18 018: Kronos Titaneus

The very walls whispered secrets of ages past. 

A misty atmosphere enveloped Kronos as he walked through the dimly lit corridors. His mind was shuffled by thoughts about his wife and children. His piercing blue eyes were of a uniform color, holding no contrast as if gloomy. 

One could see in his eyes the toll this impending war had taken on him. He did not wish to kill his children. 

'War…Such a tragedy. Ichor will once again be shed and I'll have to kill my very own children. Why couldn't they just stay put in my stomach for a few more centuries.' he thought on the verge of breaking down. 

If only he could let out his anger and punch those walls. His reflection only angered him more. 

Kronos was not the apathetic tyrant his subjects thought he was. He too had emotions, he just knew how to control himself. He would not be one of those kings who were overcome by sloth, lust, and greed. 

He was a good king, that he was sure of. 

While Titans venerated his regal self, Dryads, among others, believed their lives would be much better without him. Despite this, Kronos harbored no anger about their beliefs. They were free to think what they wanted, so long they dared not to try anything. 

He sighed at their naivety, maybe, maybe they were right—though Kronos doubted this. He was a just king. While he held no mercy for those who sinned, he was fair to everyone be they be his siblings or a farmer. 

Maybe that fairness was not fair. 

Maybe it was a bad thing. 

He did not know and preferred ignoring such questions to which none could find the truly right one—except those phantasmagorical beings who could defy what truths and lies were.

Kronos looked to his left, his reflection greeted him with fixing eyes. The walls were made from mirrors, creating an ever-reflecting maze of dim light. Above himself, the ceiling was from a dark, reddish material which cast a foreboding hue over his path. 

This original architecture with those colors was only found here on Mount Othrys where he lived. 

If one day it vanished, this architectural style would be but a forgotten fantasy. 

Continuing down the corridor, Kronos' gaze was drawn to a painting which adorned the mirroring walls. Nostalgia tugged at the corners of his features. All along the corridor, the paintings would depict the tales of the Titans. Each stroke was a testament of what they had lived through to achieve the power they were now at. 

The first painting was ominous, truly capturing the essence of the warlords. Dark hues painted the grim tableau, demonstrating the talent of the artist. 

"What are you doing?! Release me this instant!" rumbled a deep voice with rage. Thunder roared in the sky with indignation. Blinding flashes of lights tore the hubristic tones of the welkin. 

Ouranos had been taken by surprise. Never would he have imagined that the children he spared and his lowly wife would betray him. 

Did they believe themselves capable of killing him, the mighty ruler of the Hellenic pantheon, the sky itself, Ouranos?!

His feet were being forced upon the ground by the undeserving children whose names he did not care enough to know. 

  Under his colossal lightning bolts, the ground shattered, again and again. Yet this brought naught. The earth was always coming back to entrap him away from his domain, the sky. 

He looked to his left side, where his son stood. "Don't you dare!" he shouted to the son he believed to be the weakest of his disappointing children. In his hands was a large scythe, obviously too big for his small hands. The way he was holding it spoke of his inexperience, yet for some reason, Ouranos felt scared.

For the first time since that era, he felt the fear of death. 

Walking a few meters more in the same direction, Kronos' eyes fell upon a second painting. It exuded a regal aura, while golden strokes depicted one of the memories he cherished the most. 

The opulent room was silent, yet one could feel in the air the sound that would soon sunder the quietude. Unspoken desires simmered in the eyes of the Titans on the side akin to guards. They wanted to acclaim their brother who had taken the initiative to free them. 

From this day on he gained the title Kronos, The Fearless. 

In the center of that room, leading to an oppressive throne was a red carpet. It showed the path Kronos had to take—one of a king. And he walked on it with grace, clad in a flowing navy blue attire, bestowing upon him an unexpected elegance. 

A few steps before the throne stood three beings of a power he could only hope to comprehend. His mother Gaea held a golden crown in her hands while two of her siblings stood at her side with glistening smiles.

They were Chronos and Ananke.

This was not much for the crowning of a new king of the Pantheon, but for him, it meant the world. 

Kronos smiled out of joy. This was the moment he met his teacher. This was the being who always accepted Kronos for who he truly was and not who he had to be. He had illuminated the path toward a future when he would realize what he truly wished for. 

Cronus had taught him much more than his mother who had never been there except to use him. And now only to plot against him.

"I guess, you're stronger than me." a frail voice spoke in between coughs. Ichor trickled down from her lips. A vertical light shimmered with a dark hue upon her body, a wound she would never recover from.  "If…If only I were born a Titan. Maybe then we could have been together."

Even while dying, she smiled. A beautiful and pure smile. 

This was Lysara, the queen of the Ephemerals, a race of divine beings who waged a war against the young Titans. This was their first time fighting a war for both sides. 

Yet even through the death of multiple of their subordinates, the two rulers started developing feelings for each other. Unfortunately for them and the future they could have had together, the war was beyond a peaceful end.

One of them had to kill the other. 

A lone tear mixed with ichor shimmered on Kronos' face as he looked at her. Her long blonde locks of a strange pale tone were tied into two ponytails. Those hairs flowed down like an ethereal waterfall haunted by a ghost. Her eyes glowed a grim red color as if she were an infernal being. 

Kronos barely glanced at the painting before quickly walking away, meters passed by much faster than before. His eyes overlooked many more tableau of his past, both glorious and painful. And while he wished to forget some of them, he realized that those setbacks were the threads of his identity. 

Finally, he entered a vast room beneath another crimson-hued ceiling, where a rectangular black table awaited. The room was silent though the quivering roof illuminated the pulsing tension in the air. Wooden chairs surrounded the table, all except one with someone seated on them. 

"I apologize for my tardiness," he said before starting the preparations for the war. However, for some reason, it seemed like his shoulders weighed twice their previous weight. 

Hours passed all punctuated with heated debates and the preparations were not even over. They would begin the next morning, offering Kronos a well-deserved break. He leaned on his chair, looking at the ceiling with a pensive gaze. 

His heart was being stabbed by the guilt of having to kill his children. 

The door creaked open and a young boy entered. "What is it?" asked Kronos, still leaning on his chair. While normally he would not show himself behaving that way, sloth was caressing his body. 

"I heard we're going to war, Sir. I want to take part in it!" said the young genius in an energetic voice, a stark contrast to Kronos. 

"You will and you already know that. What did you really want to ask me?" responded Kronos, eyeing the small Titan with laziness. 

His name was Hyas, the only son of his faithful right-hand man, Atlas. He was someone they had great expectations of. However, the real reason as to why Hyas could be so casual with Kronos, something not even his siblings dared to do, was because he considered him the son he wished he could get but couldn't. 

"Who is the strongest of them? Or who is it that has the most potential?" asked Hyas with a smile sparkling with mischief.

'Oh, he wants to fight the strongest' 

"I don't know. I've never seen them going all out, nor have I observed training. While we do know of their divinities, it doesn't mean anything. Divinities no matter how strong or weak they may sound like, all have the same potential and limit—yourself." 

"I know that! But if you had to give them threat levels, who would be the most problematic one?!" 

"...If I really had to, I would say Hades Nekrokratēs. If he ever realizes how much potential his power over the dead holds, he could become a one-man army. If he ever awakens them, we might be in some trouble."

"Who, awaken who?!" 

"Those mortal heroes who spent their lives fighting mythical beings and sometimes even divine beings." 

***

Hello guys so I've been basically remaking the outline of the story and the timeline of the cosmos because I noticed that a few of the arcs would have been boring while the timeline was making the gods out to be less "godly". Thus using this chance you guys can tell me ideas you have, things you want to see, etc. While maybe I won't be able to use them because of how the world is or what I've planned, there might be a few good things so ye, tell me! 

I might have to change a few things in previous chapters (nothing big) because of the change in timeline which might make plotholes. So somedays I'll make an auxiliary chapter with the changes I will have done. 

Thank you for reading! am looking forward to your recommendations!

https://discord.gg/Ept3v9hMHd