The God of Underworld - Chapter 302
Chapter 302: Chapter 1
Hades sat upon the central throne of the Empyrean Realm, the magnificent, crystalline counterpart to his somber Underworld.
This realm was the highest dimensional peak created when he had fused with the Heart of the Greek Universe, and it now served as his primary seat of governance, a nexus of blinding, organized light, perfectly positioned at the Hyperverse’s absolute center.
The atmosphere here was one of profound, hushed respect.
The Empyrean was filled with the silent, watchful presence of the Christian angels who had sworn their loyalty.
The colossal, sentient wheels of the Ophanim floated near the vaulted ceilings, their countless eyes perpetually observing.
The Seraphim maintained a respectful distance, their burning forms radiating an ordered heat, awaiting their new sovereign’s command.
Scattered among the angelic legions were various gods who had chosen to retreat from the complexities of the mortal world—weary Greek deities, meditative Norse spirits, and stoic Egyptian minor gods—all enjoying the eternal, peaceful stability afforded by the Hyperverse’s core.
Hades, in his new role as the Anchor of Reality, was not resting.
His focus stretched across the entire expanded cosmos.
He wasn’t watching the distant stars with his eyes, but sensing the rhythmic, harmonious pulse of the four integrated universes through the Heart of the Universes fused in his very being.
The Hyperverse was whole; the energy flow was infinite; the stability was absolute.
Everything was perfect…
But as he observed the tapestry of his creation, he felt a sudden, profound dissonance.
It was not a tremor in the fabric of the Hyperverse itself—the Underworld’s central anchor prevented that—but a catastrophic vibration in the surrounding, adjacent Void.
It was a noise, yet it contained no sound; a wave, yet it possessed no medium.
It was the absolute, chaotic signature of a distant, violent deletion.
Hades focused his immense will toward the boundary of the recently annexed Christian and Egyptian realms, the points where his reality met the external void.
He discovered that the borders were not simply encountering emptiness; they were being violently bombarded by cosmic shrapnel.
These were not meteors or antimatter; they were fragments of collapsing narratives, the pulverized remains of universes that had just been consumed by the Outer Ones.
The phenomena were bewildering, driving the Hyperverse’s advanced defensive systems into frantic, failing overload.
On the Christian border, the atmosphere fractured into impossible colors—hues that violated the very spectrum, radiating a passive light that induced immediate, agonizing cognitive distress in the lesser angelic entities.
A storm of non-geometric shapes appeared, three-dimensional forms that seemed to possess more than three axes, rotating in ways that fundamentally broke the concept of space, causing the very air to scream in mathematical protest.
Along the Egyptian boundary, where the laws of life and death were more central, the impact was more insidious.
Conceptual seepage began to occur.
Time, in small pockets, would suddenly invert, aging objects backward at frightening speeds before snapping forward, causing temporary, localized entropy.
The collective memory of souls passing through the Duat would briefly merge with the memories of defunct entities from a different, devoured universe, resulting in profound metaphysical confusion.
Ra, who had just sensed something was wrong, just now sent a messenger to contact him for help while he tried to solve whatever is happening.
The chaotic signature was instantly identifiable to Hades, thanks to the Outer One’s flesh within him: this was the signature of this body’s own race’s feeding cycle, amplified and deliberately directed.
‘They are not invading,’ Hades realized, his expression hardening. ‘They are aiming the garbage of their meal directly at my house. They are probing us.’
They might be wary of him, and wanted to use this deliberate attack to see how he would react, and possibly weaken him.
The influx of chaotic debris was designed to force him into a relentless, unending maintenance cycle, draining his focus and stretching his newly acquired divine legions to their limit.
It was an attack of systemic stress, a test to see how fast the Anchor of Reality could be overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the surrounding annihilation.
Hades rose from his throne, and the serene silence of the Empyrean shattered as his command rang out, resonating with the absolute authority of the Hyperverse’s core.
“Michael! Activate the Celestial Shield Protocols on the Christian frontier. Seal the conceptual fractures and prioritize defense over engagement. You will stabilize, not attack.”
The Archangel, instantly materializing before the throne, and knelt. Although he doesn’t know what has happened and why he was given this order, but all he had to do was follow.
After all, the Empyrean God must have reasons for his orders.
“It shall be done, my Lord.”
“Ra! Thoth!” Hades commanded, projecting his will to the Egyptian court. “Your restored pantheon will engage the entropic time-inversion anomalies. Thoth, work with Hecate to devise a counter-spell to filter the chaotic energies.”
Hades looked out across the shimmering, now-stressed reality of the Hyperverse.
‘You won’t even give us time to develop huh?’
“Dwellers of the Hyperverse…”
Then, his voice, echoed throughout the Hyperverse, ordering every god to prepare for war and deal with fractures in dimensions and anomalies.
*
*
*
The Empyrean Realm crackled with the urgency of Hades’ absolute decrees.
The Hyperverse, accustomed to the calm, steady rhythm of its new sovereignty, instantly shifted into a state of hyper-alertness.
The orders echoed not through speakers, but through the deep, psychic connection linking every divine being to the Anchor, startling every gods who were doing their own thing.
They looked up at the sky, which was starting to shake, and wondered.
What happened? Why are they preparing for war now?
In the meticulously organized office within the Underworld—a space filled with ancient scrolls and bubbling cauldrons—Hecate, the Goddess of Magic and Crossroads, recoiled slightly.
The voice of her husband, usually reserved and intimate, now sounded across the conceptual space with the metallic clarity of a universal command, talking about dimensional fractures and various anomalies.
And to devise a counter spell for chaotic energies? What? At least explain, Hades!
Before Hecate could even analyze the nature of the chaotic energies, the scrying mirrors and reflective surfaces around her office began to flicker violently.
The polished obsidian of her desktop, the surface of her scrying pool, and the mirrored shelves housing her potent spell components all illuminated simultaneously.
Across these fragmented reflections appeared the faces of high-ranking deities:
Thoth, his ibis mask tilted in confused alarm, his eyes wide. “Hecate! What is happening? I’m enjoying a reading time here in Olympus library when I received the order from Lord Hades! What does that mean?!”
Hel, the stern ruler of the Norse dead, appeared with a grim frown. “It seems like something has happened that made Lord Hades anxious. Thor has already began to rally the army.”
Freya, warrior and goddess of love, looked concerned but resolute. “My Valkyries are ready. I don’t know why Odr told us to prepare for war, but we are ready to eliminate any threats.”
And Athena, who has returned to the mortal world to accompany her lover, also expressed her confusion. “Do you know something? Why are we suddenly preparing for war? Did the outer ones attack?”
Hecate, though a master of the esoteric, could only shake her head, her multiple hands hovering over various spell components, trying to contact Hades to ask for some information.
“I don’t know. I’m as confused as you are. Let me try contacting Hades, he should be able to provide more infor—”
The sentence was interrupted as the office door swung open, and Hera, Hades’ other regal wife, strode in, her face etched with profound concern.
“No need to disturb him, Hecate,” Hera stated, her voice calm but urgent. “Nyx has seen the source. She contacted me directly from her plane of existence and sent me the reason for Hades’ orders.”
Hera raised a flawless hand, revealing a large, obsidian hand-mirror.
This mirror, linked to the Transcendent awareness of the Goddess of Night, did not merely reflect the room; it showed the truth of the external void, presenting the sheer, incomprehensible visual of the source of Hades’ orders.
The gods stared and observed the obsidian surface, and what they saw defied every law of physics, magic, and common sense they had ever known:
The void was bleeding hues that the divine optic nerves could not process.
There was ultraviolet red, a color that was both dazzlingly bright and instantly cold, inducing a sense of profound, terminal dread.
There was silent green, a shade so deep and so absolute that merely looking at it generated a high-pitched psychic whine in the gods’ minds, a sound that wasn’t heard but felt as cognitive pain.
The dimensional fractures were being impacted by rotating solids that possessed a logic utterly foreign to the Hyperverse.
Massive, crystalline structures tumbled through the void, each facet revealing an internal volume far greater than its external surface area.
These were non-Euclidean forms—impossible objects whose proximity caused the nearest star-fields to briefly flatten into two-dimensional drawings before snapping back, violently straining the dimensional membrane.
Though the source of all these was far outside the atmosphere, the chaos carried conceptual noise.
It wasn’t the roar of an explosion, but a sequence of complex, discordant frequencies—a sound of meaninglessness—that threatened to unravel the divine languages spoken by the gods.
Athena momentarily clutched her ears, and Thoth gasped, recognizing the pattern as the rhythmic, destructive feeding cycle of something vast and utterly indifferent, immediately remembering the fragment of an outer one they had fought long ago.
Hecate stared at the impossible vision in the mirror, her mind already racing through arcane defense strategies.
The problem was clear: they weren’t fighting an army, but the literal collapse of reality.
“This… This is …” Hecate finally whispered, her voice tight with realization. “This is a waste product of something consuming the universe next door. We are being targeted by cosmic debris.”
She stared at Hera, who nodded at her.
The Outer Ones were probing them, wanting to see how they will react to the chaos happening.
They are now planning to attack.