Divine Ascension: Reborn as a God of Power-Chapter 61: Theomachy (Part 1)

The halls of Hecate’s palace were different this morning.

Gone was the lazy glow of flickering lanterns and the casual murmurs of divine beings moving in shadow. Now everything thrummed with energy—tight, coiled, ready to explode. Even the walls seemed to hum with anticipation, as if the very stones knew that today the war was starting.

Eros walked ahead of me, barefoot, humming a tune I couldn’t recognize. It didn’t match the tension in the air, but that was probably intentional. On the short time I knew him he seemed to be always three steps ahead of comfort and five steps behind chaos.

"Someone would think you should be more nervous, taking into account what’s happening today." I said, watching the flicker of torchlight dance along the obsidian-tiled floor.

Eros looked back with a lazy grin. "We’re divine, darling. Why we should be so serious?"

I rolled my eyes, but I followed.

The deeper we went into the palace, the more gods we passed—lesser ones mostly, some I recognized from vague myths, others I couldn’t name. They stepped aside as we approached, nodding in acknowledgment. Not to Eros. To me. I didn’t know if it was respect or expectation, but I felt the weight of their gazes with every step.

The hallway opened into the great hall, a cathedral-like chamber carved into volcanic stone and veined with strands of molten gold. High above, the ceiling shimmered with enchanted starlight—Hecate’s doing, no doubt. Magic was thick in the air, clinging to my skin like mist.

Zagreus stood near the center, arms folded, a self-satisfied smirk painted across his face. He met my eyes and gave a little nod of recognition, like we were co-conspirators in a joke only he found amusing.

To his right stood Hesperia, her dark blue gaze was calm but focused, arms loosely crossed over her dark robes. I saw how Dionysus leaned against a marble column, sipping lazily from a goblet already half empty. Aphrodite stood perfectly still, radiant in her pale rose and gold silks, her gaze unreadable—but locked on me. Hecate was a shadow near the altar, half there and half smoke, and beside her, silent as a storm’s eye, stood Hestia, her calm presence anchoring the room.

Poseidon stood off to one side, arms folded, gaze like steel. Hades had not yet arrived.

And floating just above the dais at the far end of the room hovered the orb.

The leader of Nemesis.

No name nor face to the view. Just a silhouette, cloaked in swirling shadows and distorted whispers, waiting for silence.

It was strange, where is Hades?

However, my thoughts were interrupted when Eros gave my shoulder a gentle nudge and motioned toward an open space near the front. "Go on. He’s been waiting to address you."

I swallowed hard, then stepped forward.

The orb pulsed once, dim light flickering across the chamber. All voices faded.

And then, in that warped, inhuman voice that seemed to echo from every wall at once, the leader spoke.

"Today, the age of Olympus ends, so the only think I have to say to you all, is this, don’t die."

The orb’s glow flared brighter, casting jagged shadows across the stone floor and the tense faces of Nemesis’ inner circle. No one moved. Even Eros, who had just nudged my shoulder, went still.

The voice of the leader came again—deep, distorted, and cold like it came from the bottom of a well.

"It’s time."

There weren’t cheers to the affirmation, just subtle shifts as everyone prepared. Dionysus rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck with a smirk. Aphrodite gave a slow blink, her fingers tightening on the hilt of a slender blade. Poseidon’s hands twitched with restrained power. He didn’t speak—he didn’t need to.

Another orb flickered to life, hovering beside the main one. It projected a map of Olympus—glowing trails, watchpoints, weak spots. The defenses had been studied in painful detail.

Hecate stepped forward, her cloak trailing smoke. She pointed toward a northern ridge on the projection.

"They’ll expect an assault through the front steps, not a full encirclement. The ritual barriers are old after all. Dionysus, Aphrodite and I will bring them down from within. That’s your opening."

"I’ll take the southern ridge," Eros said, already halfway armed. "Hermes is fast, but I’ve had centuries to watch his patterns. He’s sloppy when he’s too confident."

Poseidon stepped beside him. "Once the gates fall, I flood the plateau. They’ll slip before they can stand."

There were nods all around.

Then, the leader’s voice again, more focused now. "Akhon, we need you on the throne hall to desactivate the shields of Olympus so the rest of the troops can enter."

I blinked. "Alone?"

"Not for long," Hecate said. "You just need to hold it long enough to get their attention. We’ll come in behind once the inner barriers drop, we will drop them for here but it will take some minutes."

Eros turned to me, more serious now. "Make them look your way. That’s all."

I gave a short nod. "Understood."

The orb flashed once, and teleportation runes began to shimmer across the floor.

The last thing I saw before the jump was a memory, Aegle, standing in the garden, her gaze locked on mine.

Be careful, her eyes said.

Then the world tore open.

I landed hard, knees striking cracked marble. The air was thin and cold—Olympus always sat above the clouds. But the stillness wasn’t natural. It was the kind of silence that only existed just before things broke.

Around me, the central courtyard stretched out—wide marble steps, gold-trimmed columns, looming statues of the old gods. Zeus’ throne sat at the far end, empty, glowing faintly.

But not for long.

A pulse hit my chest. One of our sigils activated. In the distance, a blue flare lit the sky.

First team’s in.

Seconds later, thunder cracked—not from Zeus, but from explosives. Eros’ team side of the ridge had just collapsed into chaos. Screams echoed faintly over the mountainside.

Another pulse. The second gate fell. Water began to pour down the outer trail like a broken dam—Poseidon had struck.

Alarms finally rang out. Golden flares shot into the air, and from the temples around the summit, lights blinked awake. Guards scrambled. Wings unfolded in the sky. Someone shouted an alert from one of the balconies.

I didn’t wait.

Two sentries rounded the nearest corridor and froze when they saw me. One screamed once he recognized me as an intruder. "Alert! The rebels are here!"

They raised their weapons. I raised my hand and fired a concussive blast of divine light. Both went flying backward, slammed against the stone wall and knocked cold.

I moved fast, heading towards the throne hall. Every step echoed, I wasn’t hiding after all. They needed to see me so the distraction was effective.

The throne loomed ahead—massive, gold-veined marble carved with thunderbolts and eagle wings. Zeus’ seat of power. Still empty. Still glowing faintly from recent presence.

I reached the top of the stairs, each step humming with divine resistance. Olympus itself was rejecting me—but it was too late for that. My presence was already corrupting the purity they held so dear.

The throne pulsed with energy, and I could feel it—woven into its core was the control point for Olympus’ defense barriers. Seals, wards, and sanctified walls powered by the throne’s presence. If I could disrupt it, even for a moment, the others could push through.

I extended my hand toward it. Resistance flared—static through my bones, a warning scream in the back of my skull. It didn’t want me here. Good.

I pressed my palm against the throne.

A second later, the pressure in the air shifted.

Somewhere across the summit, a siren-like tone echoed through the marble halls. The outermost barriers—semi-physical, divine in nature—started to weaken. Cracks in the sky-shield shimmered like broken glass.

That was the signal.

A gust of divine pressure dropped over the summit like a crashing tide. Lightning split the clouds above, carving down in a blinding flash.

And then, he arrived.

Zeus landed with a deafening crack, the stone beneath him erupting from the force. His presence distorted the air, a swirl of heat, ozone, and fury. His robes snapped around him, and the glow in his eyes was cold judgment barely leashed.

His gaze locked on me.

"You dare lay a hand on my throne?"

I tried to don’t flinch. "Maybe..."

The ground trembled again—three new arrivals appeared in synchronized flashes of divine radiance. Apollo, radiant and golden, with his bow already in hand. Artemis at his side, silent, steady, twin blades at her hips. And behind them, almost too fast to track—Hermes, who barely touched the ground as he slid to a halt beside the throne.

"Damn," Hermes muttered, scanning the area. "He’s already lowered the gate protocols."

"He won’t hold it," Artemis said sharply.

Apollo nocked an arrow. "Then let’s make sure no one else comes through."

Just then, the sky broke open.

From far above, golden projectiles began to rain down—dozens at first, then hundreds. They weren’t real arrows but divine constructs, humming with magic and faith. Each one struck with precision, tearing into statues, towers, and defenses. The bombardment was surgical and strategic.

It was Eros.

He hovered high above Olympus, wings stretched wide, bow pulsing with light. His face was calm. Determined. Beautiful in a way that was terrifying when weaponized.

Hermes’s head snapped upward. "Eros..."

Then he vanished in a blink of light, streaking upward to intercept him.

At that exact moment, another surge of divine presence rushed in.

A gate of violet flame tore open beside me, and Hecate stepped through, her eyes glowing, arms already weaving runes. The throne’s defenses flickered again—she was reinforcing what I started.

On the other side of the plaza, another golden portal bloomed, and Aphrodite emerged in radiant armor, her beauty sharp as a blade. Dionysus strolled out behind her, relaxed but radiating danger. Hesperia arrived last, silent, focused, her spear gleaming with celestial fire.

Zeus turned slowly, rage beginning to overtake his composure. "You bring traitors into my city?"

"No," Hecate said calmly. "We’re taking back Olympus from those who betrayed themselves."

Apollo raised his bow toward her. "This ends now."

"Agreed," said Dionysus, grinning. "Let’s make it loud."

Above, Hermes clashed with Eros mid-air, sparks of pink and gold exploding across the sky. Arrows flew. Wind howled. Olympus was being tested at every level.

Back on the ground, Artemis fired the first shot—an arrow of pure moonlight straight at Hecate.

She deflected it with a sharp twist of her spear, the impact scattering divine light across the plaza.

Zeus raised his hand, lightning forming instantly in his palm, aiming straight for me.

But I didn’t move from the throne. I just couldn’t. My connection to it was weakening the final locks. The moment I stepped away, the barriers would regenerate.

"I just need another minute," I murmured.

"We’ll give you more than that." Said Aphrodite, stepping forward with fire in her eyes.

And that’s when the battle began.

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