Divine Ascension: Reborn as a God of Power-Chapter 65: Theomachy (Part 5)

The skies tore open when Zeus got angry.

For a moment, all of Olympus—no, the entire world—seemed to hold its breath.

He hovered high above the mountain’s fractured summit, every inch of his body radiating pure, unchecked power. His skin on that moment shone like molten gold, and lightning danced across his form like it couldn’t bear to be apart from him. His hair whipped in the hurricane winds he conjured with each breath. His voice, was now more deep and loud.

"I AM THE STORM THAT BIRTHED KINGS," he bellowed. "AND I WILL NOT BE DETHRONED!"

He raised both arms to the churning skies and the clouds answered to his will.

Above him, the heavens writhed into a singularity of darkness and storm. Lightning didn’t just fall anymore—it spiraled, forming the eye of a storm, like a hurricane. Bolts hundreds of meters long curved through the vortex like serpents, drawn into the gravity of Zeus’ wrath.

The mountain trembled beneath our feet. Columns cracked. The stone of Olympus cried out. The divine throne, already damaged, flickered beneath my palm. I took a slow step back. Hesperia lay still, a droplet of blood trailing from her temple.

And Poseidon... he did not flinch.

He stood defiant on the dais below, ocean water swirling around him in a whirling torrent. His trident was gripped tightly, held low as if waiting for the precise moment to rise. He didn’t speak. But the sea behind him began to rise once more anyway—higher, faster, deeper.

Then Zeus unleashed it.

A bolt of lightning larger than Olympus itself speared down from the singularity above, a divine lance of annihilation. It wasn’t just light. A column of light so big that I couldn’t see because of it and I could even feel it’s heat from where I was.

Well...that thing struck Poseidon square in the chest.

And there was no sound, while my view went white because of the light.

For a heartbeat, all things ceased.

And then—

The mountain exploded.

A shockwave rippled outward from the point of impact, obliterating what little structure still stood. Great temples—Athena’s place, the Hall of Echoes, the Garden of the Fates—disintegrated in an instant. Waves of energy cracked the summit like an egg, sending marble and divine ore flying in all directions.

I saw gods—lesser ones—torn from the battlefield like dust in a gale. And even some Nemesis warborn were disintegrated on contact.

The blast was not confined to Olympus.

I felt it ripple down the World Axis.

In the mortal realm, oceans swelled without reason. Skies turned black over distant continents. Cities far from the mountain felt tremors shake their bones. Forests bent as if bowing to the power of lightning and mortals fell to their knees across the world, overcome by terror they could not explain.

Zeus had reminded us all of his power.

But when the dust began to settle, a shape stood in the rubble.

It was Poseidon. He was still alive.

However, I managed to see how blood ran down his side. His golden armor was cracked and his beard singed. But his eyes still gleamed like the heart of the sea. The trident in his hand still pulsed with the oceanic energy of his domain.

I saw how he exhaled slowly. And then—

The world shook again.

From the chasms below Olympus surged titanic pillars of seawater, bursting through the mountain’s spine like geysers. The battlefield was instantly flooded. Water climbed the stairways, poured through broken archways, drowned divine fire in its path.

Poseidon moved.

With a single command, he summoned a whirlpool—vast, violent, and filled with the power of every drowning, tsunami or typhoon that happened in history. It tore through Olympus, dragging what remained of the central courtyard into its vortex. The storm above met the sea below, and reality screamed.

While I grabbed Hesperia and prayed for survival, I saw how Zeus charged through it.

He dove like a thunderbolt, fists glowing, and collided with Poseidon mid-whirlwind. Their powers clashed again, and the force of it cratered the mountain deeper.

They fought without restraint.

Zeus struck like a comet, each punch accompanied by a peal of thunder and a burst of static that vaporized air itself. Poseidon moved like a tidal wave, flowing with the momentum of a thousand storms at sea, his trident spinning and stabbing with impossible weight.

Each blow carved new scars into Olympus and each impact sent aftershocks across the world.

I knew that the mortal plane shook beneath this war. I could feel how earthquakes rattled through every tectonic plate. Storms erupted in the deserts, the seas roared against every shoreline, crops withered under sudden frost and volcanoes groaned as the balance of the world teetered.

And yet the brothers did not stop.

Zeus caught Poseidon in a thunderous uppercut that launched him into the air—into the vortex above. He followed instantly, vanishing into the eye of the storm. Bolts began to fall from all directions, striking indiscriminately across Olympus and beyond.

The rest of us, the gods below scattered.

Nemesis forces fled behind summoned barriers.

Artemis was blown off a rooftop and disappeared into the mist.

Dionysus vanished beneath a collapsing section of the northern cliffs.

Even Hecate was forced to retreat through a portal of her own making.

And me?

I watched it all while I took cover with Hesperia, she was still unconscious.

Staring up into the sky, I saw Poseidon fall back down—crashing into the flooded summit like a meteor. He rose again, soaked, defiant, broken but unbowed.

And Zeus descended once more, ready to strike again.

The battle was not over. But if it continued like this...there would be nothing left to reign.

The battlefield had become a disaster zone.

Zeus and Poseidon clashed once more above the drowned summit—one a storm made flesh, the other an ocean given will. Their battle carved chasms into Olympus itself, shaking the heavens, shaking the world. The mountain groaned. The air burned. Even the gods had fled their wrath.

And I could only watch, I wasn’t interfering even if my life depended on it.

But then... I saw how something changed.

The storm stuttered, just for an instant.

Zeus blinked, his momentum had faltered. His next strike, meant to crush Poseidon’s skull with a thunderous blow, slowed. Confusion crossed his face. He turned in midair, golden eyes narrowing, nostrils flaring.

"What—"

That’s when shadows erupted.

A force struck Zeus from behind—not like a punch, not like lightning, but like void.

Like someone I knew...

The King of the Gods roared as something invisible wrenched him from the sky and slammed him down into the ruined floor of Olympus with such force that marble shattered in a hundred-yard radius.

Zeus hit the stone like a meteor. A crater exploded outward.

And standing at its edge—still invisible to all but me, whose divine sight flickered for just a heartbeat—was a silhouette cloaked in silence. A shape that bent the light, that exuded weight not from mass, but from his raw power.

The King of Underworld himself, Hades.

His form shimmered into partial view as he lifted his helm just enough to reveal one sharp, pale eye and the glint of his black, curved blade.

"You are too loud, brother," Hades muttered, voice like dust on stone. "But only that, pure noise."

Zeus coughed blood and rolled onto one side, lightning flaring around him—but Hades was already gone again. The Helm of Darkness shimmered once more and swallowed him whole.

Zeus staggered to his feet, eyes scanning wildly.

"Coward!" he spat, raising his hand to call down another bolt.

But he was already too late.

Hades struck again—from behind.

A curved blade he had with him carved a deep line across Zeus’s back and divine ichor sprayed while Zeus howled.

He whirled, crackling with rage, throwing bolts in every direction, but they hit nothing. Just columns, rubble and the air.

"I told you to not fuck with me or my domain brother," Hades’ voice whispered from nowhere, "now you will met my anger."

Zeus spun, desperate now.

Poseidon watched from afar, stunned—not interfering, not yet. A god knew better than to stand between death and judgment.

Zeus’s aura surged to its peak. The storm screamed. Thunder, lightning, wind—he summoned it all in a blinding burst of divine rage.

But shadows wrapped around his legs.

They weren’t normal shadows. They writhed with teeth. With mouths. With hunger.

Hades rose from them—cloak billowing, helm gleaming like night eternal—and slammed Zeus with the pommel of his blade under the chin, sending him flying once more.

Zeus crashed into the broken wall of the old Hall of Judgment, where the fates once spoke truth to power.

And now, power was being judged.

"You," Zeus spat, bleeding, "dare to strike me?"

"You were warned," Hades said coldly, stepping into full view now. "Now face the consequences of your actions."

Zeus rose, wounded but burning with hate. "You coward! You think you can defeat me with this coward tactic!"

"I don’t think I can, I now I can," Hades corrected. "Now face defeat with honor brother."

Then he attacked again, even faster than before.

Zeus raised a hand—lightning lanced out—but Hades absorbed it, cloak rippling, helm glowing faintly. He reached through the bolt and drove his knee into Zeus’s stomach, doubling him over, then brought the pommel of his sword down on the base of his skull.

Zeus dropped to his knees.

"Your endurance is impressive," Hades said, raising his blade.

"But your reign is over."

With a cry, Zeus surged up one last time and unleashed a blast of power so intense that it knocked even Hades backward. The Helm flickered, momentarily depowered by the full force of Zeus’s desperation.

"Do you think I fear death?" Zeus spat, rising slowly, blood running down his face. "I AM DEATH TO ALL WHO OPPOSE ME!"

And Hades, still calm, replied:

"No. You are merely late to meet it."

Their blades collided—skyforged thundersteel against underworld obsidian.

The impact didn’t just shake Olympus.

It cracked reality.

Far below, in the mortal realm, people awoke screaming from dreams of drowning skies and graves opening beneath their feet. Ships vanished under freak waves. Mountains groaned and rivers boiled. The very axis of the world tipped.

I stood, frozen at the broken throne, watching the most ancient battle unfold—light against silence, lightning against shadow, sky against stone.

And though I could not intervene, I knew this much:

Olympus would never be the same with all this destruction happening.

And the gods who survived this conflict... would not be the same either.

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