Chapter 5
The heat in the air was oppressive, a thick haze of sulfur and smoke clouding the blood-red skies above the Gates of Tartarus. The earth trembled beneath Hades' feet as he stepped forward, his obsidian staff pulsing with a cold, void-like aura. Before him loomed the Oar's resting place, sealed beneath a bed of black volcanic glass, deep within the molten trenches of the Underworld. But the path to it was blocked by its appointed guardian: the Infernal Warden.
The Protector of the Void Oar.
It was a beast forged from ancient sins and punished souls, shaped like a dragon but twice the size of any known creature. Crimson scales gleamed like living embers, each one etched with runes of eternal torment. Its massive wings, tattered yet powerful, extended into the sky, casting a shadow over the battlefield. Smoke poured from its nostrils, and its eyes burned like twin furnaces of rage.
Hades stood his ground, gripping his staff. "Step aside, Warden."
The dragon's mouth curled into something akin to a smirk. "You are not worthy of the Oar, child of Kronos."
With a deafening roar, the Warden lunged.
Hades spun his staff in a practiced motion. A dome of shadow erupted from its core, blocking the first jet of flame that spat from the dragon's mouth. But this was not just any fire. As the flame licked the shield, it hissed and stuck like tar, burning slowly and refusing to go out.
"Taylor," Hades muttered through gritted teeth, sweat beading down his brow. "Any advice?"
Taylor's voice echoed in his mind, calm and emotionless for now. "The dragon's fire cannot be extinguished through normal means. You must redirect it, or outlast it. Use the shadows around you. Feed them."
Hades nodded. Drawing upon his dominion, he summoned the wails of condemned souls, shaping them into whips of spectral agony. The warden recoiled as the lashes struck its hide, momentarily distracted. Hades took the chance to leap into the air, using his staff to launch himself toward the exposed chest of the dragon.
But the Warden twisted midair, slamming Hades with the edge of its wing. He was hurled through a volcanic pillar, crashing into a crater of molten rock. The impact stole the breath from his lungs.
"You're still thinking like a god," the Warden snarled, stalking closer. "But the Oar belongs to something deeper. Older. Void-born. You are not its master."
"No," Hades said, rising slowly. "But I will be."
He slammed the staff into the ground. The earth groaned. A circle of runes spread outward, pulsing with ancient power. The sky dimmed further. Shadows responded, coalescing around his frame, clinging to his limbs and torso like armor. His eyes turned pitch black.
The next clash was a storm.
Flame met shadow. Roars shook the caverns. Hades moved like a blur, each swing of his staff cracking bone and scale, yet the dragon responded with equal fury. Its claws raked across his arm, cutting through his flesh and burning with unholy fire. But Hades didn't stop. Every blow he took fed the wrath he unleashed.
Finally, the dragon faltered.
Hades saw the opening. With one last cry, he drove his staff into the beast's heart.
There was silence.
Then—
The Warden let out as it died