Hades slipped into their bedroom, his shadows blending seamlessly with the room's darkness. He moved silently behind Hecate, who stood gazing at the false stars of the Underworld sky, and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close before planting a soft kiss on her cheek.
"My brilliant wifey," he murmured into her hair. "Now tell me how you wove this perfect web. Every strand fell exactly where you wanted it."
Hecate leaned back into his embrace with a satisfied smile. "There's a universal truth you seem to forget, my love. Nothing is perfect. Not primordials, not gods, not titans…not even Lord Chaos himself." She gently extricated herself and moved to a small table where a dark wine bottle waited. Pouring two glasses with deliberate slowness, she continued, "I simply used their imperfections against them." She offered him a glass.
Hades took it, his eyes never leaving her face as he settled into a nearby chair. "Elaborate, please. I want to savor every detail."
After taking a slow sip, Hecate's gaze grew distant, fixed on a glowing lamp as if reading secrets in its light. "It began with that messenger. I wanted to know what gave him such confidence to insult me in my court." She swirled the wine in her glass. "Let's just say I borrowed a spec of your... to listen to the secrets he wasn't telling. And what I heard was a symphony of their fears and desires."
Hades's face grew uncharacteristically serious. He set down his glass and took her hands. "Hecate, what you did worked, but promise me you'll be careful. Secret and Sin are not like other divinities. They're quicksand, they don't just show you things. They make you part of them. They can rewrite your very nature."
"Don't worry," she said, giving his hands a reassuring squeeze. "I know what they hold. And even if something happened, I have you, my magnificent husband, to pull me back."
Hades released a long sigh, equal parts concern and admiration. "So how did you manipulate them without leaving a single hint?"
"As I said, everyone has a weakness." Hecate hovered her empty glass, making it spin slowly in the air. "I started with Prometheus. The Prophet. The former right hand of Cronus who abandoned ship when he saw the signs of collapse. He never truly committed to Olympus, always holding himself apart. But still he play an important role in their camp, to brake on Metis's dangerous strategies." A sly smile touched her lips. "So through Hypnos, Oneroi, and my own magic, I showed him signs and dreams of glimpses of Olympus falling while the Underworld rose. One piece falls into place."
She poured herself more wine. "Then Metis. So smart, so wise, so calculative. But she has one fatal flaw, she cannot suppress her ambition and desires. When Zeus fell, it wasn't just a king who was defeated, but her dream of being Celestial Queen. That vision was being ripped from her grasp. Desperation makes even the wisest take foolish risks."
"As for Zeus?" She chuckled. "Child's play. Show him dazzling wealth and power, then make him feel inferior. But Poseidon..." Her expression turned thoughtful. "He was the challenge. Silent, neutral, rigid-minded. But after searching, I found it." She met Hades's eyes. "Just like you have your peculiar tastes in food and clothing, he has an obsession with horses. Enough to gain a horse divinity."
"With the pieces identified, I set the stage," she continued, counting off on her fingers. "I let Prometheus get lost in the caves, then positioned Apate to trick them. The confused Prophet, already disturbed by strange dreams, took it as another ill omen. Styx's manifestation reinforced that the Underworld was the superior power. Then I laid the finest steed for Poseidon and knowing that Zeus would sour his mood with some crude remark. And finally, our elevated thrones, designed to make them feel small and frustrated."
Hades's eyes widened, his mouth slightly agape. Then he began clapping slowly, a genuine look of awe on his face. "Magnificent. But my love, you shouldn't have endured their insults, even as part of the plan."
Hecate's face reddened slightly. She waved a dismissive hand and stood up, a bit unsteady. "Oh, come on! I don't... ha—" She stumbled, but Hades caught her effortlessly.
He smiled fondly, holding her close. "And you also have a weakness, my brilliant queen. You can't hold your alcohol."
---
At the Brontos Forge
The Olympians arrived precisely on time, their expressions a mixture of hope and lingering humiliation. Hades stood before the massive form of Brontos, who towered over even the gods.
"Uncle Brontos," Hades began formally, "we require divine weapons capable of standing against my father, Cronus. Can you make them?"
Brontos bowed, his voice a low rumble. "Yes, Your Majesty. I've been awaiting your command. But there is one... issue." He rubbed his massive chin. "The materials."
Hades raised an eyebrow, sending a silent thought. 'Uncle, your theatrics are on next level. But please don't over do that.'
'Quiet, boy! You wanted a show, you get a show. Now stop distracting the master craftsman!' Brontos's mental voice was a gruff bark. 'And stop worrying. I'll manage it. Now shoo!'
Hades glanced at Zeus and Poseidon and saw they were completely captivated by the forge's grandeur.
Cough.
The sound brought them back to reality. Understanding the cue, they opened their dimension pockets.
From Zeus's pocket emerged the colossal corpse of a white sky dragon, its divine aura still potent even in death. Alongside it came stacks of refined divine gold and silver bricks, gleaming with inner light.
From Poseidon's pocket slid the massive form of his Leviathan, its sapphire scales dulled but still magnificent. The air grew heavy. Poseidon's usual stoicism fractured. He knelt, not caring for the soot or the watching eyes, and placed a hand on the creature's cool snout. "I keep my promises," he whispered, his voice thick with a grief he would never show in daylight. "Your strength will not end here. You will be with me forever, my friend." Alongside the leviathan came more divine gold and mysterious deep-sea sapphire bricks.
Brontos handed each god a crystalline flask. "Pour your divine essence into these. Careful, not a single mistake forgiven, as any fluctuation will weaken your weapons."
Both gods held the flasks with uncommon care, pouring their essence with focused precision.
Hades chuckled inwardly. 'Uncle, don't scare them too much.'
'Hey! Boy! I am serious. Now leave, you're disturbing my concentration.'
'Make a tiny ru—'
'I know what you want! Don't worry, I'll take care of it.'
'You know?'
'Eh? I've been working with you and your wife for months. That's enough time to learn both of your crooked personalities.'
'We're not that bad.'
'Every bad one says the same.'
As the flasks filled with swirling divine energy, Brontos took them with unexpected delicacy. "Now leave the forge. The creation of divine weapons requires absolute concentration."
Once they departed, Brontos rolled his massive shoulders, the bones in his neck and knuckles cracking like a series of small thunderclaps. The jovial facade melted away, replaced by the fierce, focused demeanor of a primordial smith.
"BLOCKHEADS!" he roared, his voice echoing through the cavernous space. "Fetch the materials from the western warehouse! MOVE!"
"YES, BOSS!" came the unified shout as Infrazel and Genome workers exploded into motion.
"YOU! Start disassembling these corpses! And YOU! Ignite the four greater furnaces! I want to feel the heat in my bones!"
"YES, SIR!"
The forgery erupted into a symphony of controlled chaos. The roar of the Phlegethon river igniting the furnaces drowned all other sound. The air shimmered with heat, smelling of ozone, molten metal. Workers swarmed over the dragon and leviathan corpses with tools that glowed with their own inner light, disassembling the divine beings with practiced, reverent efficiency.
"Sir! Furnaces at forging temperature!" a worker shouted over the din.
Brontos nodded, his eyes scanning the materials being laid out: Ghourmound wood and broken cores, Noctandrath cores, Rantor scales and cores, ancient obsidian dragon claws, scales and cores, along with the divine metals.
"GYGAS! BRING OUT 'THAT'!" Brontos bellowed.
Gygas stared in astonishment. "Are you sure, brother?"
Brontos smirked widely, his eyes gleaming. "This will amaze that brat."
He turned back to his crew. "BRATS! PUT THE ONE-HANDED BASTARD'S MATERIALS AND ESSENCE IN THE FIRST FURNACE! THE FISHY-SMELLING MAN'S IN THE SECOND!"
He then grabbed the ancient obsidian dragon's core and smashed it in two with a single hammer blow. Placing each half into the third and fourth furnaces, he added Noctandrath core to the fourth, Rantor core to the third, then scales and claws from both Rantor and the dragon into both furnaces. Divine gold and stygian iron followed.
Finally, he produced two flasks containing the dark and violet essences of Hades and Hecate. In his massive, calloused hands, the delicate containers looked like fragile toys. He held them carelessly between his thick fingers, swinging them slightly as he moved toward the furnaces.
As he turned, the flasks swung inward, hitting each other with a sharp crack. Fine lines instantly spiderwebbed across both containers where they had made contact. For a moment, Brontos froze, watching as the essences began to seep through the cracks, mingling into a swirling, shadowy violet mixture.
The combined liquid dripped down onto the furnace rim, where a central groove—designed to channel overflow—divided the stream perfectly into two equal portions that cascaded into the third and fourth furnaces respectively.
Brontos stared dumbly at the broken flasks still in his hand, the jagged edges gleaming in the forge light. His head snapped up, eyes darting around the forge. With a swift, surprisingly graceful motion, he tucked the broken flasks against his forearm, hiding them in the shadow of his massive bicep.
His gaze landed on a young Infrazel worker who was regulating the furnace heat. The worker's eyes were wide, his mouth slightly agape as he stared at Brontos's concealed arm, then back at the furnaces where the mixed essences still sizzled.
For a long second, they stared at each other—the master smith and the lowly worker. Brontos's expression shifted from panic to a forced nonchalance. He cleared his throat, the sound like grinding stones.
"Sometimes... mistakes happen," Brontos rumbled, his voice unusually defensive. "The forge spirits work in mysterious ways."
The Infrazel worker blinked, then slowly nodded. Without a word, he turned back to his temperature gauges, adjusting valves with renewed focus, his posture screaming that he had seen absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.
Brontos then carefully took out a crimson-red brick from the chest, struck it with his hammer, and added fragments to both furnaces."Hehehehe…" he chuckled to himself. "I swear the brat will like it."
Within moments, all materials had melted into shimmering, molten liquids. "Brother! Bring out the molds and hammers! We're about to create a mythical moment!"
Molds were set in place as the furnaces tilted, pouring their glowing contents into the prepared forms. Suddenly a worker shouted, "Sir! The third furnace still has residue!"
Brontos's eyebrows shot up. "What? Leftover?" He scanned the forge. "Quick! Fetch another mold from the last corner section!"
An additional mold was hastily prepared, and the remaining mysterious, mixed metallic liquid was poured into it, its color shifting between shadows and twilight in the forge's flickering light.