The God of Underworld - Chapter 199

199: Chapter 43 199: Chapter 43 In the silent heart of the Underworld, the Lord of the Dead sat behind a wide obsidian desk, his long fingers moving steadily as he signed document after document with a black quill tipped in stygian ink.

The steady rhythm of scratching paper was the only sound in the vast chamber, until suddenly, the torches that lined the walls flickered softly, the flames bending as though bowing to a presence far gentler than the darkness around them.

Then, a warm, calming voice broke through the stillness.

“Brother.” Hades raised his eyes, and for the first time that day, his face softened into a faint, genuine smile.

“Hestia.

How rare of you to contact me.

How are you, sister?” He set down the quill and leaned back in his chair, watching as his elder sister stepped forward, her aura carrying the warmth of a hearth even in the bleakest depths of the Underworld.

The air felt less heavy in her presence, though the shadows still clung faithfully to their master.

“I am fine, brother.

But it seems you work yourself too much, as always,” Hestia said, her tone gentle but filled with the quiet firmness only she could carry.

“Every time I contact you, you are buried under papers and petitions.” Hades gave a soft chuckle, his deep voice echoing slightly.

“If I don’t do it, who will?

The Underworld is vast, and the dead never stop arriving.

Order is the only thing that keeps this realm from collapsing into chaos.” He glanced at the mountain of parchment stacked neatly on one side of the desk.

“Besides, I prefer work that yields results.

Up there, Olympus drowns in arguments.

Down here, at least, things are done.” Hestia’s lips curved into a small smile.

“Still, you are a king, not a scribe.

You should let your subordinates handle more of this burden.” She reached out, her hand brushing the edge of the desk, as though the mere touch of her fingers could warm even the coldest stone.

“There should be moments when you set it all aside, even for a short while.” Hades studied her quietly for a moment, then nodded slightly.

“Perhaps you are right.

It seems your words have not lost their weight, sister.” He chuckled, “The King of Underworld, the mighty Lord of the Dead, despite all his power, he must listen to the goddess of the hearth.” Hestia tilted her head, her expression brightening a little.

“Then you will not refuse if I ask something of you?” Hades raised an eyebrow.

“That depends on the request.” She stepped closer, her eyes softening.

“Our mother wishes to see us.

She sent word that she is preparing a dinner, and she asked if you could come.

It has been long since you sat with her, or with me, without the burdens of your crown pressing down on your shoulders.” The faintest trace of hesitation flickered in Hades’ eyes.

He had never been one for family gatherings; he had always been the most distant of the siblings, the one who walked apart from the warmth of Olympus.

Yet when Hestia asked, he could not easily refuse.

“Mother… Rhea,” he murmured, his tone carrying both respect and a restrained heaviness.

“Hmm, indeed.

It has been far too long since I shared her table.” He leaned back further in his chair, fingers tapping idly against the armrest, as though weighing the pull of duty against the bond of blood.

Finally, his dark gaze settled on Hestia once more.

“Very well.

I will come.” Her smile widened, though it remained soft and dignified, like a flame that gave light without ever demanding attention.

“That will please her greatly.

She worries for you, you know.

Even if you do not show it, she sees the weight you carry.” Hades gave a small, dry laugh, shaking his head.

“Mother worries for all of us.

That is her nature.

She would still see us as children even if we ruled for eternity.” “Because we are her children,” Hestia said simply, her voice steady.

She folded her hands before her, the warmth of her presence filling the cold chamber as she added, “And as a mother, isn’t it natural for her to worry about her own blood?” For a moment, silence lingered between them, broken only by the distant drip of water echoing from some unseen cavern.

Hades finally exhaled, a low sigh escaping his lips.

“I know.

I already said I will come.

Speaking of, who else is coming?

Don’t tell me it’s only me?” Hestia’s smile brightened faintly, though it never became a grin.

She was the hearth, eternal and steady, and her joy was quiet but deep.

“Of course not.

I invited all of us siblings.

I even convinced Zeus to temporarily lift Poseidon’s punishment.” “I see.” Hades picked up his quill again, though this time he placed it carefully back in its holder instead of returning to work.

His purple eyes softened, if only a fraction.

“Then I suppose I should prepare myself to sit among family once again.

It has been… too long.” Hesria smiled, “Well then, farewell for now, dear brother of mine.

We shall see each other soon.” “Ah, wait.” Hades raised his hand, as Hestia stopped, her brows raised, “Tell mother that I’m bringing my daughter, Nekyria.” Hestia blinked.

“Daughter?” Hades just smiled.

* * * Overworld.

On an ancient mountain, the lone temple of Rhea stood.

Inside the quiet, fragrant halls of her temple, Rhea sat upon a seat carved of marble, her figure dignified yet warm, a goddess whose presence still radiated the authority of the Titans but tempered with the gentleness of a mother.

At her side, Hestia rested with her eyes closed, her calm composure as steady as the eternal flame she embodied.

For a time, silence stretched between them, broken only by the rustle of wind through the temple’s open archways and the faint hum of prayers drifting from the mortals outside.

When Hestia finally opened her eyes, Rhea leaned forward with almost childlike eagerness, her voice carrying a rare tremor of hope.

“Did he agree?

Did your brother say he would come?” Hestia’s expression softened, and she gave a single nod.

“Yes, Mother.

Hades will come.

He has set aside his work and promised to sit with us.” As the goddess of hearth, Hestia can project herself to anywhere in the world that has hearth.

So although she has met with Hades just now, her true body remained here in this temple.

Rhea’s eyes shone with relief, her hands clasping together in delight.

“At last… It has been too long since I have seen him with my own eyes.

He has hidden himself away in that realm of shadows for thousands of year, burying himself in duty, if I don’t contact him, he would probably forget that he is still my child.” She paused, her gaze distant, as though she could see the boy Hades once was, solemn and quiet, standing apart from his siblings even in their youth.

“I worried he would refuse, as he often does.

But if he agreed… then this dinner will be complete.” Hestia inclined her head slightly, her tone steady but tinged with warmth.

“Not only Hades.

Zeus has agreed as well.

Hera, Demeter, and even Poseidon will come.” Rhea blinked, her brow rising slightly.

“Poseidon?

But was he not still bound to house arrest?

I heard whispers from Olympus-that he and Athena quarreled, and their clash laid waste to cities, leaving mortals in ruin.” Her voice carried both disapproval and concern, for though her children were gods, their quarrels often spilled out like storms upon the helpless earth.

Hestia let out a small sigh, though she did not lose her calm demeanor.

“You are not wrong, Mother.

The fight between them was fierce, and Zeus punished him, confining him to his domain as penance.

But I spoke with Zeus myself, and I persuaded him to allow Poseidon one day’s reprieve.

For this dinner.

For you.

He understood, and so he agreed.” Rhea’s lips curved into a grateful smile, though her eyes still carried the sharp glint of a mother who would never cease to worry about her tempestuous children.

“You have always been the bridge between us, my flame.

Without you, I wonder if your siblings would ever find reason to sit at the same table again.” Hestia folded her hands in her lap, her voice calm.

“That is why I remain, Mother.

To keep the hearth burning, so that no matter how far we wander, there is always a place to return to.” For a long moment, Rhea looked at her eldest daughter, and her heart swelled with pride.

“You have always been my anchor, Hestia.

When your father’s cruelty shattered me, it was you who kept me from breaking.

And even now, you hold the family together.” Hestia gave only a small smile, neither boastful nor dismissive, but simple acceptance.

“Then let this gathering be one where you need not worry about discord, at least for one evening.” Rhea nodded, her excitement growing as she rose gracefully from her seat.

“Then I must prepare.

I will not waste a moment.

If all my children are to gather, then I shall give them a meal worthy of gods.

I will bake bread with my own hands, tend to the fruits of the orchards, and bring forth wine aged since the days of the Golden Age.” Her eyes brightened, and her voice carried an eager rhythm, almost girlish in its joy.

“I will prepare lamb roasted with herbs, honeyed figs, and pomegranates fresh from the garden.

Each dish will remind them that no matter what titles they carry, no matter how heavy their crowns or vast their realms, they are first and foremost my children, and I their mother.” Hestia watched her mother move with renewed energy, the kind only family could stir.

“They will remember, Mother.

Even the ones who pretend they have forgotten will remember once they sit at your table.” Rhea clasped Hestia’s hands before departing, her voice softer now, full of longing.

“Let them come to me not as rulers, not as gods of thunder or sea or shadow, but as sons and daughters.

That is all I wish for.” Hestia smiled.

Then, her mind went back to her conversation with Hades before she left.

“By the way, mother.” “Hm?” “Hades said that he will bring his daughter?” Rhea’ eyes widened.

Mouth hanged open in disbelief.

“Daughter?

Hades’?” Hestia nodded.

“Is it not Zeus’ or Poseidon’s?” Hestia shook her head.

That was her reaction when she found out about it as well.

“No, mother.

It’s Hades’.

I’m as shocked as you.” Rhea couldn’t believe it.

Her cold, brooding son actually had a child!

“Who’s the mother?

Is it Hecate?

Or Hera?

Maybe Demeter?” If Hades were to have a child, Rhea can only think of those three as the mother.

Hera made it no secret that she wanted to be Hades’ Queen.

And Hecate was Hades’ assistant and right hand; basically his secretary.

And wasn’t there a saying; The secretary do the work, and the boss do the secretary.

Thousands of years of companionship, she doesn’t believe they haven’t slept with each other at least once.

“You won’t believe it, but it’s Gaia.” Rhea froze.

“Who?” “Gaia.

Our grandmother.

Your mother.

The Primordial of Earth.

The Mother of Life.

That Gaia.” Rhea’s mind almost collapsed.

Her son mated and had a child with Gaia!?

What in the name of all Greeks is this!?

How can Gaia, her mother, go after her son!?

Where is your morality?!

Where is your shame!?

How degenerate!

Pure degeneracy!

Is Hades’ daughter still her granddaughter or her own sister!?

Answer me!

Gaia!