My shadows uncoiled from my feet as they rippled across the ground like spilled ink, slick and hungry, writhing toward the enemy. My right foot slid back, shoulder lowered, shadows darkening the world around me.
"Ready?" I asked.
Zeus smirked, thunderbolt rising. "Born ready."
The Titans charged.
Hyperion led the way, flames trailing in his wake. With a roar, he raised his zweihander and brought it down toward me like a guillotine. I vanished into shadow, reforming behind him mid-strike, my bident stabbing toward his spine.
But Hyperion was fast—too fast.
He twisted and parried, the molten steel of his blade slamming against my weapon, and the resulting shockwave hurled both of us backward in opposite directions.
I caught myself in the shadows and threw my hand outward. From beneath Hyperion, bone spikes erupted from the earth, jagged and raw. He leapt into the air, roaring as fire erupted from his legs and blasted him skyward.
Above us, Zeus had already engaged Koios and Krios. Wind howled around him as he vanished in a bolt of lightning, reappearing midair, flinging bolt after bolt like a child with too many toys. Krios deflected one with his axe, but Koios blocked the rest with his shield. Their counterattack was brutal—Koios's sword whipped forward in a burst of starlight, forcing Zeus to duck, while Krios hurled his axe like a comet.
Zeus caught it with one hand—barely—and let out a low grunt. "Ow."
I snarled as Hyperion came crashing down toward me, flames whirling around his body like a solar storm.
I summoned the Helm of Darkness and once again vanished.
My shadow butterflies swarmed forth as they fluttered toward Hyperion, pushing the titan back— as he struggled to stay on his feet as he blocked his face as the butterflies wings transformed into sharp blades, slicing his skin and causing him to bleed inchor.
He howled in annoyance as he swung wildly. Distracted by the swarm, I snuck up behind him and spun my bident out, thrust it into his back and through his chest as inchor sprayed.
"You're persistent," Hyperion growled.
"And you're annoying to deal with" I replied, then surged forward again.
On the far side of the field, Atlas had engaged Zeus, who was dodging his wild, thunderous punches. Every time Atlas struck the earth, the ground cracked. Fissures split across the battlefield. Wind howled. Trees fell like toothpicks.
"I could use some help!" Zeus shouted as he parried a blow that sent him sailing backward through a rock wall.
"I'm a bit busy!"
Another blade nearly cleaved my head off.
I ducked and responded by sending a volley of bone darts from my palm—each one aimed at Hyperion's joints. One struck his elbow. Another struck his thigh. He snarled, and flames erupted from his wounds.
But he was slowing.
They all were.
And so were we.
I could feel it—the drain. Every bone I summoned cost energy. Every shadow I moved required focus. Every time I vanished, I left a little more of myself behind. I glanced over to Zeus. He was panting now, toga torn, bleeding from one shoulder. His bolts weren't as sharp. His movements are not as fast.
I had a bad feeling we wouldn't last much longer.
And then came the roar.
"Sorry that we are so late!"
The fight stopped as we turned to see the Hekatonkheires dropping down from Mount Olympus as they crashed into the ground causing an explosion of dust around them.
Briareus. Gyges. Cottus. Aegaeon.
They ran toward us as their bodies twisted and grew, as more arms grew from their bodies.
Briareus bellowed, swinging a club the size of a temple into Koios's side.
The Titan was launched into the mountain wall.
Aegaeon caught Krios mid-charge and twisted the axe from his grip, hurling him like a ragdoll into Atlas, who barely had time to brace.
Gyges let out this roar as he tackled Hyperion. The fire Titan being tackled and held down by hundreds of arms.
I took a step back, panting, letting my shadows slowly coil back to my feet.
Zeus dropped to a knee beside me. "Remind me… to thank them later."
"I'll hold you to that."
Brontes and his brothers emerged from the haze at the edge of the battlefield, towering over the wreckage, their footsteps shaking the ground with each step. Behind them, Iapetus was dragged like a broken trophy—his massive form bruised and bloodied, bound in glowing adamantine chains that pulsed with divine energy. His head lolled, unconscious.
I let out a breath and lowered my bident. "You really took your sweet time getting here."
I wiped a smear of inchor from my cheek with the back of my hand, still catching my breath as Brontes dragged Iapetus forward like a sack of broken weapons. The titan's body twitched slightly—reflex, not resistance—and his limbs dragged across the dirt, leaving black streaks in the earth.
Brontes grinned, his one eye glinting with amusement. "What can I say? Had to make a good entrance."
He gave Iapetus's limp body a rough tug forward. "Besides, it looked like you were having all the fun without us."
I glanced around at the battlefield—burnt craters gouged deep into the mountainside, melted stone steaming beneath the lightning-scored ground, and Hyperion's blackened corpse still flickering with dying embers in the distance.
My jaw tightened, though I smirked anyway. "Next time, try being fashionably early."
Steropes clanked over, arms glimmering with sweat and soot. "That's Brontes for you—always dramatic, never punctual."
Arges didn't say a word. He just lifted his massive forge hammer in greeting and nodded solemnly.
And then the mountain shook.
It started like a subtle tremor underfoot—barely more than a whisper—but it grew fast, a deep rumble that rippled up through my bones. My shadows instinctively flared, ready to bind or react. Dust fell from the cliffs above. The sky, already marred with ash and scattered flame, dimmed further as the air grew heavy—oppressive.
Zeus turned beside me, his blue eyes narrowing. "They're not done."
"Neither are we," I said, raising my bident.
Koios, Krios, and Atlas were still standing. Barely.
Hyperion was down, blackened and smoking in the dirt, and Iapetus was in chains. But the remaining Titans were regrouping at the far end of the battlefield—Koios clutching his shield, blood leaking from the corners of his mouth. Krios, his axe coated in both ichor and bone, snarled through a cracked helm. And Atlas—Atlas stood at the center, fists like meteors, face bruised but far from broken.
He cracked his neck to the side and roared. The mountains trembled.
"Formation!" I shouted, shadows coiling at my back like tendrils of smoke.
The Hecatoncheires moved at once.
Briareus grew twenty more arms in the span of a second, flesh weaving and sprouting like vines. He hurled a barrage of jagged rocks the size of houses toward the Titans. Cottus rushed forward like a living storm, his feet cracking the earth. Aegaeon and Gyges flanked them, their bodies growing larger with each breath until they towered over all of us—thirty feet, forty, fifty—behemoths of war.
"Take Koios and Krios!" I called them, pointing my bident at the glinting figures.
"Atlas is mine."
Zeus grinned beside me, his eyes sparking with anticipation. "Then I'll make sure you don't die doing it."
He exploded forward, vanishing in a flash of lightning. The clouds split as he reappeared above, thunderbolt in hand, and hurled it with a primal yell. The bolt struck Koios's shield, erupting in a blast of white-hot energy that blew half the ridge apart. The Titan of the North staggered, skidding backward—but not falling.
My shadows exploded beneath my feet, launching me forward. I moved faster than sight—becoming a streak of darkness that closed the gap between Atlas and me in less than a breath.
He was waiting.
Atlas slammed both fists down like twin anvils. The air trembled with the force. I barely rolled aside in time—the plateau cracked open beneath me, stone exploding upward in jagged spears. Shards screamed past my face like thrown daggers. I hit the ground hard, then surged upright, breath burning in my lungs.
With a thought, I summoned the Helm of Darkness. Bone slithered up my spine and across my limbs, fusing into my draconic exoskeleton. The shadows thickened. I vanished.
Silence.
Then I was behind him—bident raised, the weapon aimed at the exposed gap at the base of his armor.
But he was faster than before.
Atlas twisted with monstrous speed, one massive gauntlet snapping out and catching the bident mid-thrust. The momentum stopped dead in his grip—divine strength crushing raw force like a child's toy.
"Still hiding behind tricks, little god?" he growled, his voice a grinding mountain.
"Not hiding," I answered, low and cold. Shadows erupted beneath him, surging upward like a tidal wave, coiling around his arms and throat. "Just patient."
He snarled, muscles bulging as he tore free with a shattering roar. The shadow-binds snapped like thread.
I leapt back, sliding across the fractured stone. Bone darts sprouted from my forearm, and I flung them in rapid bursts—each one infused with venom dredged from the black rivers of the Underworld. Atlas batted most of them aside with swipes of his arm, but one struck deep, embedding in his side.
He staggered, just barely—but his expression didn't twist in pain.
It twisted in fury.
"You're not the only one who adapts," he said darkly.
Before I could respond, he surged forward with a roar, grabbing me by the neck with terrifying speed. His grip was iron. I struck at him with a burst of shadow, tried to vanish—but he slammed me down, spine-first, into the stone.
"Enough!" he thundered—and with one massive hand, he grabbed the Helm, denting the metal frame.
I reached up in panic, trying to stop him, shadows clawing at his arm.
But it was too late.
With a snarl of effort, Atlas ripped the Helm of Darkness from my head.
And crushed it.
"There is no more hiding," Atlas sneered, casting the broken pieces aside. "Come now, nephew! Show me what you got!"
Across the battlefield, Zeus danced between blasts of fire and falling debris. Krios fought with mad rage, swinging his massive axe through water and air. Briareus had grown eighty arms by now—each one wielding a different weapon—and was holding Krios at bay while Aegaeon crushed Koios's shield with repeated hammering fists.
But Atlas wouldn't fall.
He was brute strength, unrelenting endurance. Every strike I landed barely seemed to register. I needed more. I needed an edge.
I summoned the swarm.
From the shadows beneath our feet, hundreds—thousands—of pipevine swallowtail butterflies erupted. Glimmering blue, their wings shimmered with dark magic, each one carrying a thread of my power. They dove for Atlas, distracting him, biting at his eyes and joints.
It was enough.
I surged forward, my bident coated in bone and shadow, and drove it into his side. He howled, swinging wildly. I ducked beneath the blow and twisted the weapon, forcing shadows to crawl inside the wound.
Atlas collapsed to one knee. Still breathing. Still glaring.
But not standing.
I raised a hand to signal Brontes.
He came stomping across the battlefield with his brothers in tow. Chains shimmered in their arms.
"Now?" Brontes asked.
"Now," I said.
The Cyclopes wasted no time. The Hecatoncheires held the Titans down, even as they snarled and thrashed. Chains looped around arms, legs, throats. Rune-stamped metal sealed with divine fire.
It was done.
Koios. Krios. Atlas.
All down.
All chained.
The battlefield smoldered in silence, the kind that only followed true devastation.
Ash drifted from the sky like gray snow. The scorched earth was littered with shattered weapons, broken armor, and charred craters still glowing faintly with dying embers. In the distance, the chains around the Titans clinked softly as the Cyclopes dragged their limp forms toward Olympus.
Zeus and I stood at the edge of it all—two survivors in a wasteland of gods and monsters.
I exhaled a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding and collapsed onto a jagged boulder, too tired to care about the sharp edge digging into my back. My exoskeleton cracked and peeled away in flickers of black light, vanishing into mist. My ribs snapped and popped as they realigned, healing slowly beneath my torn armor. Every inch of me ached with the toll of battle, but I was still standing. That was enough.
My bident dissolved in my grip, fading into shadow like it had never been there.
Zeus groaned and sat beside me, his thunderbolt dangling loosely in one hand. The golden sparks around him dimmed to faint flickers, and for once, the storm in his eyes looked… tired.
"That," he said, dragging a hand down his soot-streaked face, "was the worst fun I've had all week."
I let out a dry chuckle. "Then maybe you should consider new hobbies."
His laughter was low, bitter, but real. Then he glanced toward the chained forms of Iapetus and Hyperion, now little more than smoking wrecks of divine arrogance. "This can't keep happening, Hades. Every time we win a battle, we lose something too. Time, energy… people. We're burning ourselves hollow just to hold the line."
His voice dropped. "We need to end it. No more skirmishes. No more defenses."
I already knew what he was going to say, but I let the silence stretch anyway.
"Cronus," I said, finally.
Zeus didn't reply. But the way his jaw clenched, the way his knuckles tightened around the thunderbolt—it was answer enough.
The silence between us wasn't heavy. It was familiar. Earned.
Far across the ruined field, Brontes and his brothers finished binding the Titans with glowing chains that pulsed with divine sigils. The earth groaned beneath their weight as they approached, dragging the prisoners like discarded carcasses.
"Brontes," I called out. My voice echoed like thunder across the charred plains. "Take them to the cells in Olympus, keep them chained up so they don't escape."
The Cyclops gave a solemn nod and raised his massive hand in salute. "They'll be buried so deep, even their memories will be in chains."
He turned without another word, and with synchronized grunts, the Cyclopes resumed their grim march.
Zeus stood slowly. "We don't have much time."
"No," I said, rising to my feet, my joints stiff and my mind already turning to what must come next. "I'm heading back to the Underworld. We'll need every ally, every monster, every soul willing to fight."
He looked at me with something between pride and worry, then clasped my shoulder with his hand. "We'll meet again in a couple days."
And just like that, the moment passed. No grand farewell. No more words.
Only war ahead.
I stepped into the shadows and vanished, heading back home.