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Chapter - 5: Blood and Courage
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As soon as I stepped out of my father's throne room, his last words echoed in my mind. He hadn't spoken them clearly, but the message was there, hidden beneath layers of pride and severity.
He wouldn't stand in my way. Not yet, at least.
A half-smile curved on my lips. It wasn't a complete victory, but for now it was enough — a small step toward that sense of freedom I had always longed for.
I knew all too well how tied I still was to this cursed infernal dimension. Just like my father, condemned by the Fates to rule it for eternity, he would never let me go so easily.
In the end, I shared that same fate.
I can't even abandon this miserable place. If I died, I would still end up reforming in the River Styx's Pool, inside my own house, ready to resume my role in this eternal dominion.
I was part of this world.
I carried its blood, its soul, its power.
But I had no intention of giving up, and I refused to submit to this destiny of mine. Somehow, I was sure I would find a way out.
I was certain: With a symbol of power in my hands and a deeper understanding of my divine domain, they would help me move forward in my desire.
I had spent years raiding every corner of this realm, accumulating rare materials, forgotten relics, and metals so precious they would make even the gods envious.
My dimensional pouch overflowed with shards of power gathered everywhere. Some I had offered as gifts, like nectar one of the most coveted delicacies of the Underworld because I liked to forge bonds.
Others I kept without any clear reason, just for the pleasure of possessing them.
But now, finally, I had a clear purpose.
To create the greatest weapon the Underworld or the entire world had ever seen.
Walking through the familiar corridors of the residence, I began seriously thinking about which materials I would use.
Perhaps... all of them?
No. That wasn't a satisfying answer. I couldn't settle for a vague intuition: I had to figure out the perfect combination, the one capable of embodying the symbol of power.
But first, I had to truly understand who I was.
I was the Prince of the Underworld. Son of Hades and Persephone.
Born among blood and shadows.
If my weapon was truly to represent who I am — my divine nature, my blood, my destiny — then the first metal chosen had to reflect my status.
It had to be something that spoke of my lineage, my bond with the world of the dead, and the power flowing beneath my feet like a living, pulsating entity, ready to answer my call.
The first material was obvious.
Stygian Steel — a rare metal forged with the waters of the River Styx, capable of absorbing or annihilating the essence of monsters, gods, titans, demigods, and giants.
Weapons forged with this metal can wound both mortal and immortal creatures, striking not only flesh but the soul itself.
Unlike other divine metals, Stygian Iron makes no distinction between life and death, human and divine. It drains the target's life force, pulling it away with every strike, leaving only emptiness.
An eternal hunger, etched into the blade.
And that's exactly what makes it so lethal: it can destroy even what is already dead. Ghosts, shadows, restless spirits — no one is safe from such a blade.
Because Stygian Iron doesn't cut.
It devours.
Moreover, Stygian Iron has a little... bonus. Nothing too flashy — just the ability to channel the very power of the Underworld itself. No big deal.
And guess what? My father uses it too. Yep. Hades, the supreme boss of the Underworld, wields weapons forged from this metal.
What a surprise, right? The very fact that he, among all the gods, chooses to fight with Stygian Steel blades says a lot about the nature and value of this alloy.
And me?
Well... I've been lucky. Or maybe just boring enough to force luck to give me something. You see, getting Stygian Steel isn't like going to my friend Charon and seeing what new trinkets, shiny metal coins, and baubles he's got for sale.
No, no.
I had to literally beg Styx. Days — no, weeks — spent praying on her misty banks, offering vague promises, useless dharma.
And all just to get a slim chance that Styx would deign to listen to me.
Spoiler: In the end, she gave in.
Maybe she was sick and tired of my endless talking. Maybe she appreciated my stubbornness. Or maybe she just wanted to get rid of the boy who had been staring at her for days with the cutest pout ever seen in the Underworld.
Or at least that's what Nyx and my mother said...
I was even ready to use it as bargaining chip with my father if needed.
But… no. It wasn't necessary.
As for the second material, I didn't even have to think about it much since I had the perfect trophy, earned at a great price.
The bones of the Lernaean Hydra.
The Hydra.
Daughter of Typhon and Echidna. She wasn't the strongest of their offspring, but she was among the most feared. Nine serpent heads, poison instead of breath, toxins capable of melting living stone.
Every time you cut off one head, two new ones would grow in its place. She was a beast of hatred and destruction. She had poisoned the waters, charred the lands, reduced every hope to ashes.
Heracles had faced her centuries ago. And with the help of young Iolaus, he had managed to cauterize the wounds and tear off her immortal head.
But the one I faced was not alive. It was her spirit — or rather a spectral creature anchored to her very own bones, vengeful and furious over her defeat.
She poisoned me multiple times, and if it weren't for my stubbornness, I would never have won against her. But in the end, I defeated her and claimed what remained of her, and now those bones would become the heart of my weapon.
As for the last material...
Honestly? I had no idea.
I had plenty of options.
But none of those things told me they would be perfect for my symbol of power.
Among the items scattered in my personal trophy collection (also known as the "staircase of rancor") there was, for example, a horn — one of those I had ripped off Asterius in the middle of one of our fights across the luminous meadows of Elysium.
A nice trophy, to be sure: solid, sharp, and still a bit soaked with that bovine pride typical of the Minotaur.
Then there was obsidian, gathered from the depths of the Styx. A black material mostly used for non-divine weapons, specifically the scythes of the Grimm Reaper.
Intriguing, yes. But impersonal.
In the end, though, I remembered her.
A small, crude object, forgotten at the bottom of my inventory.
It didn't sparkle, it didn't scream power.
But… it spoke.
To me.
A red stone.
A blood stone, rough, thick, found a long time ago. Maybe during one of my escape attempts, maybe during one of my returns to the Pool of Styx — I didn't remember exactly — simply one day it had ended up in my hands.
I don't remember for sure.
But the feeling stayed.
When I held it between my fingers, I heard a voice.
Not a real voice, of course, I'm not that crazy (I think). It was more like a whisper from the earth itself, as if the soil of the Underworld breathed through that stone.
"We flow through time like blood flows in mortal veins. Look closely, young prince, and you will discover that even the earth has memory. And, like all power, it wants to be claimed."
And maybe, that was the point.
Not all power must be forged in fire or torn from the enemy with claws.
Some must simply be recognized.
And that, for my weapon, my symbol, my extension, was enough — at least that's how I felt inside.
I started walking toward my quarters. Or at least, that was my intention until a divine presence abruptly interrupted the flow of my thoughts.
Right in front of my room's door, the surrounding shadows began to slowly swirl, twisting like smoke under a higher will, until they outlined and then formed the complete shape of a figure I knew all too well.
Time seemed to freeze for a moment. It wasn't just surprise that paralyzed me, but her mere existence. Everything around seemed to vanish, leaving only her, as if this entire dimension itself was paying homage to her.
Her eyes were black, deep like a moonless starry sky. Her hair, also black as ink, fell softly over her pale shoulders.
She wore a divine garment, tight and dark, seeming to absorb light rather than reflect it, with full hips, soft and generous curves, emphasized by that dark purple dress, open just enough to leave space for imagination or to completely shatter it.
It was a dress made to seduce, to capture the gaze and never let go...
Even the makeup followed the same refined and lethal aesthetic: lips painted a deep violet, eyes outlined by eyeliner of the same shade.
She was practically a Gothic Goddess with big breasts and a dump truck with a tipping body...
Her presence was something beyond mere physical beauty. Every gesture, every look, was slow, measured. Hypnotic. Not that I was complaining.
On the contrary. It was almost impossible to look away.
And then, those eyes.
When she looks at you, it's like she sees every part of you. Every thought, every fear, every desire. It's frightening. But it also makes you want to stay there forever, lost inside that well of eternity.
It was Nyx, Mother Night.
One of the primordial Goddesses.
Technically, a maternal figure for me.
"Nyx…" Just her presence was enough to change the atmosphere in the room, but I tried to keep a casual tone as I flashed her a charming smile. "I wasn't expecting a visit from you."
"I just wanted to see how you were, my son," she answered calmly, her voice soft as velvet. "After all, I'm the one interrupting your moment of rest." A faint smile brushed her lips.
"You're beautiful when you smile," I said before I could stop myself. The words simply slipped out.
She slightly raised an eyebrow, surprised, then an ironic smile curved her lips while an imperceptible but real blush colored her pale cheeks.
"Megera was right when she described you as the second Adonis…" she murmured. An expression mixed with amusement and affection crossed her face.
"Is that a bad thing?" I asked without even realizing it. I certainly didn't want to be like him, unable to control his destiny and just a simple plaything.
Nyx looked at me silently, then slightly lowered her gaze, almost thoughtful. A golden sparkle flickered in her deep eyes. "No," she finally replied, with unexpected sweetness. "After all, you're much better than him. And you're growing splendidly."
I scratched my head, a bit embarrassed by her compliments. "My father doesn't seem to think the same. We just made a bet on whether I'll manage to escape this dimension on my last attempt."
"I know," Nyx said, interrupting me, all in all with a rather humorous air. "It's rare that something escapes me in this domain, especially if it concerns you."
… Oh.
I shot her a sidelong glance, a tired smile on my lips. "Right. You're the magnificent, all-seeing, extraordinary primordial creature who could kick the asses of the Olympian gods and Titans if only they deigned to pay you attention, right?"
A light chuckle slipped from her lips, soft as a whisper but with a warmth that hit me straight in the chest. "I believe you're the only one who still sees me that way, Zagreus, while the young gods try everything to forget me."
"Well, I certainly haven't, and someone has to say how damn fantastic you are," I replied, shrugging. "Sometimes you could brag a little."
"Oh, but I do, my dear son," she said with a faint, almost amused smile. "Only with those I have to educate and remind that I am a daughter of Chaos."
Sexy...
Then she lowered her gaze, thoughtful. "Zagreus, are you really ready? The challenge between you and your father could have consequences bigger than you imagine. And you are more at the center of all this than you believe, and especially very interesting things have been happening lately."
I sighed softly. "I know I'm ignorant about everything that happens on the surface. And maybe I'm just stumbling ahead blindly. But, honestly, I'm scared. Scared of disappointing everyone, and more than anything, scared of disappointing myself. But I can't stop. Not this time."
I hadn't even noticed she had come closer. Her hands gently rested on my cheeks, cold and warm at the same time, like the caress of the night.
I took one of her hands in mine, squeezing it softly. The warmth it emanated wrapped around me like a heavy blanket — it was a presence I honestly wanted by my side forever.
Then her voice brushed my ear, light as a whisper carried by the wind. "There is one thing you should remember, my child. An ancient truth, that even humanity intuited when, for the first time, they raised their eyes to the night sky illuminated by the moon and asked themselves: What is beyond the stars?"
I paused briefly. "The night is dark and full of unspeakable terrors. But that's not the point. It's not about not being afraid… it's about moving forward despite the fear, and becoming what you are destined to be."
I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply, then opened them to look into her beautiful eyes. "I won't disappoint you," I whispered.
"And you won't," she answered, with a voice that grew more seductive. "Then proceed with caution, my son." And just as she had come, her presence slipped away, dissolving into the shadows.
But that lingering feeling remained: like a breath held close to the skin, as if she had disappeared yet was still here, just out of reach, watching over me.
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