Having received her formal investiture from Zeus, Hebe lost interest in the tedious, extravagant pleasantries of the divine banquet. After spending a short while accompanying Hera, she seized an opportunity to slip back to her sanctuary. She commanded her Nymphs to bar the gates and allow no one to disturb her.
The gods, lost in a haze of revelry and wine, paid no heed to the early departure of the day's protagonist.
A new day dawned. In the west, a heavy, somber darkness lingered, while the east began to flush with a faint, pearly white. The Goddess of Dawn flicked her rosy fingers, sowing light across the horizon to wash away the ink-like night.
Brilliant golden clouds filled the sky. At the world's edge, the Golden Sun Chariot, wreathed in masculine fire, raced across the firmament driven by the robust Sun God, bringing renewed light to the earth. Enveloped in divine radiance, Apollo's azure eyes looked down upon the snow-clad world.
Now that the dust had settled, the earth had finally regained its vitality after a period of recuperation. Zeus had commanded Apollo to drive the Sun Chariot and dispel the remnants of the cold winter. The handsome, golden-haired god channeled his solar power, releasing the scorching heat of the celestial fire. Wherever the light touched, the snow dissolved, revealing the dark soil beneath, while crystalline dewdrops on withered branches sparkled in the morning sun.
Demeter, crowned with a diadem of golden wheat, likewise scattered her power over the land. Within the fertile soil that had rested throughout the winter, buried seeds began to sprout, surging upward until a wave of greenery swept across the continent. Primal vitality erupted everywhere as slumbering beasts awakened to roam the plains once more.
The golden barriers that had protected the mortal temples shattered into drifting motes of light. Surviving humans rubbed their eyes as they stepped from the sanctuaries, witnessing the vibrant world before them with joy and piety. They knelt once more in prayer, offering their hearts to the gods for their benevolence and protection.
Beyond the mouth of Sphyttus Canyon, a cluster of gold-green light descended quietly amidst the agricultural aura of the land.
As the light faded, a goddess wearing a Veiled Crown raised her eyes toward the towering, jagged cliffs. The sun's grace did not seem to reach this place. Though spring had returned to the world, a dense, stagnant chill clung to the canyon. The winds howled with a piercing bite that struck the very soul; a common creature caught in such a draft would likely perish on the spot.
"Deathly essence this dense... one might mistake it for the inheritance of a Chthonic god," Hebe murmured, looking at the gray-white mist that had nearly solidified within the chasm. "But mortals cannot withstand this yin energy, and the third-tier deities of the mountain loathe the Underworld. No wonder Cres's legacy has remained hidden for so long."
Hebe gazed at the pale blue, bioluminescent briars and vines clinging to the canyon walls. The aura of death had warped the land in erratic ways, nourishing these fierce, carnivorous plants. Any lost soul wandering near was their intended prey.
Frost began to creep over the ground behind Hebe.
"You're here."
Pale death-power gathered beside her, weaving through the air like smoke until it coalesced into a silhouette. As the mist dispersed, the black-haired god with crow-gold wings appeared.
"Is this the place?" Pagos asked, his dark gold eyes scanning the canyon of death. The heavy atmosphere caused him no discomfort; instead, as a Chthonic god of the death-aspect, he felt as relaxed as a fish in water.
"Yes. Based on my historical retracing, Cres's Golden Grain Staff and Growth Godhood vanished here. This concentrated miasma is likely the result of the Godhood siphoning the surrounding vitality."
The Growth Godhood possessed unparalleled control over life-force. The power to foster life could naturally be inverted to strip it away. Absorbing the vitality of everything for hundreds of miles to create a shroud of death was a cunning maneuver.
However, Hebe sensed something more complex. The volume of deathly essence here was far greater than what the local flora and fauna could have produced. This suggested that for eons, the Godhood had been actively luring and trapping creatures to feed. If this was merely for concealment, it was an excessive display of force.
With such a massive accumulation of life energy... is it planning something? Or perhaps gestating something?
"Pagos, the Growth Godhood is intentionally hoarding life energy. We must find it quickly. I suspect it may be birthing a new deity."
Hebe's violet eyes flashed with gold. Her God's Eye attempted to pierce the gray shroud of the canyon's depths, but the accumulated miasma of ten thousand years was too dense for her sight to break.
"Understood." Pagos nodded. He condensed his death-power into a delicate Shadow Veil, draping it over Hebe. "This shroud will protect you from the corrosive miasma, but given the density here, it will only last four hours. We must be swift."
"Good. Let's go."
Hebe summoned her Jade Bow and Crown of Winter. The Scepter of Life was ill-suited for this environment; life and death were extreme opposites, and its radiance would act like a lighthouse to every specter in the chasm. The Jade Bow, however, could channel any divine power. Augmented by the Crown, her frost magic was lethal enough to handle obstacles without alerting her true target.
Pagos manifested a blade of frost—the Glacial Death-Scythe, a Chthonic artifact he had forged from the Pale Terror and Plague powers.
The two deities plunged into the canyon.
INTRUSION!
The moment they stepped into the chasm, a silent shockwave rippled through the air. The previously still vines and briars erupted into a frenzy. The ground shook as subterranean tentacles—their predatory fangs—snaked across the floor. Pale blue vines slithered toward Hebe and Pagos, seeking to entwine them. The tiny blue flowers at the tips of the vines snapped open, revealing maws filled with needle-sharp teeth.
Though the briars were slower, they grew in thick, impenetrable carpets. Their ink-green thorns shimmered with a visible, violent toxicity.
Hebe channeled her Purification and Frost powers. Silver-white arrows streaked through the air. The ice froze the plants mid-lunge, and the purification energy detonated, shattering them into frozen dust.
Beside her, Pagos's Godhood of Frost-Death glowed. His blade sent out waves of frigid death-energy. Even if these plants were already warped by death, they were still sentient biological entities; they stood no chance against a Major God of the Underworld, especially since frost was the natural bane of vegetation.
Wherever the frigid essence passed, the vines and briars were transformed into crystalline ice sculptures that crumbled at a touch. These carnivorous plants, which had ruled the canyon's mouth for eons, had finally met their match in these two "stars of calamity."
Possessing a rudimentary intelligence after eons of feeding, the plants realized they could not harm these intruders. Instead, they were being systematically eradicated. Realizing their very existence was at stake, the greenery receded like a retreating tide, fleeing toward the canyon's depths with a palpable sense of desperation.
"These plants are weak, but they have a decent sense of self-preservation," Pagos remarked, his wings fluttering as he hovered beside Hebe.
"Do not lower your guard. These were just the gatekeepers," Hebe warned. "Cres was a Titan who fought multiple gods at once during the war. His Growth Godhood is the core of this place; its power is formidable. There are bound to be stronger horrors lurking deeper inside."
"As you command." Though Pagos possessed his own consciousness, his instinctual obedience to Hebe was an immutable law. The arrogant Chthonic god reigned in his disdain.
They pressed forward. As they reached the middle of the canyon, the miasma became so thick it turned to fog, and then to droplets of moisture.
"The air is too heavy. My vision is clouded," Hebe noted. "Pagos, can you absorb some of this?"
As a goddess of the Life-aspect, the surrounding death was beginning to suppress her primary power.
"I can." Pagos nodded. As a god of death, absorbing this essence was not only harmless but beneficial to his own growth.
The black-haired god spread his crow-gold wings. Every feather shimmered with fine golden light, casting a haunting, seductive glow over his features. The fog of death responded to his call, surging into his body in a swirling vortex. As the power flooded him, a faint flush touched his pale cheeks, making him appear even more vibrant and dangerously beautiful.
Within minutes, the area was cleared, and Hebe's vision returned.
"This essence is incredibly pure, as if it's been filtered," Pagos noted, his dark gold eyes flashing with surprise. "My Godhood of Pale Terror feels like it's on the verge of a breakthrough."
"Something is definitely wrong." Hebe lowered her gaze, her mind racing.
Wooo... woooo...
A faint, ethereal wailing drifted through the air, accompanied by a biting wind that chilled the bone. The sound seemed both right in front of them and miles away—shifting and impossible to pin down.
Contact!
Hebe and Pagos snapped into a defensive stance. Golden wings erupted from Hebe's back as both deities ascended, hovering back-to-back. Hebe flicked her fingers, releasing a storm of frost that cleared the remaining mist in a wide radius.
Looking down, they saw that the ground where they had stood was now occupied by a small army of monsters. These were Skeleton Soldiers, a motley crew of remains: humans, beasts, monsters, Nymphs, and even a god.
"Is that Theodorus, God of Valley Breezes?"
The divine remains were in better condition than the others. Though the flesh was largely gone, the facial structure remained recognizable. Hebe remembered him from centuries ago—a minor, bottom-rung third-tier deity who had vanished. No one had cared when he disappeared. It seemed he had fallen here, his vessel warped into an unholy thrall.
"To think this place dares to consume a god," Pagos said, looking at the shambling undead whose eyes burned with ghostly green fire. "Does this Godhood have some sort of 'madman' derivative?"
"It hasn't just taken their vitality and their bodies," Hebe observed, noting the flickering shadows behind the skeletons. "It has enslaved their souls." These were Wraiths, born from the violent resentment of those who died here.
"My Lady, do not fret. Leave these trifles to me." Pagos was intrigued. This canyon was indeed a deathtrap for a first-tier god, but against a Major God of the Underworld? It was a farce.
Pagos dove like a black-gold lightning bolt into the undead horde. He stowed his sword, deciding to test his birthright artifacts.
Hiss! The undead roared and lunged.
The Ring of Annihilation appeared in Pagos's hand, hovering above his palm. As he flicked it forward, it emitted a pulse of dark light. Wherever the God of Death passed, the skeletons were reduced to ash, their inner death-essence siphoned into his ring.
"WYYAAAHH!!" The Wraiths shrieked, lunging at him with claws meant to tear the spirit. Their voices carried a sonic shock meant to daze the soul. Physical damage could be repaired, but a wounded spirit was a far more complex injury.
The magic had no effect on Pagos. The phantom of the Nether Sun shimmered at his brow, shielding him. He raised a hand, and the purplish-red Infernal Flare ignited between his fingers. A rain of dark fire fell from the sky. The flames latched onto the Wraiths like leeches, feeding on their spiritual essence. The Wraiths shrieked as they burned, acting as fuel for the fire.
The canyon was transformed into a purplish-red purgatory. Pagos hovered in the center, a look of intoxicated delight on his face as he watched the carnage.
"..."
Watching from above, Hebe decided her avatar was a natural-born villain. He looked exactly like an evil god.
The Infernal Flare specialized in incinerating souls. Under its heat, the Wraiths didn't last long, their energy spent and their forms dissolved. Pagos absorbed the residual essence, and his Godhood of Pale Terror pulsed with light, breaking through to the Second-tier Peak.
"My Lady, the trash has been cleared. Shall we proceed?" Pagos returned to her side, his mood clearly elevated by his breakthrough.
"Pagos, if someone saw that expression of yours, they'd think you were a Demon King," Hebe noted dryly.
"Hmm? I learned it from Lord Thanatos. He always makes that face when harvesting souls. He says it's the only way to ensure mortals respect death," Pagos replied, looking confused. "Was he wrong?"
"..." Damned Thanatos! What are you teaching him? That "villainous smile" didn't inspire respect; it looked like he was about to drag someone to the deepest pits of hell.
In the Underworld, Thanatos suddenly sneezed. The silver-haired reaper grumbled, wondering who was talking about him.
Hebe and Pagos pressed on. The cliffs grew higher, nearly blocking out the sky. The soil beneath them had turned a deep, pure violet—the hallmark of true Underworld terrain.
Hebe looked around. Unlike the previous sections, there was no fog here. The rocks and small stream were clearly visible, yet Hebe felt a pressure so immense it was difficult to breathe.
"Strange. There is no mist, yet the atmosphere is suffocating."
"My Lady, that is because the essence here is so dense it has liquefied," Pagos pointed to the stream.
It was not water. It was a River of Death, condensed entirely from miasma.
Hebe followed his finger. The stream was narrow but wound deep into the distance. She pushed her God's Eye to its limit, tracing the path of the river until she finally saw it.
At the river's end stood a staff carved with intricate patterns, adorned with gold-cast wheat ears and fruit. It shimmered with a brilliant, golden light. At its apex sat a hexagonal, emerald crystal radiating an enchanting divine glow.
The Golden Grain Staff and the Growth Godhood.
"You've finally arrived. I have been waiting for you for a very long time..."