The silence of the Underworld seemed to have its own weight, suppressing all unnecessary noise, leaving only the quiet hum of its laws.
Hades, seated upon the obsidian throne, received a message from the deepest part of the earth—a majestic and ancient will—Gaia, the Earth Mother.
Without polite greetings, Gaia's thoughts were direct and heavy, like the movement of the earth's crust, slowly but undeniably touching Hades's consciousness:
"Hades, my child. The hustle and bustle of Olympus grows ever more intense, and the threads of fate are tangled. The path led by thunder ahead is shrouded in mist. You, who are in charge of the order of the Underworld, possess the power to shake this pattern... For the throne atop the mountain, for the authority that shines over all, is there any... interest in your heart?"
This was not a simple inquiry, but a temptation, a reassessment of the possibility of the existing order by the primordial forces of the world.
Gaia had witnessed the overthrow of Uranus's tyranny, seen Cronus repeat the mistakes of the past, and now harbored deep doubts about Zeus's 'destiny,' a mixture of frivolity and anxiety.
She needed to know whether this son, who had grown under her protection and built a powerful Hades in a time she had overlooked, was willing and able to shoulder a heavier responsibility.
On the throne, Hades's deep violet eyes were calm, as if Gaia were referring not to the supreme throne of the God-King, but to an insignificant artifact.
He was silent, silent as the Underworld itself. After a long time, a calm and unwavering thought slowly returned, containing neither affirmation nor denial, more like a statement of fact:
"Mother, the radiance of Olympus is too strong; I fear its burning would discomfort my eyes, accustomed to the darkness of Hades. My path lies in maintaining the balance of life and death, ordering souls, and suppressing the erosion of the abyss. The wind atop the mountain is too noisy for me."
He displayed no ambition, nor did he directly refuse.
He adhered to his position in the 'Underworld,' but did not deny possessing the 'power sufficient to shake this pattern.'
This was an extremely clever, ambiguous strategy, which not only allayed Gaia's possible fears that he threatened Zeus's position, but also left infinite room for imagination for her and all beings watching in secret.
He silently sank to the bottom of the waters, like a black boulder cast into the lake of fate, not causing too many ripples, but through its very existence, altering the lake bed's topography and the direction of the current.
Gaia's will, with a hint of indescribable complexity, slowly receded, like a long sigh deep within the earth.
She had received an answer, yet seemed to have received nothing.
Almost at the same time that Hades was contending with Gaia's temptations, Zeus on Mount Olympus, having experienced the frustration of pursuing the ancient goddesses, quickly changed his strategy.
He targeted those second-generation gods who were powerful and relatively easier to sway.
Koios, the Titan of the Celestial Axis and Intellect, as Cronus's brother and former messenger, had always been ambiguous.
And his daughter, the goddess Leto, possessed a gentle nature and pure divine power, and had not yet participated in the main conflict.
Zeus carefully planned the 'encounter.'
He restrained his dominant thunder, showing a sunny warmth and just the right amount of vulnerability, confiding in Leto the 'weight' of the prophecy and the 'longing' to establish a new order.
His charm was irresistible to a relatively simple goddess like Leto.
In the idealized web of love and promises he wove, Leto quickly fell and secretly pledged herself.
Leto's love became a decisive trump card for consolidating her parents' position.
Phoebe already doted on her daughter deeply, and although Koios was cunning, under the influence of Zeus's 'potential,' his daughter's happiness, and the increasingly suffocating atmosphere under Cronus's rule, the originally wavering scales finally tipped.
The family of Koios, a force not to be underestimated, was successfully bound to his chariot through Zeus's strategy.
This was undoubtedly an important diplomatic victory for Zeus, temporarily relieving him of internal dissent and the setbacks in seeking external favors.
However, the game of power is never confined to a single level.
Shortly after the family of Koios fell under Zeus's influence, an unexpected figure entered the realm of the Underworld, which rejects the living.
The visitor did not pass through the usual entrance, but, by some pull of bloodline and the convenience of magic, appeared directly in the shadows on the outskirts of Hades's palace.
He was tall and surrounded by an aura of silence that signified the end and a return to nothingness—he was Perses, the god of destruction, son of Koios and Eurydice, father of Hecate.
His arrival was soundless, yet it caused the inherent laws of death in the Underworld to tremble slightly.
He did not attempt to infiltrate, but stood quietly, until Hecate, who had received the news, emerged from the shadows.
"Father God." Hecate's voice was somewhat complex, and the light of the torch in her hand swayed slightly under the pressure of the destructive aura surrounding Perses.
Perses's gaze passed over Hecate and fixed directly on the deep darkness of Hades's palace. His voice was hoarse and cold, like metal grinding: "Hecate, take me to the King of Hades. Perses, son of Koios, god of destruction, is willing to pledge allegiance to His Majesty Hades, Lord of the Underworld, with my own authority and the power of destruction."
Hecate said little, turned, and led the way.
When Perses's figure, bearing the meaning of the end, appeared in the main hall of Hades, the solemn Hundred-Handed Giants and Cyclopes all cast sharp glances. Thanatos's black robe stirred without wind, and Hypnos's sleepy eyes also opened a small crack.
Hades sat high on the throne, looking down upon the God of Destruction below. He instantly understood the meaning of this.
Koios, the ambitious god of growth, while openly supporting Zeus, had sent his son, possessing mighty destructive power, to the Underworld.
This was a secret move, a clever backhand. Regardless of the final outcome on Olympus, the family of Koios could secure their place in the new era through this diversified investment.
Sending the God of Destruction to the Underworld was not only a recognition of and bet on Hades's power, but also a dangerous test—could he control this double-edged sword of destruction?
Perses touched the ground with one knee and lowered his head, symbolizing the end: "My King Hades, the power of destruction awaits your command. My will and strength are ready to be integrated into the order of Hades, to become your blade, to clear obstacles and protect eternity."
His oath of allegiance was concise and direct, full of the frank straightforwardness inherent to the God of Destruction.
On the throne, Hades's face was calm as water.
He spoke slowly, his voice echoing in the empty hall, carrying the cold and majesty of the Underworld's laws:
"The Underworld accepts the end of all things, and also embraces all beings returning to silence. Destruction is also a part of this cycle. Perses, I accept your power. But remember, in the Underworld, destruction requires following the laws of the Underworld and returning to order, not ceasing the disorder that spreads indiscriminately. Hecate will arrange a position for you."
He displayed no excessive joy or doubt, as if accepting a powerful god of destruction was no different from accepting an ordinary shade.
This unfathomable calm soothed the subtle turmoil in Perses's heart, caused by the betrayal of his family's open stance.
Metis, standing beside Hades, quietly observed all this.
A light of wisdom flickered in her eyes.
All these calculations and games further convinced her that only the Underworld, and only the King of Hades beside her, was the most reliable anchor in this chaotic situation.
She took a step forward, not overstepping her bounds, but in the posture of assistance and confirmation unique to the Queen of the Underworld, she said to Perses:
"The power of order is welcome in the Underworld. May your destruction become the cornerstone of reinvention and solidity, not the scourge of nothingness."
Her voice was soft, but carried an undeniable warning, and simultaneously demonstrated to all her unshakable position in the order of the Underworld.
Perses's allegiance, like a boulder cast into the depths of Hades, would surely ripple out to Olympus, causing new waves of suspicion and calculation.