Divine Ascension: Reborn as a God of Power-Chapter 69: Theomachy (Part 9)

Every strike echoed like a bell toll through Olympus.

My blade of light carved through another spirit of judgment—its golden armor splitting like dry bark, divine ichor spraying across the marble. The god collapsed with a cry, his voice already fading into mist.

I didn’t stop moving.

A spell flew past me—blue fire—and I spun to find Hesperia, her palm still glowing from the cast. Her shield arm bled freely now, the divine gold of her veins exposed beneath torn skin, but she stood firm. She’d blocked two more gods while I dealt with the third.

"You’re not hesitating, are you enjoying it Akhon" she said breathlessly.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

Another pair of Olympian sentinels surged toward us from the far side of the broken temple stairs, hurling chains of lightning and binding glyphs as they ran.

I dropped low, let the first bolt fly overhead, then lunged forward, letting the system guide my strike.

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> ⚔️ [Divine Skill: Luminous Rend — Tier II Activated]

🧱 [Authority Bonus Applied — Domain of Power +15%]

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My sword ignited mid-swing. The impact shattered the ground around me, flinging the first attacker backward in a shower of broken stone. The second tried to counterspell me with a blast of purifying light—Olympian magic, pure and sanctimonious—but I raised my hand and called up a wall of raw pressure.

The light hit it and bent, refracting like glass under a god’s foot.

Then a dagger flew through the air and buried itself in the attacker’s throat.

I blinked while he crumpled. And I daw how Zagreus stepped through the smoke.

Wearing black-and-red armor that pulsed with infernal heat, he tossed a second dagger into the air and caught it lazily, his smile sharp beneath his disheveled hair.

"Hope I’m not late," he said.

"Zagreus," Hesperia called, relief flickering behind her exhaustion. "Took your time."

"Please," he said, casually slashing through an approaching demigod’s knees. "I wanted to see if your boyfriend could handle himself."

I sighed and parried another swing from a flame-born warrior, spinning him into Zagreus’s waiting blade. The blade tore through with supernatural ease, the blood evaporating before it touched the ground.

"Appreciate the help." I muttered.

"Appreciate the carnage," Zagreus shot back. "Nemesis is pushing forward hard on the northern flank. I thought you’d like to be more than a spectator."

"I’m working on it," I said—and then leapt into the air.

Three gods hovered above the staircase, casting glyphs into formation—trying to trap our advance in a web of divine law. They thought if they could isolate me, they could chain me, break me, silence me.

But I wasn’t the same divine initiate I had been when I entered Olympus.

I landed between them with a burst of pressure, blasting the glyphs apart before they finished forming.

> ⚔️ [Divine Surge Triggered]

🔥 Power Level Boosted: 1,310 → 1,860 (Temporary)

My blade struck with strength. The first god folded in half before his scream could leave his lips.

The second raised a barrier—too slow.

I cut through it, and him, with the same stroke.

I saw how the third hesitated.

And Hesperia’s javelin took him through the back.

She dropped beside me, blood soaking her tunic, eyes on fire. "Next group?"

I nodded and we ran.

---

The battlefield had turned into a maze of shattered columns, rising water, and collapsed spires. Thunder rolled in the distance—Zeus and Hades, still locked in their terrible clash—and I could feel every shockwave like a pulse through my bones.

Zagreus led the charge now, ducking between columns with impossible speed. His twin daggers flickered like shadows given form. Each kill added another flicker of red energy to the aura that clung to him.

"Left!" he shouted.

I turned, too slow—

But Hesperia’s shield intercepted a falling pillar of celestial flame, deflecting it just in time. Her knees buckled, but she stayed upright.

"You’re glowing again," she told me, her voice ragged.

"Must be because of all the power I using for killing," I replied.

Another god dropped from above—a winged enforcer wielding a golden glaive, shrieking in ancient tongues.

Zagreus rolled aside, whistling. "Someone’s upset Olympus is on fire."

I faced the god directly. "Get in line."

Our weapons clashed.

Divine energy surged, lighting the crumbled square in hues of white and red.

---

In that moment, I realized how far I’d come.

Not long ago, I was only a protector of a mortal village.

Now, gods fell before me. While Hesperia fought at my side, her spells and shields the rhythm to my chaos and Zagreus danced through the destruction.

Together, we carved through the last line of lesser gods guarding the approach to the Temple of Law—where the divine decrees of Olympus had once been written in flame.

Now, those flames were extinguished.

I stood over a broken stone tablet, breathing hard, ichor staining my armor.

"Is this it?" I asked.

Zagreus tilted his head. "No. But it’s close."

I looked toward the throne in the distance—lightning rising, shadows falling, Olympus shaking with every blow exchanged between gods who had ruled too long.

"I can feel it," I said.

(Meanwhile in another part of the battlefield...)

The battlefield around them was a corpse.

Columns broken like ribs. Temples hollowed like skulls. The great courtyard of Olympus, once a garden of divinity, now lay drenched in divine ichor, crackling energy, and the ash of a thousand spells.

And in the center, like titans born before time, Zeus and Hades collided.

Their movements were almost too fast to follow—monstrous shapes flickering in and out of being as they slammed into one another with the fury of natural disasters given form.

Zeus struck first.

A thunderclap exploded from his fist, splitting the ground beneath them. The marble cratered, ripples of lightning arching through the broken city like a pulse of judgment. Hades was lifted off his feet—only to twist mid-air, his form evaporating into black mist.

He reformed behind Zeus and struck with his scythe.

The blade screamed as it carved through air and armor, cutting into Zeus’s back and drawing a geyser of golden ichor. Zeus roared—silent but deafening in power—and turned with such force that a shockwave flattened an entire structure behind him. Hades skidded back, his boots carving molten furrows in the earth.

Lightning wreathed Zeus’s arms. The sky above them cracked open—purple and gold, bolts descending in a storm of divine fury. Each bolt slammed into the ground like a hammer from the heavens, breaking stone and bone alike. Hades raised his hand, summoning a wall of shadow and bone—but the storm punched through it, tearing massive chunks from his armor and flesh.

His helmet fell, revealing a face carved from pale rage.

So he responded in kind.

Hades slammed his palm into the ground—and the earth opened.

A spiraling chasm tore through the plaza, spewing black flame and unholy mists. Phantom hands, hundreds strong, reached upward from the Underworld, dragging spectral chains of judgment. They snatched at Zeus, at the sky, at the very light.

Zeus snapped the chains with a glare, body surrounded by a nova of white-hot power. His wounds closed with a surge of divine essence. He kicked off the ground, flew into the air—and came down like a meteor.

The impact obliterated half the courtyard.

A crater miles wide tore open beneath them. The shockwave shattered distant towers. Hades was caught full in the blast, driven into the rock. For a moment, nothing moved.

Then the ground detonated.

Hades burst from the pit, skeletal wings unfurling behind him, cloak of the dead billowing like a tidal wave of spirits. His entire body burned with god-killing shadow, eyes hollow and seething. He raised the scythe with both hands and threw it—spinning like a black crescent moon.

It sliced through the battlefield and it tore through two mountains.

Zeus caught it. His hands bled from the force, his bones cracked, but he caught it and hurled it back.

Hades dodged, barely, the blade carving a valley in the stone behind him. Zeus didn’t pause—he surged forward, fists wrapped in raw plasma, and pummeled his brother with a volley of devastating blows.

Each strike cracked ribs and shattered wards. It drove Hades across the ruins like a proyectile.

But Hades did not fall.

He lashed out with a burst of necrotic flame on point-blank.

Zeus screamed as half his chest armor vaporized, the flesh beneath blackened and sizzling. He staggered and fell to one knee.

Hades landed atop him.

The god of death seized his brother by the throat, dragging him through the dirt with unstoppable force. He smashed Zeus’s face into a pillar, into the ground, into a fractured statue of Gaia herself. The ground trembled and it seemed like lightning bled into the dirt.

Zeus struck back with a burst of wind so sharp it peeled the skin from Hades’s face.

The air itself cut like swords while thunder detonated again.

They rose—stumbling, roaring and bleeding.

Their auras collided while they clashed again.

Hades’s scythe swept in arcs that split buildings. Zeus responded with spears of light hurled like artillery, detonating on contact. Every movement left craters, torn stone, or burning skies. Mountains cracked in the distance. Floods rose again from Poseidon’s last remnants.

And still they fought.

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