Battlewise, Othrys far outclassed Olympus. Aside from the boastful size and strength to its structure, the fortress looked far more efficient, functional compared to the sass-heavy choices the gods made for theirs. Being there invoked notions on how the Olympians prevailed over such creatures, which were not just bigger, but apparently more pragmatic. And since it led to more credence of Zeus' might, Ginrius decided to shrug it off and focus on their search.
"Amazing isn't it?" Prometheus said as they snuck around. The place was free of monsters, but its high walls, twists, and haunting vacancy still suggested danger at every turn. "Makes one wonder how the gods won."
Ginrius was not surprised at their matching concern, and even more of the resulting implication. "Yes," he agreed, even sounding wistful about it. "Which brings us to the follow-up question: If you really think so, why did you choose their side?"
The two had crept across an entire street (which put the Haliacmon River's breadth to shame) before Prometheus gave his answer. He grinned as he spoke, "I had a feeling they'd win…"
Weirded out, Ginrius felt it necessary to reaffirm, "You had a feeling? You're telling me that you joined a war that dictated the fate of the world… through a feeling?"
Prometheus went from smiling to snorting again, an obvious habit of his. "You're one to talk, young godsmith," he said, "didn't you start this war out of a feeling as well? At least I didn't incite the conflict myself. I just went along with it"
The argument hit Ginrius like a titanic bitch slap. He did light the wick out of love for a woman, possibly damning the rest of the world as a result. But he wasn't going to take it lying down either; against god or titan, he had to say his piece before calling it quits. "Well, you definitely started something when you stole fire for mankind."
"Technically, Zeus started that one," defended the titan. "And for what it's worth, I did it under very selfless reasons. Can you say the same for your situation?"
Despite the solid case against him, Ginrius was convinced he could at least land a stalemate, granted they had time to spare. But Gaea's grove now jutted out of the stairway before them, a lush contrast to everything cracked and faded. They were in the homestretch.
Their lucky streak continued all the way to the altar of the goddess. Neither monster nor rival deity stood in their way, just as everyone preferred. Feeling it safe to shed their guise, the two cleaned up and approached the pedestal for summoning.
With Prometheus performing the ritual, Gaea appeared before them post-haste, her form and façade reconstructed through the immediate foliage. It led Ginrius to picture her actual size, the way she opted to disclose but parts of her. Either way, she made Cronus look like regular fries.
"Prometheus," Gaea greeted, her voice wispy and echoing, "you have returned home."
"Yes, mother," replied Prometheus as he knelt. "It's been too long."
"So it is, and something tells me you did not visit solely for cordiality…" The goddess' emerald eyes, which were at least as huge as boulders, then turned to Ginrius. "The choice of escort is quite telling."
This prompted Ginrius to extend his respects as well. Kneeling even lower than Prometheus, he rolled out his speech. "We come seeking aid in the renewed war against Olympus, your eminence."
No response came for a while, save for the sound of creaking roots around them. Then the earth began to shake and to Ginrius' horror, the entire grove uprooted to reveal Gaea's extended form. When she spoke next, it became apparent that she unraveled to better stomp Ginrius dead, her once surreal voice shifting to something solidly malign. "And why should I join a war that undoubtedly leads to my downfall?!" she all but howled, spawning pubescent tornadoes. "I tire of your cycle of quarrels and the pain it delivers my kin!"
Ginrius was terrified, especially since he didn't think he had a sound counterargument. As Prometheus stated, this latest conflict was born out of selfish sentiments, and Gaea was all about the opposite. If he revealed the truth, the goddess might be more inclined to smite him; all the same—if not worse—should he fabricate a recourse.
But then Prometheus would prove his worth and loyalty to this new cause, adding to his finest hour since pilfering for humanity. He stood up and approached her mother, who calmed down as soon as they touched. "Because," the titan began, squaring his shoulders, "this is a war born of love, mother, not ambition or revenge. If our next king worked with this inclination, wouldn't you agree that it's bound to birth a better era? Far beyond that which Uranus, Cronus, and even Zeus achieved in their time."
Though it didn't hit her right out, the case made Gaea pause for reconsideration, at the very least averting her brand of Armageddon. She nestled back to neutral while she reflected on a verdict. It was progress, and Ginrius would gladly take it over something high-octaned.
The primordial's little exhibition, however, would result to another escalation.
The sky above soured and without further warning, unleashed a thunderbolt so fierce, it roasted Prometheus where he stood. Ginrius got knocked a few ways off, momentarily stunned. While he collected his bearing, the emerging Zeus walked over the charred remains of the titan, scattering his sooth in the wind. This time the king of the gods came ready for battle, donning his legendary Aegis and tagging his strongest general along, Heracles. "Your schemes have come to an end, boy," he addressed Ginrius ominously, readying his next bolt for the kill.
Gaea was of course furious, and her cries made the whole world tremble again. She uprooted her arms to strike his son's murderer, but Heracles blocked her attack and successively wrestled her down. The god of strength proved too much for even nature to overcome; in the end, all she could do was lament and struggle in vain, as the last embers of her child faded away.
Even when backed into the tightest of corners, Ginrius refused to go down without a fight. He raised an arm and his hammer came swooping in. Power coursed through him as soon as he grasped its handle, garbing him with his own suit of armor. Gold versus bronze set the theme, as the feuding gods stepped into the arena.
Ginrius threw his hammer as hard as he could, and it smashed dead center into Zeus' chest. The godking seemed mildly amused at the display of power, especially as it forced him a few steps back. But that was about the extent of damage Ginrius afforded to land, in spite of the significant boost his implements offered. The Aegis remained relatively unscathed. Even more frustrating was how Zeus treated his follow-up like they were nothing but bothersome flies.
Stupidly, Ginrius resorted to charge his adversary. Zeus threw a fat lightning bolt at him, which he managed to deflect at the cost of an armguard, some burned skin, and a lot of pride. But as he grappled the godking, he found his strength to be just as ridiculous. He would have been crushed in moments if not for another sleight of divine intervention.
The entire fortress was swallowed by a massive tidal wave, delivering slop, destruction, and a shit ton of slain monsters. When the flood receded, Poseidon and Hades entered the scene, putting a workable bulwark between their brother and Ginrius. It was time for round two of this terrible battle royale. But before that, the mandatory exchange of bitter formalities.
"Well met, Hades," greeted Zeus with electric sarcasm, "and of course, Poseidon, fresh from his masonry work. I do wonder which walls I'll send you to build after this, brother—if you survive that is."
Poseidon responded with a flourish of his trident, causing the waters to cascade fiercely once more. The distant sea also rioted, warning a second, more devastating wave en route. Hades on the other hand, fashioned blades out of his dark mist, which danced along the same beat.
"The quiet before the storm, I see… not even a sole greeting now from my brethren," added the godking, before conjuring countless lightning glaives. "Regardless, your conspiracy ends here!"
Before Zeus could deliver his judgment, someone grabbed him from behind, distracting him enough to miss his mark. Prometheus' charred countenance peeked over his shoulder, whispering, "You cursed me to heal perpetually didn't you?" before arm-locking him with all his recovering might.
As the godking proved too much to hold, the titan exclaimed, "Now, mother!" prompting Gaea—who was freed by Poseidon's wave—to send roots shooting out of the ground, further binding their nemesis.
Even then the odds were against them, as Zeus still proved too powerful for restraint. If he was alone, all five of them could have fared better, but Heracles was quickly recovering himself; the rest of Olympus could also come raining down any moment now.
The only viable move was for Ginrius' company to flee while they still have a chance, which meant leaving their newfound allies behind. Prometheus, who drew the shortest straw supported this, as he kept yelling, "Run!" over his desperate struggle.
When Ginrius refused to withdraw, Gaea finally recognized his resolve. His son, Prometheus was right about the young god after all. As Zeus tore through her roots, she sent another wave of entanglement, this time aimed at the three rebel gods. The vines covered them in a dome and sunk to the ground, away from the field of battle.
The pod soon broke and withered, but not before ferrying them back to the mouth of Underworld. They didn't know what became of Prometheus, though it was apparent that Gaea was spared for the sake of the earth.
Their little quest ended in tragedy, but as with the tale of Pandora, hope indeed came after despair. Ginrius was surprised to find a vial clutched in his hand, filled with the same questionable concoction that made Zeus king of the gods.