The God of Underworld - Chapter 304

Chapter 304: Chapter 3
The news of Hyperverse preparing for war delivered by Hades sent everyone into a somber, solemn mood.

The realization that they were not merely fighting a boundary war, but resisting the systematic amputation of their reality’s roots, galvanized the remaining leadership into immediate, desperate action.

While Hades’ wives and the Goddesses of Wisdom focused on the esoteric defense of the frontiers, the three kings of the combined pantheons focused on the colossal task of internal stabilization.

Zeus, Poseidon, and Odin convened in a projection within the Empyrean, their spectral forms gathered around the distressed image of Hades, still seated on his throne with Nyx supporting him.

The energy rippling off the Anchor was turbulent, a visual representation of his headache and the failing foundations of reality.

Hades had already told them the situation about the parallel timelines being devoured, and they all knew what this means for them.

“We need to act,” Odin stated, his singular eye fixed on the agitated energy around Hades. “We cannot allow the Outer Ones’ debris to pollute the core territories any further. We must ensure the Greek and Norse realms, the original foundation, do not succumb to the same dimensional corruption plaguing the fringes.”

Zeus, his usual boisterous energy replaced by a cold, metallic seriousness, slammed a spectral fist onto the projected table. “Agreed. This is no time for a grand strategy anymore. We must stabilize the foundation.”

At this moment, Hades took a deep breath and turned his younger brother, “Poseidon, your power over the sea states makes you the only one who can contain the dimensional seepage in the interstitial zones. You take the deepest boundaries.”

“It shall be done,” Poseidon replied, his voice a low, geological rumble.

He felt the conceptual stress more than the others; water was the first element to react to dimensional corruption, manifesting as chaotic currents and impossible pressures.

“I will deploy the Tritons and Nereids along the newly formed dimensional rivers connecting the Greek and Norse seas. If the temporal anomalies touch my domains, I will use pure, hyper-charged salt water as a buffer, turning the conceptual chaos into inert, primordial brine.”

With that, Poseidon vanished, taking the burden of the Hyperverse’s deepest stabilizing work upon himself.

Hades then turned to the Allfather. “Odin, your focus must be on Asgard, one of the highest points of our respective realms. We must prevent the corruption of divine concepts themselves. If the chaos can rewrite Ra’s history, it can turn Zeus’ lightning into dust and your runes into gibberish.”

Odin nodded, already weaving complex, binding runes in the air with his spear, Gungnir. “The Norse realms will be protected by the Nine Worlds Barrier I have recently created from Ymir’s corpse. I will mobilize every Einherjar to recite the ancient runes to power the barrier.”

The Allfather’s eyes glowed with fierce determination. “I will then task the Valkyries with patrol routes along the borders of Bifrost, seeking out any anomalies. They will be given specialized gear blessed by me, allowing them to intercept and quarantine the visually and psychically destructive energy before it can penetrate the halls of Valhalla or the roots of Yggdrasil.”

Hades then turned towards Zeus. “Zeus, you will rally the Olympians. Metis and Athena are already occupied, but Ares will command the physical stabilization of the mountains, preventing the geometric chaos from folding our temples into themselves. Hephaestus will work with the Cyclopes to forge massive, hyper-charged Aether-Dampeners—luminous pylons to absorb and neutralize the non-Euclidean energy before it can touch the mortal world.”

“Understood,” Zeus nodded, he then raised his hand, and a massive map of the original Greek and Norse realms shimmered into existence, crisscrossed by lines of fluctuating energy.

“I also suggest that the armies shall not leave their post. Their entire focus must be internal, as we must build an impenetrable, self-repairing conceptual buffer around the core Hyperverse until Hades recovers the stability to address the source.”

Odin and Hades nodded at his suggestion.

“Well, then, I shall take my leave.”

“Rest well and recover, brother.”

The two kings vanished, setting in motion a colossal mobilization unlike any seen since the Titanomachy or Ragnarök.

In Asgard, the transformation was immediate and profound.

The mighty citadel, usually alive with feasting and the clamor of weapons, fell into a state of severe, organized defense.

Odin’s decree was heard across the nine realms.

The Einherjar, the chosen warriors of Valhalla, were pulled from their endless cycle of fighting and feasting.

They were assembled in the vast golden hall, not carrying swords, but standing shoulder-to-shoulder in ranks that stretched beyond sight.

Upon Odin’s command, they did not charge, but to recite the runes.

The Nine World Barrier he created from the corpse of Ymir that was corrupted by a fragment of an outer one, and it was a massive barrier that not even him, who has now grown almost a dozen times stronger than before, cannot power it alone.

This unified chant was like a firewall, a conceptual shield that shouted the absolute truth of the Norse world against the invading chaos of meaninglessness.

Any approaching shrapnel of impossible colors or violating geometry hitting this sonic barrier was met with the unwavering, rhythmic declaration: Order.

This is the conceptual weight of the the creation of the Norse Realm, preventing any chaotic energies or attacks from disrupting the order of the realm.

The reason why Odin needed Ymir’s corpse was because only it has enough conceptual weight to materialize this massive barrier.

The Valkyries, typically clad in shining armor, were now outfitted in specialized, shadow-woven leather blessed by Odin, designed to neutralize psychic attack.

They flew in tight, focused formations along the edges of Bifrost and the roots of Yggdrasil, carrying shimmering nets woven with protective runes.

Their task was grim: to scoop up and quarantine the terrifying light and sound anomalies before the chaotic psychic energy could inflict permanent madness on the Norse gods or the mortals below.

They were guarding the integrity of the Norse mind.

In Olympus and the mortal Greek lands, the defense was more structural and elemental.

Zeus oversaw the transformation of the colossal mountain range into a bastion of order.

Ares, the God of War, found himself commanding not a battle, but a construction effort, much to his chagrin.

He and his daughters, the Amazon, enforced absolute order on the ground, ensuring that no sudden spatial warping could breach the vital centers of civilization.

Any slight tremor of geometric chaos attempting to fold a town or distort a temple was met with extreme, physical force, driven back by the pure, organized will of warfare.

Hephaestus and the Cyclopes were working frantically in the volcanic forges.

They hammered massive, luminous pylons, from the ores found in Underworld fused with concentrated energy of the entirety of the Hyperverse.

These pylons were erected at regular intervals around Olympus and across the most sacred Greek sites, designed to absorb the non-Euclidean energy leaking from the Void.

As the twisted, impossible shapes tumbled toward the Greek boundary, the Dampeners would hum violently, drawing in the contaminating energy and converting it into inert, heatless light, preventing the collapse of three-dimensional space.

The mobilization was a testament to the combined might and focus of the Hyperverse.

Every resource, every deity, and every loyal servant was now dedicated to one singular goal: maintaining the sanctity of their reality, building a conceptual shield to hold back the tide of cosmic collapse until their weary Anchor, Hades, could recover enough stability to strike at the source of the chaos.

The kings of the pantheons had stepped back from glory and assumed the humbling, critical role of the Hyperverse’s exhausted, resolute engineers.

*

*

*

At this moment, while the Hyperverse was locked down, dedicating every resource to fighting the incomprehensible, abstract chaos projected by Azathoth’s feeding cycle, a new, unforeseen threat emerged from the deep void.

Far from the highly organized front lines where Michael and Ra fought the systemic collapse, and distant from the chanting stability of Asgard, a weak, newborn Outer One drifted, driven solely by the primitive, insatiable hunger that was the core of its being.

Azathoth’s command to direct energy and wait for the signal had been absolute, but this creature was too new, too simple, and too weak to comprehend complex strategy.

It was a fragment of chaotic will, guided purely by the most primal instinct of its race: consumption.

It sensed the Hyperverse, the glorious, unprecedented fusion of four realities, and to its starving mind, it was the single, most dazzling concentration of energy, life, and meaning in its existence.

The ordered chaos of the projected shrapnel only intensified the scent. It couldn’t resist.

Ignoring the incomprehensible psychic directives of the supreme Primordial, the weak Outer One drifted off course, plunging toward the nearest, richest boundary of Hades’ domain.

*

*

*

In the Egyptian Pantheon, Hecate who had been working tirelessly, coordinating with Thoth and the Goddesses of Wisdom to weave complex, filtering spell matrices.

They were immersed in the deep focus of their divine craft, fighting the conceptual erosion one moment at a time.

Then, they felt it.

It wasn’t the vast, impersonal pressure of of the chaos that is happening around them; it was a hungry, cold, and personal presence.

A sensation like a predatory beast stalking too close to the nursery.

The energy signature was crude, messy, and unmistakably Outer One.

Hecate’s hands, which had been weaving a shimmering net to catch temporal anomalies, faltered.

The energy of the complex spell fizzled into smoke.

“Did you feel that?” she whispered, her eyes wide with dread.

Her gaze met Athena’s, and the shared recognition was immediate and horrifying.

Metis, who had been channeling her regal authority to stabilize the nervous Egyptian minor deities, paled beneath her divine glow.

“That is… a singular appetite. It’s not the distributed chaos here, but something else, and it’s approaching.”

Freya, whose serene focus was essential to counter the mind-breaking despair carried by the chaos, suddenly looked profoundly grim.

Her normally luminous aura flickered, momentarily casting shadows of deep anxiety across her perfect features.

“It’s coming for us,” Freya confirmed, her voice stripped of all seductive charm, raw with primal fear.

A crushing weight of despair settled upon the goddesses.

A direct attack by an Outer One—even a weak one—was an event of cosmological horror.

They knew the strength of outer ones, fragments of it can devour entire universe.

Hecate wrung her hands, a terrifying image flashing through her mind: an Outer One, unguided, plunging toward the core, seeking out the very Heart of the Hyperverse.

“No,” Hecate whispered, the realization sinking like a stone. “Hades is already compromised. He is battling the systemic collapse of the timelines. If we divert his focus now to fight a physical threat, the whole structure could tear.”

Metis gaze hardened. “We cannot let it get to the center. If it touches the Empyrean or the Underworld, its crude power could be enough to destabilize Lord Hades.”

Athena looked utterly shattered. They were the ones charged with protecting the home front while the kings fought the abstraction.

But this was not an abstraction; this was a terrifying, hungry reality.

“We can’t stop it alone,” Freya murmured, the desperation clear. “It has the Primordial Chaos inherent in its being. We can only try to slow it down. Oh, Odr… this is bad.”

They knew the full, terrible implications: the problem had just become intensely dangerous, and the Outer Ones had already personally began to move.