CHAPTER 226: THEY ARE SAFE

"Haa... haaa..." Hades breathed heavily, arms trembling, eyes bloodshot—yet even with his body screaming for rest, the murderous haze wrapped around him only thickened.

His gaze never left the shrinking mist that held Mytheon’s dwarfed form. Once colossal, now reduced to something pitiful. Chaos Particles clung to him like a curse, eating through his essence, denying him the luxury of regeneration.

The battlefield froze in a tense, breathless stillness. Only two figures remained locked in a glare sharp enough to slice through the rotting air between them.

Peri bled from shallow cuts, her breath uneven, but her stance never wavered. She stood like a cornered wolf—shivering from pain, yet starving for another fight.

Averis steadied her blood-scythe, her fingers tightening, her senses stretched thin across the remains of the graveyard. One wrong twitch from the mist, and she would strike without hesitation.

"You must be feeling proud," Mytheon said, his tone maddeningly calm, as if the carnage around them was no more than spilled ink. "Proud to think you’ve slain me." A thin hiss of amusement escaped him. "But you damaged nothing of worth. This body is merely a shell—a little toy I allowed you to tear apart."

Hades dragged his thumb across his blood-streaked lip and spat crimson into the dirt. "Then stop hiding. Bring out your real body. Let’s finish it."

Mytheon laughed softly. "The courage is admirable. The strength to uphold it... lacking."

"Then end me right now," Hades snapped, stepping forward, claws lengthening, trembling with a hunger too deep to restrain. "Unless the great Primordial fears an enemy who will surpass him."

[Boy... you are not prepared for his true form.]

Zerathos’s voice echoed through his skull, heavy with warning.

Hades ignored it. He had long since crossed the point of listening.

Mytheon’s voice dropped to a cold growl. "You still fail to grasp what a Primordial is." As he spoke, the entire graveyard began to rot—grass turning brittle, soil bubbling as if poisoned, gravestones dissolving into black slurry. "We rule concepts. Fragments of reality answer to us. You can butcher a body, but you cannot erase a concept from existence."

"A body is all I need," Hades said with a savage smile. "As long as it bleeds, it’s enough."

Mytheon hummed, almost disappointed. "You resemble him... and yet, you fall short." The mist sharpened into a humanoid silhouette. "Zerathos was quick-tempered, but he never let a woman soften him. To him, women were a convenience—pleasure, not protection. They were conquests. You, however..." a mocking pause, "carry weakness disguised as loyalty."

Peri scoffed. "Oh? Any more sermons you want to throw? Or are you buying time because running is all you have left, smoke ass?"

Mytheon dismissed her with a flick of attention. "Chaos Heir," he called, voice deepening, "we will meet again. And when we do—you will reconsider my offer. You will beg for alliance."

The mist began to dissolve.

Hades’s pupils shrank. He lunged forward, claws shining with killing intent—but a violent gust detonated against him, hurling him back.

Mytheon vanished like a breath fading into winter air.

And Hades could only roar at the empty space where his prey used to be.

.....

Thanks to Marilyn’s swift action, the soldiers from Aethernox arrived shortly after, moving through the ruined village with grim efficiency.

Their investigation was thorough, and the truth surfaced faster than anyone expected.

A thick, pulsing vein of poison had been running beneath the village—tainting everything it touched.

The water.

The crops.

Even the air the villagers breathed.

Mytheon had used it as a test, a cruel filter to see who could endure the corruption.

Those who survived... became his puppets.

And yet, around fifty villagers were still missing.

Their absence hung over the settlement like a shadow, sinking despair deep into the hearts of the survivors.

While Aethernox worked tirelessly to carve the poisonous vein out from its very root, everyone knew the real wounds wouldn’t heal so easily.

The trauma carved into these people would linger long after the land was purified.

"They must’ve fled somewhere else," Kaelith murmured as she stood beside her son, watching the soldiers dig through the corrupted soil.

Luna and the others had been moved away to rest. Luna bore no external wounds, but her organs were ravaged—bruised, torn, and exhausted. Still, her godblood would see her healed with time.

"I feel," Hades said quietly, eyes fixed on the ruined homes, "ever since I arrived in this realm... the people have suffered more."

His voice trembled with a weight he rarely showed. "Cravanvor, Xelrath, now this. They came because they sensed me."

Kaelith reached for his hand, gripping it with a mother’s steady warmth.

"Do not blame yourself for what you cannot control, Hades." Her tone was firm, unshakable. "This was destined to happen. And these people... they knew aligning with Aethernox meant stepping into danger."

She tightened her grasp, lifting his chin ever so slightly.

"But they chose to stay."

Her voice softened, yet carried a truth strong enough to anchor him.

"They stayed because they trust you.

Because to them... you are their God."

Hades drew in a slow breath, but the air felt heavy—thick with grief, with guilt that wasn’t his yet anchored itself to his ribs like chains.

Maybe he was being emotional... but how could he not?

The screams, the sobs, the trembling hands clawing at broken doors while calling out names that would never answer again—those sights carved a hollow ache inside him he couldn’t ignore.

[It’s not your fault, kid.] Zerathos’s voice rumbled within him, steady as ever.

[Primordials can’t have an heir. It’s impossible. So of course they’d try to build their own army from weaklings. This isn’t on you.]

But the reassurance barely scratched the surface.

Kaelith watched him, her gaze softening in a way only a mother’s could. She stepped closer, placing both hands on his shoulders, grounding him.

"Hades," she said gently, "you must look at this as a King, not a soldier."

Her thumbs brushed against the fabric near his collarbones, a quiet reminder of who he was meant to be.

"A soldier mourns the fallen," she continued, "but a King carries their weight and keeps walking forward. You will face sacrifices—many more than you wish—but you cannot let them break you."

She lifted his chin slightly, forcing him to meet her eyes.

"Let each loss sharpen you. Let each tragedy fuel you, not crush you."

Then her hands rose, cupping his face with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with her steel-hard words.

"If you cannot protect all of them..." She paused, her expression turning fierce, almost regal.

"...then make sure you damn well avenge them."

Her thumbs brushed his cheeks, as she finished.

"Understood?"

The redhead dipped his head, exhaling slowly. "I understand... sorry. I got a little emotional there."

Kaelith’s expression softened, the steel melting into warmth. "It’s alright, Hades. You’re allowed to feel. Don’t bury everything inside just because you carry a crown on your shoulders." Her voice gentled even further. "Just make sure this side of you is shown only to those you trust."

A faint smile tugged at Hades’s lips. "Emotions can be used as a weapon against you. I’ve... learned that the hard way."

Kaelith nodded, then pulled him into her arms, holding him with a familiarity that reminded him he didn’t always have to be the Chaos Heir—sometimes, he was just her son.

She rubbed his back in slow circles, grounding him, steadying the turbulence that still lingered within.

"Now go," she murmured, brushing his shoulder before letting him go. "Your wives need you."

.....

Since the capital was still a fair distance away, Luna and the others had been settled inside a large field tent the soldiers quickly prepared. Lanterns glowed dimly inside, casting warm amber light over the quiet space.

When Hades entered, Luna lay pale and unconscious on the bed, her breathing shallow but steady. Peri, exhausted beyond measure, had dozed off in a chair beside her, head tilted, fingers still twitching from leftover adrenaline.

Marilyn turned the moment she sensed him—but Hades simply lifted a hand.

A silent gesture.

Not now.

She nodded, immediately understanding, and rose from her seat with quiet grace. Without another word, she followed him outside.

The moment they stepped out, the muffled world of the tent was replaced by the steady rhythm of soldiers marching, the metallic clinks of armor, and the low hum of ongoing operations.

"How are they?" Hades asked, his voice low, strained.

Marilyn clasped her hands behind her back as she answered. "The doctor said she’ll need a few days to recover. The toxin spread through her whole system. Her lungs took the worst of it."

Hades’s brows pulled together. "And about Luna’s blood... did she notice anything?"

Marilyn shook her head gently. "You can relax, my Lord. I stayed beside her the entire time. The medic never drew her blood, nor did she show any suspicion. She’s a trusted subordinate of the Queen."

Hades released a tight breath, his shoulders finally easing.

Without warning, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Marilyn, pulling her into a firm, weary embrace.

"I... I..." he tried, but the words broke before they could form.

Marilyn’s eyes softened. She rested a hand on his back. "You don’t have to say it," she whispered. "I felt everything you felt. The terror. The fury. The helplessness." Her voice barely rose above the distant chatter of soldiers. "It’s alright now. They’re safe."

Hades let out a long, shuddering breath as he sank into the crook of her neck, the tension finally draining from his body in slow waves.

°°°°°°°°°

A/N:- Thanks for reading.