As Hades had foreseen, the Bronze Age began with blood and fire.
Numerous city-states were established across the earth, and smoke rose from their conflicts. The innate aggression and worship of strength among the Bronze people made war no longer a sporadic event for survival, but a common part of life.
The line between hero and tyrant blurred, and glory and evil intertwined in the clash of swords.
Every day, countless souls fell in the flames of war. The souls of the dead, steeped in murder, betrayal, hatred, and despair, surged into the Underworld like a black tide.
The judgment court became busier than ever, and the Hell of the Three Goddesses of Vengeance was even more overcrowded.
Those souls, filled with negative energy, were cast into it, howling in eternal torment, and the pain, resentment, and despair they generated were efficiently transformed by Hell into fuel to keep the world running.
It was like injecting a bloody stimulant into the arm of the weak world.
The power of the Underworld grew silently.
Hades clearly felt that the pressure of the 'Negation Realm' had slightly eased. The cycle of the world was accelerating in a brutal manner.
This current of energy, sweeping across the earth like a deep drumbeat, finally disturbed the beings sleeping deep within the world's foundation.
The Earth Goddess, Gaia, who had sunk into a long restorative sleep after the end of reincarnation and the establishment of the new order, slowly awakened at this moment.
Not fully awake, more like a hazy pulsation. She sensed the growing life force of the earth, and also the efficient cycle of death in the Underworld.
The intensity of the alternation between old and new exceeded any previous 'peaceful' era. This restlessness, like spring thunder, awakened her instinct.
Taking this as an opportunity, an invisible wave, stirring the life force of the gods, with Gaia as its core, quietly spread throughout the divine realm.
On Mount Olympus, the first changes appeared.
Leto, the goddess of care, who had once deeply feared the loss of her parents and the silence of the world, now gently stroked her slightly rounded belly, her face filled with the radiance of motherhood and a kind of dusty peace.
She felt a powerful new life being born within her, and this life force dispelled her long-standing anxiety.
Hera's reaction, however, was much more complex.
Her marriage divinity seemed infused with a double power, and her entire body was surrounded by an increasingly solemn and warm golden light.
However, upon closer inspection, one could notice a slight coldness and scrutiny hidden in the depths of her eyes. She also sensed changes within herself, a sign of the birth of new life.
But within this joy, there was a high degree of vigilance and a kind of... feeling as if pushed by some invisible force, as if she was compelled to give birth at this moment.
Her smile was still perfect, but like a carefully crafted mask.
The new generation of gods, as long as they had a partner or intimate relations, more or less sensed this surge of pregnancy.
In the mountains, forests, and waters, the whispers of the nymphs were full of anticipation and anxiety for new life.
This 'life force', permeating the divine realm and nearly everywhere, like a silent declaration, inevitably touched the Underworld.
Hades, sitting on his throne, also clearly perceived this wave of fertility caused by Gaia's awakening.
However, his attention was quickly drawn to the Queen of the Underworld beside him—Metis.
The behavior of this goddess of wisdom was becoming increasingly eccentric.
She no longer stood silently beside Hades for long periods as usual, nor was she immersed in sorting out the order of the Styx and Dream networks.
Instead, she began to frequently, almost unconsciously, wander outside the gates of his magnificent and silent palace. Her steps were slow, with an unsteady anxiety.
Sometimes she would approach Catia, who was quietly playing under the moonlight, crouch down, and look at her daughter with an extremely complex gaze.
She would reach out and gently embrace Catia with an instinctive tenderness, but often only for a moment, as if stung by something, she would quickly and carefully put the child down, as if holding not warm flesh and blood, but a hot branding iron.
Then she would sink into a longer silence, staring vacantly at the eternal darkness of Hades. Only Catia, left with a bewildered face, would look up at her mother-goddess.
More strikingly, her contacts with Hecate became unusually frequent. The two goddesses often whispered on the banks of the Styx or at the edge of the magical mist.
Metis seemed particularly interested in Hecate's mastery of magic, roads, and even some secret rituals of birth.
Their communication was no longer an equal discussion of wisdom, but rather an anxious student eager for some guidance or... a recipe from a mentor who might know the answer.
Hades clearly knew what Metis was doing.
She was anxious.
She was afraid.
She was... seeking some kind of proof.
Proof that the loving connection between her and Hades still existed.
Proof that she was still the unique being capable of standing shoulder to shoulder with Hades.
Especially on Mount Olympus, where even a queen-goddess with a complicated relationship with Zeus like Hera had learned of her pregnancy, but she, the nominally sole Queen of Hades, still had a flat belly.
In the understanding of the Greek gods, offspring of the gods were often symbols of the combination of deep emotion and powerful divinity, the most direct and glorious fruit of eros.
If she was not pregnant, did it mean that Hades had lost interest in her? Did it mean that her status in his heart had been completely replaced by the cold wisdom and responsibility of 'bearing the world'?
Previously, it could be explained that 'the world was originally destined, lacked power, and it was difficult to give birth to new gods'.
But now? Gaia had awakened and was full of life, and even subordinate gods and nymphs were bringing good news, but she was the only one who...
Metis did not know about the curse 'the wise do not fall in love'.
She could only infer the 'anomaly' of her situation based on common sense, from the changes in the gods around her, and thus sank into ever-deepening confusion, anxiety, and self-doubt.
All her unusual behavior—wandering, ambivalent attitude towards Catia, seeking help from Hecate—was the external manifestation of this intense internal conflict.
She was using her wisdom to try to solve a problem arising from a 'lack of emotion', unaware that the root of this problem was a cold curse that even her own wisdom could not comprehend.
Hades watched all this in silence.
He could 'understand' her anxiety and 'analyze' the logical chain of each of her actions, but he could not 'resonate' with her or give her the emotional response she craved.
The curse was like the deepest ice, completely isolating him from the hottest emotions in the world.
He watched as she stopped again at the palace gates, looked in his direction, her wise eyes full of confusion and a barely perceptible plea, and then sadly turned away.
Hades averted his gaze and returned to the mirror, which reflected yet another frenzied battle among the Bronze people on the battlefield.
"What should I do?" He whispered to himself.