I Am Zeus - Chapter 237
Chapter 237: Traffic Of The Dead
The shockwave that rolled through Pandemonium was not one of force, but of feeling. It was a cold, psychic nausea, the sensation of stepping on something rotten in the dark.
High above the main fray, where the air was thick with the ozone of their clashing power, Zeus and Lucifer froze.
A backhand of lightning meant to decapitate stopped inches from Lucifer’s face. A spear of condensed darkness aimed at Zeus’s heart dissolved before it struck.
They stood, locked in their private war, but their attention was ripped away, drawn downward to the throne room. The unified rage of the gods had shattered, replaced by a chaotic, self-destructive cacophony.
Zeus’s eyes narrowed, his brow furrowed in confusion and dawning alarm. “What new poison is this?”
But it was Lucifer’s reaction that truly told the story. The Morningstar’s face, usually a mask of cold control or mocking amusement, twisted into something raw and furious. His pale eyes widened, then narrowed to slits, burning with a light that promised unimaginable pain for one of his own.
“Asmodeus,” he whispered, the name a curse. “You idiot. What have you done?”
Zeus watched him, the pieces clicking into place. This was not part of Lucifer’s plan. This was a desperate, wild card played by a subordinate. And whatever it was, Lucifer was afraid of it.
“What did he release, Lucifer?” Zeus’s voice was low, cutting through the distant screams. “What is that thing?”
Lucifer’s head snapped back toward Zeus. The fury in his eyes didn’t diminish, but it was now mingled with a terrifying, calculated glee. He began to laugh, a sound devoid of any humor.
“He opened a box even I kept locked,” Lucifer said, his laughter dying into a vicious smile. “That ‘thing’ is Azazel. The first teacher of how to sharpen a stone into a blade to use on your brother. He doesn’t just bring out the worst in people. He reminds them that the worst is all they’ve ever truly wanted to be.”
He gestured vaguely toward the chaos below. “He’ll unravel your little alliance in minutes. God will turn on god, remembering every slight, every jealousy. They’ll tear each other apart. It’s quite beautiful, in a pathetic sort of way.”
Zeus took a step forward, his own power flaring. “Then this fight is over. We stop this, now.”
“Oh, no,” Lucifer said, his voice dropping to a intimate, deadly calm. He spread his wings, blocking Zeus’s path. The darkness around them deepened, becoming a solid wall. “I don’t think so.”
“What?” Zeus growled, lightning crackling around his fists.
“I hate Azazel,” Lucifer admitted, his gaze unwavering. “He is a crude, blunt instrument. A pest. But I hate you more. I hate your world of thrones and worship more. And I hate my Father… oh, I hate Him most of all.”
He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. “You see, He might see this chaos and feel… compelled. All His precious children, killing each other? He might just decide to step in. To save them. But you? You’re different. You’re a rival. A competitor for faith. He’d be just as happy to see you bleed out here.”
A truly monstrous plan was unfolding in Lucifer’s words, and Zeus was finally seeing its full, horrifying shape.
“I am going to kill you, Zeus,” Lucifer stated, as if discussing the weather. “I am going to take your power, your domain over the storm, and I am going to add it to my own. And then, I will finally keep the promise I made when I first fell.”
Zeus stood his ground, the storm in his eyes meeting the abyss in Lucifer’s. “And what promise was that?”
Lucifer’s smile was beatific, a perversion of holiness. His voice rang out, clear and resonant, quoting the ancient, arrogant vow that had sealed his fate:
“I will ascend into the heavens. I will build my throne above the stars of God. I will be called the Most High.”
The words hung in the air, a blasphemy that made the very fabric of reality shudder.
Zeus looked at him, this fallen prince festering in his own spite, and felt a wave of profound, almost pitying disgust. All this pain, all this destruction, for this? A child’s tantrum thrown across eternity.
“Delusional,” Zeus said, the word simple, flat, and utterly devastating.
It was the wrong thing to say.
The last vestiges of Lucifer’s composure shattered. The calm, calculating fiend was gone, replaced by the raw, screaming angel who had been cast out.
“DELUSIONAL?” Lucifer’s roar was the sound of a universe breaking. Light—not divine, but the searing, painful light of a reality being unmade—erupted from him. “I WILL SHOW YOU DELUSION!”
He didn’t summon a weapon. He became one. His wings of folded night burst open, and they were no longer made of shadow, but of a billion screaming faces—the souls of the damned, woven into a tapestry of absolute torment. He lunged, not with magic, but with the pure, hateful mass of his being.
The final, personal battle between the King of Olympus and the Lord of Hell was no longer about armies or strategy. It was about extinction.
And as they collided, a shockwave of pure soundless force exploded outwards, a silent testament to the fact that one of them would not leave this place alive. The fate of every other being in creation now hung on the outcome of a fight that had become terrifyingly, intimately simple.
Heaven
The air in Heaven was supposed to be still. Perfect. But today, it thrummed with a discordant hum, a pressure that was building just beyond the veil of reality.
Azrael, the Archangel of Death, stood at the edge of the Silver City, her form a vision of devastating grace. But her usual serene composure was gone. A fine tremor ran through her wings, and her eyes, usually pools of infinite peace, were sharp with a frustrated urgency.
She wasn’t alone. Another presence, immense and calm, stood beside her. She didn’t need to turn to know it was Michael.
“This is untenable,” Azrael said, her voice tight, cutting through the holy silence. She gestured downward, not to Earth, but to the seething, blocked-off dimension of Hell. “The flow is completely dammed. They’re dying down there—mortal souls, minor spirits, even gods—and I can’t process them. The gates are sealed shut by this… war.”
She shook her head, a very human gesture of exasperation. “The souls can’t move on. They’re just… piling up. Stuck. It’s a traffic jam of the damned and the divine, and it’s throwing the entire balance into chaos.”