Hades' judgment echoes through the great hall, a cold, final pronouncement. "Sinner. Mild punishment." A wave of palpable dread washes over the gathered souls, a collective shudder that makes the spectral air hum. The agonizing wait and the public shaming of each fate grinds on their nerves.
Then, the guards shove the next soul forward. This one is not restrained by simple handcuffs, but bound in heavy, clinking chains that scrape against the obsidian floor. It is Menoetius. His sharp, focused eyes burn with a defiant fire, fixed directly on Hades. Not a single trace of fear lives in his gaze.
A nervous murmur ripples through the crowd of shades and souls.
"He will definitely be thrown into Tartarus."
"Ya…after all, he was a general under Cronus."
As the murmuring swells, Hades' hand, resting on the arm of his throne, tightens and then slams down once. The sound cracks like a whip.
"Silence!"
The single word sucks all sound from the hall. The resulting silence is so profound that the drip of distant water would echo like a thunderclap.
The guards force Menoetius onto the judgment post. The Titan closes his eyes, his body rigid as he awaits his doom.
Hades' voice, calm and absolute, cuts through the silence, delivering a verdict that stuns the entire underworld.
"Virtue. Elysium."
Menoetius's eyes fly open, wide with pure, uncomprehending disbelief. His jaw goes slack. The heavy chains crash to the floor with a deafening clang that shakes the very foundations of the hall. "Virtue…How?" he mumbles, the word a foreign curse. 'This is impossible. I, Menoetius, general of Lord Cronus. Virtue. That's impossible…There must be a trick.'
Menoetius's mouth snaps shut. His brows narrow into a sharp V, and he glares at Hades, all confusion burned away by fresh outrage. "What the hell are you plotting! How can I be virtue?"
Guards as about to take action. Hades raise his hand and stop guards to interfere.
Hades answers, his tone even and devoid of malice. "When you were alive, we were enemies. But this Underworld, this Afterlife, is the realm where tired souls rest. Where sinners are punished. Where the virtuous are awarded. Here, Judgment is not based on animosity and favour."
Hades gestures to the judgment scale. Menoetius follows his gaze, seeing the golden plate tilted decisively toward the ground. Hades explains, "Even in the toughest times, even when you knew your Lord was losing, you stood with him. In your whole life, you never told a lie. You were always pure in emotion, in mind. You hold the divinity of rage, yet you never let it corrupt your purpose. Most importantly, you sacrificed yourself to save Iapetus. There is more, but this alone is enough to justify you."
Hades observes the now-trembling Menoetius, whose eyes remain locked on the unarguable scale. Hecate, whose gaze misses nothing, leans close to Hades. She has watched the defiant rage, the stunned confusion, and now this silent, tormented struggle. Her whisper is for his ear alone, a soft, insightful murmur. "I have seen many souls desperate for Elysium. This is the first I have seen who looks upon it as a sentence."
A faint, knowing smile touches Hades' lips. He answers in a low murmur. "He is a truly virtuous and loyal soul. He knows his Lord is suffering in Tartarus. The comfort offered to him feels like a betrayal, and that is unacceptable."
Menoetius grits his teeth, his fists clenching so hard the chains still on his wrists groan in protest. The trembling stops. The haze in his eyes clears, replaced by a sharp, terrible clarity. He shouts, "I don't want your pathetic mercy! Throw me into Tartarus! That is where I belong!"
Hades releases a slow sigh. "Menoetius, I know what you are attempting. But you have already been judged. Nothing you do now, can change the result."
Menoetius stands stunned. 'Damn! Now what should I do?' Suddenly a fragment of conversation overheard from the guards surfaces in his mind. 'Sinner have single path. But virtue have two path.' He draws himself up to his full height, his voice ringing with finality. "I choose Rebirth."
A collective, sharp intake of breath comes from the assembled souls, guards, and deities. Every eye focuses on Menoetius. Hades and Hectate narrow their eyes in unison. Hectate's voice is measured. "Are you certain?"
Menoetius raises his chin, meeting their gazes without flinching. "Yes."
Hades' voice booms, leaving no room for argument. "Menoetius, you are scheduled for rebirth in ten days!" His gaze sweeps the hall. "This session is adjourned."
Hades and Hectate rise from their thrones and stride from the hall. A guard approaches Menoetius, his demeanor now respectful. "Please," the guard says, gesturing.
Menoetius gives a single, curt nod and follows.
In the crowd, Epimetheus watches his brother disappear with the guards. Worry etches deep lines on his face. He shuffles forward, his movements small and restrained, and whispers to Julie, who stands before him. "Ma'am, what is happening?"
Julie's lips part, then close. Her brows knit slightly as she searches for the right words. "According to the judgment scale," she explains softly, "Menoetius earned Elysium, like all virtuous souls. But… by choosing rebirth, he rejects immortality and chooses to start a new life as a mortal."
---
Hades and Hectate return to their office. Hectate closes the door as Hades sinks into his chair, leaning his head back with a deep, weary exhalation. "Today's schedule was relentless," he murmurs, massaging his temples.
Hectate studies him, her brows pulling together. "Hades… is something else bothering you?" Her voice is soft, but the tightness along her jaw betrays her concern.
He releases a long sigh. "There are questions," he says, opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling, "that only… FATHER can answer."
Hectate's eyes narrow. "…Cronus," she murmurs.
Knock*
A knock sounds at the door.
"Enter."
The door opens and Sebastian steps in, a scroll clutched in his hand. His usual poker face is fractured by a faint line of tension around his mouth. He bows and presents the scroll to Hectate. "My apologies for interrupting your rest, Lord Hades, Lady Hectate. This is urgent."
Hectate takes the scroll and unrolls it. Her eyes scan the message, and her lips press into a thin, bloodless line. "All the allies of Cronus will be detained eternally in Tartarus." She looks up, her gaze meeting Hades'. "From the Celestial King… Zeus."
Hades' jaw clenches. His fist comes down on the arm of his throne with a quiet, deadly thud. 'Rediculous! Is this judgement or tyranny? He throwing them in Tartarus to show his authority and warning to those who stand against him.'
Tap! Tap! Tap!…
His fingers then drum a rapid, staccato rhythm on the obsidian table, the sound reverberating in the tense quiet of the room.
Sebastian's body trembles slightly. He swallows hard, the sound audible. 'Lord Hades is furious.' He risks a glance at Hectate. She sits perfectly still, but her eyes are distant, already calculating the ripples of this new decree.
The tapping stops. Hades stands. "I am going to Tartarus."
Hectate gives a single, sharp nod. "Be careful."
---
Hades steps out from a shadowy portal. Two hundred guards, with Elfir and Geo at their head, are stationed at the gargantuan gate of Tartarus. They all bow in perfect, synchronized respect. "Greetings, Lord Hades!"
Hades acknowledges them with a nod and strides toward the gate. The impossibly heavy, rune-covered door grinds open on its own, revealing a vast, black hole. An unnatural, soul-chilling cold emanates from the abyss, where nothing is visible but pure, consuming darkness.
"Teleport to the 10th floor," Hades murmurs. He dissolves into shadows and rematerializes in the oppressive heat of the tenth level.
Here, the walls and floor are forged of red stone, with rivers of hot lava flowing through fissures like malevolent veins. Occasionally, a shrieking face or a clawing hand of shadow forms in the molten rock, only to be swallowed again instantly. The lava provides the floor's only hellish illumination.
Hundreds of guards line the path between massive, barred cells. Druvak, who was meditating on a large central stone, immediately rises to his feet. In unison, he and the guards bow. "Greetings, Lord Hades!"
Hades nods. "Everyone, move to the 9th floor. You have a few hours."
Druvak bows again. "As you wish, my Lord." With a sharp gesture, he directs the guards, who march in disciplined silence toward the stairs. Within minutes, the floor is empty save for Hades and the imprisoned Titans.
Hades sits cross-legged on the rough stone floor before a central, immense cell. He produces a bottle of nectar and two glasses. He pours the amber liquid, using a wisp of magic to conjure ice cubes that clink softly as they drop in. He slides one glass through the bars.
A low groan rumbles from the darkness within. A massive, scarred hand emerges, wrapping around the glass. Cronus drains it in one gulp, exhaling heavily as if some ancient weariness is momentarily eased. He then reduces his size, settling onto the floor opposite Hades. The King of the Titans looks haggard; his hair is matted, deep black circles hang under his eyes, and his body is a roadmap of ancient battles, dominated by the scythe still buried deep in his chest.
Cronus sets the empty cup down. "How are you doing, son?"
"I am fine," Hades replies, pouring more nectar into his own cup.
Cronus nods. He opens his mouth, but the words seem stuck. Hades saves him the effort. "Mother is well. She rests in a villa on Crete, with Sister Hestia."
Cronus nods again, drinking deeply. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "So, what reason brings the celestial king to this haggard old man?"
A slight smile plays on Hades' lips. "I am the King of the Underworld. Not the Celestial King."
Cronus's eyes widen. "What!? You are not? Then who?"
"Your youngest son—Zeus."
Cronus grumbles, shaking his head from side to side. "Zeus… not good…" He glares at Hades, his voice sharpening. "Why did you not become Celestial King?"
Hades answers with calm finality. "Because the world did not choose me."
"Choose? Ridiculous! Think about who you are talking to!" Cronus scolds, gulping more nectar. "You are the strongest among your siblings! You could have suppressed them, threatened the world, manipulated their minds! And you tell me the 'world didn't choose you'? Ridiculous!"
Hades lets the tirade wash over him, saying nothing. When Cronus finally calms, his voice is low and intent. "Why did you not choose to become Celestial King?"
"Because the Celestial Throne is cursed."
Cronus freezes. The glass drops from his hand, shattering on the floor, nectar spreading like blood. "Cursed?"
"When Uranus faced his end," Hades explains, his voice grave, "he used his life force and ten fragments of his own divinity as collateral in a forbidden ritual."
Cronus closes his eyes, his hand stroking his beard in deep, troubled thought. Hades waves a hand, rewinding time for the glass until it is whole again, and refills it. Hades continues, "This curse slowly corrupts the mind of whoever sits on the throne. It is the reason… the primary reason… you came to harm Mother, the one you loved most."
Cronus's eyes snap open, burning with a mix of fury and desperate hope. "How do you know this? How do you know something so profound that even I was blind to it?"
"Because I hold a secret divinity that grants me near-omniscient insight," Hades states calmly. "When I used the Gleam of Nightmare on you, I saw that you feared yourself. The most arrogant and powerful Titan, afraid of his own mind. That triggered my investigation, and I found the truth."
Hades shifts the subject. "Now, my question. Why did you throw the Cyclopes and the Hecatoncheires back into Tartarus?"
Cronus's gaze hardens. "Brontes was born with a unique body, containing the essence of all realms. When I learned that Gaea planned to use him as a vessel for Uranus, I threw him and his brothers into the deepest pit of Tartarus to protect them."
Hades furrows his brows. "That bitch is everywhere."
Cronus lets out a harsh, dry laugh. "I agree. First, she lets her husband be killed for dominating her. Then she seeks to revive him because she 'loves' him. I cannot fathom her fucking mind."
A heavy silence descended upon the cell, thick with the heat and the echoes of damned souls. Hades filed the information about Brontes away, a puzzle for another time. His thoughts briefly turned inward. 'Hmm…so that's the source of the backlash when I sought information on Brontes. But is this secret truly potent enough to cause me such suffering?' Hades narrowed his eyes, a plan forming in the depths of his mind. 'I need to investigate this through other channels. Gaea's webs are more tangled than I knew.'
Hades stands. His voice lower, cutting through the silence with a different kind of sharpness. "We held Menoetius's judgment today." Cronus's face instantly becomes a solemn mask.
Clank!
From the adjacent cells, Atlas and Iapetus press against the bars, their massive hands tightening, knuckles white.
Hades continues, "According to the judgment, he was found to be… virtuous, with the right to Elysium."
Cronus, Iapetus, and Atlas all release a long, shuddering breath of relief. It is short-lived.
"But he chose REBIRTH."
Iapetus's legs buckle, and he crashes to the floor. Atlas smashes his forehead against the unyielding bars with a sickening thud. Cronus rubs his temples, squeezing his eyes shut. "Can it not be stopped?"
"I cannot. For a virtuous soul, the choice between Elysium and Rebirth is theirs alone. But I can promise you, his next life will be a great one."
Iapetus stammers, his voice broken, "Can… can I see him? One… last time?"
Hades snaps his fingers. Menoetius materializes between the cells. His eyes widen in shock, and he rushes to the bars separating him from his brother and father. Hades turns without another word and walks away, leaving the Titans to their final, painful farewell.