I stood in my laboratory, staring at my creation—the culmination of centuries of research, trial, and sacrifice. The Nephilim stood before me, each radiating an aura of raw, unbridled power. Seven stood apart from the rest, their presence commanding, each a perfect fusion of divinity and mortality. Behind them, the hundred others were lined in disciplined formation, the lesser but still formidable warriors that would shape the next era. The sight of them filled me with both pride and unease.
With a deep sigh, I turned away. For all my power and all my work, I found myself feeling... disconnected. How long had it been since I last stepped among my mortal followers? Since I last walked through their streets, listened to their laughter, and felt the pulse of life that no divine palace or battlefield could replicate? Far too long.
Determined, I let the shadows swallow me whole.
When I emerged, the city sprawled before me—an advanced medieval metropolis, blending elegant stonework with intricate divine carvings. Towers reached towards the heavens, aqueducts carrying pristine water, and streets bustling with life. Over five thousand souls lived here, a testament to the growth of the mortals who had once huddled in small, fearful villages.
Then, I saw it.
A statue. Of me.
I blinked, then laughed aloud.
The massive effigy stood at the city's heart, arms open in welcome, lips curved into a rare, serene smile. At its base, offerings were placed—baskets of fresh flowers, food, and incense, their smoke curling like whispered prayers into the air.
"By the Styx," I muttered under my breath, shaking my head. "They made me look far more benevolent than I remember being."
As I strode through the city, heads turned. Whispers spread like wildfire, and then, a voice rang out, filled with disbelief and joy.
"It's him! It's Lord Hades!"
The streets erupted with movement. People abandoned their stalls, their tasks, their conversations, and hurried towards me, their expressions a mixture of awe and adoration. I had nearly forgotten what it was like to be seen in such a way. Not as the Lord of the Underworld, not as the Keeper of the Dead, but as a god who had once walked among them, guided them, and, in a way, loved them.
I greeted them as I walked, a hand resting on the shoulders of an elder, a nod to a young blacksmith, a smile at a group of women who pressed their hands together in reverence. And then, I saw it—the tree.
A magnificent, towering thing, its bark dark and smooth as polished obsidian, veins of silver running through it like captured moonlight. Its leaves shimmered in a dance of deep green and gold, and at its roots, tiny flowers bloomed, their petals constantly shifting in color—blue, violet, crimson, silver. This tree was special, one I had planted with my own hands, blessed with my power. It had stood here for generations, a silent watcher, a reminder of the first days I had spent teaching these mortals, shaping their world alongside them.
A small child, no older than seven, darted toward me, excitement bright in their eyes. In their tiny hands, they clutched a flower wreath, woven with such care that I could see the love in every loop and twist of the stems.
"For you, Lord Hades!" they chirped, holding it up with both hands.
I knelt, taking the crown gently. "Thank you, little one," I said, my voice softer than I intended. "Would you do the honor of placing it for me?"
The child beamed, standing on their toes to set it upon my head. Laughter rippled through the gathered crowd, warm and familiar.
As I settled beneath the tree, more people gathered, forming a loose circle around me. They asked questions—so many questions. I tired to answer as many as I could
"Lord Hades... Do you have a girlfriend?"
I blinked, momentarily caught off guard before a slow smile crept onto my lips. "Actually," I admitted, leaning back against the tree. "I have a wife."
Excited murmurs spread through the crowd. "To who?" someone called out.
"Hecate," I said, a rare warmth settling in my chest at the mere mention of her name. "She is as radiant as the moon in her full glory, and let me tell you that she is quite the fierce woman. Really knows to put me in my place."
The crowd swooned at my words, and I chuckled, shaking my head. "And my children," I added, my voice swelling with pride. "Zagreus, recently has taken up slaying monsters with Ares . Melinoë and Artemis have started a group of hunters, a girls only group so if anyone wants to join fill free. and Apollo has been really discovering themselves, though genderfluid they have been staying longer and longer as Abellona."
The conversation stretched on, the mortals hanging onto every word. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed this—being among them, speaking freely without the weight of Olympus pressing upon my shoulders.
Then, a commotion at the edge of the crowd.
"The King is coming!" someone shouted. "Make way for the King!"
A figure burst through, practically running, his royal garb fluttering behind him. His guards struggled to keep up as he skidded to a halt, panting, eyes wide with disbelief.
The king barely managed to compose himself as he strode forward, his eyes alight with curiosity and reverence. He knelt swiftly, lowering his head slightly before standing straight again. "Lord Hades, it is an honor beyond words to receive you here. What brings you to us after all these years?"
I studied him for a moment. He was a well-built man with graying hair and deep lines of experience etched into his face. His armor gleamed under the midday sun, a testament to his status and the prosperity of his people. There was genuine excitement in his expression, as if the arrival of a god was the best thing to ever happen to him.
I sighed, clasping my hands behind my back. "Alright, straight to business, I have been working on a project of sorts." I let my words hang in the air, allowing their weight to settle over the gathered mortals. "A new race, that has been in the works for quite some time, the problem is that I need a human life-."
"I offer myself, Lord Hades!" Someone yelled, waving their hands. Instantly shouts rang as everyone started offering me their lives.
"Hey hey, everyone calm down. Look, the human soul I need has to be able to withstand changing from mortal to a Nephlim. The pain is so great that it could break your mind. So it has to be someone with strong willpower."
snapping my finger a pool of shadow appeared next to me as Machaelus emerged in his full glory—massive in stature, his muscles sculpted into near-perfection, his long mane-like white hair flowing like silk. Two curved horns crowned his forehead, and his three eyes—one in the center of his forehead—glowed with molten gold and silver. Tattoos of the same precious metals marked his body, glowing faintly against his skin. He bore four large, imposing white wings, the edges sharp like blades.
Gasps filled the space, and many stepped back in awe and fear.
"This is Machaelus," I declared. "The leader of the Nephilim, I have a group of seven Nephlims that are more powerful, stronger, faster, smarter. Having abilities that can put them on par with a god. Though of course mortal, I have plans to have a specific title for the main seven that will be passed down through the generations. All male still interested please raise your hand,"
A wave of hands shot up as many guys got excited asking to be selected.
I stroked my imaginary beard, surveying them with interest. "I did not expect so many volunteers," I mused. "But I must choose wisely..."
Before I could continue, a tremor ran through the earth. It was subtle at first, a distant rhythm, like the heartbeat of a slumbering beast. Then it grew. The ground beneath me groaned in protest, sending cracks spiraling outward as if the very land feared what approached. The mortals around me gasped in terror, their voices rising in panicked cries. I turned toward the source, my gaze settling upon the monstrous figure emerging from the horizon.
A giant.
40 feet of pure, unyielding muscle, the giant strode forward with an air of undeniable arrogance. His long black hair whipped in the wind, blending with the thick, untamed beard framing his hardened face. His dragon legs crushed the earth below him as he headed right toward the city.
When he saw me he stopped and grinned.
"So," his voice rumbled, deep as a chasm, smooth as a blade against whetstone. "The great Hades graces me with his presence."
I narrowed my eyes, keeping my distance. "You know my name, yet I do not know yours."
The giant let out a booming chuckle, throwing his head back as though the very notion of my ignorance amused him. "Of course, you don't. This is the first time that we are meeting after all. Though you gods may not know alot about us, we giants know quite a lot about you, and let me say how much we would love nothing more than to lay waste to Olympus."
I remained silent, studying him. The giant looked arrogant in a way, as if he knew something that I did not.
"My name is Phaegon," he finally declared, rolling the name across his tongue like a sharpened blade. "The son of Gaia and Tartarus. One of the seven born from the earth and the pit. And soon, we will destroy you gods and rule these lands."
I clenched my fist. "Really? I highly doubt that."
Phaegon smirked, his red eyes glinting. "Oh, yes. My brothers and sisters are not idle. Even now, they bring forth the next generation of giants. Hundreds, no—thousands. Do you understand, little god? Your reign is at an end. We will not be shackled in the darkness of the abyss while you and your fellow gods prance about the world."
A sharp wind carried the weight of his words, and for the first time in centuries, I felt a stir of unease deep within my core.
"Gaia and Tartarus are friends of Olympians," I countered. "Are you sure that your parents would accept what you are about to do?"
Phaegon laughed again, though this time there was something colder beneath it. "Do you think we needed permission? Hell to the two of them, when we were born it was long before Gaia got with the Sky Father. We were the first generation born from the Primordial of Earth and the Abyss and yet we were forced to stay in the Pit and watch as Cronus took over and lead the Titans for centuries before you bastards took over."
I studied him, searching for deception, but found only raw conviction. "And yet, you make war only now."
His grin widened, revealing sharp, beast-like teeth. "We were content to wait and strike when you were weakest… until a better path was offered."
My chest tightened. "Typhon."
"Yes, he and Lord Odin," he added smoothly. "Funny, isn't it? That even gods beyond Greece want to see you destroyed. They came to us with an offer, one we could not refuse. With their backing, we shall rise from the abyss and claim what is rightfully ours."
Phaegon took another step forward, the earth quaking beneath his weight. "I can see the doubt in your eyes, Hades. It's amusing, truly. You, the so-called god of the dead, are standing there wondering if you are strong enough to face what comes next. Let me ease your mind."
He reached down, gripping a massive tree by its base as his hands glowed this green hue. With a single pull, he wrenched it from the earth, roots snapping like brittle bones. As the tree left the ground, a mountain of dirt and stone followed. He took the tree and shredded off the excess branches and leaves as he flicked it causing the dirt and stone to shatter and go flying. I raised a protective wall of shadow to protect the city from one of the large boulders.
What remained in his hands was a cleaver of monstrous proportions. The handle was the tree's stripped trunk, still pulsing with the remnants of life, while the blade itself looked to be made of rugged metal.
He studied the weapon, eyes alight with cruel amusement. "Tell me, I heard a rumor that you gods secretly fear death... I wonder if it is true."