We returned to the throne after the quiet death of Gharomund.
Hecate secured the extracted core in the vault of treasures, its black-blue pulse sealed behind enchanted obsidian. For the next week, we rested and studied our next move.
In the war chamber, I finally spoke.
"We need to kill another Duke. But it must still be done silently. Our next target should be someone who rarely appears in public."
Hecate nodded in agreement.
"There is one who lives in complete isolation, Druvak, Death knight. He resides in the northwestern mountain region, in one of the deepest valleys. In the age of Titans, he was the first weilder of weapon divinity. As he grew stronger, so did his arrogance. He attempted to fuse his essence with Primordial Energy, but failed. His body and divinity were shattered. Now, he exists in a cursed state: neither living nor fully dead. Uranus cast him into the Underworld, disgusted by his failure."
I was carefully listening to her words.
Druvak's isolation meant he had no allies. No kingdom. No army. A perfect candidate for our next move.
I transformed once more into the Black Phoenix, and Hecate climbed atop my back. We soared northward into lands veiled in cold shadow, over jagged mountains and valleys too deep for light to reach.
After hours of searching, we spotted it in a small cave, hidden beneath a collapsed ridge. It was silent, unassuming.
But we both knew better.
As we entered the cave, a voice echoed in the deep dark, cracked, yet powerful.
"Welcome to my cave."
We halted. Our concealment had failed.
Still, we advanced through winding stone corridors that suddenly gave way to an immense underground hall, lit by flickering, dim torches.
In the centre stood a skeletal figure, cloaked in old rags. A cracked, rusted sword rested in his hand, and a blue flame burned within his skull, like a cursed soul refusing to die.
"I am Druvak, the Death Knight."
I stepped forward, my voice respectful, but firm.
"I am Hades, the current ruler of the Underworld. Druvak, as your king, I give you two choices: submit… or be slain."
He stared at me through his burning sockets. Then, slowly, he answered.
"I will not submit. Unless you defeat me in a duel of weapons. That is the only way I acknowledge your strength."
I accepted with a nod. "So be it."
I summoned a spear forged from Mineral Divinity and stepped forward. Hecate moved to the edge of the hall and raised her hand.
The duel began.
I thrust first a clean, forward strike. Druvak deflected with a simple twist of his wrist and counter-slashed.
I barely blocked in time, the rusted blade scraping against metal.
Using my wings, I spun mid-air, building momentum, and swung horizontally. The impact was strong enough to throw off his posture, forcing him to stagger back but not fall.
I lunged again, trying to pierce his skull.
But he dodged, body twisting unnaturally movements smooth for a being long decayed.
We clashed dozens of times. Sometimes I had the advantage, my precision, my agility. Other times, he turned the tide with sheer discipline, decades of experience etched into every movement.
Minutes passed. Then more.
Fatigue crept in.
Not in the body but in the mind. A constant pressure. My patience began to slip.
Driven by impulse, I struck with a full-strength vertical swing, hoping to end it.
But I misjudged.
Druvak sidestepped and placed his cracked blade gently against my neck.
The fight was over.
I had lost.
For the first time since my new life, I had tasted defeat.
The disappointment sat heavy on my face, as I stepped back in silence.
Druvak didn't mock me. His voice was calm.
"You are strong, king. I can feel it. If you had used all your powers, your full arsenal you might have won. But today, you lacked resolve and patience."
"As I swore, I will not join any war. Not against you… nor for you. If you wish to try again, come back when you've made peace with your heart."
We left the cave without another word.
As we walked, Hecate looked at me curiously.
"Hades… why didn't you use your sorcery? Or your divine powers? Druvak has weapon divinity wouldn't it have been fair to level the field?"
I didn't answer right away.
Then, softly, I said:
"No, Hecate. That's not what he was asking from me. This wasn't about magic. This was about resolving to choose to stand as a warrior, even if it meant defeat."
"And there's something else. For him, fighting a battle of tricks and spells… would have been a humiliation. I chose to meet him on his terms because I respected him."
Hecate didn't reply.
We returned to the castle.
I might have appeared cool and unfazed from the outside, but inside, frustration gnawed at me.
Silently, I walked to the ground behind the castle. Channeling my arcane power, I conjured a still pool of water from nothingness. Then, without hesitation, I stepped in and sank to the bottom. As a god, I had no need for air I let my divine energy substitute for breath.
There, in the silent depths, I sat cross-legged, letting the weight of defeat settle upon me.
Time passed how much, I don't know until I rose slowly, floating to the surface like a corpse adrift in calm water.
Then I heard footsteps.
Hectate stood at the edge of the pool. She didn't speak immediately, simply watching.
"You're frustrated," she said at last. "Frustrated... and regretful."
"It would be a lie if I said I'm not frustrated," I replied. "But I don't regret my choices."
She sat down at the edge, dipping her feet into the water. "There's one thing I still don't understand. You hold dominion over minerals metals, ores, the foundation of all weapons. Even without lifting a blade, you could've crushed him. Why didn't you?"
I let out a long sigh.
"There are many reasons, Hectate."
"First... perhaps I grew arrogant. I believed I could win with raw strength alone."
"Second... I could've won as a god, but I wanted to fight like a warrior."
"Third... I wanted to test myself. My martial skill, my discipline. I needed to know the limits of my understanding."
She looked thoughtful, legs gently stirring the water.
"I think the first reason is most accurate," she said, smirking.
I laughed softly. "Yeah... you're probably right."
She tilted her head, eyes narrowing curiously. "But this thing called warrior pride... glory... I've never truly understood it. Why are men so drawn to something so... empty?"
I paused, then answered quietly, but firmly.
"A true warrior doesn't seek shortcuts. He fights with discipline, restraint, and fairness. Even in defeat or death, he holds his dignity on it. That... is warrior pride. And if he walks that path to the end be it triumph or loss and the world remembers him for it... that is glory."
Hectate gave a small, amused smile. "Sounds like a man's version of childish stubbornness."
"That's why are men are different from women."
We both laughed.
Just little chit-chat with Hectate my all frustration and negative completely vanished.
"I don't know why but whenever I talk with you, I feel good and peace. My all worries clear instantly."
Hectate eyes shocked, his become red, she doesn't say anything just leave it and whispering in her mind 'what a dumb, dense god who confess like and even himself doesn't realise he confess.'
As for Hades" maybe, she still mad for previous incidents…let's leave it as she cooldown on his own."