Centuries have passed since the breach of the Sky Chasm. The whereabouts of the monster Typhoon remain a mystery, a silent threat coiled beneath the world's peace.
On Olympus, the political landscape has shifted. Through clever manipulation and undeniable presence, Hera has cemented her place as Queen beside Zeus. Yet, the King of the Gods remains unchanged, his lust scattering divine descendants across the realms. From this chaos, a new generation has risen to the Olympian council: Ares, Hephaestus, Hermes, Apollo, and Artemis.
In the mortal realm, Persephone remains under the watchful, smothering eye of her mother Demeter, her world a gilded cage of eternal spring.
---
In the quiet of the Underworld castle, Hecate lies in her bed. Hades sits beside her, his usually cold hand warm as it firmly holds hers. A female angelic doctor in a long white coat completes her examination, her stethoscope moving from Hecate's chest to her abdomen.
The doctor mutters a spell, the tip of her finger glowing with a warm, dim emerald light. She presses it to Hecate's ankle. The light flows gently into her skin. The doctor's eyes close, her vision journeying inward.
Minutes pass. Tension gathers at her temples. A bead of sweat traces a path down her cheek. Finally, she opens her eyes.
"Your Highness, can you describe what you felt before?"
Hecate nods, a thread of concern in her voice. "I returned from the Judgement Hall and a sudden weakness and nausea overwhelmed me. I endured it, but upon reaching the castle, I had a powerful urge to vomit. After that… I am here."
"Have you consumed anything unusual?" the doctor asks.
"No."
Hades's voice is a low rumble. "Doctor. What is the verdict?"
The doctor's tension melts away, replaced by a faint, genuine smile. "Congratulations, Your Majesties. You are going to be parents."
The words hang in the air, dense and immense.
Hades's world narrows. 'Parents. A child. Our child.' He feels Hecate's hand tighten in his. He turns to see her staring back, her amethyst eyes wide with the same stunned, breathless disbelief that has stolen his own voice. A slow, tremulous smile breaks across her face, more radiant than any magic. A sound escapes Hades—part laugh, part gasp—as he gathers her into his arms, his face buried in her hair. "Thank you," he whispers, a prayer meant for her alone.
"Sebastian!" Hades calls, his voice thick with emotion.
The door opens. Sebastian bows. "Yes, Your Majesty?"
"Sebastian! Open every bottle of premium alcohol in our stores! Tonight, the entire realm celebrates!"
Sebastian blinks. "As you wish, my Lord. May I ask the occasion?"
"The castle will soon echo with a child's laughter," Hades declares, his grin wide and utterly unguarded.
'Child's laughter…'
Sebastian's eyes dart from the doctor's smile to his queen's blushing, joyful face. Understanding dawns. He bows deeply, his own stern features softening. "Congratulations, Lord Hades, Lady Hecate."
"Make it grand," Hades says, waving a hand.
"I will"
Sebastian bows again and departs with uncharacteristic speed.
Hades turns back to the doctor. "Today, you bring the greatest news of my long existence. Name your reward."
The doctor bows her head. "My Lord, please do not embarrass me. This is my duty and my honor. To reward it would diminish its value." She pauses, then adds carefully, "If you wish to grant a favor, then let it be this: take extra care of Lady Hecate. This is a vulnerable time. Shield her from all stress."
Hades's smile is one of deep approval. "I admire your principles."
Snap!
Hades snap his finger and a scroll materializes in his hand. He offers it to her. "From this moment, you are the Ministry of Health and Care for the Underworld."
The doctor's hand trembles. The scroll feels impossibly heavy. "My Lord, I am not—"
"This is not favoritism," Hades interrupts. "It is recognition of skill, integrity, and mindset. The post is yours."
She hesitates, overwhelmed. Hecate speaks softly. "To refuse a ruler's appointed station is its own form of disrespect."
The doctor's resolve firms. She kneels, accepting the scroll. "I am deeply grateful for your trust. I will serve to the utmost of my ability."
"Good," Hades says. "Remember, the post is not eternal. If a better, more promising candidate emerges, they will replace you."
"I would expect nothing less, my Lord. I will strive to be an impossible standard to surpass." She bows once more. "With your permission?"
Hades nods, and she retreats, leaving them in a bubble of private wonder. Hades holds Hecate again, his voice full of awe. "A father. I still cannot believe it."
Hecate rests her head on his shoulder. "It feels like a dream too beautiful to be real." She looks up. "Have you ever thought about names?"
"Not once," he admits, a soft chuckle in his chest. "But it seems we must start."
---
That night, the Nether Moon hangs high, its serene azure light bathing the realm in an ethereal glow. The Underworld is transformed. Streets are strung with luminous lamps and colorful ribbons. The air thrums with music, laughter, and the rich smells of feasting. The citizens—spirits, daimons, and deities alike—dance and celebrate.
Hades and Hecate move among them, their presence met with cheers and toasts. As Hecate reaches for a chalice of dark wine, Hades's hand gently intercepts hers, replacing it with a goblet of shimmering pomegranate juice.
Hecate shoots him a mock glare. He remains unmoved, his expression stern but his eyes smiling. "No alcohol. The doctor's orders are my command."
Before she can protest, a warm voice interjects. "Congratulations!" Hestia approaches, her kind face glowing. She offers a gift wrapped in glittering paper.
Hecate accepts it with a smile. "Thank you, sister." She unwraps it to reveal a tiny garment woven from impossibly soft fabric, lined with a downy, silvery fur.
"The Muses spun the cotton. The lining is moon-wolf fur. Soft, warm, and comfortable," Hestia explains.
Hades studies his sister. "Thank you for the gift. But what brings the Goddess of the Hearth so far from her domain?"
Hestia's joyful expression wavers. Her eyes dart downward. "Well, I…"
Hades catch something in her expression. Hades gently cuts her off. "You've come to see your sister-in-law and mother. Of course."
Hestia's nod is too quick, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "Yes, that's… that's why I'm here."
Hades doesn't press. 'She has always been a terrible liar. The political rift on Olympus must be severe. I will deal with it later from now—'
He offers her a different duty. "Sister, I have a request. My responsibilities often keep me from Hecate's side. Would you stay? Help watch over her?"
Hestia's answer is immediate, relief flooding her features. "Yes. Gladly."
"Thank you," Hades says, his gratitude genuine.
His gaze finds his father, Cronus, sitting alone under a oak tree, a bottle in hand. "Enjoy the festivities," he tells Hecate and Hestia, and makes his way over.
He takes a bottle and sits beside the old Titan. Cronus glances at him, his face flushed with drink. "Congratulations, kid."
"Thank you. Why sit alone?"
"The noise wears on me," Cronus says, gesturing vaguely. "So. How does it feel? Standing on the cliff of fatherhood?"
Hades takes a long drink, leaning back against the tree. "It feels like waiting before a door to a room I've never seen. I know crossing the threshold will change everything. I fear what kind of changes will be for their in that new world."
Cronus sets his bottle down with a soft clink. His voice, when it comes, is worn thin by millennia of regret. "I held Hestia when she was born. So small she fit in the crook of my arm. I swore to the void itself that I would be a shield against all darkness for her."
He looks up at the false moon, seeing a different sky. "But I became that darkness that haunt her. Do not repeat my mistake, son. The door you fear? Walk through it. And never bar it shut behind you."
Hades says nothing. He simply nods, the weight of the past and the future settling between them in the quiet.
---
Within the boundless, stormy prison of Zeus's divine mind, Metis holds her daughter one last time. The beautiful goddess, Athena, her hair like spun gold, shakes with silent sobs.
"My dear child, the time has… come," Metis whispers, her own tears falling like liquid star-shine.
Athena clutches her tighter. "Mother… is there truly no other way?"
Metis looks at her own hands. They are growing translucent, flickering. Her life-force is a guttering candle. She can no longer hide her child from the consuming hunger of the father. "There is no… other path."
She steels herself, pushing Athena back to look into her tear-filled eyes. "Athena, remember all I taught you. The world outside is… crueler than any lesson."
Metis's form begins to unravel, not fading, but dissolving into strands of brilliant, golden light. Athena tries to clutch them, but the light streams through her fingers like warm, helpless sand. The last sensation is the ghost of her mother's embrace, leaving only a hollow, screaming cold.
"MOTHER!!!"
The sound that tears from Athena is silent, a raw scrape of the soul that leaves her throat burned and her eyes forever dry of innocent tears.
---
Days pass within the psychic void. Grief hardens into resolve, cold and sharp as honed steel.
Athena is no babe to be born. She is a fully-formed concept, a warrior ready for deployment. In her hands, she gathers the principles of strategy, wisdom, and just war—her very essence—and forges them into a blade of pure, diamond-hard intellect.
She raises the sword and drives it upward, not into flesh and bone, but into the idea of her father's skull, into the fabric of his godly consciousness.
In the Olympian throne room, Zeus convulses. A scream of pure, psychic agony rips from his throat. A seam of blinding, painful light splits his forehead from within.
THUNK!
A chisel bites into the glowing fissure. Hephaestus, summoned by the cosmic disturbance, braces his deformed body and brings his hammer down again. He treats the metaphysical crisis with practical, brutal mechanics.
THUNK! CRACK!
With a final, soundless eruption of light, the seam blows apart.
From the rupture emerges Athena, full-grown and clad in gleaming armor, landing with a definitive clang on the marble floor. She kneels, her voice echoing with neither warmth nor fear, only flawless purpose.
"I am Athena. Forged from your mind, Lord Zeus. I offer my service."
A stunned silence grips the hall.
"HAHAHAHAHA!!!"
It is shattered by Poseidon's roaring laughter. "A headache that births a goddess! Brother, have you awaken maternity divinty! Hahahah"
Zeus pants, golden ichor streaming from the wound that is already knitting shut. Rage and pain war in his thunderous expression. His eyes, sharp with sudden, cold calculation, lock onto the magnificent, armed daughter before him.
'A goddess. Born of my own thoughts. How… is it even possible?.'
Then a sound echo in his mind "Possible or not, doesn't matter. She is mid level god chief. She already surpass most of the deities. Use her as tool."
'Hmm…you are right I can use her.'
He smothers the pain, masks the rage. A sovereign's smile, broad and false, spreads across his face. He spreads his arms in a gesture of theatrical benevolence.
"Welcome," he booms, the sound shaking the pillars of Olympus. "Welcome to your home, Athena. Welcome to Olympus."
Athena remains silent but inside rage as volcanoes explodes 'Just you wait Zeus. I will take revenge of my mother. '