Chapter 246: Chapter 4
The great Throne Hall of the Underworld was vast enough to make even gods feel small, it is a cathedral of black marble and shimmering obsidian veins that pulsed faintly with divine energy.
The ceiling seemed to vanish into infinity, stars glimmering faintly across the endless dark dome above, as if the night sky itself bowed to the lord of the realm.
In the center of that grand hall, upon a dais shaped like a blooming black lotus, sat Hades, the King of the Underworld, his posture composed yet regal, the very embodiment of quiet power.
To his right stood Nyx, draped in her usual mantle of starlight, the primordial goddess whose presence seemed to dim even the radiant flames of the hall’s ghostly torches.
Her gaze was calm but sharp, her smile faint and knowing, as though she already foresaw the threads of every possible outcome that could unfold.
Beside her stood Hecate, her expression unreadable, her hands clasped in front of her, shadows curling faintly around her fingers as though even darkness obeyed her subconscious will.
On Hades’ left stood Hera, dignified and poised, her golden eyes steady and full of quiet authority.
And beside her, Aphrodite, radiant as ever, leaned slightly forward with her arms crossed, her lips curved in an exaggerated pout.
"Nyx!" Aphrodite began, her tone playful yet genuinely peeved, "you completely missed it. The heavens themselves gave birth to a new constellation just a few hours ago! I even named it after that silly mortal who built the statue of me in Ephyra!"
She tossed her golden hair with a small huff. "It would’ve been so much more glamorous if you were there to witness it with us."
Nyx’s lips curved into a soft, teasing smile.
"My apologies, dear Aphrodite," she said smoothly, her voice calm and melodic, "but I had something... important to tell Hades. A matter that couldn’t wait until after your little display in the sky."
Aphrodite’s pout deepened, though her cheeks turned slightly pink. "You make it sound like it was nothing special."
"On the contrary," Nyx replied, tilting her head gracefully. "Every flicker of light in the heavens is special. But what I came to speak of might determine whether those stars will still exist tomorrow."
That statement made the air in the room grow heavier for a moment, and even Aphrodite blinked, unsure how to respond.
Hera, ever perceptive, stepped in with a composed tone.
"Then I assume this is the reason Hades summoned the Twelve Patrons?" she asked, her gaze turning toward the silent god sitting on the throne.
Hades gave a small nod, his expression calm yet firm.
"Yes," he said, his voice deep and resonant, echoing through the chamber like a gentle quake. "You will all understand soon enough. Once they arrive."
No sooner had he spoken than the colossal doors at the far end of the hall creaked open, ancient obsidian slabs that shimmered with rivers of molten gold, their hinges sighing like old souls.
The divine aura that flooded the room was vast and distinct, a blend of death, chaos, and eternity.
One by one, the Twelve Patrons of Hades entered.
First came Thanatos, the God of Peaceful Death, his hair tied behind him, his pale features serene as ever, carrying an aura that spoke of endless rest and the quiet mercy of mortality.
Behind him walked Keres, the Goddess of Violent Death, her armor dark and sharp, eyes glowing crimson beneath her hood.
Unlike Thanatos’s calm, hers was a storm barely restrained, a living embodiment of bloodshed and the wrathful side of death.
Then came Eris, the Goddess of Discord, her eyes sparkling with mischief and a grin tugging at her lips.
Even the sound of her steps seemed unpredictable, sometimes soft as a whisper, sometimes loud as thunder.
Hypnos, the God of Dreams, followed lazily, yawning and rubbing his eyes, a faint trail of golden dust following him like the remnants of a dream not yet dispersed.
From behind, the Five Rivers of the Underworld took form.
Lethe, the River of Forgetfulness, was a calm woman cloaked in mist, her voice carrying the soft sound of fading memories.
Styx, the River of Oaths, radiated an aura of authority and sanctity, her gaze stern and unwavering, each step she took ringing like the toll of a divine vow.
Cocytus, the River of Wailing, trailed a faint sound of mourning with every motion, his expression sorrowful yet dignified, as though he carried the grief of all souls.
Phlegethon, the River of Fire, strode forward boldly, his fiery hair flickering with embers, heat rolling off his body in waves, the scent of molten metal and ashes following him.
And Acheron, the River of Pain, arrived last, calm and solemn, his aura giving off a the feeling of someone who has endured pain and torment beyond comprehension, his eyes carrying the weight of suffering.
When they reached the dais, the nine gods bowed deeply, their heads lowered, their voices united in a single resonant declaration that filled the vast hall.
"We greet our Lord Hades. The Twelve Patrons of the Underworld have gathered at your call."
Their voices echoed like a solemn hymn, reverberating across the temple walls, mingling with the hum of the divine energy that filled the air.
Hades, seated upon his throne, looked down at them, not with superiority, but with the noble pride of a king who saw his people as family rather than subordinates.
With the exception of Hera, Aphrodite, and Hecate, who stood by his side as his wives and equals, the rest remained kneeling, their heads bowed low in respect.
The air grew still, the silence sacred, the calm before a revelation that would soon shake not just the Underworld, but the entire Olympian Pantheon and perhaps even the cosmos itself.
And then, with his calm, resonant voice that carried both warmth and authority, Hades spoke.
"Rise, my Patrons. The time has come to discuss a truth that will change everything you know about the world."
The great throne hall of the Underworld fell silent, so silent that even the eternal flames flickering along the marble pillars seemed to bow, dimming as though they too anticipated what was about to unfold.
The air itself grew dense, heavy with divine pressure and curiosity.
The Patrons of the Underworld—each among the most powerful beings born from death, river, and dream—looked toward their king, waiting for the next words that would shape the course of their eternity.
Hades’ gaze swept across them, steady and calm, and with a simple motion of his hand, he gestured toward the goddess standing beside him.
"Nyx," he said, his voice a steady current beneath the silence, "show them."
The Primordial Goddess of the Night stepped forward, her every movement serene yet vast in presence.
The air shimmered around her as threads of pure shadow coiled along her form like serpents, her starlit hair drifting weightlessly behind her as though the laws of reality bent around her.
When she opened her eyes, they glowed with an ethereal violet hue, a light that was not light, but rather the faint gleam of creation’s oldest secret.
"Then I shall reveal the truth," she whispered, her tone soft but vast, a sound that seemed to echo across both space and time.
And with that, the world shifted.
In an instant, the great throne hall, the pillars, the torches, even the marble itsel, dissolved into nothingness.
Darkness consumed everything, not the comforting night that Nyx embodied, but a pure, infinite void, without boundary or form.
The gods and patrons found themselves floating in that emptiness, unable to sense time or distance, their bodies suspended in a place beyond existence itself.
Then, before they could even voice their confusion, something moved.
It began as a shimmer, a faint and almost invisible ripple, and then it grew, stretching across infinity until the void was filled by an unspeakably enormous presence.
It was not a creature in any form they could comprehend, nor a being of any dimension they understood.
Its body was the void itself, an endless abstraction of eyes, mouths, and shifting geometries, constantly folding and unfolding into impossible shapes.
Its presence alone made their divine souls tremble.
That thing, that entity, drifted lazily through the void, and as it moved, entire universes clung to it like motes of dust around a flame.
Then, without hesitation or malice, it devoured them.
One by one, the universes were pulled into its mass, their stars crushed into streams of color, their gods extinguished like candle flames.
Countless galaxies vanished in moments, and yet the being’s hunger never ceased.
As it devoured more and more, they realized. That thing was not evil; it was nature, an inevitability, the hunger of the infinite. It knew not the concept of good or bad, it was merely acting on its nature to devour.
Even gods who had once slain monsters that could swallow stars and move constellations found their very essence quivering.
Then, something horrifying occurred, when the entity found an ’unripe’ universe, it did not eat it directly.
Instead, fragments of its own chaotic flesh fell into the new cosmos, fusing with the fabric of reality.
Those fragments would integrate itself into the universe, acting as part of creation.
But it was not. It was a corruption. Something that shouldn’t exist.
Those fragments would wait, buried deep within the universe’s laws, infecting it from within.
They would grow, fester, and twist its evolution, ’marinating’ it, letting it ripen while it wait, hiding in the shadows.
The universe would develop civilizations, gods, and myths, believing themselves free and powerful, but all along, they were livestock being fattened for slaughter.
The gods watched in frozen horror as another universe met the same fate, devoured, its light fading into the maw of that infinite hunger.
And then, suddenly, it looked at them.
A thousand unblinking eyes turned toward their small gathering, eyes that saw not through distance but through reality itself.
Just the faintest moment of its attention was enough to make even Thanatos, calm and serene, stumble backward, gasping for air that no longer existed.
Keres grit her teeth, every instinct screaming to fight, yet even her fury was crushed beneath the sheer weight of that being’s awareness.
Then the illusion ended.
In an instant, they were back in the throne hall. The marble floor solid beneath their feet. The cold, familiar air of the Underworld filling their lungs again.
Yet none of them spoke. The sound of their own breathing was enough to remind them they were still alive.
Nyx’s aura dimmed as her divine light receded, her gaze sweeping calmly across the trembling assembly.
"That," she said, her tone as soft as ever, but now carrying the weight of cosmic truth, "is the Outer Entity. The one that devours worlds. The same kind of being that once infected Gaia, turning her against her own children. The same will that seeks to turn every universe into nourishment for its endless hunger."
The words struck them like thunder.
The mighty patrons, gods who ruled aspects of the underworld and death, who commanded dreams and oaths, who presided over violence and chaos, stood frozen.
Their pride, their divinity, their millennia of strength and faith, all of it felt fragile now, paper before the storm.
Eris broke the silence first, her usual smirk gone. "You mean to tell me... we’re being farmed? Like cattle?"
Her voice trembled despite her effort to sound defiant.
Nyx nodded solemnly. "Yes. Every universe is. Every pantheon, every god, every mortal civilization — all part of an endless cycle of growth and consumption."
Phlegethon’s fists clenched, flames leaking from his skin as his voice boomed, "That thing treats us like food! You expect me to accept that?!"
Acheron’s voice, deep and steady, followed. "... what power do we have against something that devours the entire cosmos themselves?"
Keres growled lowly, her eyes burning with fury and disbelief. "Then what are we supposed to do? Bow down? Wait until it decides we’re ’ripe’ enough?"
The hall fell into silence once more, but it was not fear alone that filled the air. It was rage. Their pride has been wounded beyond repair.
They were gods, born of death, oaths, and eternity, and now they were forced to confront the unbearable truth that in the eyes of the cosmos, they were nothing more than livestock awaiting harvest.
Nyx met their eyes one by one, her voice low yet unyielding.
"Of course not," she said, "Hades and I have already made contact with other Pantheons from different universe, and we have a plan to completely defend against those things. Now, we just need to wait for Olympus to arrive, and we can proceed with our next plan."
The flames of the hall burned brighter, reflections of the divine fury rising within the gods of the Underworld.
And in that moment, even the darkness itself seemed to tremble, as if the void beyond had felt, for the first time, a spark of defiance.