Helios staggered back, blood dripping from the edge of his lips as the twisted echoes of himself dissolved into nothing. The last of the shadow Helios fell in a burst of fading darkness, the echo's Keyblade clattering to the ground before vanishing. Around him, the battlefield was scorched and littered with the remains of monstrous foes.
A hulking Darkside had fallen first. Then came three Invisibles—feral and bladed, relentless in their flurry. And lastly, two twisted mirror-forms of himself, each one bearing his spells, his techniques—mocking him with every step.
His breaths came heavy. The wind was still. His muscles screamed from the strain. His vision wavered, limbs trembling as if ready to collapse.
"...Finally," he muttered, lifting his blade in a loose grip. "Please tell me that's the last—"
A deafening whoosh echoed from above.
Helios barely had time to turn.
FWOOM!
A massive fireball—red as blood and the size of a boulder—crashed into his back like a comet. It exploded on contact, engulfing him in a blinding explosion of heat and force, sending him flying forward like a ragdoll, his body skipping across the earth like a stone thrown over water in a trail of smoke and fire.
He hit the ground with a heavy thud and didn't rise.
Helios' vision blurred, then darkened. His consciousness began slipping, and his ears ringing as he heard a familiar laugh—dry and cruel, like a knife wrapped in velvet.
"STRIKE! And you're outta there, kid! Boom! Outta nowhere! Gotta admit, kid, that one was for the books." a familiar voice boomed above him, too chipper, too casual.
His vision blurred, swimming between light and shadow, but just before the dark took him, Helios groaned, barely lifting his head.
Hades loomed above him, hands behind his back like he was admiring a piece of art in a museum. His blue-flame hair flickered lazily, his long robes untouched by the wind.
"Look at you," Hades said cheerfully. "One second you're strutting around like Mr. Hero of the Hour, and the next? Charcoal chic! Love the aesthetic. Really brings out the agony."
Helios tried to move.
Failed.
"Lights out, sunshine," Hades said, grinning widely. "We've got so much to catch up on."
The shadows closed in.
Pain.
Then everything went black.
Helios awoke chained to a cold wall of obsidian. It was the first thing Helios registered as consciousness returned.
The chamber was dim, lit only by flickering blue flames in suspended sconces. The air was thick—too thick. Breathing was like pulling hot tar into his lungs.
His wrists were bound high, shackled by cursed manacles that drained his strength with every breath. Chains laced with runes wrapped around his arms, shoulders, and waist, pressing his body to the wall like a crucifixion.
He was in the Underworld.
And Hades was already there.
"Good morning, rise and shine, Sparkplug," came that voice again, closer now, sing-song in tone. "How was your nap? Cozy? Fiery? A little too 'medieval torture dungeon' for your taste? You slept like a rock! And believe me, I know rocks. Underworld humor—gotta love it."
Helios groaned. His back ached. His body still hadn't recovered from the last battle, and now it felt like he'd been dumped into a volcano.
Helios didn't respond. His head throbbed, his vision still blurred.
"Oh, don't be shy," Hades replied, stepping into view with a wide grin. His hair flared a bit brighter, dancing with excitement. "Your host, your tormentor, your bald-faced interrogator—and also, by the way, your new best friend for the foreseeable future. We've got a full day ahead. Games, snacks, light mutilation—classic bonding experience"
Helios looked up, not saying anything yet again.
Hades raised one glowing finger. "But first—just checking—are you awake enough? Since you're not responding, I'm not sure you're fully awake."
Before Helios could respond, Hades' finger went white-hot like metal left in a forge.
And with no hesitation, Hades stabbed his burning finger straight into Helios' left shoulder.
Helios screamed.
The scream echoed like thunder through the chamber.
Skin seared. Muscle cooked. A hiss like meat on a skillet filled the air. The scent of burned flesh choked the room.
Helios writhed, jaw clenched in agony. His legs kicked but found no ground.
It was no simple pain. It was like someone took a branding iron, heated it until the gods wept, and then shoved it into his soul.
Hades' expression remained disturbingly chipper. "There we go! That's the spirit! Now that I've got your attention…"
He pulled his finger out, steam trailing from the cauterized wound. The flesh around it was blackened and blistered, as if scorched by a brand.
Helios gasped for air, sweat pouring down his face. The pain was electric, constant, living.
"I just want to talk," Hades said sweetly, pacing like a game show host. "Let's do this the easy way. I'm all about efficiency. You and Hecate—what'd you talk about?"
Helios stared at him, silent.
Hades rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on. Don't do that silent treatment thing. You're not brooding and mysterious—you're bleeding and annoying. Now share with the rest of the class."
Still, Helios didn't speak.
Hades stopped pacing.
The temperature dropped slightly.
Then rose sharply.
He turned back toward Helios with a twisted smile.
"Okay, I can see we're doing this the hard way."
His other finger lit up.
The second glowing-hot finger plunged into Helios' right shoulder.
The sound he made was less a scream, more a guttural wrenching of the soul. Every nerve lit up like firecrackers under his skin. He slammed his head back against the wall, muscles convulsing.
"You kids are so dramatic!" Hades said, mock-offended as he twisted the finger. "I mean, seriously, it's a couple of finger pokes. Try running a whole underworld and THEN complain."
He pulled out the finger again. The second wound smoked. The scent of pain was overwhelming.
Helios' head sagged. He was barely conscious. His breath came in shallow gasps.
But still—no answers.
Hades leaned in front of him, eye-level now.
"You really think you're impressing someone with this whole strong-silent act?" he asked, voice low. "You think Helios the Quiet makes headlines for resisting ol' Hades? Newsflash, Sparky—no one's watching."
Helios looked up, one eye nearly swollen shut.
"…Bite me."
Hades blinked.
Then smiled.
"Finally! A little spirit!"
Then he punched Helios in the ribs, full force.
Several things cracked.
Helios screamed again.
"Oops! My bad!" Hades said with faux concern. "Forgot how squishy mortals are."
He stepped back, hands on hips.
"Well, I'm gonna take five. Hydrate, stretch, maybe toss Cerberus a leg bone. You? Don't go anywhere."
He waved cheerfully, then paused in the doorway.
"Oh, and just so we're clear…" His flame-like hair flared higher. "This is the nice version. You don't talk—next time we break out the real toys."
With that, Hades vanished in a puff of black smoke, leaving Helios slumped against the wall, blood running down his sides, breath shallow, body trembling.