72 WOULD IT?

"FateBreaker...", Athos murmured, his blue eyes twinkling. He'd truly underestimated the significance of the Title. He'd previously thought that it merely let him escape the machinations of the Fates - which was absurd in its own right, but in reality, it seemed to be much more than just that.

"The Fates!", He turned to his father.

"What about them?", Herakles raised an eyebrow.

"They're different from the 'Fate' you're talking about, right?"

"The World? Yes, they are indeed dissimilar. How exactly escapes me though...I know not whether they are subjected to the same restrictions Gods are", Herakles' eyes narrowed. "But if what you say is true and Zeus has truly trapped them, then they may not be as powerful as the Legends say"

"Or Grandfather may just be that formidable", Athos chuckled but stopped when he caught sight of his father's grim face.

"Son, Zeus' power is nothing to jest about. The sheer amount of Divinity he possesses could drown out every other Olympian - save for his brothers - combined. He singlehandedly overpowered Typhoon while the rest of the Olympians fled in fear. He pulverised the Palace of Kronos with a single Lightning Bolt, and during the Gignatomanchy...", Herakles' face turned all the more sombre. "....If it weren't for the Gigantes' conditional invincibility, he could've wiped them all out by himself."

Athos internally nodded. Vajraha was so frighteningly powerful for a reason, but he still doubted whether a full-powered shot from his could best Zeus. Regardless, he now had to focus on growing strong enough to wield Vajraha with ease.

If one ignored Zeus' pettiness and unsavoury escapades, he was an entity who was surprisingly intelligent - one who led his Pantheon through the Titanomanchy, the Gigantomachy and fought off the most powerful monster to have ever existed. But the most frightening thing about him was his ability to remove another Immortal's Divinity - an ability only he seemed to possess among the Elder Gods and one strong enough to even affect the likes of Poseidon himself.

It was the basis for the third series - 'The Trails of Apollo' where Apollo was stripped of his status and Divinity by Zeus as punishment. He didn't seem to be able to use the ability often, yet it seemed too powerful to be true.

Was it related to him possessing a Khaos seed?

'Wait...If that's the reason, then can I do something similar once I ascend?', Athos thought, his heart beginning to beat with anticipation. The image of him tearing the smug grin off Janus' faces gave him more joy than he expected. It seemed that holding grudges was another flaw of his.

At that moment, Herakles cleared his throat and stood up, catching Athos' attention. He waved his hand and the bubble expanded, turning rectangular and lengthening a few hundred meters.

"Save the depressing talk for later. What you DO need to address right now is your sloppy fighting form! You looked like a barbarian when you fought the drunken bastard! Are you really the one who I taught for seven whole years?"

"Hey! It's hard getting used to this new bo-

"No excuses! Get up, we're sparring right now!"

A smile lit up Athos' face.

"Yes Sir!"

***

Two well-built men slowly circled each other, their hands balled into fists and guarding their heads.

Herakles was in his usual attire - a plain white greek tunic and sandals, while Athos simply made Perastos morph into black pants revealing his perfectly sculpted body that seemed to be carved from pure bronze. He didn't want his armour soaking up any damage currently. The only other thing on his body was the watch he used as an inventory. His father wanted him to feel every blow and learn from his mistakes.

They locked eyes and they each drew breath.

Every time Herakles moved his legs, Athos would too, keeping his father at the centre of his vision.

"What are you planning to do now that you've gained strength?", Herakles' asked before launching a fist at Athos' face.

Athos' eyes narrowed when he realised the punch practically held no power behind it. It was a test of technique. His body relaxed and his muscles moved in visible harmony as he lifted his elbow just in time to change the trajectory of the jab.

"I've gotta meet Nereus to complete our deal", he replied, taking a step back and shifting into a more defensive stance. "but I think there's somewhere we need to go before that"

Herakles' hips twisted and his right leg shot toward Athos' head akin to a bullet.

"And where is that?"

Athos instinctively raised another elbow to redirect the attack but this time rolled his shoulder to throw his dad off-balance. He then launched a hook kick of his own, his technique just as impeccable.

"Demeter's abode. From what I've discerned from when I last went there, it's somewhere in Kansas. It's the dreams I've been having"

Herakles blocked the kick that was aimed at his liver with ease before raising an eyebrow with a goofy expression.

"Oho...Demeter, is it?"

An animalistic, reptilian growl escaped Athos' throat as he launched an uppercut with far more force than before.

"She tried to kill me twice."

Herakles instantly stepped backwards dodging the blow.

"They do that, don't they", he sighed, his eyes slightly dimming in intensity as an unpleasant memory surfaced. It was only for a moment. His expression immediately regained its vigour and he slipped into an offensive stance.

Their sparring session continued for hours with both the Father and Son using barely any force - with neither side gaining the upper hand.

A Tap,

A Brush.

A Twitch,

A Sidestep.

Herakles' attacks seemed to flow with a fluidity that one wouldn't expect from a person who preferred clubs. On the other hand, Athos was a brick wall, calmly anticipating and blocking any combinations his father threw.

A Feint,

A Counter.

A Jab,

A Shift.

"This isn't working", Athos grumbled as he dodged the millionth punch his father threw. The spar had gone on for two continuous days yet both Herakles' and his body were at their peak conditions. Not a drop of sweat trickled down their skin.

"Why do you say that?", Herakles said, stepping back.

"I see no point in this. I fight with an Axe. Shouldn't I be training to make sure I can explode with power instead of reining it in?"

"So you believe this to be a waste of time?", Herakles titled his head.

"Well...I...", Athos faltered.

"Come at me then", Herakles said, spreading his hands wide.

"Eh? What?"

"You're body beats mine when it comes to strength now, albeit not by much. I'll show you how important control is - weapon or not. I swear on the River Styx to not use my Divinity when I counter your next attack"

Thunder boomed in the distance.

Athos' eyebrow twitched, "You sure?"

"Positive. Come! Or are you going to chicken out?"

Athos snorted and he bent forward. His thighs bulged before he accelerated, cracking the golden floor.

CRACK!

A sonic boom sounded as Athos' punch broke the sound barrier and surged toward his father's face. The air around his fist begin to heat up as it screamed through it, yet his dad seemed as cool as a cucumber.

He thought his dad would be hard-pressed to easily avoid the attack but in the next second, no, not even a tenth of a second, he found his vision tilting as he was flipped.

Herakles' arms moved faster than the mortal eye could see as he grabbed Athos' shoulder and performed a throw that would've been written into many a Legend and song if someone ever were to witness it.

He barely used any strength as his back bent and hips twisted, using his son's own momentum against him and slamming him into the reinforced golden floor below.

BOOM!

A mighty explosion of fiery red emanated out from Herakles, not due to the usage of Divinity but because he moved with such speed that he ignited the air around him. Large cracks, over fifty meters, spread out from Athos' smoking, spread-eagle figure.

"Did you forget who your father is?", Herakles asked, standing over his son.

"Ow!", was the only response he got.

***

Meanwhile, in a vast, lavish room lit up by reddish-gold flames, priceless chandeliers hung from the ceiling while paintings decorated the robust walls. The looming white pillars commanded a sense of majesty while also giving off an ancient aura. Everything in the room could be described in one word.

Extravagant

But what commanded the most attention was not the chandeliers, not the large, colossal pillars, not the majestic, mammoth bed that seemed to be carved from adamantium itself, but the woman who stood beside it.

She was utterly bewitching, putting even Demeter to shame. Her long liquorice-black hair was braided over one shoulder and her long flowing dress which shimmered with colours like peacock feathers, formed ripples on the marble floor. Her posture was faultless and she exuded a regal and unapproachable aura. Her soft brown eyes stared at the figure on the bed with a complicated expression.

The figure was of an old man who looked terribly weak and skinny. What might've been a long, healthy beard was now grey, frayed and ratty. Wrinkles covered his skin and his eyes were closed, his every breath sounding as though they were his last.

"The Fall has taken quite the toll on you, hasn't it Dear?", the woman whispered, her soft voice adding to her otherworldly beauty. "Rest well, my love. Grandmother is in an even worse state, but you probably know this already, don't you?.... You always do...."

The woman sighed and slightly bowed.

"The Council has been preponed due to some....complications. I hope you shall be healthy enough to attend it. May the Fates guide you to glory."

And she was gone.

"Heh!", the man coughed and suddenly sat up straight, as if his sickly body was but a facade.

A blue flash brightened up the room and the man's figure began filling out. His seemingly atrophied muscles began to expand and his wrinkles receded - scurrying away. His pathetic beard shortened and looked trimmed, turning grey and black and shoulder-length black hair cascaded down his neck.

He got out of bed in a single, fluid motion and a pinstriped suit materialized around him, hugging his tall, imposing form. His eyes flashed open, revealing electric-blue pupils that seemed to crackle with power and shoot lightning.

"Fate? Hah! I control my own Fate!", He boomed, his deep voice echoing in the large room. Every word was enunciated perfectly and emanated such confidence that he almost seemed to will what he wanted into reality.

Just then, the air seemed to grow heavier and a wizened, old female voice responded to the man's bold statement.

"Then that wouldn't be Fate, would it?"

***

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