The God of Underworld - Chapter 262
Chapter 262: Chapter 20
Freya’s body trembled as she stumbled across the battlefield, her legs barely holding her weight, blood trailing faintly behind her with every step she took.
The ground shook beneath her as gods unleashed their powers all around, but she didn’t care.
She could hear the roars of dragons, the crash of oceans, the wrath of thunder—but to her, they were distant sounds, meaningless compared to the one figure who now sat upon a throne of black stone amidst the chaos.
Her vision blurred, her heart pounded painfully, yet she forced herself forward, one trembling step after another, eyes locked on the man who had appeared like a dream, or perhaps like destiny itself.
“Odr…” she whispered, her voice hoarse, yet filled with emotion that cut through the storm.
Campe’s massive head snapped toward her, crimson eyes flaring with menace, flames flickering between her fangs as she growled a warning that could have shattered the courage of lesser beings.
But before the dragon could even move, Hades lifted a single hand, palm outward, a simple, effortless gesture that carried absolute authority.
Campe froze, lowering her head slightly, though her tail thrashed behind her in irritation.
Hades’s gaze shifted to Freya, calm and unreadable, his purple eyes glowing faintly under the dim skies.
His voice was smooth, deep, and quiet, yet it carried the kind of weight that silenced everything around it.
“Do you need something, goddess?” he asked, not unkindly, but with a faint detachment, as though this entire war, and she herself, were simply part of a story he was observing rather than living.
Freya’s breath hitched. Her vision swam, not from pain or exhaustion this time, but from the overwhelming emotions that surged within her.
“Odr,” she breathed, her trembling hand reaching slightly toward him.
Hades blinked slowly.
“I’m sorry,” he said evenly, his tone neither amused nor irritated, simply factual. “My name is Hades, not Odr.”
Freya shook her head vigorously, even as tears threatened to spill down her cheeks.
“No,” she said, voice trembling yet certain. “You are my Odr. My beloved, the one the seers spoke of. The one destined to be mine.”
For a brief moment, Hades simply stared at her, the battlefield fading into background noise.
He tilted his head slightly, his silver-white hair shifting under the flickering light of burning skies.
“The prophecy,” he murmured at last, “is mistaken.”
His expression did not change, but there was the faintest trace of exasperation in his tone as he added, “I am already married to three beautiful wives.”
The words hit Freya like a physical blow. Her eyes widened, her mouth opening in disbelief.
“Th-three… wives?” she repeated, almost choking on the words.
Hades nodded as he thought of his wives.
Hera was left behind in Greek Universe, with Hades assigning her to watch over Olympus, while Aphrodite was assigned by him to watch over his Underworld.
After all, all gods and titans are currently in the Norse, they possibly can’t leave their universe to just Divine Spirits can they?
And Hecate, she is currently with Nyx, doing errands, preparing for the final confrontation with the true fragment of the outer one.
Freya stared, her heart pounding painfully, the words echoing in her head. But after a moment, her shock melted away into something fiercer, something burning and defiant.
Her fingers tightened around the air as if gripping something invisible, and she lifted her chin, her wounded form trembling with stubborn strength.
“So what?” she said, her voice gaining fire. “I am Freya, Goddess of Love! I follow my heart, not logic, not reason, and my heart has already chosen you!”
Hades’s expression remained unreadable for a long moment, though inwardly he could already feel the familiar weariness beginning to settle in.
“…Lady,” he said finally, voice low and flat, “we just met.”
Yet inside, a quiet thought drifted through his mind—dry, tired, and completely unsurprised.
‘Ah… of course. It always went this way. Goddesses of Love were the same across all worlds—relentless, passionate, incapable of letting go once they set their hearts on something. Almost as bad as the Virgin Goddesses who fell in love.’ He sighed internally, already knowing that this conversation would not end easily.
Freya smiled faintly through her exhaustion, her eyes gleaming with conviction.
“Then we can get to know each other better,” she said earnestly, taking another shaky step forward. “We have eternity ahead of us, don’t we?”
Hades exhaled slowly through his nose, rubbing the bridge of it between his fingers in quiet resignation.
He had faced countless battles, ruled over death itself, and watched empires crumble to dust, but few things tested his patience like an infatuated Goddess of Love.
“There are more important matters at hand,” he said finally, raising his hand and gesturing toward the horizon where the black wave of abominations still boiled like a living storm.
At his words, something seemed to snap Freya out of her trance. Her eyes widened as the weight of reality crashed back down upon her.
The battlefield, the screams, the divine energies, everything came flooding back at once.
She turned sharply, her gaze locking on the tide of darkness rapidly advancing once more.
Her hand trembled, but she straightened, forcing herself to stand tall despite her wounds.
With a sharp gesture, her fallen sword and shield flew from the scorched earth into her waiting hands, the bluish-silver aura around her flickering like a dying flame, but still burning.
She turned back to Hades, her expression determined, though her cheeks still bore the faint pink of embarrassment.
“We’ll… talk later,” she said firmly, before spreading her wings of divine light and launching herself back into the fray.
Hades watched her go, her silver aura vanishing into the chaos, and let out a long, quiet sigh that carried the weight of eternity.
“Of course we will,” he murmured dryly, settling back against his throne. “They always say that.”
*
*
*
On the gleaming heights of Asgard, where the rainbow light of Bifrost shimmered faintly even amid the war-torn skies, a violet mist unfurled like a silken veil across the marble floor of the observatory.
From within the swirling haze stepped Hecate, the Goddess of Magic, her dark robe rippling softly as if stirred by unseen winds, eyes gleaming faintly with moonlight.
The scent of starlight and herbs clung to her presence as she halted behind Nyx, who stood silently before a great mirror suspended in midair, its surface reflecting the chaos unfolding far below.
Bowing slightly, Hecate placed her right hand over her chest and said calmly, “Preparations are complete, Lady Nyx.”
For a long moment, there was no answer. Only the faint hum of cosmic energy filled the air, a quiet vibration that resonated through the chamber like the heartbeat of the universe itself.
Hecate, accustomed to Nyx’s endless silences, straightened slightly, but when she looked up, her calm composure faltered ever so slightly.
Nyx was smiling.
Not her usual serene or enigmatic smile, but something softer, playful, even amused.
The kind of smile that made people who knew her ask themselves; who has the bad luck of gaining this Primordial’s attention?
“Lady Nyx?” Hecate asked, her brow furrowing slightly as she followed the goddess’s gaze toward the mirror.
Without speaking, Nyx raised her hand and the mirror’s surface shifted, ripples spreading outward like water.
The chaotic battlefield of Helheim faded, and a single image came into focus, an image of a woman unlike any other.
Her hair shimmered like bluish-silver silk under moonlight, her eyes glowed with the deep crimson of twilight.
She was radiant, powerful, wounded yet defiant, standing amidst ruin and flame like a fallen star refusing to die.
Hecate blinked once, twice, studying the reflection.
“And… who is this?” she asked flatly, her tone calm but edged with curiosity. “And why are you showing her to me?”
Nyx’s smile deepened, her voice smooth as dark velvet.
“That,” she said, her tone almost teasing, “is Freya, the Nordic Goddess of Love and Beauty.”
“Oh.” Hecate nodded once, the single syllable carrying a tone of detached acknowledgment, her voice betraying a silent ‘So what? What’s the point of all this?’
She waited, patient as ever, though the faintest twitch of her brow betrayed the suspicion that Nyx was leading her toward something troublesome.
Nyx, of course, noticed. She always noticed. And her smirk widened just slightly.
“She,” Nyx continued leisurely, “has fallen in love with Hades.”
There was a long pause.
“Oh.” This time, Hecate blinked, her tone changing subtly—no longer indifferent, but edged with that tired recognition of someone who instantly knew this was going to be a problem.
“Well,” she murmured after a heartbeat, her voice perfectly deadpan, “that’s not good.”
Nyx chuckled softly, the sound low and melodic, as stars seemed to shimmer faintly within the folds of her midnight hair.
“Indeed,” she said, eyes still on the mirror. “You of all people know how relentless the Goddesses of Love can be when they’ve set their eyes on someone.”
Hecate let out a quiet sigh through her nose, her expression unreadable.
“Relentless,” she repeated dryly. “That’s one way to put it. This Freya might very well spend an eternity chasing him.”
She paused, then added, “Though I suppose that depends on how long Hades’ patience lasts—which, knowing him…”
She trailed off, her lips curving into the faintest trace of a smirk. “… incredibly long.”
Hades was stubborn. If Aphrodite back then wasn’t so persistent, then he would’ve remained unmarried until now.
Nyx laughed softly, an elegant sound like the brush of wings through starlight.
“True. But perhaps a little chaos will be entertaining for him. It’s been quite a while since anything has truly unsettled our dear Hades.”
Hecate merely sighed again, her fingers absently tracing sigils of starlight in the air.
“Entertaining for you, perhaps,” she said. “For me, it sounds like more work.”
Nyx turned toward her, her eyes gleaming like twin galaxies.
“You always say that, dear Hecate,” she murmured, amusement dripping from her tone. “And yet, you always handle it beautifully.”
Hecate groaned softly, though it was more resigned than annoyed.
“I’ll take that as an order disguised as a compliment,” she muttered.
Nyx’s laughter echoed through the chamber, smooth and melodic, as the mirror once again shifted to show the raging war below, the gods, the darkness, and amidst it all, Freya, her gaze occasionally looking back desperately at the man who had just turned her heart upside down.