Everyone was shocked and heartbroken in their own way that day. Some mourned the fallen and others blamed themselves for such a disgusting loss. The Olympians were offended by the fact that they had all been defeated by one insane barbarian. Zeus was seething with rage at the taste of defeat! For how he the king of Olympus had lost to a savage! Poseidon did not know what to do? What to feel at such a moment? To be sad because one brother had lost both his sons, or to rejoice that the monster was finished and peace would finally prevail in Olympus? Now we don't even have to fear threats from the older brother. He is more broken than anyone else, his soul is devastated and he does not even have enough strength to lift a sword in such a position. What can be said about the dream of conquering Olympus. Indeed, Hades was completely devastated! Driven to a powerless frenzy by the realization that he had ripped out the snow-white wings of his eldest son with his own hands, and forcibly sewn on him the ugly, hideous wings of a bat. In his own selfish madness he created a new fallen lord and ruined him in the same hour. Had the same thing happened to everyone else in his family? Are they all doomed to eternal madness at their own hands!? Is this the true curse of the Firstborn and the Olympians? Even with almost limitless power, to be unable to save your own family!?
Hades gave himself up to his loneliness by banishing everyone from the palace; he wanted to immerse himself completely in his own despair. To realize what his eldest son had gone through. The world of the dead plunged that day into a new age of despair and sorrow. The control passed into the hands of Persephone she became the rightful queen of the underworld in the absence of her husband. The queen lusted for power like never before, and her heart gave itself over to greed in order to forget, at least for the time being, the grief of her loss. The three brothers had chosen not to intervene in the fight, but had also chosen to do their duty without interfering in any way. The Queen of the Night vanished without a trace after her youngest son. Leaving behind only the wail of grief that continually enveloped the palace corridors on the dark nights. Uranus sat silently on his throne, staring into the distance while smiling wickedly. The former lord of heaven knew something that would drive others to madness. His eyes were fixed on the future rather than the present. True, during this time he had to distract himself once, for the mother of all living things appeared before his face Gaia. The former wife was so interested in the young man that dared to challenge all Olympians. But Uranus refused to answer any questions and chased her away.
Zeus and most of the other Olympians returned to their daily duties. Of course, there are always exceptions, for such a fight can leave very deep scars on anyone. Such exceptions were Ares, Athena, and Artemis. Haemon was deep in their subconscious and occasionally injected the venom of fear and despair into each of them. Ares was completely consumed by a rage of revenge he wanted to strangle the barbarian with his own hands for what he had done to him. And it was rage that made him train and prepare every day, for there are monsters in the world even stronger than this madman. And he set out to kill them. To conquer every family without exception. Athena closed herself in the library looking for a way to end Typhon and his kind once and for all. Artemis disappeared into her own forests and never appeared again, even during the feasts, and no matter how many other Olympians looked for her it was all in vain. Hephaestus never gave up trying to find her. And no matter how many others persuaded him, he never gave up hope of seeing his sister again.
During one dark night in the north, two tall warriors in golden armor chose the warmth of the fireplace over the terrifying cold of the snow. Their mighty legs plunged into the snow like spears into flesh, and their stern gaze was fixed on the desolate village. The northerners wandered in search of something that had caused this nightmarish storm. When they reached the village, the stinking smell of rot hit their nostrils. Even the storm could not conceal such a disgusting smell. The peasants' bodies were strewn all over the place, and no scavengers were even interested in their stinking meat. And only the black and green snakes chose to taste the disgusting flesh. "In the name of Ymir, what happened here?" The red-haired warrior asked with disgust in his voice, clutching his axe tightly. "No idea, but whoever did this we will find him and tear him apart!" Gritted through his teeth, the blond spat in disgust. "Look who's hiding behind the trees!?" The redhead whispered so as not to frighten away a possible enemy. "Let's go!" The other commanded, heading quickly toward the trees. There, leaning against a tall birch tree and hunched over, stood a hooded man. In his hands he clutched a black spear, though from a distance he might have looked like an old man. But at close range it was clear that it was not an ordinary old man but a warrior of no small stature. The Northmen approached him without a trace of fear and asked in a loud voice, "Who are you? And what have you seen here?" Both warriors were quite serious at any moment, ready to attack. Their hands gripped their weapons tightly and their eyes watched the stranger's every move carefully. He only began to laugh eerily like a fox catching silly chickens. One of the warriors dared to come closer and ask, "Is that you Havi?"
But all he got in return was a scornful look from the stranger. He raised his spear and struck the ground, awakening some dark forces. Suddenly dark shadows surrounded both warriors, giving them no chance to retreat. "Damn Draugra!" Both brothers in arms hissed as they prepared for battle.