Ch. 003: Yes, That Hers!
Yes, that Hers. The ssenger god of Olympus, swift as lightning, famous for his speed and cunning. Right hand to Zeus himself, Hers was known as the god of boundaries, trickery, and travel— a figure as mysterious as he was notorious. He was also responsible for delivering souls to the underworld.
If Hers was here, it could only an one thing: there was news from Olympus, likely from Zeus himself. But why seek out Hades of all gods? A question that rattled as my fingers hovered over the door handle. The reality that I was inhabiting Hades was surreal enough; dealing with an Olympian emissary was a whole new level. I swallowed, my pulse racing as I steadied myself.
CLICK.
The door opened, and there stood Hers. He wasn't draped in godly robes or adorned in celestial armor as I'd expected. Instead, he looked almost… casual, wearing a simple blue shirt and beige trousers. Bright, mischievous eyes looked back at from a young, clean-shaven face that held a smile wide enough to make even the sternest judge relax.
"Yo!" he greeted with a wave, his voice loud, casual, familiar in a way I hadn't anticipated. I was caught off guard, blinking at him as if he were so apparition.
"What's with this look?" I said, trying to keep my voice cool and cryptic as Hades might. "You look… underwhelming."
Hers laughed, the sound startlingly youthful. "Still as blunt as ever, I see! It's been, what, a century since you last opened a door in my face?" His eyes sparkled with mischief, and for a mont, I was reminded of the Hers I'd read about in myth, the god with the quickest wit in all Olympus.
But that casual deanor, that laid-back outfit— it all felt wrong, like sothing in Olympus was being twisted before my eyes. "Why are you here, Hers?" I asked, making my voice firr, deeper, echoing the power that lingered in this body.
Hers chuckled, scratching his head. "Straight to the point, I see." He fumbled in his pocket, his brow furrowing as if trying to rember sothing. "Let's see... where did I put it? Zeus sent with a ssage, said it was urgent… ah!" He vanished in a blur, leaving standing alone for a brief mont before reappearing in a rush, slightly out of breath. In his hand was a scroll.
"There we go," he said with a triumphant grin, holding it up. "This is from Zeus. Says it's urgent. Thought I'd deliver it in person."
He handed it to , and I took it, unrolling the scroll carefully. My eyes skimd over Zeus's bold, furious handwriting as I processed the words. The ssage was as straightforward as it was foreboding: Protheus has crossed a line.
A chill ran down my spine as I read further. This wasn't the casual reprimand I'd expected— it was an ultimatum. Olympus was on the edge of war, and Protheus, the so-called "champion of humanity," had ignited a divine scandal. His decision to gift fire to humanity had defied the gods and exposed a hidden vulnerability that even the mighty Olympians couldn't ignore. If this was true…
Hers' voice broke into my thoughts, his tone lighter than it had any right to be given the gravity of the situation. "Oh, and one more thing," he said, as if rembering an afterthought. "Poseidon wanted to tell you Zeus is furious and ready to wipe out humanity over this. He wants you to stop him and save humanity."
My heart jolted. This wasn't just mythology anymore; it was a living, breathing narrative, and humanity's fate hung on the razor's edge. Every word in the ssage felt like a warning, like an on from the depths of Olympus itself. Zeus's rage was infamous, a storm that could tear apart worlds— and here I was, forced to play Hades in the thick of it all.
My mind raced as Hers watched , clearly oblivious to my inner turmoil. There was sothing disconcerting about his carefree deanor, almost as though he were blissfully unaware of the coming storm. Or was he? The gods had a way of masking their true intentions, of hiding in plain sight.
I forced my expression into a frown. "Is that all? Seems like sothing Zeus would have handled himself."
"Ah, good to see that skepticism alive and well," Hers said, giving an approving grin. "But no, I'm afraid he'd rather you handle this one. Who better to deal with Protheus' ss than Hades himself?"
I t his gaze, studying the spark of amusent in his eyes. "And why would that be?"
"Oh, you know," he said, his voice almost mocking, "the king of the underworld has a way of instilling fear even in the heartiest troublemakers. Besides, Zeus believes this whole affair with Protheus is… beneath him." He chuckled, clearly amused by his own words.
I held back a sigh, wrestling with my frustration. As much as I might want to resist, it was becoming clearer by the second that I had little choice but to navigate this delicate web of divine politics. The fate of countless souls might very well rest on how convincingly I could play my part.
"Fine," I replied coolly, my voice as cold as the halls of Hades. "Tell Zeus he will have his answer soon."
With a lazy salute, Hers turned to leave, his eyes twinkling with that sa unbreakable cheerfulness. "Don't take too long, Hades. Olympus doesn't wait forever."
And then he was gone, leaving with a mind full of questions. What if this was only the beginning of sothing far more intricate? The gods didn't often seek Hades's counsel, let alone send ssengers with urgent requests. It felt like a dark prelude, the calm before a storm yet to be fully realized.
I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of it all settle upon . Here I was, caught between myth and reality, each action a step into a story that had already unfolded across ti. Yet a part of bristled, unwilling to accept the role of a passive observer. If I was to live as Hades, then perhaps I could rewrite his story.
And as I looked out the window to the vast, unknown landscape of the underworld, the faint whisper of my thoughts echoed: What if the future of Olympus rested in my hands?
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