Typhon, the Father of Monsters. The King of the Jotnar. A walking apocalypse of sinew and madness.
He towered above the battlefield, a colossal force of destruction given form. His body was a twisted amalgamation of nightmare and fury, his flesh a shifting tapestry of scales, fur, and chitin. A hundred writhing serpents slithered where his legs should have been, each with fanged mouths hissing in eerie unison. His arms, thick as temple pillars, ended in jagged claws that gleamed with the blood of fallen gods. His chest was a battlefield of scars, molten veins pulsing beneath cracked obsidian flesh. His head—if it could even be called that—was a mass of writhing maws, each speaking in different voices, some shrieking, others whispering horrors in forgotten tongues.
His molten eyes locked onto me, blazing with arrogance and fury. "You dare stand against me, Hades? After all I have taken from you?" His voice was not singular; it was a chorus of discordant growls, a cacophony of hatred made manifest.
I did not answer with words. I answered with fire.
I opened my monstrous maw and unleashed a torrent of blue and purple flames. The primordial inferno roared like a vengeful god, consuming the very air, turning the sky above into a storm of burning shadows. The flames struck Typhon, engulfing him, searing his hide, melting flesh from bone.
But he did not scream.
He laughed.
From within the inferno, his voice echoed, filled with derision. "Is that all, God of Monsters? I expected more."
The flames dissipated, revealing his form still standing, the molten veins across his chest glowing brighter. He inhaled deeply, and the fire I had conjured was sucked into his body, feeding him instead of destroying him.
He lunged.
I barely had time to react before his clawed hand swung toward me. I twisted, my wings folding as I dove beneath his strike. His claws raked the earth, carving deep trenches where I had stood moments before. I retaliated, shadows curling around my talons as I slashed upward, aiming for his throat. My claws struck true, carving into his flesh, but no blood spilled—only writhing darkness poured from the wound, sealing itself as quickly as it had been made.
Typhon sneered. "You cannot kill what is eternal."
I answered him by driving my beak into his side, ripping through scales and sinew. This time, he bellowed in pain, staggering back as I tore a chunk of his flesh away. But even as I did, his body shifted, the wound sealing, new flesh forming to replace what was lost.
He struck again, faster than something his size should have been capable of. His fist connected with my ribs, the force of the impact shattering the ground beneath me. Pain lanced through my form as I was sent hurtling backward, crashing through the remnants of what had once been a mountain.
I rose from the rubble, my talons digging into the fractured earth. Shadows coiled around me, whispering their hunger, their need for vengeance. I spread my wings once more, the black feathers shifting into tendrils of abyssal darkness. The souls of the damned, those who had fallen to my domain, rose around me, spectral wraiths of agony and rage.
"I am not here to speak of eternity," I growled, my voice layered with the echoes of a thousand tormented souls. "I am here to end you."
I surged forward, a blur of darkness and flame. Typhon roared, raising his arms to block my assault, but I was faster. My talons slashed through his defenses, my flames igniting his wretched form. Shadows lashed at him like living serpents, constricting his limbs, holding him in place. I drove my claws into his chest, gripping his ribcage, feeling the twisted mass of his beating heart beneath my grasp.
His laughter faltered.
For the first time, I saw something flicker across his monstrous visage—doubt.
He struggled, his serpentine limbs thrashing, his claws tearing at my wings, my flesh. But I did not let go. My flames burned brighter, turning the battlefield into an inferno of blue and violet light. The souls of the damned shrieked, their wails merging into a singular, deafening cry.
Typhon snarled, his arrogance replaced with fury. "You think you can unmake me?! I am chaos incarnate! I am the end of gods!"
I leaned closer, my beak inches from his writhing mass of heads. "You are nothing but a failed tyrant. And now, you will suffer."
With a final, merciless roar, I clenched my talons, crushing his ribs, my flames pouring into his very core. The battlefield trembled as Typhon howled in agony, his molten eyes wide with disbelief. His body convulsed, his monstrous form unraveling, the darkness within him turning against itself.
The battlefield trembled as Typhon unleashed a deafening roar, his monstrous form shifting, twisting, becoming something even more grotesque, more powerful. His molten eyes burned with renewed intensity, his scaled hide hardened like tempered adamantine, and the air itself seemed to recoil from his sheer presence. He laughed—a deep, guttural sound that rumbled through the battlefield like an oncoming storm.
"You think you can defeat me, little god?" Typhon sneered, his voice layered with malice and arrogance. "I am the father of monsters! The progenitor of horrors! You are nothing but a keeper of the dead!"
I did not respond with words. Words were meaningless now.
Instead, I raised my hand, my talons flexing toward the storm-darkened heavens. A pulse of energy surged through the air, bending reality to my will. And then, with a sharp, resounding clang, Caliburn streaked through the sky like a comet and landed in my outstretched grip. The blade's golden light clashed against the abyssal glow of my crimson eyes, an instrument of order now wielded by chaos itself.
Typhon's grin faltered for a fraction of a second.
Then he lunged.
His massive claws tore through the air, seeking to rip me asunder. I sidestepped, my form shifting like a wraith, and slashed. Caliburn sang through the storm, its celestial edge cleaving through one of his writhing serpentine limbs. A roar of fury erupted from the beast as blackened ichor gushed from the wound, sizzling against the ruined earth below.
"You'll have to do better than that," I hissed, my voice laced with fury and something far more primal.
Typhon did not falter. If anything, his arrogance seemed to fuel him further.
He raised his clawed hands to the heavens, his voice bellowing a command in a language ancient and raw. The very air twisted around him as tendrils of abyssal energy surged from his form, intertwining with the storm clouds above. Thunder cracked, the sky itself splitting apart, and from the void emerged a monstrous surge of energy, enveloping his frame in a grotesque, pulsating darkness.
His power had grown. This was no longer a battle between gods. This was a clash between nightmares incarnate.
I did not flinch. I did not fear. Fear was for mortals. I was Hades, the Lord of the Underworld, the God of Monsters.
With a beat of my monstrous wings, I surged forward, Caliburn burning with the fire of the primordial abyss. My claws raked against his hardened flesh, my blade seeking his throat, but Typhon countered with a sweep of his colossal tail. The impact sent me hurtling through the air, crashing through the ruined remains of a temple, stone crumbling like a brittle bone beneath me.
Pain flared, but I welcomed it.
I rose, shaking off the debris, my wings unfurling in a storm of shadow and embers. Typhon laughed, triumphant.
"Still standing?" he mused. "I'll admit, you are stronger than I thought, Hades. But this ends now."
His form twisted once more, expanding, mutating, becoming something even more terrible. His body became a living apocalypse, a writhing, shifting mass of nightmares given form. Each step he took cracked the ground, each breath he exhaled reeked of death and corruption.
But I was not done.
I spread my arms, my voice a whisper that carried across the battlefield like a death knell.
"By flame and darkness, by death and destruction, by the dominion of the soul—I command the abyss."
The sky darkened further, an unnatural void swallowing what little light remained. From beneath us, the very earth screamed as countless hands—spectral, skeletal, and monstrous—erupted from the depths, grasping at Typhon, dragging, pulling. The souls of the forgotten, the damned, the forsaken—my domain—clawed at his form, seeking to tear him apart, piece by piece.
Typhon roared, his form writhing as he tried to shake them off. But they would not yield. They were mine. He was mine.
I launched forward once more, Caliburn a blinding streak of fury, my flames consuming the battlefield in hues of blue and violet. My blade found flesh, cutting deep, burning, unraveling the very essence of the Jotnar King. And for the first time, true fear flickered across Typhon's monstrous face.
"You… will… not…" he snarled, but the words faltered as I drove Caliburn deeper, twisting the blade, my voice a whisper against his ear.
"This is your end."
And with a final, monstrous scream, Typhon's form erupted into a maelstrom of fire, shadow, and death.
But I did not turn away. I did not stop.
Not until nothing remained but ash and echoes of a god who once thought himself invincible.
I exhaled sharply, letting the remnants of my enemy drift into nothingness. The battlefield was silent now. The war was ending.
And then pain exploded through my chest.
A spear of divine make impaled me, the force of the strike sending me hurtling backward, crashing through the remains of a mountain. My breath hitched as I felt my own ichor spill from the wound, my monstrous form faltering as the cruel laughter of another god echoed across the broken land.
"Well now," Odin mused, stepping forward, his single eye gleaming with something close to admiration. "I must say, Hades, I didn't expect this form of yours. Quite the spectacle. Quite the disappointment."
He wrenched the spear free, and fresh agony ripped through me. I barely had a second to react before he drove it in again. And again. Each strike was deliberate, precise, meant to punish, meant to humiliate.
I roared in fury and pain, my claws swiping toward him, but he danced just out of reach, grinning as he twisted the weapon deeper. "Struggle all you like, beast of the underworld. You've had your turn. Now it's mine."
With a brutal yank, he left the spear buried in my chest and stepped back. And then, with a sickening grin, he reached out and ripped my wings from my back.
A sound I barely recognized as my own tore from my throat—something beyond agony, beyond rage. My divinity flickered, my monstrous form shattering like brittle glass. Feathers, dark as night, scattered like dying embers as I collapsed onto the ruined earth, my body shrinking, breaking, reverting to my normal form.
Odin exhaled, almost bored, and tossed my severed wings aside like refuse.
"Get up, Hades," he said, rolling his shoulders. "You're not done yet. You will face me next."
Before Odin could take another step, the sky above us ignited with golden light. A thunderous crack split the battlefield, shaking the heavens themselves, and before my blurred vision, a figure descended like a judgment from the gods.
Lightning arced through the air, striking Odin with a force that sent him skidding backward. Divine energy rippled outward, and through the haze of my pain, I saw him—Aeolus.
Had he always looked so… holy?
His presence radiated a brilliance I had never seen before. His golden wings stretched wide, their luminescence blinding against the ruinous battlefield. Rings of celestial light encircled him, orbiting his form in a divine dance of power. His eyes, usually sharp and storm-like, now glowed with an intensity that could rival the sun.
In his grasp, a spear of lightning crackled, coalescing with raw, untamed energy. He raised it once more, his voice a thunderclap against the broken land.
"Get Hades out of here! Now!"
Odin straightened, his grin never faltering, his one eye gleaming with intrigue. "So, the storm itself finally shows its true colors." He rolled his shoulders, stretching as though this was all part of his plan. "Interesting."
I tried to move, tried to force my broken body to respond, but my limbs felt like lead, my breath ragged, my very essence flickering on the edge of collapse. I had pushed too far. My divinity was drained, my strength spent.
Then, through the haze, I felt it.
A hand. Firm. Steady.
Someone was beside me. A presence warm and strong, a voice—soft, yet unyielding—whispering reassurance in my ear.
"I've got you."
And then the world blurred as darkness swallowed me whole.