Chapter 42: Hephaestus (9)
“You tricked me, and I always knew I’d get my revenge someday. Looks like today’s the day.”
“Hah! It’s your fault for being fooled so easily. Even my son Hermes would say the same.”
“You mean that thief born from your depraved antics, worse than a lustful dog?”
“How dare you insult my son!”
“Getting mad over your son, huh? So what’s with your boys gearing up for a bloodbath right now?”
“…”
Hades won the verbal sparring match against Zeus.
No matter what Zeus said, the conflict between Ares and Hephaestus was an undeniable stain on his reputation.
“Hades takes this round,” Poseidon declared.
“What?” Athena asked, confused.
“Oh, with this fight, it’s 563 matches—282 wins for Hades, 281 for Zeus. Hades is ahead.”
“Aren’t we in the middle of a serious situation?”
“Hm? Oh, you might misunderstand, but this aura-clashing is just a game for us.”
“So, the reason you meet sometimes is…”
“Yup, to go at it like this. If we really moved, things would get too big. For now, at least.”
Athena froze, as if she’d stumbled upon a forbidden truth about the world.
Thankfully, she let Poseidon’s last remark slide.
Poseidon officially declared Hades the victor.
“Hades wins this one.”
“Hmph, obviously,” Hades smirked.
“Attacking my kids? How petty,” Zeus grumbled.
“Spoken like a true loser,” Hades shot back.
With Zeus and Hades’ emotions diverging, Hades gained the authority to decide the matter.
“So, what’ll it be, Hades?” Poseidon asked.
“I’d love to drag them both to the underworld, but… I feel some responsibility for this, so I’m inclined to grant the young god’s request.”
“Responsibility?”
“Yes. Eris’ children, the ones causing discord, are tied to the underworld, after all.”
“Ah,” Poseidon nodded.
Indeed, Ares’ ability to rampage as the god of war and victory was tied to his synergy with Eris’ divine authority.
“True, Eris played a big role in turning Zeus’ son into what he is now. Though, to be fair, Ares sought her out himself,” Poseidon added.
Zeus’ face darkened, as if struck by a painful truth.
When Ares was born and grew into a young god, he was spirited and hot-headed but stayed within bounds.
That changed when those who despised Zeus used Ares, connecting him with Eris and her children.
Over time, Ares was consumed by their influence.
By the time Zeus and Hera realized it, it was too late.
Olympus was already tangled with Ares’ followers and Zeus’ detractors, making immediate action impossible.
Their only option was to keep things in check until an opportunity arose.
“And in that moment of distraction, Ares took out the most troublesome one—Hephaestus,” Poseidon remarked.
“Zeus, you should’ve acted the moment you noticed your son’s drastic change. Gods don’t shift so easily. Look at Hades—still talking like he did in Kronos’ belly,” Poseidon teased.
“And you, still looking like a young punk, are the weird one,” Hades retorted.
Athena, listening to the three chief gods, nodded quietly.
She had pieced together much of the situation but had stayed silent because Zeus and Hera hadn’t acted.
Suddenly, Hades turned to Athena.
“Should I call you Zeus’ daughter or Poseidon’s? What are you, exactly?”
His provocative question was casual, but Athena answered calmly.
“I call myself Pallas Athena—Pallas, for my eternal bond with my friend, the sea goddess Pallas, and Athena, as the daughter of Metis and Zeus.”
“So, Poseidon’s granddaughter and the daughter of Zeus and Metis, huh?”
Hades grumbled at her composed, almost boring response.
Poseidon and Zeus shook their heads at his prickly demeanor.
“Alright, daughter of sea and sky. What do you think? How should I resolve this?”
Hades asked, his tone now serious, seeking the wisdom of the goddess of wisdom.
“Approve the duel between Ares and Hephaestus. I believe Hephaestus will win, one hundred percent. If you grant his request, Ares’ war divinity can be split. Reclaim part of it as punishment and distribute it to Eris’ children, who will still follow Ares. That’s a fair solution.
“And transfer Ares’ ‘victory in battle’ to Hephaestus.”
Hades nodded, impressed by Athena’s clear reasoning.
It was a fitting answer from the goddess of wisdom.
Eris would be pleased, her children would gain power and remain loyal to Ares, serving as a warning to Hephaestus and others.
Most importantly, Ares would become a war god without victory, doomed to constant defeat.
“Well done. Clean and precise. But is it fair for Hephaestus to walk away with only rewards?”
“Ares’ crimes have already spread. Soon, Zeus and Hera’s mistakes will too. Punishing Hephaestus now would undermine justice and order. If you, Hades, deliver a fair judgment, the world will praise your sense of order and fairness.”
Hades’ expression brightened at Athena’s praise-laden conclusion, and he decided to proclaim her solution.
“Excellent. We’ll do as you say. No wonder they say Olympus won’t fall with Athena around. Zeus, how a god like you, who can’t even raise one kid right, produced her is beyond me. Oh, wait—Poseidon did most of the fathering when she was young, didn’t he?”
“…”
“Poseidon, you’re a brute, but I must admit you’re good at raising kids.”
“…”
Hades couldn’t resist one final jab.
Following Hades’ proclamation, the first battle of the trial by combat commenced—a clash of proxies.
In the ancient tradition, a trial by combat consisted of two stages: a battle between proxies dedicated to the gods, followed by a final duel offered to the king of the gods. The side with the most standing at the end would be declared the victor.
Ares’ proxies—Dysnomia, Algos, Neikea, Machai, Hysminai, Phonoi, and Erio—stepped forward brimming with confidence. They were seasoned in slaughter, honed by years of warfare, and their combat instincts were razor-sharp.
Moreover, they were seven against one. Their opponent was a single goddess they’d never heard of, which only fueled their arrogance.
“We’ll crush her quickly and lend our strength to Lord Ares,” Dysnomia boasted.
“Right. Even Lord Ares acknowledges Hephaestus’ power. We need to wrap this up fast,” Machai agreed.
“I just want this to start already…” Phonoi grumbled.
As they revelled in their assumed victory, Cybele stepped into the arena. Clad in light leather armor, accompanied by two lions, and crowned with a regal diadem, she appeared almost fragile compared to the heavily armed proxies.
The spectators In the coliseum, along with the watching gods, assumed the battle would be over swiftly. Ares, waiting as the next combatant, shared their sentiment.
“Hah, like master, like servant—only lowlifes surround that wretch,” Ares sneered, inspecting his sword and armor with a smug grin.
BOOM!
Before he could finish, a deafening shockwave rocked the air, and two of the seven proxies were instantly knocked out of the fight.
“What the—?!”
As silence gripped the arena, Hades laughed.
“Another of Zeus’ mistakes steps into the spotlight.”
***
Cybele, who had silenced the coliseum, felt neither joy nor excitement.
Truthfully, she wouldn’t have participated if not for the request of her sister Athena and her beloved father, Poseidon.
She casually tossed aside the club she held.
Whirr.
The club seemed to protest being treated so carelessly, but Cybele snapped back in irritation.
“What do you expect me to do when they’re this weak? If I’m going to use you, I need opponents like Athena or Pallas.”
Whine.
“What? You want to fight because it’s been a while? No way. Father wouldn’t allow it. I told you, if he finds out I used you, Mother will kill me. Besides, Athena only asked me to drain their strength so they can’t aid Ares.”
The remaining five proxies seethed at the sight of Cybele casually chatting with her strange club after effortlessly taking down two of their own. The insult was unbearable.
But they weren’t fools.
Charging recklessly after witnessing her power would be to forsake their divine authority as war gods.
Instead, they grew colder, forming a disciplined formation and cautiously closing in on Cybele, as they had done against formidable foes in the past.
“Approach her like we would a monster,” Machai instructed.
“Think of the great enemies we’ve felled,” Neikea added.
Shedding their earlier arrogance, they advanced with spears, swords, and axes, methodically pressuring Cybele from all sides.
What they didn’t anticipate was that Cybele had no intention of engaging such “lowly” opponents directly.
With a dismissive gesture, she sent her two lions charging at them.
ROAR!
The five proxies assumed they could easily fend off mere lions, but these were no ordinary beasts—they were extensions of Cybele’s divine essence.
As a goddess with a trinity of divine authority, power, and presence, Cybele stood unrivaled among Greek deities.
The proxies’ spears pierced the lions but passed through as if striking water. Their swords slashed but cut only air.
“Damn it, the lions can’t be struck!”
“No, our attacks aren’t even connecting!”
The proxies, now struggling against the lions rather than Cybele, were thrown into disarray.
“Hmm… they’re weaker than I thought,” Cybele yawned, watching as if completing a tedious chore.
Ironically, the proxies were far from weak.
Their divine authorities—lawlessness, war, battle, murder, and pain—were grim and brutal, making them formidable.
The issue was that Cybele’s usual sparring partners were gods among gods: Pallas Athena, Poseidon, Triton, and Amphitrite.