I Am Zeus - Chapter 229

Chapter 229: The Watchers
The heart of Pandemonium was beating its last. Black towers, standing since the first sin, groaned as their cores fractured. Zeus’s storm wasn’t just breaking them; it was silencing a heartbeat.

Baal was a flickering wound of shadow and rage. Asmodeus paced, his usual lazy grace gone, replaced by a caged predator’s tension. Mephisto just watched, his stillness more unnerving than any outburst.

Then, the air died.

It didn’t move. It didn’t stir. It just… went cold. The kind of cold that lives between stars.

He was just there. In the center of the chamber. As if he’d been waiting for them to notice.

Lucifer.

“They are at our door,” he said. His voice was quiet. It made the distant sounds of dying demons seem loud.

Mephisto was the first to find his voice. “You brought the old ones.”

Lucifer didn’t turn. Beyond the balcony, the sky was torn. Two shapes moved within the wound. One was a serpent that used mountain ranges for its coils, its scales glinting with a light that drowned hope. The other was a winged engine of ruin, its breath spreading plagues of ash.

Leviathan. The Dragon.

“The deep is empty now,” Lucifer said. “And the sky remembers its first hunter.”

Baal let out a grinding sound. “You unchained them. You always said they were a last resort.”

“This is the last resort,” Lucifer replied, his gaze still fixed on the war. “You played at war with kings and armies. You lost. Now we fight with the things the world tried to bury.”

The Dragon roared. The sound wasn’t loud; it was a pressure that made the soul feel thin. The tower trembled.

“They will slow the gods,” Lucifer continued. “They will make them bleed. But they are a wall, not a sword.” He finally turned, his pale eyes sweeping over them. “We need a blade.”

Mephisto leaned forward. “What blade?”

“The Watchers.”

The name hung in the cold air.

Asmodeus actually laughed, a sharp, brittle sound. “You’ve gone mad. Truly. The Watchers? They’re not soldiers. They’re a poison. They’ll turn on us the moment they’re free.”

“Then we offer them a better target,” Lucifer said, his tone utterly flat. “We offer them what Michael stole. Freedom. True freedom. Not a new cage in Hell. A choice. They can help us break the gods, or they can return to the silence. I doubt they’ll choose silence.”

Mephisto’s eyes narrowed. “That is a dangerous gamble.”

“It’s the only one left,” Lucifer shot back. “We are out of safe moves.”

Asmodeus stepped forward, his voice dropping. “Lucifer. Think. Michael himself forged those seals. He was… very specific. If we break them, it’s not just a challenge. It’s a declaration. He will hear it. He will come.”

Lucifer went very still. The cold in the room intensified.

“Let him.”

Asmodeus blinked. “What?”

“I said let him come!” Lucifer’s voice cracked through the chamber, not with rage, but with a final, terrible patience. “He cast me here. He left me to rule this ‘kingdom of filth’. If he wants to descend from his golden city to protect his precious seals, I will be waiting. I have been waiting for a very long time.”

The raw truth in those words left no room for argument. This wasn’t a strategy. It was a reckoning.

“Do what I say,” Lucifer said, and it was the quiet after the scream. It was an order that brooked no refusal.

Asmodeus looked at the floor, then gave a short, sharp nod. He vanished in a ripple of displeased air.

Lucifer turned back to the hellscape. The Great Beasts were moving, their vast forms casting long shadows over the advancing light of the gods.

Baal grunted. “And them? Can you aim that storm?”

“I don’t need to aim it,” Lucifer said. “I just need to point it in the right direction.”

Mephisto watched him, a strange understanding in his eyes. “You are burning the last of your bridges to Heaven. There will be no going back from this.”

Lucifer’s smile was a thin, cold thing. “My bridge to Heaven burned a long time ago. I’m just throwing the ashes in their eyes.”

He spread his wings, the darkness around him deepening, sucking the light from the very air.

“Prepare yourselves. When the Watchers wake, this war will change. It will no longer be about victory. It will be about which world is left standing when the dust settles.”

He rose into the air, a dark star ascending.

“Let them all come,” he whispered, a vow meant for the cosmos itself. “Let them see what happens when the Morningstar has nothing left to love.”

Below, deep in the roots of Hell, the first of Michael’s sacred seals shattered with a sound like a universe sighing.

The silence in the pit was absolute. It was the silence of a closed tomb, of a breath held for ten thousand years. Then, the first of Michael’s silver seals cracked.

It didn’t shatter loudly. It sighed, like a soul finally giving up.

The darkness in the cavern shifted. It was not an absence of light, but a presence of something older than light. And from it, a figure unfolded.

Samjaza.

He was tall, his form lean and hardened by eons of nothing. His skin was pale as moon-bleached bone, and his eyes… his eyes were the colour of a storm that had forgotten how to rain. He took a single, shuddering breath, and the air tasted of dust and dead time.

Around him, other shapes stirred. Two hundred of them. The Watchers. They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to.

Asmodeus stood at the entrance to the pit, trying to look unimpressed. “Welcome back. The management has a proposal for you.”

Samjaza’s head turned slowly. The movement was rusted, unnatural. His voice, when it came, was a dry rasp. “Asmodeus. You are… smaller than I remember.”

“And you’re just as charming.” Asmodeus forced a smirk. “Lucifer offers you a deal. Not a command. A choice.”

He laid it out. Freedom. True freedom. Not a transfer from one prison to another, but a chance to walk the realms again. Their purpose? To break the gods currently tearing Hell apart.

Samjaza was silent for a long moment, his storm-grey eyes seeing ages past. “Michael,” he whispered, the name a curse and a prayer.

“Is not here,” Asmodeus said carefully. “But if we do this, he might come.”

A slow, terrible smile spread across Samjaza’s face. It was a crack in the mask of eternity. It held more malice than any demon’s roar.

“Good.”

That single word was all the acceptance needed. Behind him, the other Watchers rose as one. Their silence broke into a low, hungry hum that vibrated through the stone.

Samjaza took a step forward, then another, his gait becoming more sure with each movement.

“We accept,” he said, his voice gaining strength, becoming a sharp, cold wind. “Tell Lucifer… we have always wanted to meet his brother.”

He looked past Asmodeus, towards the distant sounds of divine war. “But first, we require a down payment.”

He raised a hand, and the very fabric of Hell twisted around his fingers.

“We’ll start with their hope.”