The God of Underworld - Chapter 286

Chapter 286: Chapter 44
At this moment, in the deepest reaches of the Greek Universe, within the Stygian silence of Nyx’s realm, where light itself dared not intrude, an unfathomable council was held.

Black stars hung in the void like distant embers, each one pulsing with the residual power of dead worlds.

The great Primordials, those who existed since the dawn of creation, stood in solemn concentration.

Their divine visages glowed with ancient might, enough to bend galaxies to their will.

At the center of the obsidian chamber floated a vast holographic projection, a sphere of shimmering threads connecting two colossal cosmic systems—the Greek Universe and the Nordic Universe.

The two pulsed and writhed as the Primordials worked to weave them together, following the Hyperversal Fusion Method Odin had shared to them.

But no matter how many times they tried, the same result awaited them.

A violent flare of energy erupted, white, then violet, then red, and the two universes collapsed upon themselves, birthing chaos and erasing entire star clusters from their models.

The shockwave of failure rippled across the chamber, sending tremors through the domain of Nyx herself.

“Again,” Nyx commanded coolly, her voice as vast as the night sky.

Her eyes, twin abysses, flickered with restrained irritation. “We will not fail because of impatience. Make sure everything is in order and try again.”

Beside her, Hecate steadied her staff, its three lunar tips radiating with arcane light.

“We’ve already lost four proto-realities trying to align their metaphysical frequencies,” she warned softly. “Even with Hades as the anchor, the rift between creation laws rejects union. They repel each other like opposing poles.”

From the far side, Gaia, the Primordial Earth, let out a weary sigh that shook the very soil of existence. “Perhaps the Norse cosmos operates on a different root of creation. Their Yggdrasil grows from a different source than our own universe. Trying to fuse them is like trying to merge roots from different trees.”

“Then graft them,” Erebus rumbled, his form wreathed in primordial shadow. “Twist their essence until they obey.”

Khronos, embodiment of time itself, waved his hand dismissively, eyes swirling with infinite clocks. “That will only hasten decay. You cannot bend causality so crudely. Even gods are bound by the origin sequence of their universe.”

Aether crossed his arms, golden light flaring in silent frustration. “Then perhaps Odin’s method is incomplete. He left out something… deliberately.”

Hecate frowned. “Odin wouldn’t withhold information, he understands the stakes. And besides, he also has reason for this plan to succeed.”

Nyx sighed. “The creation of the hyperverse is something Odin himself wanted to happen.”

Her gaze pierced through the projection, through reality itself. “He wouldn’t do something so foolish.”

For a moment, silence fell, broken only by the flickering hum of dying universes in the projection.

Then, Eros, radiant and serene, stepped forward. “Maybe the problem is not the method… but the anchor.”

The others turned toward him.

He continued, “Hades holds both realms together through death, but death alone cannot sustain creation. Fusion requires both ends of the cycle, death and life. Without life’s essence, balance collapses.”

Hemera eyes widened in realization.

“Then we need another anchor,” she murmured. “Someone who embodies life itself.”

Nyx’s eyes gleamed faintly, intrigued. “Life and death entwined… the eternal equilibrium.”

Khronos folded his arms. “But who could bear such a burden? Even a god would shatter beneath two realities. Hades is a transcendent being, there is no one other than him who can bear the weight of several universe.”

There was silence.

Until Eros’ voice dropped to a whisper. “No…there is one.”

The Primordials looked at him, startled.

Eros turned towards Gaia, “There is someone who embodies both life and death, and has the potential to become a transcendent and bear the weight of the hyperverse.”

Gaia frowned, confused.

“Don’t even think about it,” Hecate stepped forward, her aura bursts forth, challenging the Primordial.

Nyx’s eyes narrowed, “Eros…do you understand what you are saying?”

Gaia stared at them. Then, as if realizing something, her eyes widened in shock, before fury immediately took over.

“EROS!” Gaia screamed, “How dare you!?”

A being who can embody life and death and can theoretically withstand the weight of a hyperverse.

There is only one such being… Nekyria, daughter of Hades and Gaia.

Eros raised his hands in surrender, “It was just a thought. You think I feel like I’ve already lived long enogh and wanted to end my life?”

“…you better.” Hecate took back her divinity. But her eyes still locked to Eros.

At this moment, when tension reached an all time high, Hades appeared through a rift of swirling darkness, his presence bending the fabric of the realm.

Behind him followed Athena, clad in silver-white armor, her eyes sharp and alive with divine intellect.

The aura of both gods rippled through the chamber like opposing storms, Hades cold and calculating, Athena bright and composed.

Even the Primordials turned their gaze upon them, for few mortals or immortals dared step so casually into the council of creation.

Eros immediately lowered his head, hiding behind the other Primordials.

“Ah, Hades, you’re finally here.” Nyx greeted in her velvety voice, shadows coiling behind her like sentient veils. “And you brought the wise child with you. Perfect.”

Hades gave a short nod, his expression unreadable.

“I have left underworld to Hera’s care, so I can offer some help.” he said calmly, his deep voice echoing with authority that belonged to one who ruled both silence and souls. “So, how’s your progress?”

Nyx’s lips curved faintly.

“Progress?” she echoed dryly. “If destruction can be called progress, then we are succeeding gloriously.”

Hecate gestured toward the vast holographic projection, its shimmering threads now dimmed with fatigue from countless reconstructions.

“Every attempt ends the same,” she said. “The two universes resist union. Even using you as the anchor, the energies reject each other violently. It’s as though the very laws of existence refuse coexistence.”

Hades’s purple eyes narrowed slightly, analytical light glinting in their depths. “Show me.”

At his word, Hecate lifted her staff and reactivated the projection.

Streams of cosmic energy intertwined, two spheres, one bright as the sun, the other dark as the void, spiraling toward each other.

The gods watched in silence as the universes began to merge, threads of creation stretching taut like strings of a harp drawn too far.

Then came the snap.

A burst of light, followed by the familiar implosion of failure. The spheres collapsed inward and vanished in an echo of eternal silence.

Athena’s brows furrowed.

“It’s not only a matter of energy repulsion,” she murmured. “Their fundamental laws—time flow, dimensional constants, even reality density—don’t align. The structural imbalance triggers collapse before stabilization.”

Hades folded his arms.

“Odin’s formula lacks an intermediary layer,” he said after a pause. “Something to distribute the pressure before the fusion reaches critical point.”

Athena nodded, immediately grasping his thought. “A buffer realm, perhaps. A transitional plane, neither Norse nor Greek, but capable of harmonizing both.”

Nyx’s eyes glimmered with interest. “A bridge-world?”

Hades smirked faintly. “Precisely. But it must not be natural, it has to be constructed. A pseudo-universe built from fragments of both realities. I can craft the core, some failed prototypes of my Breakdown Sphere had the capacity to compress infinite energy within stable singularities.”

Gaia frowned thoughtfully. “But you risk unraveling both cosmologies in the process. If even a single law overlaps incorrectly—”

“Then we adjust,” Athena interjected, her tone unwavering. “Step by step. We analyze the patterns of collapse, then rewrite the constants until the reaction stabilizes.”

And so began a new cycle of experimentation.

They tried again, this time with Hades manipulating the fusion through the proto-Breakdown Sphere, while Athena encoded balancing formulas into the structure of the connection.

The projection shimmered, held, and for a fleeting instant, it stabilized.

But then, like a dying heartbeat, the connection faltered and shattered once more.

Fragments of divine energy burst across the chamber, scattering motes of failed creation.

Hecate bit her lip, deep in thought.

“So Close,” she murmured. “We held it longer this time.”

Hades’s tone remained calm, though his eyes gleamed with relentless drive. “It doesn’t matter, we can try again. Failure is the mother of success, as they say.”

Nyx, intrigued, leaned forward. “I think you compressed the core beyond its capacity.”

He gave a thin smile. “Yeah, I’ll be careful next time.”

And so they continued.

Trial after trial, reality breaking and reforming again and again.

Each time, the holographic projection lasted a little longer before collapsing.

Each failure taught them more than the last.

Hours became days.

Days felt like eternities.

Even the Primordials, ancient and patient, began to feel the stirrings of anticipation as they all worked together to refine the impossible equation.

Finally, after what felt like the thousandth attempt, the projection held…there was no explosion, no collapse.

Two universes hovered before them, faintly trembling, but connected by a thin, glowing thread of light and shadow.

A silence fell across the realm.

The connection was fragile. So fragile it could break any moment…but they still succeeded.

Then, softly, Hecate whispered, “It’s working…”

And for the first time in countless cycles, hope stirred within the eternal night.