The God of Underworld-Chapter 103 - 3: Declaration of War

On this day—the day that would one day be remembered as the Twilight of the Skies—Olympus was ablaze with light and laughter, unaware of the storm that loomed at its gates.

The grand feast of Olympus, a tradition that had once been noble and sacred, had decayed into a hollow excuse for self-indulgence.

The sky palaces thrummed with drunken music, tables overflowed with ambrosia and nectar, and golden goblets clinked while laughter echoed across marble columns.

Gods and goddesses, nymphs and divine spirits filled the feast hall, their figures cloaked in divine light, but their hearts cloaked in darker pleasures.

The younger gods chased nymphs with slurred promises, and the elder gods boasted of past glories they no longer deserved.

Apollo dueled another god in boastful song, Dionysus had long since fallen beneath a table in a puddle of his own wine, and Hermes was trading divine secrets for kisses and wagers.

Amid this gathering of glittering decay, Themis stood.

The Titaness of Divine Law and Unyielding Justice. She who had helped the Olympians overthrow the tyranny of the titans... Something she was starting to forget.

Clad in robes of starlight and with a blindfold over her eyes, Themis stood at the edge of the hall like a shadow against the flame.

She hold a goblet of wine on her hand, taking sips from time to time.

Zeus, bloated with pride and wine, leaned near her, whispering honeyed nonsense in her ear, reminiscing about their old camaraderie and how they should get to know each other through ’friendship of thighs’.

But Themis said nothing.

She did not slap him. Nor did she scold him. That would require acknowledgement.

She simply turned her head away from him, eyes hidden beneath the blindfold, voice soft but cutting, "King of Gods, do not mistake patience for affection. Not every girl will spread their legs for you."

Zeus, mildly stung but far too drunk to reflect, laughed it off and turned to chase after a laughing Horae instead.

Themis, silent, turned and left the hall.

The gardens of Olympus were untouched by the corruption that plagued its halls. Moon-flowers bloomed without witness, starlight shimmered in still pools, and silence reigned where it had long been banished.

She stepped into the quiet with a sigh, breathing in the night air tinged with ambrosia and arrogance.

’How far this place have fallen..." she murmured, her voice thick with sorrow.

Her fingers trailed along the marble balustrade as she walked slowly beneath the silver trees.

Themis—who once stood against Cronus, who remained when Olympus was forged—had watched this golden mountain rise and rot.

She remembered when Zeus declared that Olympus will be a place of harmony, where gods ruled not only with power, but with purpose.

Now?

The Underworld, she mused, had more order than Olympus. Hades, brooding and stern, still kept his realm in divine balance.

Law thrived in the lands of the dead—while chaos festered on the mountain of gods.

"I guess I should leave," she whispered aloud.

She was not mortal. She owed these gods nothing. Her allegiance had always been to Justice, not thrones.

"Maybe I’ll go to the Underworld," she said to herself, more firmly now. "There, I may still judge souls rather than endure the stench of ego and lust."

Ever since Hades took over, although the entrance to Underworld bas become harder to cross, the realm itself maintained law and order.

There was never a complain about how the circulation of souls became interrupted or something ever since Hades became the king.

But as she spoke the words, her blindfolded eyes snapped toward the great hall behind her.

A pressure—immense and terrible—was rising. The divine threads of Olympus trembled as if something vast and ancient had broken through a sacred veil.

And then it came.

A deafening roar, not of sound, but of force, exploded across the heavens. The very sky above Olympus cracked as if struck by a world-sized hammer.

Celestial flames erupted, and from the heart of the feast hall, a blast of crimson energy shot into the sky.

The earth beneath her sandals shook.

"W-What happened!?" Themis exclaimed, "Who is so bold as to attack Olympus!? Do they think that they are Hades?!"

Without hesitation, Themis raised her arm, and in a flash of white fire, her sword forged in the fires of primordial balance materialized in her grip.

She leapt into the air, wings of law and starlight erupting from her back as she flew toward the hall.

As she soared, the divine smoke cleared. The feast had been reduced to rubble. Gods lay strewn across the floor, moaning and broken.

Columns had shattered. Fires burned across the mosaics. Blood, divine and monstrous, stained the golden stones.

And at the center of it all stood a colossal figure.

His body was armored in bone-like plates, forged from the crushed remains of mountains and monsters.

His eyes were like pits of molten earth, and his aura made the very concept of breathing a struggle.

Porphyrion.

The King of the Giants.

Son of Gaia.

Destroyer of Skies.

He stood tall, with a size that seems to cover the sky, and in his clawed hands he held something small, yet infinitely precious.

A woman, her silver robes torn, her body limp but breathing. Her presence shimmered with wisdom and power even in defeat.

Metis.

Queen of Olympus.

Wife of Zeus.

First Mind.

Mother of Thought.

Themis froze, the weight of the moment crashing against her heart.

The titan in her screamed rage.

Porphyrion turned to the gathered survivors—Apollo, bloodied but rising, Hermes, dazed and furious, Hephaestus, crushed beneath marble.

Zeus, however, was nowhere to be seen. But Themis can feel his presence and he seems to have been buried under a rubble.

The giant’s voice shook the very heavens.

"I am Porphyrion. King of the Giants. Son of the Earth Mother. I have come to Olympus only for one thing..."

He lifted Metis for all to see, smirking in satisfaction seeing the expression of all the gods who witnessed the scene.

"That is to declare war. The era of Olympians is over, we, the Giants, are the new overlord of this age!"

Silence followed.

They can only stare at the powerful figure that completely wrecked their divine place.

Themis, angered by the actions of the giant, have descended. Her sword gleamed in the darkness, and her voice rang like bells of doom.

"Porphyrion," she said, "Let go of Metis, and surrender. You may be strong, but this is Olympus. You will die if you want to fight."

The giant’s eyes turned to her, and for the first time, his smile faltered.

"The Earth has spoken. Olympus will fall. Justice will be reclaimed—by force."

She stepped forward, blade ready, heart blazing.

"Then you will face my justice first."