15 True Form (2)
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[Hades POV]
It was time for the final step. Steeling myself, I channeled a massive amount of my energy reserves, weaving them into a thick, protective shell around my being. This time, wouldn't be caught off guard.
With a deep breath, I focused, drawing forth the raw essence of death from my divinity. It materialized as a swirling vortex of darkness, even more potent than before. The air crackled with its presence, a storm waiting to be unleashed.
This time, however, I didn't hesitate. Slowly, meticulously, I began channeling the death energy into my body. It was like pouring molten lava into a fragile ice sculpture. Agony ripped through me, a searing inferno consuming my flesh. I gritted my teeth, pushing forward, forcing my body to adapt, to accept the alien energy.
The process was agonizingly slow. Each pulse of death energy felt like a thousand needles piercing my very being. Yet, amidst the pain, a strange sensation emerged – a sense of… acclimation. My flesh, once vital, began to transform, becoming infused with the death energy. It didn't decay, but instead hardened, becoming an extension of the raw power I wielded.
Fueled by this newfound tolerance, I pushed on, increasing the flow of death energy bit by bit. My vision swam, my muscles screamed, but I wouldn't give up. This was the final step, the only way to forge a domain worthy of a true God of the Dead.
Hours bled into days, or perhaps it was weeks, time a meaningless concept in this desolate prison. Each repetition strengthened my resolve, my body growing more resilient with each agonizing session. I became a conduit for death, the raw power coursing through my veins, transforming me from the inside out.
Finally, the moment of truth arrived. With a deep breath, I channeled a monumental amount of death energy, far exceeding anything I had attempted before. This wasn't mere integration; it was a hostile takeover. I aimed to forcefully override my own being, to become one with death itself.
The world dissolved into a cacophony of pain. My flesh didn't decay, but instead absorbed the death energy, hardening and becoming an inseparable part of me. Now, it was a canvas etched with the very essence of death itself. My godly body, once powerful, thrummed with a new, terrifying energy. My vision faded, replaced by a sense of being one with the desolate wasteland that surrounded me. I had gone too far, or perhaps not far enough.
Just as I surrendered to the overwhelming transformation, a strange sensation washed over me. The burning inferno within gave way to a chilling emptiness, a cold, perfect power coursing through my newly forged being.
Red and black sparks erupted from my form, illuminating the desolate wasteland. My body remained, no longer flesh and bone, but a vessel sculpted from pure death energy, a living embodiment of the concept itself. The very fabric of reality trembled as my power surged, the sheer force of it shattering the barriers I had erected in a blinding flash.
Light and sparks flew outward, scouring the wasteland clean. A tremor shook the entire realm, a testament to the raw power surging through me. With a deafening roar, a force that seemed to emanate from the very essence of death itself echoed throughout the prison.
The dust settled, revealing a figure cloaked in darkness, pulsating with an ominous red and black glow. My form remained vaguely humanoid, but it was no longer bound by flesh and bone. I was a being of pure death energy, a terrifying reflection of my own divinity. Two glowing red orbs, like burning embers, shone behind a veil of inky mist. It was me, yet not quite. I had become the embodiment of death.
"It seems," a voice rumbled, echoing from the depths of my being, surprisingly filled with a hint of amusement, "it seems that I have succeeded."
The voice, deep and resonating, held an immense power that would send shivers to anyone who hears it. This wasn't just power; it was a presence, a being as terrifying as it was awe-inspiring. The true form of the God of the Dead had finally been awakened.
Now, the real challenge awaited - escaping this prison and claiming my rightful place in the cosmos.
(Scene Change)
[Cronus POV]
A suffocating weight settled upon me as I surveyed the affairs of the Titan pantheon. Routine tasks felt like dragging boulders uphill. Across the vast throne room, Prometheus, my cunning nephew, droned on about Oceanus' latest defiance.
Oceanus, that stubborn fool. He refused to yield to my rightful rule as King of the Titans, clinging to some archaic notion of equality amongst the twelve. But times had changed. Power demanded hierarchy.
Suddenly, the air itself crackled with raw power, a pressure so immense it nearly choked the breath from my lungs. God-King level power. Here, in my own throne room? Before I could react further, Prometheus straightened, his face etched with concern. "My Lord," he began, his voice a sharp contrast to the oppressive silence, "is something amiss?"
A lie tasted bitter on my tongue, "Urgent matters," I rasped, waving dismissal. The pressure, a beacon of defiance, emanated not from some Olympian upstart, but from the desolate prison realm where I had chained my rebellious children.
A cold dread blossomed in my chest. It couldn't be. The prison realm was designed to stifle their growth, leech away their power. Yet, this... this was Hades. My firstborn. A sickening cocktail of emotions flooded me – pride, tinged with a chilling fear. How could he have grown this strong in that barren wasteland?
Then, a darker current rose within me. Memories of overthrowing my own father, Uranus, with the help of my siblings flooded back. His final, chilling curse echoed in the cavernous halls of my mind: "You too will be betrayed, Cronus, just as you betrayed me. Your own children will rise against you!"
Fury pulsed through me, hot and bitter. Uranus' mocking laughter seemed to hang in the air. "No," I roared, my voice shattering the tense silence. "No child of mine will ever dethrone me!"
Prometheus flinched back, startled. His ever-present curiosity flickered momentarily, but returned as quickly as it left. "My Lord," he ventured cautiously, "Perhaps a diplomatic solution with Oceanus is best. A display of strength is one thing, but a protracted war..."
I cut him off with a dismissive hand gesture. My mind raced. Hades, my rebellious son, growing powerful in his prison. The specter of his potential rebellion, fueled by Uranus' dying curse. My Titan brothers and sisters, ever itching for power and… too many threats swirled around me like a malevolent storm.
A plan began to take shape. A bold move, a gamble, but one that could ensure my reign as King of the Titans would never be threatened. I would visit the prison realm myself. I would confront Hades. I would offer him a choice: allegiance and a position of power at my side, or continued defiance and an eternity in that desolate wasteland.
The gamble was risky, but the potential reward – a powerful son by my side – was too enticing to ignore. Turning to Prometheus, I leveled a steely gaze. "Our discussion regarding Oceanus is on hold," I declared. "I have a more pressing matter to attend to. Prepare a teleportation ritual to the prison realm. Make it discreet."
A flicker of surprise crossed Prometheus' features, but his ever-present obedience prevailed. "As you command, my Lord," he bowed. A spark of intrigue glinted in his eyes as he hurried away.
With a deep breath, I braced myself. It was time to face my firstborn.
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Chapter Length- 1,287 Words
Author's Message: His true form for now is just having a body made of death energy and it is up to you guys to decide his true form.. let me know your suggestions and I will pick around 4 forms and will conduct a poll in the comments to decide his final true form...
Oh and also I have not forgotten about the extra chapter, you will be getting it after a few hours of this as I am quite tired from the trip.
Okay I was playing Minecraft and forgot to upload again
