Chapter 72

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Chapter 35- Braving the Sea of Monsters

AN: Beta'd by Basilisk, Lord Shiva, and Kaladin1707!

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The sound of his hammer falling upon the anvil was easily the sweetest melody Hephaestus has ever heard—simply never failing to bring in that familiar sense of comfort. And that held true even in times of war, especially in times of war; something he had no doubt was heading their way. It was written in the fires and bellowed by the wind gods. It was foreseen by the seers and riddled within prophecies.

A war was coming for the gods of Olympus. And they must be prepared, lest they meet their end as the Titans before them had.

A good thing then that their King—and all the other gods—had already begun preparing for it. A surprising development truly; for he held as much faith in his family as he did in his enemies. Still, he would play his part. No one can fault him when they all had their own way to contribute to the efforts, and Hephaestus' way just happened to be from inside his forge.

Not that it was any less important.

Where Artemis preferred to scout and hunt their enemies, Hephaestus worked his forge in building weapons of mass destruction. Where Athena sat in the council and planned her strategies for the coming battles, Hephaestus helped by arming gods and goddesses with new weapons and armors—he was especially proud of the special chariot he'd finally finished crafting for the Lord of the dead. Where Hermes traveled from pantheon to pantheon carrying Zeus' message, Hephaestus ignored the world at large and focused his entire being into making something… special.

Special enough to trump all his other creations. Special enough to become his main project for the war; his masterpiece—or as mortals called it, his magnum opus—and hopefully, his ticket to the title of the world's greatest blacksmith if not creator.

And so he struck away at the anvil below him with an unmatched intensity, feeling a long-lost excitement brewing within the confines of his chest as with each strike, his divine fire breathed life into his work. The searing heat grew to such levels that it threatened to melt the lesser metals around him, but his focus was sharper than the best of his swords, not to be distracted so easily.

He did not know when the first true battle in this war would start, but he knew his creation must be ready before then…along with its wielder.

Hephaestus came to a brief halt, picking up the mixture of Divine metals glowing red and purple with his naked fingers and giving it a thorough examination, his mind wandering to his true goal.

Others might see this war as something to be feared and avoided, but Hephaestus saw only the true opportunities that lay within it. While he did feel slightly sympathetic for the mortal lives that would surely extinguish as collateral, he could easily overlook it for the chance this war was about to give him. A chance that he'd asked dearly for dozens of centuries…

A chance to see his creation finally joining the ranks of legends. To be spoken of in the same breath as Mjolnir, the Lightning Bolt, Gungnir, Excalibur…

Long had the question troubled his godly soul; why did none of his creations ever get the credit he felt they deserved? Were they truly not capable of clashing against the likes of Poseidon's Trident? Were his skills truly no match for the Elder Cyclops? Or the Dwarves of Niðavellir?

It was only in the recent millennium that he realized the truth.

The problem wasn't in his creations…but in their wielders.

His creations were every bit as powerful as the weapons of the Big Three. The Golden Bow that he'd crafted for Apollo, for instance, had the power to spread plague and pestilence across the world. As a punishing god, Apollo had laid waste to entire kingdoms and empires using the weapon whenever it struck his fancy. There was even a time that Apollo was considered to be by far the most feared god in Olympus.

Yet, the Golden Bow never received its due credit. Hephaestus did not receive his due credit. What did Gungnir, a spear with no greater ability than its ever-piercing tip, have in front of a bow that birthed the first plague? Nothing!

And yet, the name Gungnir was easily the more recognizable one amongst the gods.

It was only later that Hephaestus realized. The blame did not fall upon the weapon…but upon its wielder. Apollo simply couldn't hope to match the legend of Odin, and thus his weapon too remained under the shadow of a greater legend.

'My creations aren't being represented to their full potential.'

This was the reason why Aegis proved to be one of his more successful creations; bringing him attention unlike any other.

'It was because of the gods using it.' Hephaestus had long concluded.

Zeus, and then Athena; both made fearsome use of the shield in the battlefield, striking true terror in the hearts of many.

But Hephaestus wasn't satisfied. Aegis may be highly regarded amongst many, but it wasn't his best. His best was currently rotting in the hands of a god who would rather serenade his way through the enemies, and a goddess who only hunted under the shadows of night, away from prying eyes.

But not for longer.

Hephaestus grunted, letting his domain increase the temperature of the Celestial Bronze metal beneath him as he hammered away at it again—infusing its essence to another divine metal; Stygian Iron. The Armor was beginning to take shape now. Even though it was in its most basic form, devoid of any specialty or divinity—save for the natural power of the metals—it was still better than the final products he'd delivered to most of the minor gods.

And yet, it isn't even worth being called a prototype. The unique piece of metal—shaped like a misshapen breastplate—simply acted as a sample, just like the dozens of combinations he'd already prepared before it. From combining Imperial Gold with Bone Steel—the divine metal of Norse—to Meteoric Iron with Adamantine, Hephaestus was unwilling to leave any stone unturned in his quest to find the perfect combination for an armor of…specific capabilities. Even if it meant using his limited supply of incredibly rare materials.

The god of blacksmith was going all in on this project, for there was no way he could do any less for this big of an opportunity.

Not after years of waiting in anguish. Not when he'd finally found a wielder worthy enough to hold his best….

Mikael Gabrielson.

A young god who was growing incredibly powerful, incredibly quickly. Someone whose legend was already circulating amongst the 'supernatural' world.

Hephaestus had long since concluded that a weapon could only be as popular as the god, and he had a feeling that the young Olympian would one day join the ranks of Poseidon and Thor.

And what better way for the world to recognize his creation than being wielded at the hands of a new, powerful god? One who was not afraid to shake things up, one who hungered for glory and power…one who was itching to prove his might, and had already shown himself worthy.

Mikael Gabrielson was about to take the world by storm, and what better way to do so than to usher this era into a new beginning… by unleashing his creations' true power and potential!

It was a good thing the boy already carried a weapon of his making, though Hephaestus wasn't truly proud of it…not in the same way he'd been when he'd finished crafting the Golden Bow. Stormbreaker—as the young god had named it—was capable of quite a few powerful feats; from projecting Mikael's power, and even enhancing it further, to changing its form. But it wasn't as great as the twin bows.

He intended for the Armor to change that.

By the time he was done, he planned for the young god to be garbed in the most powerful armor Hephaestus could hope to create. And by the time Mikael was done, he hoped to be called the greatest blacksmith in the world. He hoped to gain the worship of other pantheons, and to become the most prized creator for not only the Olympians, but all the gods alive.

And this war should provide a perfect opportunity for that.

Hephaestus dropped his hammer abruptly, a sudden intrusion in the castle taking his attention. Inside his seat of power, his senses were almost omnipotent, quickly picking up on the white robed figure that dared enter his home unannounced…

Oh.

'And the Wielder arrives…' Lips tugging up, he opened a path for the intruder—straight to the belly of the castle. The next instant, his second favorite Olympian announced his presence with a whoosh of swirling air, tiny crackles of lightning slithering around his body as he came to a halt.

Hephaestus chuckled at the dramatic entrance. "No one to impress here, lad. Take care not to break my house apart."

"Hephaestus." The boy greeted, his smile more blinding than Apollo's. "You know why I'm here, right?"

Even with wisdom worth thousands of years under his belt, Hephaestus still couldn't fully suppress a slight pang of envy at the younger god's natural beauty. He didn't look like he was even trying to be charming like Apollo. Had he gained a fraction of the boy's looks, he would've surely won a place within the 'Top ten most handsome gods around the globe' competition…enough to perhaps salvage the shambles his marriage had become.

He shook away the thought. Long since had he come to terms with his own deformity, so much so that he didn't even bother changing his mortal appearance to look a little less wretched anymore.

It was just how the world was, and he'd accepted his place within it a long time ago…even if he was hit by an occasional pang of envy…

'Some gods have all the luck.' He lamented, not for the first time.

"I have a quest to attend so we'll need to make this short." One such lucky god butted in on his self-pity.

Grunting, he extended his divinity and commanded his creations to be suspended in place, walking off of his metal seat to approach the young god. "Aye, lad. Already got the forge working."

"No wonder it's hotter than hell in here." The boy shook his head, glancing around the forge. "Hades would be proud."

Hephaestus snorted, letting the furnace cool down, before turning to the young god again.

His eyes looked the boy up and down; dressed in loose black pants and a white hip-length robe, he did not look Greek in any shape or form. And yet, there was a terrifyingly powerful aura around him, an aura that warned any from underestimating him; letting off a sense of Holiness, creation, and desire. The power he exuded around him…Hephaestus had only ever seen in the Elder six—the children of Kronos.

"You've grown quickly, lad." He rumbled, moving over to his collection of metallic samples. "Some may fear too quickly."

The boy scoffed. "And these 'some' won't happen to be gods, would they?"

Hephaestus shrugged, picking out the crystal container. "No other opinions worth knowing."

"Well, I'm not really worried." Mikael shuffled after him. "They'll be fools to air their grievances at times like these."

The god of forges snorted. "Never underestimate an immortal's arrogance, lad. War comes and goes for us like another passing day. We know this one would be much more dangerous of course, but some fools wouldn't believe that."

"That's alright." A dark amusement lit up in the new Olympian's voice. "I'm sure I can handle some fools."

Surprising though it was to admit, Hephaestus had no doubt he could. Minor gods should merely be annoyances for the Gabrielson now. Fates, even he felt like a bug sharing the same room with him. The lad in front of him felt similar to Poseidon in his mortal form. Hell, even more powerful than Poseidon's mortal form.

'And here I was, a chant few years ago, doubting his capability in matching Ares.'

Shows how fickle Fates could be.

Then again, the Fates seemed to avoid the lad like a plague…perhaps they just wanted to avoid the exact bullshit like this.

Shaking his head, he waved the boy over. "Hop over and take a look at this."

There were four samples in total, sitting innocently in their prescribed crystalline seats that were specifically designed to be utterly unreactive to godly metals.

"You've got five options to choose from." Hephaestus started. "Your Armor's capabilities will depend on your selection."

Mikael hummed, sparkling blue and violet eyes skidding over his creations. "I sense a large Mystiokinetic difference in all of them."

Hephaestus raised a bushy brow, a little surprised. "Spot on you are, lad. There's a difference alright. I'll walk you over it."

The first metal he dislodged looked like a translucent white bone, glinting with a sinister charm.

"The Adamantine and Bone steel combo is the hardest and strongest in here. If you want an unbreakable Armor that could survive beatings from gods beyond your level, look no further. Adamantine-steel—as I like to call it—has got you covered."

He put the metal back in place and removed the next.

"But if you're looking for something that can channel a whole lot of energy and trigger abilities that no sane armor has any business having, then this one here will sort you out; a mixture of Meteoric Iron and Celestial Bronze. This would be the easiest for me to work with if you want specific adjustments to its designs. Like a self-separating gap for your wings to pop out of, or an armor that shifts its shape according to your will. Basically, the previous one was brute protection, this one's magical."

Before he could continue to the third stone, Mikael surged forward and placed his hands above the table—palm down.

"Let's make this shorter." The boy said, and a female head, two beastly heads, and a golden cloak suddenly materialized upon the table. "These are the parts you told me to collect, along with Ladon's head. I just want a full body armor—with the same color scheme as my spear—that can let me use complete functions of my abilities, including the wings. I trust you with the rest."

Hephaestus' snorted, lips curved up. "Any other god would be dancing to see what new toy they could get. But not you lad, eh? Though you can bet I'll repay this trust a dozen folds."

"Well, you can repay some of that now." The boy smirked mysteriously.

With great grandeur, he held out a hand as if presenting something otherworldly. Then he flexed his fingers and suddenly a spear of magnificent beauty materialized within his palm. "May I present to you, the greatest, the sexiest—"

"True Longinus." Hephaestus breathed out, stunned.

"Oh well…yeah. You're no fun."

For a moment his brain refused to accept the sight…and then his emotions started to go haywire.. 'No, no, no…why!?' He raged in his mind. 'How can Fate be so cruel to me!?'

Just when he'd started to get his hopes up, the world coalesced together and dashed them into dust.

It was a struggle to calm his mind, but he forced the one question biting his heart out through clenched teeth. "Where did you get it?"

"Took it from a mortal." The boy twirled his spear, tracing golden arcs through the air. "Not that it was his to begin with, of course."

'Fates be cursed. How in Ouranos' severed balls am I supposed to compete with that?' This spat of Hercules once again; where the breastplate Hephaestus had created for him was overshadowed by his simple wooden club.

Not that the True Longinus was simple, far from it. The only reason its legend did not match or surpass Mjolnir was due to its stipulation of being reserved for humanity's heroes. How on Earth a god of Olympus was able to wield it without a speck of human blood was anyone's guess.

That aroused another startlingly dreadful question within him.

"What will you do with Stormbreaker now?" Hephaestus had to force himself to ask, a part of him painfully aware the boy could just decide to gift it to his sister if he ever succeeded in reviving her…

The young god shrugged. "I was hoping you'd have an answer." The spear of Longinus was replaced by Stormbreaker in his hands. "Maybe you can add a shield mode in there? I'd be happy to change my style to accommodate it."

Well, that was better than he'd expected.

Hephaestus' brain started whirling, scrambling to salvage the situation. "...Or maybe I can add it to the Armor…grant it offensive capabilities, laced with even powerful poison…"

"I leave it to your capable hands." Mikael said, dropping the weapon. "I'm quite fond of it, you know? It reminds me of my mother. It would be a great shame if it isn't a part of me."

Hephaestus grunted, his mind far away from the present. "This will take time. At least a week. Maybe more."

"I'll be busy for the next couple of days at least. Though it'll be nice to have it ready before I leave to meet the Angels and devils."

With an absent wave of his hand, he dismissed the troublesome god, his focus entirely upon the blue and white spear.

'Well, it seems my work will be a touch more complicated…'

A good thing then that Hephaestus truly adored a challenging prospect.

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The business with Hephaestus finally resolved my last reason to stick around the Divine city. Having already said my goodbyes to Anna lite and Percy—along with ordering the rest of the camp to prepare—the only thing I needed now was to reach my destination. Thus, barely a minute past my departure from the God of Blacksmiths' castle, I tore through the Olympus' firmament like a hypersonic jet, heading straight for the mysterious waters of Bermuda triangle, or as the Greeks liked to call it; the Sea of Monsters.

Honestly, I wasn't in any true hurry. While the war loomed closer than ever, there hadn't been any actual attacks as of yet. At my fastest, it would've barely taken a fractional second to cross the entire land and soar above the Sea waters. But finding the Fleece wasn't my only mission for today, so I took my sweet time while mentally planning my timetable for what was sure to be a very eventful day.

Now that the mega series of quests were complete, and with no god to spy upon me without my knowledge, I finally had some quality time to explore my newly gained powers.

[Authority of Beauty and Desire]

[Authority of Holy Power]

[Authority of Energy Creation]

The skills did not have a level for some reason, acting like passive effects. While I wasn't exactly starting from the absolute bottom—having already exercised my Authority over Desire and Holy Power with quite successful results—I was still far, far away from mastering the abilities. Though with my divinity giving me an instinctive grasp over my newly gained skills, I expected it to go much faster than normal.

How hard could it truly be, right?

Right.

This was one of the few reasons I had not wanted Ares to take his Divine form. I may have still won with my hax abilities—even as a Tier 7—but Ares had thousands of years to master his Authority over his chosen domains. It would've been foolish to dive into a battle with an opponent who was not only 8 times stronger and faster than me, but also had unknown divine abilities stashed away in his big-ass forehead.

Of course, I wasn't as worried about those unknown abilities now that I surpass him in raw power and physicality. I actually held complete confidence in absolutely demolishing him—or any other True god—in their Divine form right now. With my 6-winged angelic form giving me 40 points now, the True Longinus further enhancing my prowess greatly, and my own Divine Form—albeit much weaker—ready to be unleashed at any time, I was probably the most overpowered True god right now.

[Angelic Form—Six-Winged Angel]

· Increases Strength and Power according to wings unlocked [Passive]

· Increases all physical stats by 40 upon unleashing your wings [Active]

And;

True Longinus (Celestial): Holy Spear of the Setting Sun, the Spear of Destiny and the Spear/Lance of Longinus, is the first and most powerful Longinus and the same spear which St. Longinus used to stab Jesus Christ. The weapon increases the User's control and Authority over Holy Power and Creation.

· 50 points to Spirit

· 30 points to all physical stats

And;

Divine Domain (Lvl 3): 30 to all physical stats, 30 to Spirit

Through sheer bonuses, I had over 100 points of physical and 80 points of Spirit stats! And this was discounting the 10 to Strength from Hercules' Perk.

Mikael

Race: God/Angel/Devil Hybrid

Tier: 8

Level: 744

Divine Power: 8,970,000/8,970,000

Holy Power: 8,970,000/8,970,000

Demonic Power: 8,970,000/8,970,000

Stamina: 8,440,000/8,440,000

Health: 8,640,000/8,640,000

Stats

Strength: 774 (100)

Speed: 784 (100)

Dexterity: 774 (100)

Endurance: 744 (100)

Constitution: 764 (100)

Mental: 53 (2)

Spirit: 817 (80)

Points: 20

'Gods, I love my system.'

Definitely the most overpowered True god, and this was without adding my even more overpowered abilities.

Hell, with my raw power at the peak of Elder gods, I doubted any save for Tier 9s and above could hope to defeat the current me, and considering I'd once thought Ddraig, another Tier 9 being, to be the epitome of this world, that was saying something. Just a week ago, it would've been so easy to let that get to my head; having climbed the ranks of this world so rapidly: from Tier 1 to Tier 8 in a handful of years.

But my ultimate goal was still firm in my mind, and I had a long path to walk before I could hope to achieve it.

And the first step of that path, I believed, was mastering my domains.

'Let's get even more op.'

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Three days ago

These cold and clammy hands, smelling of human sweat and rustic blood. This weak and tiny body, prone to mortal callings of waste expulsion that oozed out an incredibly horrible stench. This childish face; young and beardless, and so utterly human . Everything about this new mortal body disgusted the King of the Titans, and had it not been so uniquely suited for his needs, he would've crushed the pitiful thing and looked for something better to possess.

How could the mortals live with themselves without attempting to end their own pitiful existence was a mystery to Kronos; one that he looked to be stuck with for the foreseeable future. Well…at least, until his eventual rise to power.

'But it would do for now' Kronos convinced himself half-heartedly, sighing in silent agony. 'It would have to.'

At least Luke Castellan was a passable Demigod, and their already established connection—along with his half-dead status upon arrival—had made it easier for Kronos to possess him. The curse of Infinity further enhanced the body—having stitched the fatal wounds he'd sustained in his escape—making it match the might of the broods from his three sons…his grandchildren. Now all he needed to do was use the boy's subdued spirit to bathe in the River Styx, and he may finally be able to exercise a whisper of his former might through the power this body would carry…

The Titan God of Time grimaced, realizing even his thoughts were slow and subdued within this disgustingly weak body. It would've been so much easier had he possessed one of Zeus' brats. Then again, had Gaia done her job correctly he just might have. Instead, her daft champion had ended up killing the sibling whose dreams he'd just begun corrupting, while the other one—completely immune to his influence for some asinine reason—went on to gather absurd amounts of power in the blink of an eye, no doubt fated to become a thorn in Kronos' side now.

Many a long nights had the crooked one spent lamenting the lost opportunity. Had he somehow managed to gain control over Mikael Gabrielson, he wouldn't be needing this pathetic body—or even Ophis' help, for that matter—right now. The boy had grown from an insect to a threat in front of his very eyes, and there was nothing Kronos had been able to do.

Still, not all was lost. He was here now, after millennia of struggle for freedom, having assembled his splintered soul piece by piece over the centuries in that cursed hole.

With the help of his new allies, it was only a matter of time before he retook his rightful throne and devoured his children once more. Only this time, he wouldn't leave anything up to Fate. This time, he wouldn't forget to chew properly. He must live up to his title of King Cannibal after all, mustn't he?

People had this ridiculous idea of some blasted Prophecy forcing his mouth against his children. Lies, all of them! Only a fool would believe any of his children could ever hope to surpass him. No, the true reason he'd devoured his children so long ago was simple...

He had been hungry.

When he'd first held his daughter, his firstborn, on the crook of his elbow…laid eyes upon the perfect bundle of flesh and ichor named Hestia…he'd known instantly. Whatever being his sister-wife had birthed, its texture and taste was fated to surpass anything he'd ever experienced. That soft, juicy morsel of Divinity, looking so enticing under the moonlight…there was only so much he could do until his restraints snapped and he ended up popping the candy-sized Hestia down his parched throat.

And once he'd got started, once he'd got a taste for the Divine flesh…there had been no turning back. One by one he devoured all the tiny cracklings as soon as they were out of his wife's womb, quickly getting addicted to the taste of his children.

Kronos sighed. 'At least I'll get a chance to relive those moments again…'

"Why, my young friend." A sly voice suddenly sang behind his ears. "You look mortally depressed."

Kronos did not let himself seem startled, no matter how much the sudden presence and power of the voice discomforted him. 'Curse this weak body, it even breathes cowardness into me.'

His eyes flickered to the side, lips curling up in recognition as he took in the unnamed assailant that came sauntering to the fore, a dance hidden within its steps.

"Loki of…Asgard." Kronos purred, a half-smirk half-sneer fixed on his face, forcibly dismissing the irritation at his boyish voice. "It does not surprise me that you would sell your soul to the Dragon in return for your freedom. Must've been tiring, locked away in the cave, awaiting your fated death at a lesser god's hands."

If the god was surprised by his knowledge he didn't show it, simply tilting his head mockingly, a smirk dancing on his lips. "Such venomous words from someone so… young and weak. What would your mother say, child? Oh! If only I knew your name, Mr…?"

"You will not take me for a fool, godling." The Titan snarled, his new white teeth full on display. "You were but a boy when I peered within that twisted Jotnar head of yours."

"Tried." The infuriating god drawled. "Tried to enter my dreams—a god of magic's, I might add—like a fool. It must've taken all your Titanic might to not go insane. A commendable attempt, nonetheless. You almost earned my respect that night."

Kronos suppressed his rapidly growing temper, sitting back calmly to study the god with a careful eye. "You do not fear me, Asgardian. That is…interesting. At the height of my power, your entire pantheon would have to bow before me in supplication. You would be lucky to survive my sneeze."

"Ah, well," Loki took a seat beside him on the table, both of them ignoring the guests assembling around them. "You aren't quite at the height of your power, are you? And I'm not an Asgardian. For all your supposed power, you seem woefully ignorant, Kronos."

The Titan had to remind himself of his new status to stop bursting out at the god. As he was now, he'd consider himself lucky in surviving a fight with a minor deity. And infuriating though he was, Loki of Asgard was certainly far above a minor deity.

"I will not engage a god in some battle of petty insults." Kronos settled in declaring, before turning away from the deity, eyes flickering around the house of Ophis.

"And what a shame that is."

It was a massive globe-like chamber, dark and quiet. Silence seemed to have life of its own; treasured above all in this place. A grand ornate table stood in the middle, with the assembled guests seated around. At the head was a majestic throne in shades of violet and black, something he would consider suitable for his status…had he been his former self.

Even with his drastically reduced senses, there was no doubt in his mind that they were outside Gaia's realm. He could feel a void-like presence outside the chamber, a hint of gaping wide nothingness.

"Look at them." His neighbor prodded. "Peculiar, is it not? Sitting with beings so far below you?"

Kronos glanced at the god, before turning to where his gaze lay. At the lower end of the table was a small group of devils and humans, all quiet and somber, shrouded within a globe of self-important gravity.

"Filth and insects." Kronos grimaced. "I see not what they could hope to give to our cause."

"They were the ones to free me." Loki offered, smiling. "Human magicians, so weak I wouldn't give them a second glance. They stole the sword Skufnung along with its stone, they found my cave with just a little guidance from me, and they struck me free from my bindings, offering me a deal from the Infinity itself, a deal I cannot refuse."

With his smile turning to another infuriating smirk, the god leaned closer. "I hear something similar happened to you, Lord Kronos?"

Kronos ignored him.

The god leaned even closer. "If I may ask, what is this cause that you speak about, great Titan?"

The Titan King finally met his eyes, grunting "You shall know soon enough."

The stifling aura that suddenly filled the chamber from corner to corner snapped the God of Mischief's mouth shut, forcing both to turn to the fore.

Standing less than five feet tall, the child that struggled to climb up her throne could never hope to be mistaken for a mighty Dragon God. Not that anyone would dare underestimate her; the sheer raw power that swirled around her tiny body was like an inevitable avalanche threatening to drown every being present in the room at the barest of disturbances.

To the Ouroboros Dragon, they must all look equally pathetic.

It birthed a rare sense of helplessness within him. Here he was, lesser than he ever was, sitting in front of a being just as—if not more—powerful than Gaia and Ouranos.

Only the knowledge of the ancient treaties binding her actions gave him enough comfort to not stand up and look for an exit.

"I, command you to sit." Her words were quiet, forcing some of the weaker creatures to strain their ears. But the effect it had on the room was instant; all the shuffling members quickly finding themselves a seat.

For a few precious seconds, the world—or whatever dimension they were within—came to a halt, patiently awaiting the words of the Infinity. Maintaining her silence, the Dragon God simply glanced at a slightly strong cretin… who was actually still stronger than the current him, curse Ouranos' severed balls!

Without being prompted, the cretin stood up and bowed dutifully.

"My lady," The cretin's eyes flickered towards them once, before straightening his spine to stand taller. "I'm afraid to say Cao Cao was killed in the last mission. Only two from the Hero faction managed to escape. It would seem that Mikael Gabrielson is much more powerful than originally led to believe."

Kronos grunted irritably. "He is an Olympian now. But strong he may be, he hasn't yet formed a true Divine Form. I suggest you take advantage of his weakness while it lasts. For I doubt even our new friend here could hope to lay him low then."

"Fascinating!" Loki perked up beside him, seeming to take no offense. "A new god with such power…you must've already tried to entice him to our side, no? And from your twitching eyes…I take it you failed?"

Kronos huffed. "He's as arrogant as his father! I do not need him!"

The god of mischief hummed. "You seem to know much about him."

Of course he did. He'd seen the entire thing from Ares' eyes. The fight, the victory, and the eventual ascension as an Olympian. It had been a harsh defeat for Kronos, losing a powerful pawn like Ares…

Had he known the boy could wield the Bolt with such mastery, he wouldn't have stopped that weakling of a war god from taking his Divine form.

Nonetheless, Ares had served his purpose.

Now if only someone could take care of the boy-god before he grew even further…

"I don't waste time on lost causes." Kronos finally responded to the curious god. "The time for diplomacy is over. We must make a point if I… we are to win this war."

"War?" Loki raised an eyebrow. "Has Ragnarok arrived while I wasn't looking?"

"Ragnarok…" Kronos mused. "Does it not start with your freedom? Perhaps this is Ragnarok."

The god chuckled. "Unless Midgard is frozen solid and all but two humans are dead, I really doubt it. The idea however, I must confess, is quite enticing to behold."

Kronos never got the chance to reply as a wave of power suddenly came to dominate the chamber.

"Silence." Ophis commanded, and just like always, it was heeded without question. "Kronos must reclaim his power if he is to be of any use to me. I, will hear your plans for it."

The implication that he was currently useless rankled his pride, but he swallowed the indignity and marched forward. "We must destroy Olympus for that to happen, and the gods are our biggest enemies. I will gather my army of Titans at once, and with a…little assistance, crushing the Olympians would be child's play."

"If I may suggest, my lady?" Loki spoke up, the respect in his voice making Kronos envious. "My children could be of great help in this war…let me set Fenrir free. He would love to spill some divine blood, be it Norse or Greek."

"I…was hoping you could help us instead, Lord Loki." The still-standing devil cretin butted in. "As Lord Kronos said, it would be foolish to let Mikael Gabrielson grow stronger. He has already defeated two of our core members and has shown considerable progress in a matter of months. My faction has been successful in every task given to us, and we would soon free Apophis from his cage as well. But I believe this task takes priority. With your help, we could successfully deal with—"

"That will not be necessary." Kronos interrupted the insect's chattering. "There are gods willing to join me already, to rebel against the tyrants. This shall be a great initiation test to prove their worth."

There was something deeper in the devil's goal, he knew. It was easy to recognize really; a dark greed and excitement that the worm seemed to feel at the thought of Gabrielson's death.

Kronos couldn't care less. He simply wanted the baby god to be dealt with.

It took all his will to contain the glee spreading within his chest as he realized how smoothly his plans were proceeding. Fenrir, Apophis, Typhon…all creatures of respectable power, and all available for war at his disposal.

The sole reason for their loss in the last war was due to their own overconfidence and lack of allies. With the gods gaining the support of those disgusting hundred-armed wretches and carrying uber-powerful weapons, there was only so much Kronos and his outnumbered army could have done. Even he was eventually laid low by the combined might of his three sons and their shiny new weapons.

Now? Now he had no lack of powerful allies. Now it was his time to show exactly why he was once considered the supreme ruler of the universe. With the power and resources at his disposal, Kronos was confident in conquering the entire world, let alone the puny kingdom of gods.

It was time to free his fellow Titans and march for war. It was time for revenge, for the total annihilation of the beings who'd caused them much agony over the millennia.

As for his promise to the Dragon of Infinity…well, he already had some experience in that. Beings like Great Red may not be opponents Kronos could hope to match alone, but he had killed Ouranos all the same. Through trickery and guile, yes, but why would that matter? He wouldn't be alone in the fight, with Infinity herself by his side. The rest of her army would simply be too much for a single overgrown lizard.

Worse comes to worst, he would fall victim to the Apocalypse Dragon and spend a few centuries recovering in Tartarus, his oath to Infinity complete either way. As long as his army defended his throne, it would be a small price to pay for his freedom and power.

Kronos let a pleased smile curve upon his face as Ophis proceeded to give the same orders.

Even this body didn't feel as disgusting for some reason anymore.

Things were looking up for the King of Titans, and there was no one who could hope to ruin it.