When we finally reached the bottom of the chasm, the silence was suffocating. Not the silence of death or oblivion, but a silence thick with weight, absorbing every vibration of the world. Even the Tartarus pillar, so immense and ancient, seemed to shrink before this void.
But it was not alone.
Before us, chained to the summit of the column like a shadowed colossus of muscle, stood Fenrir. The giant wolf of prophecy, the monster destined to devour gods, stretched across dozens of meters, its chains of unknown, shimmering metal vibrating under the tension of its power. Its breath shook the floor and the surrounding magma, sending waves of heat and cracks through the cavern. Its eyes were burning coals, alive with ancient rage—and yet, it did not move. The chain restrained it… barely.
I froze. The lycoris in my chest flared red, as if recognizing an equal in the wolf's raw strength. Siegfried remained silent beside me, his chains trembling with each pulse of Fenrir. Even he, who had endured the unimaginable, seemed to measure the weight of this creature.
Then, the Tartarus sky split open. A blinding light, golden and pure, tore through the void above the chasm. Moments later, Zeus appeared, floating above the pillar, his body radiating a power so intense the ground itself seemed to recoil from his presence. The air vibrated, burned, and every gust carried a weight impossible to bear.
— Jormund… Siegfried… Zeus spoke, his voice striking our minds and bodies directly, bypassing the air. Even my chains quivered with fear.
We wanted to move. We wanted to breathe normally. But his aura pinned us to the ground, our stone legs and obsidian bodies unresponsive. We were there, immobile, at the mercy of this divine energy, which had nothing to do with heat or weight: it was raw Olympian force concentrated.
Fenrir growled, a sound that seemed to make the very ether tremble. The chains vibrated, but it could not break free… not yet. The giant wolf fixed its gaze on Zeus, and on us, and within that stare I read the echo of the world's anger, the expectation of the end of the gods.
— You have crossed Tartarus, Zeus said, and yet you stand, Jormund. You carry a fragment of Chronos… and you confront me. You defy the very laws of the cosmos.
Siegfried clenched his fists. His voice, though controlled, vibrated within my mind:
— Even a god cannot comprehend what we have endured…
— Comprehension is not the problem, Zeus replied. The problem… is that you exist.
Each word struck like lightning. The walls of Tartarus cracked slightly under the pressure of his aura. The lycoris red in my chest pulsed stronger, as if responding to the tension.
— Fenrir, Zeus continued, you surely recognize this creature… an inheritance of Ragnarok, a warning from the old times. But you… you are not bound by ancient prophecy. You are… something else.
The giant wolf shifted slightly, the chain hissing like molten metal. Its gaze fell upon me. In that moment, I understood that Fenrir was not simply a creature to be chained, but a witness, a silent judge of what I had become.
— Why show us this now? I asked finally, my voice ringing with new clarity.
Zeus tilted his head, his eyes measuring every fiber of my being.
— So that you know, he said, even I, king of Olympus, cannot ignore what you have become. You have crossed boundaries my legions cannot reach. You have defied Tartarus itself.
Every word was an explosion. Even Siegfried could not hide the tension vibrating through his chains.
— You cannot… he finally said. Your powers are… incomprehensible.
— Exactly, Zeus whispered. And yet, here I am.
His aura intensified further, and the ground trembled as if Tartarus itself bowed. Fenrir growled again, louder this time, but remained chained. Its raw power seemed contained… yet ready to erupt.
I felt my own power awaken, an echo of the Chronos fragment in my body, a heat that did not burn but pulsed with rage and will. The lycoris flared in my chest, and for an instant, I felt a strange connection to Fenrir: two entities forged in rebellion and fury against divine order.
— Zeus, I said at last, my breath heavy, my voice cutting through the aura like sharpened steel… We do not seek war. We seek… definition. Tartarus gave us a name, and now we must understand what we are… before the gods decide for us.
There was a silence. The king of Olympus tilted his head, his storm-blue eyes sparking like suspended lightning. Fenrir growled once more, and its chains vibrated violently.
— Jormund… Siegfried… Zeus said, softer but still crushing, even a god can be impressed by what you carry. But remember: Olympus does not tolerate rebellion. Even Tartarus has limits… and so does Fenrir.
At that moment, I understood: this was not merely a test of strength. It was a lesson in fear and power, a warning that even we, forged in the abyss, must measure our actions.
Yet… in the incandescent red of my lycoris, I felt a new certainty. I was Jormund. I would never be a shadow. Not here, not before Fenrir, not before Zeus.
The king of Olympus fixed his gaze on us, and for the first time, an imperceptible smile touched his features. He did not need to move to control us. His presence alone was enough… but in my heart of stone and glass, I knew that the moment would come when even he would feel the weight of what we had become.
And as the silence of Tartarus shattered under the breath of Olympus, I heard, for the first time, a different roar: that of silent rebellion taking shape at the bottom of the abyss.