers curl into fists. His divine energy surges.
Then, with grim focus, he begins to condense his power.
The Divinity of Death and Mortality—not raw destruction, but finality. The essence that severs soul from flesh, that commands the passing of all things.
That power begins to gather in his giant's hand, turning it blacker than void, rippling with ancient force.
Then he strikes.
The fist of death plunges into the chest of the skeletal giant—straight through its ribcage—and strikes the commander embedded within.
The moment of impact is silent.
Then everything crumbles.
The giant skeleton collapses.
Bones turn to dust.
Blades rust instantly.
And the wind carries away what remains of the army.
All that is left is silence.
Hades stands alone, the battlefield barren once more.
He rolls his shoulders, dismisses his shadow giant, and looks to the distant spires of his castle.
A soft smile tugs at his lips.
"Satisfied."
He returns to the castle.
Though I have created my own fighting style, it still isn't enough.
Now I have to create my own spells with the help of my domains.
My divine domains are vast: darkness, death, arcane, minerals, sin, demons, soul, mortality, secrets, fear, and dreams. I can slip into invisibility, read thoughts, cloud judgment, nullify regeneration, and bend shadows to my will. With such features, I can be a warrior, seer, assassin, and king in one body.
But this variety comes with drawbacks.
When I turn invisible, I can't hide my thoughts and killing intent.
I can read emotions, yes, but manipulating those of beings who hold greater divinity than me? Impossible. And while I can summon demons, they only come if they've already bowed to me or are weaker than me.
I must precisely create my own spell. But I lack the foundational knowledge for it
And for that, I need a teacher. One who knows the arcane better than any living deity.
So I find Hecate, alone in her private study, the smell of incense and ink clinging to the air. Scrolls hover around her, glowing with runes.
I step forward and speak plainly, "Hecate, will you teach me? How to wield arcane magic in battle."
She looks up, surprised.
A beat passes, then another, as she weighs my sincerity. Finally, she exhales and nods.
"I can teach you only the basics," she says, her voice even. "But not my signature spells."
I accept without hesitation. That's only fair.
She stands, robes shifting like midnight fog, and gestures for me to follow.
The training field is silent, just the wind brushing ash across stone.
Hecate steps into the centre, raising one hand. The air around her shimmers, vibrating with energy older than memory.
"Listen carefully," she says. "This universe is built from one root energy: primordial energy. Even the Primordials treat it with caution. There was once a god who tried to consume it directly…and he no longer exists."
"This root splits into many forms," she continues. "Divine energy, arcane energy, cosmic energy, and others. Divine energy is strong, yes—but rigid. Arcane energy is weaker… but far more flexible. It allows you to simulate the powers of other domains, if used right."
She extends her palm. A small, glowing red fireball forms, spinning with controlled fury above her hand.
She hurls it toward a practice puppet. It strikes. The explosion turns it to ash.
Then she conjures a water sphere, a bolt of lightning, a ball of wind, and one of darkness.
Each spell she forms with minimal gesture, minimal strain.
"The most important factor in spell manifestation is the mind," she says. "Imagination, intention, and calm. Magic takes the shape of your thoughts. Chaos in the mind creates chaos in the spell."
She turns, expression calm. "That's enough for now."
Left alone, I take what I learn and begin practising.
Fireball. Waterball. Thunder spear. Dark orb. Wind bullet. Each spell is easy enough in structure, but I begin to notice something quickly.
These spells, though showy, lack penetration. They explode, yes, but they don't cut. They don't pierce.
Then I try to manipulate neither energy. This energy is unique to the underworld, as currently only I can wield it. I create a spear from it and shoot a puppet. It only deals a little damage to the puppet.
I am surprised that such powerful energy still doesn't hold explosive strength. So I begin to explore it.
After some time, I find that neither energy's speciality is power but enhancement, as it can evolve any being and object to a higher level.
So I begin fusing nether energy with arcane energy.
My first attempt to merge the energies results in a violent, sputtering reaction that scorches my hand.
The second attempt simply dissipates.
On the third attempt, I use neither energy nor as fuel or material but as a catalyst and join their properties. This time, the fusion holds properly. The changes are immediate.
The fireball turns into Netherfire, a black-blue flame that clings to surfaces like tar and burns through rather than across.
The waterball becomes Netherwater, corrosive, thick, and oozing, like a living tide of acid.
With the fusion of the nether energy and dark energy,
The dark orb develops a vacuum effect, pulling light and sound into itself, causing temporary blindness and disorientation.