Ever since Pagos demonstrated the efficiency of using frost to guide lost spirits, Thanatos, the Original God of Death, had granted him broader authority. He was now permitted to harvest the souls of those who had perished in the celestial fires.
In doing so, Pagos finally understood why even a Major God like Thanatos had been driven to the brink of exhaustion by these spirits.
Unlike those who died by the frost—whose blood flow slowed and hearts stopped as they drifted into a peaceful, permanent sleep—those consumed by the celestial fire had suffered a visceral, agonizing end. To be roasted alive, inch by inch of skin and muscle, left their souls saturated with a mindless, feral resentment. Guiding them required a constant expenditure of divine power just to suppress their fury.
For Pagos, however, this was a trivial matter. When he inherited the godhoods from his primary self, the Godhood of Revenge had been forged from the collective hatred of the dead toward the sun. When these irrational spirits encountered him, their malice was instinctively absorbed by the Revenge godhood. They regained their lucidity and began to cooperate with the reapers of the dead.
Thanatos felt as though he had discovered a priceless treasure. He hurried Pagos to the various outposts where tens of thousands of souls were gathered, using Pagos to soothe their volatile emotions. Without this intervention, even Charon would have found it an ordeal to ferry them across the river.
By a stroke of karmic luck, Pagos's act of calming the restless dead earned him the favor of the Underworld itself, allowing him to condense a Godhood of Consolation.
"The souls on the surface are mostly harvested. The rest can be left to the likes of Ruby and Tasna," Thanatos said, stretching his limbs. The most chaotic phase had finally passed. He turned to Pagos with a look of genuine appreciation. "You have immense talent. Have you considered staying by my side as my adjutant?"
As the noble son of Primordial Gods and a Sovereign God in his own right, Thanatos possessed the standing to take a first-tier deity as his subordinate. "Of course, we'll have to see the King first. Who knows what role His Majesty has in mind for you?"
Thanatos spoke with confidence, certain that Pagos would be assigned to him. Frost-Death and Plague were, after all, a natural match for the God of Death. He found Pagos to be an exceptional find—brilliant, intuitive, and possessor of a power that made Thanatos's own life significantly easier. He even secretly resolved that if King Hades refused to assign Pagos to him, he would go to his mother, Nyx, and file a formal complaint.
"I shall follow the King's decree in all things," Pagos replied, a soft, polite smile playing on his lips.
A sharp glint flashed in his dark gold eyes. Serving as another god's subordinate was not the path he and his primary self had envisioned. Their ambitions were far grander. Pagos had no intention of being Thanatos's assistant. He only needed a single catalyst to capture the King's full attention and claim a status equal to Thanatos himself—and that catalyst was fast approaching.
The souls ferried across the Acheron by Charon trudged forward, guided by the flickering torches of the Chthonic gods. However, the number of the dead was staggering, and only deities could navigate the lightless Underworld with ease.
While the souls at the front of the procession could see by the light of the torches, those in the rear were stumbling in absolute darkness. One misstep led to a chain reaction of fallen bodies, filling the air with a cacophony of wails and howls.
#... #...
Thanatos's brow twitched as the sound of the wailing grated on his nerves.
"My Lord, why do the dead stumble so?" Pagos asked, feigning curiosity. To his eyes, the sight of the souls piling up in the dark was almost comical.
"Ignore them. It's been happening constantly," Thanatos sighed. "We are still a distance from the City of the Dead. The Underworld is eternally dark; only gods are immune to it. Without a torch to guide them, these mortals are functionally blind."
Thanatos felt helpless. The torches used for guidance were themselves divine artifacts, and there were few to be found in the entire realm. They were sufficient for small groups, but for the tens of thousands killed by the sun's fire, they were woefully inadequate.
"Is there no source of light in the Underworld?" Pagos asked.
"Light?" Thanatos barked a short, dry laugh. "The only eternal sources of light are the sun and the moon. Their rays can never pierce this realm, and even if they could, their brilliance would be lethal to the dead."
"No, My Lord. I believe that is precisely why I was born," Pagos said softly.
"What? Pagos, what do you mean—" Thanatos turned in confusion, only to be struck dumb by the sight before him.
Light.
Thanatos's silver-gray eyes reflected a sudden, impossible radiance. The handsome, black-haired god stood with his crow-gold wings emitting a faint halo. In his hands, a sphere of dark red light hovered quietly. It looked remarkably like the sun of the mortal world, save for its singular color and the absence of searing heat. Basking in its glow, Thanatos felt his primordial essence vibrate with an indescribable sense of comfort and kinship.
"This is..." Understanding dawned on Thanatos, mixed with profound shock. He wasn't a fool; he knew that the godhoods of Frost-Death and Plague weren't enough to birth a first-tier deity at inception. He had suspected Pagos held a hidden, powerful godhood, but the reality far exceeded his expectations.
"I am the god born of the sun's regret and the prayers for redemption. I am the atonement of the light toward all things, the sun that shines only for the dead," Pagos declared. "I am the God of the Nether Sun."
His dark gold eyes shimmered with shifting light as he spoke the divine words. The laws embedded in the black soil of the Underworld vibrated in resonance. The arrival of the Nether Sun was a perfection of the cosmic order, and the realm itself acknowledged his claim.
The sphere in Pagos's hands expanded, growing beyond his grasp until it ascended into the obsidian sky of the Underworld. It became a purplish-red sun, hanging high above the House of Hades and illuminating the realm.
For the dead, the world was no longer a lightless void. They saw the path before them, they saw their own hands, and they saw the faces of their loved ones. They wept with joy, offering heartfelt praise to the Nether Sun that had brought them the light. Even those killed by the sun's fire possessed the primal instinct to seek the brilliance.
A torrential influx of Merit flooded into Pagos. He hovered in the air, his wings flashing with divine light as the Nether Sun Godhood solidified, radiating a vast, deep power. His strength skyrocketed: First-tier Lower... Middle... Peak... Major God Rank!
A colossal divine pressure erupted. The souls of the dead fell to their knees, trembling. Even the guiding Chthonic deities felt the crushing weight of his presence, struggling to remain standing.
Thanatos's silver hair whipped in the wind as he stared at the radiant god. Well... it seems Pagos won't be my adjutant after all. What a shame.
"The sun and moon are but two sides of the light. If there is a Nether Sun, there must also be a Nether Moon!"
As the words of Pagos faded, a crisp, female voice echoed through the Underworld. Following her command, a singular moon shimmering with black-blue brilliance appeared in the sky. As the sun and moon hung together, the primordial essence of the Underworld surged. The realm itself seemed to be on the verge of ascension.
Pagos looked toward the source of the voice. As the master of the Nether Sun, his vision was unobstructed. He saw a beautiful goddess clad in black robes. Her hair was as dark as the night, and her eyes—inherited from her mother, Asteria, the Goddess of the Stars—glowed like distant galaxies. She was surrounded by a sword, a rope, a torch, and a book. This was the other supreme mistress of the Underworld: Hecate, Goddess of Ghosts, Magic, and Uncertain Opportunities—and now, the holder of the Nether Moon.
I seem to be fated to clash with the family of Leto, Pagos thought. My primary self is at odds with Apollo and Artemis, and now I am entangled with Hecate, the daughter of Leto's sister. He hoped the Moon Goddess would be more amicable. After all, he had provided her with the opportunity to claim her own solar-lunar authority. Hecate, as the goddess of "uncertain opportunities," had seized the fleeting chance with a speed and cunning that far surpassed Artemis. Pagos decided to maintain friendly relations; there was no need to create more enemies for his primary self.
"You certainly kept that well hidden," Thanatos said, his tone laced with a touch of sarcasm. All his enthusiasm about a "capable secretary" had been for nothing; Pagos had never intended to follow him.
"I still owe much to your guidance these past days, My Lord," Pagos smiled. He knew Thanatos had a bit of a childish temper, but he wasn't a god who held petty grudges.
"Hmph. Come. The King wishes to see you." Thanatos wasn't truly angry, even if he was mourning the loss of a perfect adjutant.
Pagos followed Thanatos across a vast gray plain until they reached a fork in the road.
"This is the Field of Truth. To the left is the City of the King. To the right..." Thanatos pointed toward a path paved with gray stones that wound like a serpent toward the deepest reaches of the realm. It seemed to have no end; even a god's eyes could see only a soul-shaking abyss. "That leads to the place of suffering: Tartarus."
"I was born near Tartarus, yet I don't recall seeing this path," Pagos noted.
"Not all have the standing to see the way to Tartarus. This path only manifests before those of Major God rank. Otherwise, the Cyclopes who guard the gates wouldn't be very welcoming."
Below the rank of a Major God, a single swipe from a Cyclops could leave a deity reeling. With the low number of Chthonic gods, the realm prioritized their safety.
"I see. The God of Death truly is the second-in-command of this realm. Your knowledge is staggering!" Pagos offered.
"Enough, enough. I'm not that petty," Thanatos huffed, waving a hand, though the slight flutter of his wings betrayed his improved mood.
The two gods turned left. In a blur of shifting steps, the solemn City of the King appeared. Thanatos led Pagos into the Great Hall of the Underworld, the seat of King Hades—ruler of the dead, one of the three brothers of the world, and master of supreme authority.
Dozens of Chthonic deities sat in the hall. Pagos recognized only the dreamlike Hypnos and the newly crowned Hecate. Above the assembly sat a throne of bone. The King of the Underworld, also black-haired and pale, looked down with cold, emerald eyes like a deep, still pool. He scrutinized the newborn god.
"Your Majesty, I bring Pagos, the newborn Chthonic god," Thanatos announced solemnly. He bowed and then flew to his seat beside Hypnos.
"Noble King Hades. Pagos—God of Frost-Death and Plague, Master of the Nether Sun, God of Revenge, Curse, and Agony, and Consoler of Souls—offers you his loyalty."
The god of crow-gold wings bowed with a mixture of elegance and dark allure. Pagos was no fool like Helios; he didn't think holding a solar office made him untouchable. A King, even one as yet unestablished as Zeus, had many ways to break a subject. And Hades, who was quiet yet held absolute control over his realm, was not someone to provoke without absolute strength.
"Pagos? Son of Gaia and Tartarus?" Hades asked. He could sense the aura of the parents. Tartarus didn't matter; that Primordial did little but sleep. But Gaia... in the cold war between Olympus, the Sea, and the Underworld, she favored Zeus. This made Hades wary.
Pagos sensed the tension and remained poised. "Your Majesty, I am a Chthonic god born of the celestial fire disaster. I was gestated by the soil of the Underworld and the hatred of humanity. I am not a child of Gaia's womb."
"Oh?" Hades's expression shifted. Gods born spontaneously from the realm's essence were rare but valuable. If he wasn't Gaia's seed, he was worth employing.
The emergence of the Nether Sun and Moon had already sent tremors through the realm's essence, a sign of impending ascension that had even piqued the interest of the goddess Nyx.
"Pagos, you have reached the rank of Major God and master the Nether Sun. You shall have a throne in this hall." At Hades's word, an obsidian-gold throne rose from the floor, carved with motifs of the sun, frost, and wings. It shimmered with a low-key, luxurious brilliance.
The hall hummed with surprise. Hades had placed Pagos's seat directly beside Hecate—the mistress of the Nether Moon and a veteran power in the realm. It was a clear sign of favor.
"Hecate," Hades commanded. "The Nether Sun and Moon are vital to the Underworld. Work with Pagos to establish their cycles. Use their power to facilitate the realm's ascension."
"As you command, Your Majesty," Pagos and Hecate replied in unison.
"At last, we meet, Lord Pagos," the cold, beautiful Hecate said, a small smile touching her lips. She had been stuck at the peak of the first tier for eons. Pagos's manifestation of the Nether Sun had provided the inspiration she needed to break through.
"I look forward to our collaboration, My Lady," Pagos replied. The natural link between the sun and moon made him feel an instinctive kinship with her.
With both parties seeking harmony, the two new masters of the Underworld's light began their first conversation with high spirits.