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Chapter - 9: Symbol of Power
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Unfortunately, I didn't even have time to enjoy my renewed awareness of my divine authority, as Meg was already waiting for me outside my room.
I would have all the time in the near future to properly explore my new limits before making my final attempt to escape and explore the world beyond this place.
I gave myself one last glance in the mirror, just to make sure nothing was out of place. Luckily, I was a god, which made most mortal concerns completely irrelevant.
My hair was in place, my eyes hadn't changed, and I didn't even need to adjust my tunic. Perfect.
Stepping out, I saw her leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed under her chest, striking that pose halfway between disinterest and inevitably provocative.
The position accentuated her curves, and my eyes—whether they wanted to or not—took a quick glance.
If she noticed, she didn't show it. In fact, in her usual blunt tone, she simply said, "Let's go." Then she turned around and immediately took the lead, walking confidently in a very specific direction.
And I followed. Trying not to look too much.
But I couldn't help noticing something. A small movement. A rhythmic sway of the hips. Was it intentional?... Was it natural? Damn it.
I did my best not to let my imagination run wild… even though the image of her back above me, those hips moving slowly—okay, stop.
I took a deep breath.
Focus, Zagreus. You've got a weapon to forge and finally a chance to prove to everyone that you're a full-fledged god. This isn't a romantic date with her, no matter how tempting it may be.
For now.
Contrary to what I had thought, however, we weren't heading toward my father's throne room. Instead, we left the House of Hades and began walking in a direction that was all too familiar to me: the one I used every time I tried to escape this dimension.
We had taken the path I usually used as a shortcut to move between the various levels of the Underworld. But instead of going up, this time we were descending.
To be honest, it was the first time I had taken this route to descend directly into Tartarus. Usually, during my escape attempts, I used other paths, multiple side routes that served as shortcuts—some of which were so hidden that not even my father knew about them.
Eventually, we stopped in front of a massive door carved into the rock. It was black as obsidian and surrounded by runes that seemed to pulse with ancient and menacing energy.
It was familiar, and I had probably ended up here once before, during one of my early failed escape attempts from this dimension.
Standing before the door were two figures I recognized instantly: Alecto and Tisiphone, Meg's sisters, the other two Furies. They wore their usual armor, identical to Meg's.
And to be honest, in terms of appearance, they were no less than their sister. The same lethal aura, the same wild beauty, and that gaze that seemed to pierce right through your soul.
Alecto eyed me with a smirk, then glanced slightly toward Meg. "You brought him?" she asked with a curious, almost amused tone.
Meg grunted. A short, impatient sound, as if to say: don't ask me pointless questions. Then she looked back at me. Her smile faded, replaced by a more serious expression.
Alecto stepped forward and bowed slightly, placing a hand over her chest in a gesture of respect. "My prince," she said in a soft tone, almost like a pup.
Tisiphone, unlike her sister, remained silent. She didn't utter a single word. She just stared at me with those piercing yellow eyes, filled with an almost animalistic intensity that I couldn't fully understand, as if she were trying to dissect me with her gaze.
We had never really had the chance to start a conversation. Not just because she didn't talk much, but because she always seemed to avoid me whenever I got close to her.
Still, I tried to break the ice.
"It's been a while since I've seen you two," I said in a casual tone, crossing my arms and offering a half-smile. "How've you been?"
It was curious—and honestly, a little amusing—how different their personalities were from how I remembered them in the game. Not that I was complaining. In a way, they were much more interesting like this. Instead of just being closed-off bitches who hated me for no reason.
"Quite well, thank you for asking," Alecto replied, bowing her head slightly, her voice steady and without hesitation.
It didn't surprise me. Among the three sisters, Alecto had always been the most disciplined, the most devoted to duty. That's why, even though she wasn't the eldest, she held the role of leader. Her loyalty was unshakable.
"I'm glad to hear it. If you ever need anything, or if my father gives you a hard time, don't hesitate to come to me," I said with a faint smile. It was a sincere offer, but also a way to lighten the inevitable tension hanging around that place.
Alecto nodded, and a flicker of something almost human passed through her eyes—though it quickly vanished. "I'll keep that in mind, my prince." There was a moment of silence, then her gaze turned more serious.
She turned toward the large stone door behind her and, with another nod, said, "Your father is inside. He's waiting for you." There was another pause, more solemn this time. "We'll stay here to stand guard. That was our order."
I knew well what that meant: whatever awaited me beyond that threshold, I would face it alone.
Tisiphone didn't speak, but she stepped forward and positioned herself beside the entrance, standing tall like a statue of flesh, ready to defend that passage with her life.
"I don't know what you're planning to do, but be careful, Zag." Meg's voice reached me from behind, softer than usual. For a moment, I turned toward her.
It didn't surprise me that my father hadn't told her anything. This was something between him and me, and that's it. I understood why: divine symbols shouldn't be forged lightly, like they were just some ordinary thing.
As if that weren't enough, there was also Zeus's decree forbidding the forging of divine weapons without his permission. But in the end, he was my uncle. He'd understand that his dear nephew wanted a weapon of his own.
...Right?
I sighed. I knew it wouldn't be that simple. Zeus wasn't known for his patience, nor his familial warmth. If he found out we were breaking one of his laws, he'd probably send a thunderbolt my way just out of principle.
But by now, it was too late to back out.
As for Meg, she stood with arms crossed, her eyes trying to stay stern but betraying a genuine concern that honestly made her look really cute.
I gave her a small smile, raising my thumb in a reassuring gesture. "It'll be fine. I always come back, don't I?" I said, trying to lighten the mood with a smile.
Meg shook her head, as if to say I was incorrigible, but a faint smile escaped her nonetheless. "Then come back in one piece so you'll have plenty more chances to stare at my ass. And maybe, in the future, you might even get to see a little more."
My smile widened—more out of reflex than confidence. Meg had always been good at keeping control, but that "something extra" had a tone that would haunt me for days.
"I'll do my best, then," I replied, trying to sound bold even though my heart was beating faster than usual. "It would be a shame to lose such an incentive."
She rolled her eyes, but didn't deny it. She took a step closer, her face near mine, her gaze fixed on mine with an intensity that almost made me forget my objective.
"Zagreus," she said quietly, almost like a threat, but in that low voice of hers that slipped right into your bones. "If anything happens that shouldn't... I swear I'll bring you back just so I can kill you myself."
"Romantic," I whispered. "You almost make me hope I'll fail."
She huffed, then turned sharply, leaving me with the scent of her perfume and the memory of her gaze carved into my mind. Her hips swayed as she walked away, and this time I made no effort not to look.
I took a deep breath, trying to regain control. I had to focus. The air in front of the door was hot, unbreathable. Each step felt like diving into an oven to be cooked alive.
Then, with a creak, the door swung open, allowing me to pass through.
Before me stretched a vast forge, carved directly into the molten rock of Tartarus. The entire space pulsed as if it were alive, breathing lava and ash.
Tongues of magma flowed through channels carved into black basalt, and sparks flew into the air with each strike of a hammer. At the center, a colossal anvil, towering above it, was the unmistakable figure of my father.
Around him, beast-like figures hunched over the glowing metal: the Telchines, just as I remembered them from the first time I came here.
They seemed completely absorbed in their work: their clawed hands moved in perfect sync with the hammering rhythm of the forge, so much so that the sound became almost hypnotic music.
I approached slowly, my footsteps echoing on the hot stone, my soles screeching with every step. The air was thick, heavy with ash and raw magic.
My father didn't even turn. His presence was like a living shadow, unmoving at the center of the storm. "You finally decided to wake up," he said in his deep, thunderous voice, without even looking at me. "It was about time."
I stopped a few steps away, my throat dry. "What do you mean?" I asked, confused. "Meg just woke me up. I came right away."
"You didn't even realize it," he replied coldly. "You were unconscious for a long time. Longer than you think."
He paused, then finally turned toward me. His eyes, deep and burning like live embers, settled calmly on my face. "Not too long, in terms of us immortals. For humans, it would have been just a few months."
I hadn't really thought about it, maybe because I had assumed it wouldn't take much to discover—or at least try to activate—my domains in some way.
I lowered my gaze for a moment, then looked back up. "Was Mom worried?" For an instant, something shifted in his eyes—a clear hesitation, almost imperceptible, passed over his face.
"No. I told her you were busy training," he answered in a voice softer than usual. "I didn't want her to worry unnecessarily, especially since I was always keeping an eye on you in case something unexpected happened."
"Thanks," I murmured, a hint of relief in my voice. I didn't say that to him often, but when I did, those words weighed more than anything else.
"She is my queen," he added, lowering his gaze for a moment to look me in the eyes. "And you are our son. Protecting you both is a duty that I do not find burdensome." I stayed silent for a moment, more affected than I wanted to admit.
It wasn't like him to open up so easily.
Unfortunately, our father-son moment was interrupted when one of the Telchines stepped forward. He was the tallest of the group—if I remembered correctly, his name was Antaeus.
"My prince. The materials, one at a time, as requested." I nodded. I had everything with me in my dimensional bag that contained all I had conquered.
I pulled out the first item: a black, shiny ingot veined with liquid silver. "Here is Styx Steel," I said with a laugh. "I hope it's satisfactory—it wasn't easy to obtain."
"I'm sure it wasn't." Antaeus took it in both hands and lifted it over the anvil. When he laid it on the glowing surface, the metal twisted as if alive, releasing a black smoke that hissed.
Two other Telchines began hammering it in perfect synchronization—each strike producing a sound that vibrated in the air. The metal began to bend, thinning, transforming into a sharp and slender blade.
I pulled out the second item. Or rather, items, since it was the gigantic corpse—or more precisely, the entire skeleton—of an enormous serpentine creature.
"Voilà! Full service: the skeleton of the Lernaean Hydra!" I announced with an amused smile.
"…"
"…"
A silence heavy with judgment followed.
"Too much?" I ventured, raising an eyebrow as I gestured to send most of the body back, leaving only a few scattered bones and some fragments.
Maybe it was best not to overdo it. Sooner or later, I'd have to decide what to do with it. Perhaps I could use part of it as an offering to some deity.
Now that I thought about it, it had really been a long time since I last gave a gift to Hecate. Maybe this was the right opportunity to make up for it.
A thought for later.
Lykos, the master smith, took the fragments and slowly ground them in a ritual mortar, adding volcanic charcoal and black resin. The mixture was sprinkled over the still-glowing blade.
A high-pitched hiss filled the air. The fusion of the bone with the steel triggered a living, almost hostile reaction: the blade vibrated, seemed to rebel, but was subdued after a few seconds.
The metal absorbed the poisonous dust, becoming streaked with green and blue veins, like toxic blood beneath skin. "Next."
I pulled out a small gem: the Bloodstone. At first glance, it looked opaque, almost black, but upon closer inspection, a faint pulsing glow could be seen within—a heartbeat of crimson light, slow and deep, as if its rhythm was perfectly synchronized with my own heart.
"This is something very important to me," I said, clutching it in my palm. "I found it a long time ago, at a time when I honestly felt lost. I've never stopped carrying it with me since. And it wouldn't be wrong to say it represents a part of who I am."
Another Telchine carved a groove into the semi-formed blade and embedded the Bloodstone. When the crystal touched the metal, it shattered—but wasn't lost: it was absorbed like vital sap.
Crimson lines radiated from the fracture along the entire shaft of the weapon, like veins of condensed energy. The temperature in the forge suddenly increased. The lava channels boiled.
He looked me in the eyes for a moment, then asked with a tone that couldn't hide his excitement, "Are there other materials you intend to use?"
I shook my head. "No. That's all."
"Then… the final ingredient," Lykos murmured, his voice low but heavy with deeper meaning. "The blood of the Son of the Underworld."
I paused for a moment, my heart beating just a bit faster. But then I nodded with determination, hesitating no longer, and moved to offer my arm.
But a cold, firm hand stopped me.
My father. "No," he stated, as he pulled from his shadow a small vial of black glass. Inside, a thick, dark liquid swirled, seemingly moving on its own.
"There's another material I obtained for your weapon," he said in a low voice, almost hesitant. "I will never be the father you might have wanted… but if there is a way to help protect you—something that could truly serve you—then I'll do it. Even if it's just this."
I looked at him, surprised by the sincerity of those words. He had always spoken with authority and had kept a certain distance from me no matter how much I tried to bridge it.
Now, for a moment, he just seemed like a father.
"What is this blood?" I asked, unable to hide my unease. Just looking at it, the vial gave me chills. The liquid inside was thick, pitch-black, and seemed alive, moving by itself.
"It's not important," he replied, averting his gaze. "In fact, it's better you don't know—for your safety. Not yet. For now, pour it all onto the forge."
I hesitated for only a second, then took the vial in both hands and approached the anvil, pouring its contents. As soon as the first drop touched the glowing metal, something happened.
As if I had broken a primordial balance, a column of shadow and fire erupted skyward. The sound that followed wasn't thunder, but something deeper and more guttural—like the growl of a beast waking from its slumber.
From the black vortex emerged a creature of shadow—shapeless but terrifying—with vast membranous wings and a lower body like that of a serpent.
When the serpent growled, a scraping, screeching sound spread through the air, and the entire forge trembled, as if reality itself were about to break.
The Telchines instinctively fell to their knees, like animals overcome by fear. They growled softly, heads lowered, and their clawed hands clenched against the burning ground.
I tried to react somehow, to move even a single muscle, but my body refused to obey. It was as if an invisible weight had paralyzed me, locking me in a cold grip.
I turned with difficulty toward the shadow creature descending slowly from above. Its wings, immense, stretched out over us, casting the entire forge into a suffocating darkness.
But before it could touch the ground, my father spoke. His voice resounded with an authority that went beyond words, as if every syllable were etched into the laws of the world itself.
"This is my domain!" he thundered through clenched teeth. His eyes glowed like burning embers. "How dare a manifestation of intent from a pathetic creature like you tread upon it?"
A dark light—pure authority—struck the creature, which twisted and screamed with a sound that seemed to come from an abyss deeper than Tartarus itself.
With one final, agonizing roar, the shadow was driven back, shattered like mist under the light of the true sovereign. The creature vanished. Silence fell like a blade.
The spear, now freed from the dark influence, slowly descended, returning to its previous form. But it still wasn't complete. One last ingredient was missing.
The most important element. Without hesitation, I cut my palm. Blood slowly oozed out, thick and red, and I let it drip onto the floating spear.
At the first contact, the metal shuddered.
The spirals of the shaft tightened, pulsing like living veins. The twin-pointed tip reformed into perfect symmetry, and a crimson aura spread around the weapon.
The spear breathed.
The metal of the spear rose on its own, floating above the anvil. The tip lengthened, the form sharpened, and it began to take on a fully realized shape—becoming my symbol of power.
A distant boom shook the ground beneath our feet.
It was Tartarus. It was responding.
My father remained silent for a moment, staring into the dark horizon, then whispered gravely, "I did not expect such a phenomenon…"
"What do you mean?" I asked, seized by a sudden sense of alert.
He fixed me with deep eyes. "It's as if your very weapon is emitting a frequency. A signal, perhaps. It's trying to influence Tartarus… or worse, to take control of it."
I wanted to answer, but I was overwhelmed by the presence of the weapon as I looked at it—as if I were seeing it for the first time.
I wasn't the only one—my father and the Telchines were watching in silence too. Their gazes were fixed on the weapon suspended mid-air, still levitating above the now extinguished anvil.
The forge's flame had dimmed, but the air remained tense, as if it were holding its breath.
Myself included.
That wasn't just a weapon. It was my divine symbol. The tangible expression of who I was as a god.
"Oh... this is definitely our greatest masterpiece!" exclaimed Lykos, breaking the silence with his shrill voice. His canine muzzle opened in an excited grin, and his eyes sparkled with pride.
My father, on the other hand, was more cautious. He crossed his arms and observed the spear with a wary look. "This is beyond anything I could have foreseen," he murmured, then pointed at the floating weapon. "This thing isn't just forged. In a way, it's alive."
I didn't answer. I didn't need to. I just looked at it.
A scarlet red double-pointed spear with a distinct double-helix shape running through its body. At the upper end, the twin-pointed tip split into two sharp, symmetrical blades that looked like they could close into a single lethal spike—like jaws ready to bite.
The entire structure radiated a living, pulsing power. At first glance, it seemed metallic, but every spark that burst from it gave the impression that it breathed—as if it were made of flesh and blood, more alive than many creatures that walk the earth.
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