At this moment, most of the Pluto Army's might had gathered upon the Plane of Hell itself.
Even Hades—known here by his human name, Alone (Aaron)—had personally descended onto this infernal battlefield.
Leading the vanguard was Aiakos, commander of Hades' army. From among the 108 Specters, he had brought with him no fewer than fifty elite Underworld Fighters.
And with Aaron present, death itself was no longer an obstacle. Any fallen warrior could be instantly resurrected upon this hellish plane—no need to return to Hades' royal city deep within the Earth Palace.
It was the perfect battlefield for the god of the Underworld.
Suddenly, a dark mist began to swirl above the crimson landscape. In midair, the energy condensed into a twisting vortex—a portal, vast and ominous, its depths rippling like liquid shadow.
Aaron's golden eyes narrowed.That presence… he knew it all too well.
Death.Despair.Tyranny.And endless darkness.
It was the essence of Hell itself.
"We've known each other too long for these games," Aaron said quietly, rising from his obsidian throne. "If you wanted to meet me, there was no need for theatrics."
He held a small, jet-black sphere of energy in one hand, gazing calmly at the swirling gate before him.
A figure emerged.An elderly man dressed in an immaculate black suit and a Victorian top hat stepped through the portal. He leaned upon a cane of polished obsidian, exuding the air of a gentleman—refined, dignified, and utterly deceptive.
Were it not for the faint sulfur rising around him, one might have mistaken him for an ordinary old man.
Aaron's expression darkened. He recognized him immediately.
The Lord of Hell—Mephisto.
"Pluto… Lord Hades, I presume?" The old devil's voice was smooth and mocking. His sharp eyes studied Aaron carefully, recognizing in him something both divine and human.
"Have you come to surrender your domain to me?"
Mephisto smiled thinly, but his words carried venom. The borders between the Underworld and Hell had always been delicate, their realms overlapping like twin abysses.
Without a word, he gestured toward another figure bound beside Aaron—Satanish, another Lord of Hell, trapped within Hades' seal.
That green-skinned devil trembled under the binding chains of death energy, helpless and terrified.
Aiakos had captured him easily not long ago—without even needing to draw divine blood.For one of the Three Judges of the Underworld, a being like Satanish was no challenge at all.
"Your Excellency," Mephisto said, his tone tightening, "I must trouble you to return Satanish to us. He is… important to our infernal balance."
Aaron's response was simple—a faint, almost playful smile.
"I'm afraid you came too late. I invited you here to witness his death."
With a casual snap of his fingers, Satanish's body shattered into fragments of shadow and vanished into nothingness before Mephisto's eyes.
"You—!"
Rage twisted across the devil's face. His composure broke as flames of hellfire erupted around him.
"Very well, Hades! You dare defy the laws of Hell itself? Then your realm shall burn with mine!"
His words were barely spoken before his physical form began to warp. Mephisto's incarnation melted into a pool of blood, dissolving into the void to flee.
But it was already too late.
The instant he spoke the name Hades, a surge of divine pressure tore through the veil of dimensions.In Mephisto's own infernal city, the skies split open as an immense, unseen will descended upon him.
BOOM!
The royal city of Hell collapsed in an instant beneath that overwhelming force.
Mephisto's true form appeared—a massive crimson demon with horns like obsidian spears and a tail that lashed through molten stone. A deep wound still scarred his chest, a mark that even Hell's laws could not erase.
"Damn it… damn it all!" he roared, trembling under the echo of Hades' divine presence.
For the name of a god was no trivial thing. To speak it was to invoke it—and Hades was no longer the frail deity of ancient myth.He was now a god reborn through cosmos and death.
To utter his true name without reverence invited annihilation.
And so, Hell itself trembled.
High above the ruins, ten pairs of glowing red eyes opened within the shadows—watching Mephisto's struggle with amusement.
"Do not fear," a cold voice murmured. "Everything proceeds as I have foreseen. Let him occupy Hades' army… and never return."
Meanwhile, on Earth, chaos reigned.
Since the rise of the City of Fear, humanity had split into factions.
One side sought compromise—desperate politicians willing to bargain with the serpent god Kur, offering allegiance in exchange for "protection" of their so-called free nation.
The other side chose defiance, preparing nuclear strikes aimed at Kur's black citadel rising from the sea.
But above the City of Fear, the storm clouds suddenly split apart—pierced by a streak of lightning.
A meteor of thunder descended from the heavens—Thor, the God of Thunder, returning with Mjölnir blazing in his grip.
"Master, we have a visitor," a subordinate whispered.
Kur raised his head, recognizing the familiar divine energy of Asgard radiating from the storm. His lips curled into a smile.
"Very well," he said softly. "Prophet—prepare the welcoming ceremony. Let's see how much strength Odin's son truly has."
While world leaders debated and generals quarreled, the Avengers were already on the move.
Figures descended from the sky—familiar silhouettes in armor and shadow. But waiting for them upon the blackened shore was not Kur himself… but a legion of dark soldiers.
The Specters of the Underworld.
"Damn it," Tony muttered, backing up as the air filled with an eerie melody.
A haunting sound echoed through the battlefield—a zither's pure, resonant tone.Every Specter instantly sealed their hearing with their Cosmos, recognizing that sound.
Descending from above was a figure clad in flowing black robes—the Lyre-playing Specter, Orpheus of Lyra.
Tony Stark took one look and immediately turned tail."I'm out. Not dealing with anime devils again!"
The melody deepened.
"Fear…" Orpheus whispered, plucking another string. "It's a burden fit for adults, not toys for false gods."
A wave of dark cosmos radiated outward, crushing the aura of fear that Kur had spread across the region.The very air trembled as Orpheus raised his instrument again.
"A mere planetary god… dares to parade before the Underworld?"
He struck another chord—CLANG!
The melody became judgment itself.Before one of the corrupted beings—born of Kur's sin—a spectral scale appeared. On one side, a heart; on the other, a feather of Ma'at.
The heart sank heavily.
"You are guilty."
BOOM!
The creature's chest burst apart. Its soul was obliterated—erased from both body and spirit.Even Hell would not receive what was left of it.
(End of Chapter)
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