The God of Underworld - Chapter 180

180: Chapter 24 180: Chapter 24 Aphrodite and Hera appeared on the banks of the River Lethe.

The air was cool and still, the pale mist hanging low over the dark waters.

“Lethe,” Hera called, her clear voice echoing softly.

The river stirred.

From the fog rose a serene figure, her hair dances like the flowing river, her eyes calm and distant.

“Hera.

Aphrodite, how rare.” she greeted them.

“What brings you to me?” Hera stepped forward first.

“If it’s possible, we wish to take a soul from your care.” Lethe blinked, her calm face tilting slightly.

“A soul?” she asked, confused.

“Why?” Aphrodite smiled brightly, stepping in to explain.

“Lethe, it’s like this…” She told Lethe everything about Pygmalion, the sculptor, and Galatea, the statue he loved with all his heart.

When she finished, Lethe turned to Hera, her expression more serious.

“I expected such a request from Aphrodite.

But you, Hera?” Hera let out a quiet sigh.

“I owe Aphrodite a favor, and I don’t like owing favors.

So anyway, can you give us a soul?” Lethe was silent for a long moment.

Her brows furrowed slightly, which made Aphrodite shift nervously beside Hera.

Finally, Lethe nodded once.

“Yes!

I love you Lethe!” Aphrodite let out a relieved cheer, clapping her hands together.

Lethe ignored her and raised one hand.

A pale-blue flame flickered into existence, floating above her palm.

“This soul belonged to a mortal woman,” she said softly.

“Her abusive husband disfigured her and broke her spirit.

Before she drank from my river, she begged me to make her forget everything and to send her to a next life where she could know true love.” She held the soul out toward Hera.

“Take her.

But take care of her.

Make sure this Pygmalion never repeats what broke her in the past.” Hera nodded.

“I promise.” Aphrodite placed her hand over her heart and spoke with rare sincerity.

“I swear in my name as the goddess of love, Pygmalion’s feelings are genuine.

He will cherish her.” Lethe studied her for a moment, then gave a faint nod.

“Then my part is done.” She dissolved back into the mist, vanishing into her river, leaving Hera and Aphrodite standing with the softly glowing soul.

Hera handed the glowing soul to Aphrodite.

“Now, go.

Fulfill that mortal’s wish,” she said firmly.

“With this, we’re now even.” Aphrodite grinned, holding the soul close.

“Of course.

But before that, you’re coming with me to my temple.” Hera opened her mouth to refuse, but Aphrodite had already grabbed her wrist.

In a flash of red light, the two vanished.

They reappeared in the capital city of the Underworld, Nox.

Its skyline of black marble spires shimmered under the pale ghostlight of the city’s floating lanterns.

Aphrodite’s temple stood at the city center, a shining contrast of pink marble and gold trim against the shadowed streets.

Hera took one look at the temple’s ostentatious exterior and let out a long sigh.

“Come on!” Aphrodite said cheerfully, dragging Hera inside before she could complain.

They passed through perfumed halls lined with statues and offerings, until they reached a grand chamber.

At its center stood a massive mirror framed in gold, almost as tall as the temple itself.

Its surface shimmered faintly, as if alive.

Aphrodite stepped forward and waved her hand.

The mirror rippled like water, and an image came into focus.

Pygmalion was there, kneeling beside the statue of Galatea.

He was carefully cleaning her with a soft cloth, his movements slow and reverent.

His expression was one of quiet devotion.

Hera folded her arms, watching in silence.

“At least he’s sincere,” she muttered.

Aphrodite smiled, her eyes shining.

“Of course he is!

This is man whose love I recognise!” The mirror shimmered brighter, and Pygmalion froze, staring at the sky as if sensing the divine presence.

A soft, melodic voice filled the yard where he is at.

“Pygmalion,” Aphrodite said, her tone warm yet commanding.

“I have heard your prayers.” Pygmalion gasped, dropping the cloth.

He immediately fell to his knees, pressing his forehead to the ground.

“O Divine One!

It is honor to speak with you!” “Pygmalion, rejoice for your love has moved me, Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love.” Aphrodite said, smiling faintly.

“Day after day, you have spoken to me.

Your words were not of lust, but of devotion.

You wished not for a woman of flesh, but for a soul who could share your heart.” Pygmalion’s voice trembled.

“She is my everything.

I ask for nothing more than to see her smile, to hold her hand, and live by her side.

If I must give my life for hers, I will.” Aphrodite’s smile widened.

“Your love is pure, Pygmalion.

And so, I grant your wish.” She turned to Hera, who stood silently with folded arms, and lifted her chin proudly.

“In my name as Aphrodite, Goddess of Love, I give life to this sculpture.

From this day forward, she shall walk the earth as Galatea.” Hera merely gave a nod, granting her silent approval.

Aphrodite opened her palm.

The small blue soul flickered, its glow reflecting in the golden frame of the mirror.

She brought it close to her lips and blew gently.

The soul floated into the mirror, vanishing as if carried by a breeze.

In the yard, Pygmalion looked up in awe.

The statue glowed faintly, light seeping from the cracks in its marble surface.

The glow grew brighter, until thin lines began to spread across its form.

Pygmalion’s heart raced.

“Galatea?” With a sound like breaking porcelain, the marble began to fall away in chunks, shattering on the ground.

Pygmalion’s breath caught as the last pieces broke off, revealing a young woman standing where the statue had been.

Her hair was white as clouds, falling in soft waves over her shoulders.

Her skin was as white snow, pale and flawless, and her eyes slowly opened, revealing a gentle light within.

Pygmalion’s knees nearly gave out.

“You… you’re alive,” he whispered.

“Praise the gods…” Galatea looked around, her gaze finally falling on him.

Her lips curved into a small, shy smile.

Aphrodite grinned, satisfied.

“Rejoice, Pygmalion.

Your love, now has life.” Even Hera had to admit, quietly to herself, that the sight was beautiful.

She watched quietly as Pygmalion slowly stepped toward Galatea, as if afraid she might disappear if he blinked.

“Ah, greetings my love.

I am Pygmalion,” he said softly, voice shaking.

Galatea smiled, her expression serene.

“I know,” she said.

“Even when I was mere ivory, I heard you.

I felt every touch of your hands, every whisper you gave me, every kiss you placed on my cheek.

I remember everything.” Pygmalion’s face flushed crimson.

“T-Then you… know all of it?” Galatea nodded.

“Yes.

Everything.

Down to every feeling of affection.” Aphrodite’s laugh sounded in his ears, “Well, good thing you were a gentleman.

Imagine if you weren’t.” Pygmalion almost turned purple.

“I-I would never!” Galatea tilted her head, curious as to why he acted like that.

Back in Aphrodite’s Temple.

Aphrodite turned toward Hera, clearly pleased with herself.

“You see?

Perfect match.

Now, Hera, do your thing.

Marry them before he faints from embarrassment.” Hera exhaled slowly, giving her a flat look, but then let her voice travel to the overworld.

“Pygmalion.

Galatea.” Her voice was regal, commanding, filling the courtyard like thunder and silk.

Both mortals immediately knelt, heads bowed.

“I am Hera, Goddess of Marriage,” she said.

“I have witnessed your love.

It is pure, and it is worthy.” Both of them raised their heads, eyes wide with reverence.

“Tell me,” Hera continued, “do you wish to bind yourselves to each other, in the sight of the gods and the Fates, until death parts you?” “Yes!” Pygmalion said without hesitation, his grip on Galatea’s hand firm.

“Yes,” Galatea said, smiling through tears.

“There is nothing I want more.” Hera nodded with satisfaction.

“Then repeat after me.” She led them through a sacred oath, each vow spoken with sincerity and trembling voices.

When they finished, Hera’s tone softened, almost warm.

“Then, in my name as Hera, Goddess of Marriage, I pronounce you husband and wife.” A golden glow enveloped the couple, marking the divine recognition of their union.

Pygmalion pulled Galatea into his arms, tears streaming down his face.

She laughed softly, resting her head on his chest.

Aphrodite clapped her hands with delight.

“Perfect!

Just perfect.” Even Hera allowed herself the faintest smile before turning away.

“My part is done.” Aphrodite nodded her head, smiling, “Yes, yes, thank you so much!

I love you Hera!” Hera snorted, “I’ll take my leave.” “Okay!

Go prepare for your date tomorrow!” With that, Hera turned disappeared with into motes of light.

And as her presence faded, the golden glow she left behind slowly dissolved.

Aphrodite remained in her temple, her eyes fixed on Pygmalion and Galatea.

They were still embracing, speaking softly to one another, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist.

Aphrodite smiled faintly.

“Ah.

That’s love,” she whispered to herself.

“Pure, burning, passionate…” She rested her chin on her hand, watching as Pygmalion carefully brushed a lock of white hair from Galatea’s face, and Galatea’s bright smile as he kissed the back of her hand.

For a moment, the goddess of love felt something rare-envy.

Her thoughts drifted to Hades.

She imagined standing beside him, hand in hand, not as a trusted Patron, but as his love one.

She imagined him smiling at her the way Pygmalion smiled at Galatea.

Her lips curved into a soft grin.

“Just wait, Lord of the Dead.

You’ll be mine one day.” With a snap of her fingers, she dissolved into a swirl of rose petals, leaving behind the happy couple and their glowing new life together.