The hall held its breath.
Even the torches flickered weakly, as though unsure whether they should dare burn in the presence of such beings.
Raezel met Nythren's gaze.
"Why do you want to live here—Among mortals?"
It was a simple question.
But the weight behind it could have cracked the stone beneath their feet.
Ares still gripped his sword, but the fire behind his eyes had long since died. The mortal king stood frozen, torn between the fear clawing at his spine and the cold realization that his hall had become a stage for titans.
Even Medusa, divine and dreadful, said nothing.
Raezel took a slow breath. His voice was soft, but steady.
"Because they live, Nythren. Truly live."
Nythren raised a brow, a smirk teasing at his lips. "They live?"
Raezel stepped forward. His presence wasn't loud or oppressive—but it commanded attention.
"We exist. We rule, fight, destroy, and scheme. But mortals… they live. They dream. They love. They suffer. Every choice they make carries weight because they know any day they could die. Every step is taken on borrowed time. That's what makes it real."
Ares scoffed, his voice sharp. "And what of power? What of dominion? Will dreams protect them when war comes? The world bends to strength—not fleeting sparks of mortality."
The air shifted.
Nythren's abyssal gaze turned.
Ares had spoken—but he'd forgotten who was listening.
The weight in the hall didn't just return—it deepened. A presence crept in like nightfall swallowing the horizon, slow and inevitable.
"Ares."
Nythren's voice was calm. Smooth. Absolute.
"You dare speak against my brother?"
Not a question.
A warning.
Ares' fingers twitched.
Nythren took a step forward—unhurried, deliberate.
"Raezel and I may not share blood, but our bond is stronger than anything Olympus could dream of. You think power is all that matters?" He tilted his head, and the darkness at his feet writhed like it lived. "Then let me show you power, O God of War."
Reality shuddered.
The very fabric of existence trembled under Nythren's presence, as if the universe itself bent to accommodate him.
Mortals collapsed to their knees. Their lungs refused to fill. Their hearts hammered with panic they couldn't understand.
Even the serpents froze.
"If my brother wished," Nythren said, voice like silk wrapped around thunder, "I could make the sun rise at night and drown it by day. I could tear the sky asunder and command the stars to bow at his feet. I am Nythren—the desire of eternal darkness. And you…"
He paused, eyes narrowing to razors.
"You are a warrior."
Ares flinched.
He felt something alien wrap around his chest.
Inferiority.
Nihaga, curled near Raezel, flicked his tongue in delight. The serpent's whispered laughter.
"Tell me, O God of War," Nythren continued, "do you still wish to speak of power?"
Ares said nothing. His grip trembled.
Nythren smiled. "I thought not."
The silence that followed could have shattered worlds.
The mortal king—who had, not long ago, considered abandoning his own throne just to escape—began to inch forward with wide, disbelieving eyes.
And then—
Two figures stepped forward.
Nyssa and Krios.
The air crackled—not with divine might, but with something far more dangerous.
Sibling fury.
Nythren, who had just reduced a god to insignificance, who had silenced a hall full of mortals and monsters, now found himself on the receiving end of two very annoyed expressions.
Nyssa folded her arms, her stare sharper than any blade. "And what about us, dear brother Nythren?"
Krios mirrored her, voice as light as his grin. "Yes, dear brother. You're rather devoted to Raezel, aren't you? But we were wondering… do you remember that you have other siblings?"
Silence.
Nythren—Prince of the Darkness, Shifted.
His fingers twitched. His eyes scanned the room like a man seeking escape.
He cleared his throat. "I… I love you too, my dearest."
Nyssa and Krios stared.
Unmoved.
Nythren tried again, flashing his usual abyssal grin. "Truly. With all my heart."
Still, silence.
Then—
"We don't think so," Nyssa said.
And they stepped closer.
The shadows at Nythren's feet twisted.
And stepped back.
Nihaga, always observant, flicked his tongue with a low chuckle. "Oh? The mighty Nythren… retreating?"
The serpents hissed in glee.
Even Medusa raised a brow.
Nythren's jaw tightened. This. This was the curse. These two never let go of anything. Ever.
Nyssa's voice cut the air like ice. "You always side with Raezel."
Krios nodded solemnly. "So tell us, dear brother—where exactly do we stand?"
Nythren did not like where this was going.
He was feared by Olympus.
But he feared his siblings more.
Ares, still lingering awkwardly in the background, looked on in absolute disbelief.
He had been humiliated beyond words. His pride had been crushed. His authority was undone.
And yet—no one cared.
Because apparently, Raezel's family drama was more important.
Ares blinked. "…Should I leave?"
Nihaga turned to him, flicking his tongue. "Stay. This is the best part."
The mortals, still too overwhelmed to breathe properly, had begun whispering.
"…Are gods always like this?"
Nyssa and Krios took one last step forward.
Nythren knew when he was beaten.
He exhaled slowly, placed a hand over his heart, and bowed his head like a condemned man before a guillotine.
"Nyssa. Krios. My dearest. My moon and my shadow. My light and my storm. How foolish of me, not to express my endless love."
They squinted at him.
Nythren pressed on. "Surely you know my heart holds no favorites. Raezel is my brother—but you two? You are my soul."
More squinting.
"My… very breath?" he offered weakly.
Nyssa raised an eyebrow.
Nythren panicked. "My eternal nightmares?"
Silence.
Then—
Krios grinned.
Nyssa sighed.
"…Fine."
Nythren exhaled like a man released from a noose.
Ares blinked again. "Wait. That's it? That worked?"
Nyssa turned to him slowly. And smiled.
It was not a kind smile.
She took a step forward. "Would you like to test it?"
Ares—who had dared to challenge her younger brother—Raezel, and lived only by sheer divine mercy—
Choose wisely.
"…No."