As Hades stored away the gate to the world, his gaze drifted over the endless expanse before him. He sought to witness the unfolding drama among the gods—particularly Zeus and the spectacle he was about to create. The next hundred thousand years loomed ahead, filled with uncertainty about who would ultimately preside at the banquet of the god king on Mount Olympus.
A faint smile graced Hades' lips as he tilted his head slightly, resting it on his hand. His dark eyes seemed to observe everything, as if the intricate web of fate was being woven right before him.
Cerberus lay contentedly in Hades' embrace, exuding a cuteness and obedience that brought a rare warmth to the god of the underworld. The three-headed guardian, in his smaller form, felt a sense of tranquility, aware of his master's powerful presence.
"Survived…"
Prometheus knelt weakly on the ground, his face ashen and drenched in sweat. The God-Killing Flame thrummed within him, a potent reminder of the trial he had endured. Though he felt the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him, he had succeeded.
With great effort, Prometheus staggered to his feet, a determined smile creeping onto his lips. "Zeus! Everything is about to begin!" he thought, his mind racing with plans. This was merely the first step in a long journey.
Zeus, observing from afar, snorted in disdain. "Do you think seeking aid from Hades is wise, Prometheus? Such naivety!" The arrogance in his voice was palpable. To him, Prometheus was but a minor inconvenience, a pawn in a game far greater than himself. "You fought for the throne, but you fail to grasp the true power it holds. Hades and Poseidon? They are inconsequential!"
Pride surged within Zeus as he contemplated his heirs. "Soon, my sons will arrive! They will be the cornerstone of Olympus." With every thought of his impending fatherhood, Zeus felt the weight of destiny pressing on him, unshakable in his belief that he would be the ultimate ruler.
Meanwhile, deep within the Temple of Gaia, Metis writhed in pain. Her cries echoed, laced with sorrow as she bore the weight of impending motherhood.
"Metis, you are too weak," Gaia murmured, observing her daughter-in-law with a mix of sympathy and concern. The third-generation Titan was struggling under the burden of divine childbirth, a struggle that was far beyond her fragile constitution.
As Metis suffered, a radiant light surged from her body, illuminating the temple. A child was born, a divine being wrapped in the essence of sun and flame.
"Ah Bell!" The name resonated like a prophecy, for he embodied the attributes of fire, sun, and creation—all essential aspects of the fourth generation of god-kings. Although he appeared as a newborn, his divine power rivaled that of his forebears.
"Mother God," he declared, his tiny fist clenched with determination. "I will reclaim everything that is yours. Father will not prevail; he will become a myth, just like grandfather!"
Gaia watched over him with affection, recognizing the strength of this child. He bore the weight of his lineage with a maturity that belied his size. The memory of Cronus echoed in her mind, and she felt a sense of pride swell within her.
Yet, as Bell was on the cusp of life, Gaia resolved to protect him. "In that case…" She began to channel her divine power, a vast force that enveloped the newborn. She intended to delay the arrival of Athena, Bell's twin, so that he might grow stronger and Metis could endure a while longer.
"Thank you, Grandma!" Bell exclaimed, the gratitude in his eyes shining brightly. Metis, too, bowed deeply, overwhelmed by Gaia's kindness.
Gaia smiled, seeing her great-grandson's potential. "With time, you will grow to be a force for good, dear Bell," she said softly, her voice laced with hope.
In that moment, the threads of fate intertwined, as the destinies of gods and mortals began to unfold in ways neither Zeus nor Prometheus could foresee.