Chapter 41: Hephaestus (8)
“Enyo, have you found it?”
Clang!
“No, my lord. There’s no sign of an entrance anywhere on Sicily,” Enyo reported.
Slash!
“Lord Ares, we should retreat. At this rate, we’ll be wiped out fighting these golems,” Machai, the god of battle, urged.
Ares trembled with rage as the battle unfolded against his expectations.
Even his divine authority as the god of victory remained eerily unresponsive.
“Damn it, we’re out of options.”
Just as Ares, heeding Enyo and Machai’s advice, resolved to retreat with his army, a whirring sound echoed, and a gate opened.
Whirr.
“Could it be…?”
“It seems we’re being invited in,” Enyo said.
The timing was too perfect, as if someone had been watching and mocking them.
Crunch.
Ares ground his teeth in fury but quickly reined in his emotions.
As a war god, he knew unchecked anger was poison on the battlefield.
Surveying the scene, he saw his soldiers dying senselessly against lifeless constructs.
The sight of his comrades, who had fought alongside him, falling so futilely filled him with shame and regret.
“Enyo, it’s clearly a trap, but we’re going in.”
“Lord Ares, no! The situation here is already dire. Entering a place riddled with traps—”
“Enough. I won’t let my comrades die to these lifeless machines.”
Though he knew the entrance was likely a minefield of traps, Ares couldn’t back down.
As a legitimate heir of Olympus and a mighty war god, retreating would make him a laughingstock and a betrayal to those who trusted him.
“Phew… Enyo, Machai, Hysminai, and Phonoi, follow me inside. The rest, take the soldiers and retreat as far as possible.”
“Understood.”
“Haha, charging into a known trap? That’s the mark of a true war god,” Machai laughed.
“I’m content as long as I get to kill something,” Hysminai added.
“Hephaestus, son of Zeus—I’m eager to see how strong you are,” Phonoi said.
***
Ares and his divine followers armed themselves and entered the gate.
To their surprise, the path underground held no traps.
“Strange. Why isn’t there a single trap?” Ares muttered.
They arrived at a massive coliseum, where illusory figures resembling gods were seated around the arena.
Click.
As Ares’ group reached the center, a mechanical sound echoed, and the opposite gate opened.
Hephaestus emerged, accompanied by a goddess riding a chariot drawn by two lions.
“Welcome, Ares,” Hephaestus said.
“Hephaestus…”
“Why do you look like a hero about to slay a monster?”
“Because you’re a traitor to Olympus.”
“Hmph. A victim of Olympus, more like.”
With that, Hephaestus activated a projection.
The images showed Ares inciting wars, challenging others to duels in Zeus’ name to steal women, and using Eris’ children to provoke mortal races into conflict.
The climax was footage of Ares, with Dysnomia’s help, pushing a young Hephaestus off Olympus.
Hephaestus smirked, taunting Ares.
“You got lucky. A nymph witnessed what you did to me back then. Too scared to speak at the time, she later came to me and shared her memories of your crimes.”
Murmurs rippled through the illusory gods in the stands.
Relishing their reaction, Hephaestus added, as if remembering something trivial, “Oh, I forgot to mention—these illusions are avatars of the gods I invited. They’re watching everything live. And see that number up there? That’s how many other mythical beings are tuned in.”
If not for the watching gods, Ares would have lunged at Hephaestus and cut him down.
His hand gripped his sword hilt, trembling with rage.
Hephaestus, delighted by Ares’ reaction, raised his voice.
“Ares, look there. The golden seats are for the Twelve Olympians, all watching. The blue ones are for the sea gods, and the black ones for the underworld deities. They’re all here, observing.”
“What are you scheming, you wretch?” Ares growled.
Hephaestus clapped theatrically, as if Ares had finally asked the right question, and turned to the gods of the three realms.
Clap! Clap! Clap!
“I, Hephaestus, son of Zeus and Hera, disciple of the great Cyclopes, make this request. For the crimes committed against me, and if binding Hera is a crime, I demand a trial by combat to settle it all.
“I seek to fight a just duel to earn recognition, claiming a seat among the Twelve Olympians and one wish, sworn on the River Styx. If I’m guilty, let my duel with Ares atone for it.”
The arena fell silent, the gods’ murmurs reduced to hushed whispers.
Hephaestus’ words were shocking.
A trial by combat, a ritual from the ancient days of Uranus, was a sacred offering to Chaos where the victor claimed all from the defeated.
It was the most primal form of judgment.
The stunned silence lingered, the weight of the young god’s declaration reverberating.
— “A trial by combat in this era?”
— “Reviving an obsolete rite is no small matter.”
— “What will the three chief gods do…?”
***
Hephaestus, who had chained and suspended Hera, now faced Ares, Olympus’ champion, regardless of his brash demeanor.
To demand a trial by combat, wagering a seat among the Twelve Olympians and a wish sworn on the River Styx, was nothing short of a direct challenge to Olympus itself.
Ares’ face flushed an even deeper red at Hephaestus’ audacity.
“You wretch! I’ll cut off your limbs and feed them to the lions!”
If only Olympian gods were present, Ares might have acted on his threat without hesitation.
But this arena wasn’t filled solely with Olympians.
A voice from the underworld gods rang out.
“As the son of Zeus and Hera, was it necessary to cause such a spectacle? Isn’t this just a family squabble?”
Hephaestus responded firmly.
“It’s because Olympus has lost its justice. I couldn’t trust it, so I needed the authority of the other two realms.”
His words were met with a booming laugh from the underworld.
“Hahaha! Zeus and Hera’s son saying Olympus lacks justice? How amusing. Their heir calling out their arrogance and unfairness!”
The mocking, gleeful laughter made it clear to all in the coliseum who had spoken.
— “That’s Hades!”
Sparks of lightning crackled from the Olympian side, signaling their displeasure.
Zap!
The gods around flinched at the stray currents.
A calm, rational voice cut through the tension, restoring order.
“That critique stings, but making a mockery of the queen of the gods in front of everyone isn’t something we can overlook. Why not end this peacefully? If you stop now, we won’t pursue your crimes further and will formally invite you to Olympus.”
A scornful voice from the underworld retorted, “Hah, typical Olympus. Always shielding their own when they commit crimes. Who’d follow such a system?”
The exchange escalated into a verbal sparring match between Olympus and the underworld.
Hephaestus, observing the back-and-forth, sensed the situation might fizzle out unresolved.
To achieve his goal, he couldn’t let the momentum slip.
Turning to the sea gods, who had remained silent, he called out.
“So, the underworld supports me, and Olympus opposes. What is the will of the sea gods?”
All eyes shifted to the blue-shimmering seats, where a deep, wave-like voice resounded.
“Then, Hephaestus, you must first prove your legitimacy. Your actions could be dismissed as a young god’s impulsiveness or a child’s tantrum against a parent. But staking your divine authority means a true battle between gods. Release Hera, from those chains. Then, the three realms will judge your request for a trial by combat.”
The gods nodded in agreement with the sea god’s words.
Neither Olympus nor the underworld voiced objections, indicating their acceptance.
Hephaestus closed his eyes briefly, as if weighing his options, then spoke with resolve.
“Very well. I entrust everything to the judgment of the three realms’ gods.”
Though he agreed, Hephaestus knew he had little choice.
He had set the stage, but without the approval of the world’s rulers, he couldn’t bring Ares down or take what he cherished.
‘Even if things go wrong, I’ll see this through.’
***
For the first time in ages, the three chief gods—Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades—gathered, with Athena serving as mediator, the only other god present.
‘This is incredible. The presence of the three chief gods would make most lesser gods faint.’ Athena thought.
Zeus’ mood was sour, his divine energy leaking out, crackling in the air.
Hades’ mocking laughter had clearly provoked him further.
Pop. Hiss.
Hades lit a cigar crafted from finely ground souls, propped his legs on the table, and spoke.
“Zeus, you raised quite a kid. I almost want to adopt him myself.”
His provocative words caused Zeus’ golden hair to rise, blue currents sparking around him.
“Hades… watch yourself, unless you want war.”
Hades exhaled a puff of smoke, stubbed out his cigar on the table, and leaned forward.
SCREECH!
A blood-red wave of energy gathered around him, accompanied by the anguished wails of souls, as if ready to attack Zeus.
“Didn’t I warn you before? You’re not above me. The beings of the earth and sky might fear you, but who in the underworld fears a lustful monkey like you?”
“How dare you…”
As the tension between them sharpened, Athena, sweating nervously, tried to calm the two.
Poseidon, sipping rum, watched the scene with a familiar nonchalance.
‘Hmm? Is this made by the Gorgon sisters? It’s got a nerve-numbing kick.’
He wasn’t entirely idle, though.
His power subtly restrained the clashing energies of Zeus and Hades.
Without him, the avatars and illusions of gods, friends, and lovers in the coliseum would have fainted or needed healing from the mere fallout.
But that was the extent of his involvement.
As always, he had no intention of meddling in his brothers’ squabbles.
Besides…
‘Hephaestus planned this. If I interfere, I might ruin it.’
He’d protected the boy since childhood and worried that his involvement could disrupt Hephaestus’ scheme.
From what he could see, Hephaestus had a clear plan in motion.