The earth cracked again.
Heavier.
Two shadows stepped out of the smoke—Titans of Cronus. One was tall and lean, wrapped in spiraling roots of dead wood and rusted iron—Crius, the Titan of constellations and force. The other crawled forward on six legs made of stone and lava, his face split by a permanent grin of jagged rock—Coeus, the Titan of intellect and raw will.
Across from them—stood Demeter and Hestia.
Demeter's hair was wild with grass and thorns, her shoulders cloaked in flowering vines that bled green fire. Her scythe glinted like moonlight off a blade of harvest—fresh, curved, and hungry.
Hestia was barefoot, calm—but burning. Her eyes glowed ember-red, and her breath came out like smoke. Around her, the air shimmered. Not with heat—but with home, the feeling of warmth and heart and safety made into pressure.
Crius sneered. "The Earth Warden and the Hearth? Tell me, how many fields will you grow when your blood waters them?"
Demeter stepped forward. "You've ruined enough lands."
Hestia's voice followed, quiet. "We're here to burn what you left behind."
Crius's fist glowed with constellation runes. Coeus cracked his neck and howled.
Then all hell broke loose.
Crius charged first—his fist trailing stardust and inertia. It hit the earth—and the plateau bent, folding upward into the sky like a wave of land.
Demeter slammed her foot down—vines erupted upward, wrapping around the bending earth, snapping it back into shape.
Coeus screamed and launched boulders from his mouth like mortars. Hestia raised her hand—palms pulsed with hearthlight—and the boulders melted midair into sparks.
[Skill: Kindling Barrier]
A wall of fire spun in a perfect ring, catching debris, blocking shockwaves. She stepped through it like walking through a fireplace.
Demeter leapt—her scythe slashed downward—clean and wide.
Crius parried, but the blow carved through his left shoulder, spraying molten ichor. He howled, raised his arm, and the stars behind him aligned.
[Skill: Cosmic Chain]
A constellation blinked alive behind him—ropes of starlight lashed out, trying to bind Demeter mid-air. But—
[Skill: Bloomstep]
She vanished into a storm of petals—reforming behind him with her scythe aimed for his spine.
He spun—too late.
The blade dug in deep.
Meanwhile, Coeus smashed into Hestia—both arms swung like hammers. She blocked with crossed forearms. The force cracked the ground for miles—but she didn't move. Her feet were rooted in heat, in stillness.
Then her eyes lit—
[Skill: Heartflare Pulse]
From her chest burst a dome of sacred fire, blasting Coeus backward. His stone skin cracked and hissed.
He roared and raised both hands.
[Skill: Thought Lance]
Pure mental force burst from his palms like spears of will. Hestia's barrier flickered—then broke. She was thrown backward, sliding—but not down.
She landed and snapped her fingers.
The battlefield trembled.
Dozens of blue fires lit up from the ground—small, flickering hearths. Her aura connected to each of them. Her wounds closed.
[Skill: Sanctuary Field]
She walked forward, her presence growing heavier. Warmer.
She wasn't a soldier.
She was a home that refused to fall.
Demeter and Crius were locked in brutal motion.
His fists blazed with starburst sigils. Hers with earthlight and thornsteel.
He struck with gravity. She answered with bloom and root.
She slammed her scythe down—
[Skill: Verdant Grasp]
The ground split—dozens of hands made of vines and soil grabbed Crius's legs, arms, and throat.
He tried to fly.
He couldn't.
She surged upward—spinning the scythe—
[Skill: Harvest Spiral]
And cleaved across his body in six perfect lines.
Crius hit the ground—ribs cracked, energy bleeding from his chest.
Still, he didn't fall.
[Skill: Meteor Brand]
He drew his blade and hurled it into the sky—turning it into a falling star, targeting Demeter's soul signature.
She raised her scythe and—
[Skill: Field Break]
A dome of farmland exploded around her—dirt, grass, and stalks growing at divine speed, wrapping around the meteor—and eating it.
Yes. The land consumed the star.
Crius stared. "You…"
Demeter looked at him. Her eyes were sad.
"I am the land, Crius. You can't burn me without growing me."
She raised her hand.
The earth beneath him caved.
Swallowed him.
On the other side—Hestia fought alone.
Coeus's mind blades kept flashing.
Each thought he sent was a weapon.
Each idea, a blade.
She blocked, dodged, twisted. Her aura flickered like flame against the storm of logic and pressure.
Then he tried to crush her with a final attack—
[Skill: Thought Bomb]
He formed a sphere of compressed will—black and white, a swirling sphere of pure Titan intellect—and hurled it.
She caught it.
And held it.
Coeus's eyes widened.
"Why won't it detonate?!"
Hestia's voice came quiet.
"Because I'm not afraid of it."
The sphere dimmed.
Then she threw it back.
And when it hit Coeus—
It shattered into a thousand fragments of warmth, not destruction.
It struck his mind.
His memory.
His emotion.
And he screamed—not from pain.
But from feeling again.
He staggered. Clawed at his own chest. His hands trembled. "What is this… what did you…"
Hestia stepped forward, eyes glowing soft red.
"You forgot who you were. So I reminded you."
She raised her hands. The hearths behind her flared.
[Skill: Soul Burn]
Fire surged forward—not to incinerate—but to purge.
It hit Coeus like a river of purity.
He collapsed to his knees.
Then fell.
Silent.
Demeter limped toward her sister.
Blood on her blade.
Grass on her legs.
Hestia exhaled and turned.
They looked at each other.
Then at the bodies of the Titans.
The battlefield was still around them. For a moment.
Demeter sighed. "That was worse than harvesting in winter."
Hestia chuckled softly. "But just as necessary."
Above them, more gods screamed.
The war wasn't done.
But here, on this side of the field—
The land still grew.
The fire still burned.
And the Titans were falling.
The air shifted.
The clouds didn't move. The winds didn't howl. There were no flashes or cries.
Just silence.
Until the ground cracked.
And from that silence…
Hades walked out.
He just appeared—like the world had been hiding him until now.
The battlefield darkened around him—not with shadow, but with absence. Color dulled. Sounds quieted. Even the roars of Titans in the distance softened.
And in his hand—the Bident.
Its prongs shimmered faintly, almost flickering—like it existed halfway between this world and somewhere deeper. Somewhere forgotten.
Demeter turned. Hestia straightened.
Hades glanced at them both and gave a small nod.
Then his gaze rose—toward the northern ridge.
Where Menoetius, the berserker Titan of violent rage, stood watching with a twisted grin.
"You're late," Menoetius called, cracking his neck.
"You're loud," Hades replied, voice cold as deep stone.
The Titan laughed and dropped down from the ridge like a meteor, landing hard enough to fracture stone. His fists burned with raw divine muscle—glowing with the heat of his fury.
"I'll rip your soul out and feed it to the roots of Tartarus."
But Hades didn't move.
He just lifted the Bident.
[Skill: Nullstep]
In an instant—he was gone from view.
Menoetius blinked—then roared as pain exploded from his shoulder. Hades appeared behind him, dragging the Bident through his flesh like it was cutting butter.
The Titan spun, wide arc with his flaming elbow—
Hades vanished again.
Then—
CRACK.
He reappeared right in front of Menoetius and drove the Bident into his chest.
But the Titan grinned and caught the weapon—blood pouring from his palms.
[Skill: Fury Clutch]
He ignited—his entire body bursting into white-hot flames.
It should've melted anyone near.
But Hades didn't blink.
[Skill: Void Mantle]
Darkness poured from his back like a cape made of night sky. It swallowed the flame, smothered it, and turned it cold.
Menoetius's face twisted. "What… are you?"
Hades leaned close.
"Something you never faced."
He twisted the Bident.
And—
[Skill: Soul Rend]
The weapon hummed, and everything inside Menoetius shook.
His muscles tore themselves.
His ichor ran backward.
His soul—the burning, thrashing core of the Titan—split like cracked glass.
He dropped.
Still alive.
Barely.
"Send him under," Hestia whispered, watching.
Demeter said nothing—just stared.
Hades turned, Bident crackling with a deep, soul-hungry hum.
He lifted it once.
[Skill: Underworld Claim]
The ground beneath Menoetius opened—not in flame. Not in lava.
But in silence.
Cold, black soil swallowed him.
Chains of bone wrapped his limbs.
Eyes of forgotten shades blinked from the dark.
And then—he was gone.
Forever.
The ground closed.
Hades exhaled once. A shallow, steady breath.
He turned back to his sisters.
Demeter stared at the earth where the Titan vanished.
"…I see why you don't like coming topside."
Hestia smiled faintly. "Glad you did today."
Hades gave a half-shrug. "Someone had to clean up."
Above them, thunder cracked again—this one was Zeus.
The final part of the war was near.
And the children of Cronus?
They were winning.