CHAPTER 102: FURIOUS ZEUS

Far below Olympus...

Deeper than the mortal realm.

Deeper than forgotten tombs, deeper than bones.

In the silent folds of the Underworld—Tartarus screamed.

Not aloud.

But through the earth.

The void twisted.

The ground trembled.

And then the realm shook.

Not gently.

Not like a tremor.

Like a warning.

Caves cracked. Lava veins surged and spat black flame. Dead rivers churned. The sky above the Underworld—if you could call it a sky—flickered with lightning made of ash.

Somewhere deep in the obsidian halls of the dead, a black goblet rattled and tipped.

Hades caught it mid-air without even looking up.

He sat on a throne of dull, carved onyx—one elbow resting against the armrest, fingers on his cheek, head tilted slightly like a man whose patience had worn thin several millennia ago.

Cerberus, his three-headed hound, raised one head to sniff at the smoke creeping in from the walls.

The second growled.

The third whined.

"...Yeah," Hades muttered. "I feel it too."

Another rumble passed.

The walls shook again—dust fell from the ceiling.

Chained souls in the depths began to wail. Not from pain. From instinct.

From fear.

Tartarus was screaming.

"Let me guess..." Hades sighed. "Big brother pissed someone off again."

He rose slowly, brushing back his dark cloak. The air around him was dry, weightless. He didn’t move with fury.

He moved like he was tired of this.

Because he was.

Another quake hit the Underworld—this time strong enough to split a floor crack open beside his feet.

Greenish flames surged from the tear.

One of the lost titans below began howling.

And for once... Hades rolled his eyes.

"Damn it, Tartarus."

He turned to the open abyss behind the throne. A cliff overlooked the prison cells far below—the deepest pit of the Underworld, sealed by ancient god-script only three beings could read.

Even now, light shimmered at the edge of that abyss. Cracks webbed through the old chains like a heartbeat.

The prison was sweating.

"Tartarus," Hades said softly, voice echoing down into the chasm, "you do this every time you lose."

Another pulse—violent.

It didn’t shake just the stone this time. It shook the concept of stillness. Even time skipped slightly.

"I swear," Hades muttered. "If I had just ten more percent of Olympus’s authority—just ten—I would’ve buried you myself."

Cerberus barked once.

The middle head.

The angry one.

"Yeah, I know. But I can’t," Hades answered, walking slowly to the edge of the overlook. "That’s the deal. Tartarus stays alive. We don’t kill him. We just chain him forever."

Another groan rose from the pit.

And then—Tartarus’s voice.

It didn’t come as sound.

It came as pressure.

A ripple that pushed into Hades’s skull, slithered into his bones.

"They used her. She turned on me."

Hades frowned.

"You mean Hera?"

The air pulsed in response.

"She was mine."

"You don’t own people," Hades said calmly. "That’s your problem."

"I gave her power. Purpose. She gave me Olympus."

"No, she gave you one battle. And you still lost."

Another growl—this time deeper.

The chains in the pit groaned.

They were holding—for now.

Cerberus barked again. All three heads this time.

Something sharp.

Hades looked down into the abyss. His voice dropped lower.

"Enough."

No anger.

No roar.

Just command.

"The war up there is none of my business," Hades said. "But if you shake my halls again—if your tantrum touches one more soul down here—I will rewrite every script the Fates carved to keep you breathing."

Tartarus paused.

Like he wasn’t expecting that.

Like no one had spoken back in a very long time.

"I won’t kill you," Hades said, eyes glowing faint blue. "But I can hurt you. Deeply. Quietly. No legends. No ballads. Just... erasure."

He let that sit.

The pit was quiet again.

For now.

Hades stepped back from the edge.

Cerberus followed, tails dragging.

He returned to his throne and sat back down, crossing one leg over the other.

He picked up the fallen goblet and filled it again with deep black wine.

Sipped.

Then glanced up toward the unseen ceiling.

Toward Olympus.

"...I hope you’re ready for what you unleashed, brother."

He didn’t mean Tartarus.

He meant Hera.

—

Back To Olympus

The last of the divine guests vanished through the portal, leaving nothing but silence and the wind.

Zeus stood alone at the broken threshold of Olympus’s throne hall. The skies above were clearing. The golden sun had begun to push past the chaos.

But it didn’t feel like peace.

It felt unfinished.

Unsettled.

His shoulders rose and fell slowly, chest still tense. Lightning flickered faintly under his skin.

Then he turned.

And marched.

His boots echoed through the cracked marble corridors, the glow of the sun trailing behind him. Guards stepped aside—none dared to meet his eyes.

He didn’t slow down.

Didn’t knock.

He pushed the doors open—Hera’s private chamber.

Inside, the light was soft.

Ares lay on the bed, his chest wrapped in faint green glow. Vines of energy gently pulsed over his wounds—soothing, quiet, steady. The scent of crushed herbs floated through the air. The kind Hera always used to calm the pain.

She sat beside him, one hand hovering over his side, channeling her power.

Her back was turned to the door.

Zeus stepped in hard.

"Hera."

She paused.

Her hand stopped glowing.

"I’m busy," she said calmly.

"You planned this," Zeus snapped.

She didn’t move. "Planned what?"

"You knew Tartarus would attack."

"No, I didn’t."

"You—" He stepped closer, voice rising. "You knew he was watching. You let him in."

Hera slowly stood.

She didn’t turn around. Not yet.

"I knew he would tempt me," she said. "That doesn’t mean I let him take my son."

Zeus’s jaw clenched.

He looked at Ares. His son’s face was still pale. Breath shallow. But safe.

"He almost died," Zeus muttered.

"And I saved him."

"No. I did."

She turned at last.

Face calm. Eyes cold.

"You showed up at the end," she said.

"I struck the killing blow."

"I dragged Tartarus out of him with my bare hands," she shot back, stepping forward now. "Don’t talk to me about effort."

Zeus stepped in too. Inches away now. "You never should’ve let it get that far."

Her breath caught.

"...I didn’t know," she said, quieter now. "I thought he’d whisper to me. Use me. I didn’t know he’d possess Ares. I would never allow that."

"And yet, he did."

Her hands curled at her sides.

"So this is my fault?"

"You’re damn right it is."

Lightning snapped faintly in the air.

Hera stared at him.

Long.

Quiet.

Then she said, "Do you even know why I did it?"

Zeus didn’t respond.

She laughed. Bitter. Short. "Of course not. You’ve never asked."

Zeus stepped back slightly. "I don’t need to ask. You went behind my back. You gambled with our son’s life."

"I gambled with yours," she said sharply. "Not his. Tartarus promised Olympus would fall. That your reign would end. That the cycle would break."

"You believed him?"

"I wanted to believe someone," she said. "Because I couldn’t believe in you anymore."

Zeus looked away.

His hand tightened into a fist. "You think I don’t carry the weight of Olympus? You think I don’t bleed for this realm?"

She took a breath.

"I think you stopped seeing anyone else’s blood."

Silence.

Just the hum of her magic still faintly clinging to Ares’s body. The air between them was heavy—hot—quiet enough that the heartbeat of their son felt like a drum in their ears.

Zeus finally spoke again.

"Don’t ever pull that stunt again."

Hera blinked.

His voice was low.

Steel.

"If you ever ally with something like Tartarus again—no matter the reason, no matter the cost—I will not hold back next time."

Her mouth parted slightly.

"You’d kill me?"

Zeus didn’t answer.

But the silence said enough.

Her eyes darkened.

"So that’s what this is now."

"It’s always been this," he said. "You think I rule alone? I don’t. I rule with trust. And you burned yours."

She turned away again, walking back toward the bed. "Don’t speak to me of trust. Not when you’ve broken more oaths than the Titans ever did."

Zeus didn’t respond.

He just watched her kneel beside Ares again, hand resuming its slow glow of green healing light.