"You will not obtain that power!" thundered Poseidon, god of the sea, his voice echoing like crashing waves.
Across from him stood a tall figure cloaked in shadow—Hades, lord of the underworld. His black eyes held a disturbing calm, his presence oppressive yet strangely captivating. An aura of death and ambition radiated from him, tightening like a noose around the battleground.
They had been fighting for hours—maybe days—tearing apart the skies and shaking the earth beneath. Bolts of purple energy cracked through the heavens as storms formed in their wake. Time itself seemed to hold its breath.
Souls stilled. Creatures halted. Even the wind dared not whisper.
Poseidon, bloodied and breathless, leaned on his glowing scepter, the object of Hades' obsession—a vessel of pure, primordial energy, forged before the birth of stars. He had guarded it for 5,000 years. But now, at the edge of defeat, he faced the unrelenting hunger of a god who had waited even longer.
"You've fought valiantly," Hades said coldly, lifting his obsidian blade. "But give me the scepter, and I'll grant you a quick death. Refuse... and suffer."
Poseidon gritted his teeth, blood trickling down his beard. His hands trembled from exhaustion, the once effortless motion of the scepter now felt like lifting a mountain. But still, he smiled—a grin of defiance.
"Do you think I'd guard this energy for millennia just to hand it over to you?" he said. "You're a fool, Hades."
Hades' eyes narrowed. "So be it."
With a burst of speed that split the sky, Hades lunged. Poseidon saw only a blur—too fast, too fierce. He raised the scepter in a feeble attempt to block.
CLASH!
The impact shattered the silence... and Poseidon's strength.
He fell.
His body crumbled, lifeblood pouring into the soil. His mind drifted as darkness crept in. But his final thoughts were not of loss. They were of hope.
"May the energy find someone worthy... in the life to come."
His eyes dimmed. The god of the sea was no more.
Hades stood over his body, chest heaving, sword humming with power. He had won. Finally.
He knelt beside Poseidon's corpse, reaching for the still-glowing scepter.
Then—flash.
The light vanished.
"What?" Hades' voice rose with fury. He scanned Poseidon's body. Nothing. The power was gone.
"WHERE IS IT?" he roared, his scream cleaving the sky, turning clouds to ash. "WHERE DID YOU HIDE IT?!"
He scoured the battlefield with godly senses, tracing energy trails, ripping open earth and sea, but found only emptiness.
Poseidon had outwitted him.
Unbeknownst to Hades, the scepter's energy had not been destroyed—but reborn.
Hidden within the eternal cycle of the world's wind, it drifted across the land, searching. Quietly. Secretly. Until...
It found a child.
In a modest home nestled near whispering hills, a baby was born.
"Waa—!"
The baby's cry rang out like a chime through the cosmos. The midwife gasped. A breeze swept through the room, circling the infant's cradle like a soft embrace.
The baby's mother wept with joy, clutching her husband's hand.
"It's a miracle," whispered the midwife.
The father, Edmon, lifted his newborn son. The baby stopped crying instantly, staring at him with wide, white eyes that shimmered like starlight.
"My son… Nero," Edmon murmured, awed. "You will grow into something great."
They didn't yet know.
They couldn't have.
But that cry—the first breath of Nero—had echoed through realms.
Somewhere far away, divine beings paused.
Something ancient had awakened.
And across the sky, lightning danced—not in fury, but in anticipation.
Nine months later, strange signs continued.
Nero's pupils, still bright and pale like the heart of a storm, unsettled everyone. No child was born like this. It was unnatural.
A healer was summoned—an old man with knowledge carved from centuries.
He studied the child with furrowed brow, placing a trembling hand on Nero's forehead. A warmth pulsed through him—a familiar, powerful warmth.
Edmon stepped closer. "What is it?"
The healer hesitated. "Your child… carries an energy unlike any I've ever felt. Ancient. Divine. This boy was not simply born—he was chosen."
Outside, the wind blew gently, whispering through the trees, as if agreeing with the old man.
And in the shadows of the heavens, Ha
des stirred again.
He had felt it.
The energy had returned.
And this time, he would not fail.
To be continued...