Moreover, compared to the decrepit older generation of Divine Spirits, the younger Olympus Gods had all been promised great rewards. Bound together by these interests, they were numerous, fierce as wolves and tigers, and had long coveted the authority held by the Old Gods.
Beyond sheer numbers and fighting spirit, the Cyclopes freed by Zeus—hidden deep within the heart of Mount Etna's active volcano—had labored day and night before the war began, forging weapons and armor for the Olympus gods. With their aid, the gap in combat prowess and the concentration of Ether within their bodies was largely bridged.
In contrast, the mid-to-lower ranks of the Old Gods simply could not withstand the onslaught of the New Gods. Without their core leadership, a total collapse was inevitable.
Had the three Titan Main Gods atop Mount Othrys remained to suppress and command, the disparity might not have been so overwhelming. Yet those three rigid-minded commanders foolishly chased after Zeus and his allies, plunging into the chaotic sea mist and severing all contact with their armies.
From that point, all that remained was for the New Gods to divide and encircle their foes before Kronos and his followers could respond. The outcome was already beyond doubt. As for the final annihilation, Samael believed that even if Kronos himself arrived, he would stir no great waves.
The reasons for his failure were too many to count. The ancient serpent could easily list a string of blunders from Mount Othrys.
First, choosing the Oceanus Sea as the battlefield was a mistake from the very beginning. From the moment Kronos set foot there, he had been walking straight into Olympus's trap.
The ocean was the domain of Zeus's father-in-law. Even if Oceanus himself did not intervene, Zeus had two wives who were goddesses of the sea. On top of that, Poseidon's trident—a divine weapon that commanded waves and ruled sea beasts—was in play.
And let's not forget: Zeus had once brought Aphrodite back from the waters of Oceanus. Who knew if that endlessly meddlesome Father of Heaven wasn't already waiting eagerly to watch Kronos's downfall?
Geography alone had sown immense danger for Mount Othrys. The dense mists and the sea monsters gathering nearby were anything but ordinary.
Then there was Olympus's leadership. With Zeus absent, command had fallen to the Goddess of Wisdom, Metis. Leading the charge were Prometheus the seer, Mnemosyne the Titan of Memory, and Leto the nurturing goddess—each a formidable power.
The defection of Nike, goddess of victory, and Aphrodite, whose allure over men could sway armies, only added immeasurable weight to Olympus's advantage.
And what of the neutral Titan Main Gods? They didn't dare strike at Kronos, nor even cut down minor foes to prove their loyalty.
From the very beginning, Mount Othrys was doomed. This wasn't simply a defeat in raw power—it was a rout in strategy, tactics, and intellect.
The Titans of the old age had truly grown old. They had sat too long upon their thrones, dulled by complacency, their minds rigid, utterly ignorant of how to wage a large-scale war.
Samael shook his head silently, once more giving thanks for those steadfast comrades from Uruk.
Of course, Mount Othrys's collapse was not without cause.
After Kronos and his siblings conspired to castrate their father, his position became unshakable. For centuries, he ruled Greece unchallenged, his authority absolute. For millennia, he faced no true rebellion, no serious campaign. Naturally, he lacked any grasp of strategy or tactics.
Worse still, allies who embodied "knowledge" and "wisdom"—Themis, goddess of justice, and Mnemosyne, goddess of memory—had already abandoned him.
Thus Kronos, Coeus, and Iapetus fell back on the old ways, charging headlong without thought.
Well, well. The war of Old and New Gods ended up as nothing more than a village brawl, yet it dragged on for ten years. Clearly, the Olympus gods had been laying their plans for this for quite some time.
The prepared defeat the unprepared; the vigilant overcome the careless. In the end, if Mount Othrys will not kneel, who will?
Still, this was a war of gods. Every combatant was an ancient being of immense vitality. As long as a Main God's divine essence was not completely destroyed, there remained the chance to reconstitute their form.
Ten days, perhaps a month—such was the scale of this conflict that old and new gods alike would not easily decide victory or defeat.
So before the dust settled, one should seize every possible gain.
Samael sensed the shift in the currents around him. His thoughts refocused as he gazed at the massive shadow looming down from the waters above. A cold grin stretched across his face, revealing jagged fangs.
The hunt begins. Time for a feast.
At once, the black fish clad in dark scales darted like lightning, slipping into the bodies of nearby sea monsters through their throats, gills, mouths, and flesh, boring its way deep into their cavities.
One after another, the creatures fell victim. After a brief, frenzied thrashing, their Spirit Cores were devoured, and their lifeless bodies, bleeding profusely, sank into the depths.
...
Ten days later, the Old Gods' forces had been nearly annihilated. From the surface of the Oceanus to its deepest trenches, even across its seabed, divine corpses and bones of every size lay scattered.
The dense, lingering stench of blood clung to the waters. The carcasses left behind after sea monsters battled over divine blood and flesh drew in swarms of lesser marine life to scavenge.
Victorious, the gods of Olympus gazed upon the crimson sea. They knew that even with Oceanus's natural cycles, it would take decades to fully cleanse this Ether-rich zone. For years to come, it would surely remain a breeding ground for sea monsters and aberrant beings.
Meanwhile, in the chaotic, storm-tossed darkness, the three Titan gods had endured days of relentless assault. Their divine power was nearly spent.
At last, utterly exhausted, each was seized and bound tight within the grip of a Hecatoncheires.
Chains forged by the Cyclopes coiled around their bodies, layer upon layer.
The six God Kings, flanked by the new gods, stood above upon the clouds, watching coldly.
"Zeus! Don't you dare gloat! Once I break free from these claws, I'll thrash you brats until you understand the true meaning of a father's love!"
Kronos's face was dark, his teeth grinding as he roared in fury. His grip tightened on the Scythe of Time, veins bulging as he tore through the chains inch by inch with brute force.
Fragments of shattered links lashed out toward Zeus in the clouds, snapping like belts of wolves wrapped in a parody of paternal affection.
"Esteemed God-Eater God King, though I'd love to keep reminiscing and experience this missing bond of blood, it seems someone else is growing impatient."
Zeus tilted his head aside, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he spoke in mocking tones.
But then, the whisper rising from the darkness reached the Titans' ears. Kronos and his brothers, straining desperately against their bonds, froze as terror spread across their faces.
From the waters rose vast blotches of deathly stillness and darkness. Even the three Hecatoncheires shuddered involuntarily.
The Prison of the Gods—Tartarus Caverns!