The God of Underworld - Chapter 307

Chapter 307: Chapter 6
At this moment, in the Writer’s Library.

The vast and indifferent Azathoth registered a jarring anomaly in the external cosmic field.

It had roused itself from its lazy, self-imposed slumber to check the status of its grand strategy—the subtle starving and destabilization of the Hyperverse.

Instead of seeing its plans being completed, it was greeted with the utterly unexpected sight of one of its newborn fragments, a simple cluster of instinct, having utterly ignored the core directive.

The newborn Outer One, instead of contributing to the systemic chaos, had plunged directly into the Hyperverse, forcing a physical confrontation.

Azathoth observed the tableau: the pathetic, terrified resistance of the combined Hyperverse deities against the chaotic output of the single, small fragment.

Azathoth was not angry at the disobedience; anger was a concept too limited for its scope.

Instead, a wave of conceptual surprise—the rarest of all cosmic experiences—washed over it.

The plan, despite the newborn’s interference, was progressing in a direction far better than originally calculated.

The forced, localized defense was draining Hades’ vital resources and demanding immediate expenditure from his prime assets, accelerating the preparation for the final devouring perfectly.

Intrigued by this serendipitous turn of events, the Blind Idiot God decided against returning to its nap.

The Book had suddenly provided an unparalleled, high-stakes drama.

Azathoth settled its infinite, shifting attention fully upon the battlefield.

*

*

*

In the void, the air around the Hadesphragis Katadesmos began to hum with an unbearable strain, a sign that it was about to break.

Hecate watched in growing panic as the beautiful, intricate golden threads of causality weaving around the Bound Outer One began to vibrate at an impossible frequency.

The Outer One was not merely struggling against the chains; it was intuitively trying to break free from fate and causality itself, a truth Hecate could feel in her core.

The chaotic entity seems to be eating the fundamental rules of its prison and trying to delete the logic that created the restraint.

“It’s adapting too fast! The temporal anchor is failing!” Hecate screamed, pouring her remaining energy into the spell.

She had calculated the binding should hold for at least several more minutes, buying precious time for the internal stabilizers to take hold.

But the spell was unraveling. It won’t last!

Crack!

The sound was not an explosion, but the sickening, crystalline shatter of a high-dimensional concept.

The void itself cracked, as if struck by a massive, transcendent hammer.

The threads of fate snapped, the loops of causality shattered into meaningless fragments, and the great, intricate structure of the Hadesphragis Katadesmos violently dissolved.

The Outer One broke free.

“Impossible!” Hecate shrieked, the word raw with disbelief.

How is this possible!?

She had perfectly calculated it, the binding would last for a few more minutes!

Her eyes darted towards Frigg and Freya, the two Norse deities who were the cornerstones of the spell’s temporal and causal reinforcement.

She needed their immediate counsel, their Seidr insight—

But her voice caught in her throat, and her eyes widened into discs of pure, paralyzed horror.

A massive, viscous black tentacle had already bypassed the dissolving magical shield.

It had moved with a precise, sickening speed that utterly defied the creature’s previous clumsy movements.

The tentacle had pierced through Frigg and Freya simultaneously, driving directly through their chests.

Golden ichor dissipated instantly into the hungry void, and though they remained agonizingly alive, the crude, concentrated Primordial Chaos that made up the Outer One’s flesh was corrosively attacking their core divine concepts.

They were being consumed from the inside out; their bodies and souls were visibly struggling against the outer one’s Primordial chaos, tearing themselves apart in a silent, internal scream of existential terror.

It would be mere moments before their transcendence failed, and their essence was devoured.

Hecate’s breath caught.

How did it know? How could an instinctive creature, one incapable of complex strategic thought, know that Frigg and Freya were the exact conceptual weak points needed to maintain the binding’s causal loops?

Her mind immediately came up with a terrifying conclusion…

It can not only adapt, but also learn and evolve!

The thought struck her with greater force than any weapon, far more terrifying than the physical destruction.

The Outer Ones were not static forces of nature; they were evolving entities of chaos.

In her moment of shattering realization and horror, Hecate failed to register the second tentacle, a smaller, darker protrusion, which had snaked around her back, guided by the creature’s now-sharp predatory instinct.

It plunged directly into her chest.

A searing, unimaginable pain exploded through her body, and immediately, she coughed a mouthful of thick, golden blood into the void, her vision instantly blurring as the chaotic corruption began to spread.

‘I got careless!’ she gritted her teeth against the agonizing intrusion.

But the pain was secondary to the terrifying knowledge that an Outer One, a weapon of erasure, could grow smarter through conflict.

How are we supposed to beat these things?!

The tentacle that had skewered Hecate, Frigg, and Freya twisted with crude, efficient malice, and then violently flung the three great Goddesses away.

They tumbled helplessly through the void, their strength rapidly draining, their divine light fading as the primal chaos continued its agonizing internal corrosion.

Hecate felt the descent, the cold indifference of the Void claiming her.

Yet, in that moment of near-death, fear was overwhelmed by a tidal wave of regret.

If I died here, Hades would surely lose his mind. He would break the Hyperverse seeking vengeance.

If I died here, Medea would surely suffer from soul-crushing depression, forced to carry my legacy alone.

If I died here, Mageus would find it incredibly hard to recover from the pain, his new strength tainted by endless sorrow…

The knowledge of the pain her death would inflict on her loved ones ignited a desperate, furious fire in her corrupted core.

Damn it!

Damn it!

DAMN IT!!!

I can’t die yet!

The despairing, fading light of Hecate’s consciousness was violently suppressed when phenomenon occurred that defied the newborn Outer One’s corrupted logic.

A tremendous, absolute Pillar of Darkness descended from the heights of the Hyperverse, plunging directly through the dissolving causal chains and striking the chaotic being.

The effect was instantaneous and agonizing.

The Outer One recoiled, emitting a raw, high-frequency roar of agony that was more profound than any wail of its spawn.

Its countless eyes and mouths moved erratically in every direction, trying desperately to locate the source of the profound injury.

The tentacles writhed in uncontrollable pain, momentarily severing their attack on the surrounding Egyptian gods.

The darkness was not shadow; it was Erebus, the absolute void, given focus, a concept that fundamentally countered the chaos of the Outer One.

Then, through the blurring film of golden blood coating Hecate’s eyes, she saw three colossal, awe-inspiring figures descend rapidly from the distant, shimmering core of the Empyrean.

Khronos, a shimmering vortex of ordered time; Gaia, a figure of primeval, unbreakable earth and growth; and Erebus, the source of the punishing darkness, now swirling around the Outer One like an inescapable storm.

The Transcendent Primordials had arrived!

Before she could succumb to the void, a warm, cool, and incomparably strong hand grasped her, halting her endless tumble.

It was Nyx.

The Goddess of Night held Hecate steady, her transcendent form radiating immense power.

A visible wave of cool, shadow-woven energy immediately surged from Nyx’s hand into Hecate’s corrupted chest, soothing the agonizing burn of the primordial chaos.

“Hecate, forgive me,” Nyx murmured, her expression one of immense, focused relief. “We were delayed by unforeseen visitors. Thankfully, we were not too late.”

Nyx extended another conceptual wave, effortlessly catching the tumbling forms of Frigg and Freya and drawing them close, immediately beginning the painstaking work of extracting the chaotic corruption from the Norse goddesses’ conceptual roots.

Hecate coughed, spraying more golden ichor, her eyes still clouded by pain and disbelief. “V-visitors? Nyx, what are you talking about? No, forget that, Hades! Where is Hades!? Is he fine!? Why did you leave his side!?”

“Calm down, Hades is fine. I left because this thing needed to be stopped.”

She then offered a small, knowing smile, and with a delicate turn of her head, she directed Hecate’s fading vision toward a specific corner of the Hyperverse’s edge, a small, distinct tear in the dimensional boundary where a group of powerful, unfamiliar gods had just materialized.

“They are the ones who delayed us, and they provided the key to the timing,” Nyx explained softly. “They are the Celtic Pantheon, and from this moment forward, they are our allies.”

At that moment, the newly arrived Celts didn’t hesitate.

Their leader, Lugh, the God of Light and Sun, a figure radiating pure, powerful solar energy that rivaled Ra’s, unleashed a deafening, resolute roar that cut through the screams of the chaos spawn.

His divine sun burned away the closest tidal wave of darkness.

“Cast away your fear, warriors of the Celts! The enemy of the Hyperverse is the enemy of all! Charge!” Lugh commanded, already launching himself toward the chaotic front lines.

Ra, who had been momentarily stunned by the descent of the Primordials, saw Lugh.

His exhaustion vanished, replaced by a sudden, booming, boisterous laugh that echoed across the strained Hyperverse boundary.

He flew quickly, intercepting Lugh before the Celt could reach the main melee.

“Lugh! By the gods, you surprise me! I thought you, of all kings, would rather submit to absolute annihilation than join hands with that one,” Ra said, nodding toward Nyx with grudging respect.

Lugh landed, his intense blue eyes fixed on Ra, but his fierce dedication remained unwavering.

He snorted, a gesture of impatience. “I am a king first, Ra, and a god second. Personal feuds are the luxury of peacetime. This is the eve of destruction, and as a king, I will set aside my personal feelings and my pride for the survival of my people and the structural integrity of this new reality.”

Ra laughed again, a sound of genuine respect and camaraderie.

“That is how it should be! Pride is weak when facing annihilation!” He pointed a sun-drenched finger toward the churning, endless tide of the black infant spawn. “So, King Lugh. Do you want to fight side by side once more? For the sheer, glorious pleasure of burning away the darkness?”

Lugh’s grim expression broke into a fierce, battle-ready smile.

No words were needed.

At that moment, where the Egyptian and Celtic realms met, two suns burned brightly—Ra’s steady, annihilating solar power, and Lugh’s brilliant, tactical light—joining forces to cleave a path of glory through the overwhelming, endless chaos.

The battle, momentarily desperate, had found new hope and new, powerful allies.