Episode 3: The King of the Underworld is Tired

Episode 3: The Story of the Underworld – (2)

Rumble...

It's almost done now.

The underworld, which once had nothing, was now twisted and expanded according to my will, to the point where it was hard to recognize its previous appearance.

With a touch of underworld aesthetic, or perhaps hipster aesthetic, a jet-black castle was reflected in my eyes.

A fortress of steel made from the abundant metals found underground.

But this isn’t just ordinary steel. The metal infused with my power had turned pale and seemed to emit a cold, chilling aura.

Looking at it, the walls gleamed with an unusual sheen, unlike any ordinary metal. Maybe I should call it an obsidian fortress.

Creak...

With a slight nod, the castle gate opened naturally.

Well, not so naturally. I just made it, so why is it so stiff?

And why does the sound of the gate opening have to be so eerie, like the wail of a ghost?

As I walked inside the massive fortress, I began to make adjustments here and there as I saw fit.

Fixing the sand scattered on the ground, the parts that had twisted because I miscalculated my strength, and so on.

While I was busy making these adjustments, a visitor arrived in the underworld.

“Hades.”

Walking towards me with steady steps was a muscular male god with a single eye.

No, it was a Cyclops.

It was Arges (the Thunderbolt), one of the three Cyclops brothers who forged weapons for me, Zeus, and Poseidon.

What business could have brought him all the way to this dark underworld to see me?

“Luckily, I found my way here. Demeter told me the location...”

The Cyclops are the children of Gaia, the goddess of the earth, and Uranus, the god of the sky.

In terms of the divine lineage, they are of higher rank than us.

But I heard that the three brothers decided to live leisurely on an island from now on.

There was no need for him to come all the way to this gloomy underground... Could it be that he died and came to the underworld?

Cyclops, despite being of high rank and powerful gods, strangely, have the concept of death, unlike us.

So there’s a possibility that the first resident of my underworld might be a Cyclops.

“So, who killed you? Was it that brat Zeus?”

Just as I was about to start a fraternal war over the throne of the gods, he chuckled and answered.

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re blacksmiths, but we have some knowledge in building constructions like this. Since Poseidon and Zeus are building palaces, each of us brothers decided to lend a hand.”

Oh... Bless the Cyclops, gods of service, who generously share everything they have.

Silently, I worshiped him in my heart.

“But don’t get your hopes up too much. I don’t have the divine power of construction.”

The three Cyclops brothers inherited part of their father’s divine power of the sky.

Thunder, lightning, and thunderbolts aren’t related to blacksmithing, so how they acquired such great skills is a mystery...

As he looked around the palace I had just built, he gave me advice on various points.

Indeed, with the advice of an expert in creation, the palace quickly transformed.

“And while it’s good that you’re using the 'Kynee' I made for you, I’d appreciate it if you took better care of it. It may not look like it, but it prefers to be kept clean...”

The Cyclops touched and examined my invisible helmet, the 'Kynee', which was hanging in a corner.

For reference, Arges, one of the three brothers, was the one who made my helmet.

When I asked why he specifically made an invisible helmet, his answer was something else.

He said he made a weapon that would suit my gloomy personality...

“...Tsk. Are you listening to me? And it likes it when you gently stroke it from the top of the helmet down to the bridge of the nose...”

This isn’t an Ego Sword, or rather, an Ego Helmet, you know?

The creator himself should know better, so why does he keep saying things like this?

It might be an emotion that only blacksmiths understand, something I can’t comprehend.

Now that I think about it, I’ve always wondered—Poseidon and Zeus got weapons, so why did I get armor?

I wanted to wield a cool weapon too, but all I got was an invisible helmet... It’s a bit disappointing...

“Sss! Just a helmet! What’s wrong with my 'Kynee', which is my masterpiece that can hide you from the entire world?”

Oh no, did I speak my thoughts out loud again?

I quickly calmed down the snorting, huffing Cyclops.

Of course, I experienced the power of this helmet during the war. Even our father, Cronos, couldn’t find me because of it.

“It’s natural, considering who made it. Do you know how much effort I put into creating that...”

But I still want a weapon.

“Ahem! You’re a great god now, so stop whining! If I were to make a weapon for you, I’d have to make one for Poseidon and Zeus too!”

* * *

I wanted to receive a weapon while I had the chance, but it couldn’t be helped.

From his perspective, if he made a weapon for me, he’d have to make one for Poseidon and Zeus as well, so there was nothing I could do.

Arges took a few laps around the underworld I created and then left, smiling in satisfaction.

I couldn’t help but smack my lips as I watched Arges’s back as he departed, after completely overhauling my palace, despite telling me not to expect too much since he wasn’t a god of architecture.

“Hades, do you envy Zeus’s thunderbolt or Poseidon’s trident?”

Styx, who had been seeing Arges off with me, whispered.

Of course I was envious, but there was nothing I could do.

Maybe later, I’ll secretly visit the island where the three Cyclops brothers live and ask them to make something for me.

“If you sink it to the bottom of the River Styx, where the gods swear their oaths, and imbue it with power, a weapon worthy of you might be born. How about it?”

This offer was surprising.

"You’d do this for me? You’re not even a blacksmith who finds fulfillment in making weapons, so why...?"

When I asked the goddess Styx for her reasoning, she turned her head and spoke shyly.

“Then... would that clear my debt?”

Come to think of it, there was indeed one thing she might consider a debt. During the war, I saved Styx when she was nearly dragged away by countless Titans surrounding her.

“Take one of the bronze swords made by the Cyclops, imbue it with your power, and hand it over to me. I’ll bring it back to you when it’s done.”

I handed the goddess Styx the bronze sword I had been using. She took my cherished sword and quickly descended into the depths of the river, disappearing from sight.

The Cyclops didn’t only make the thunderbolt, trident, and helmet.

They also made weapons and armor for other gods, producing numerous “failed” creations.

None of us agreed with the notion that these were failures, but the Cyclops, with their keen eyes, pointed out flaws.

“This seems like an excellent weapon.”

“What are you talking about? This weapon is too weak to contain your divine powers. It would break after a few days of fighting against Cronos’s scythe.”

“Then why is this armor considered a failure?”

“Try falling from the sky to the ground while wearing it. You’ll find a scratch on it.”

Our father, Cronos’s scythe, was the best weapon in the world, created by our grandmother Gaia from Adamas (diamond).

To think that even a weapon that would break after days of fighting against something like that was considered a failure by their high standards—yet they eventually succeeded.

They managed to create three weapons that either rivaled or slightly fell short of Cronos’s great scythe.

The tide of the battle, which had been seesawing, turned in our favor that day, leading to our victory.

And one of the so-called failures they casually created was the bronze sword I had just handed to Styx.

* * *

The horses of Helios, the sun god, pulled the sun chariot across the sky dozens of times, from one end of the world to the other,

And finally, Styx returned to the fortress in the underworld with my sword.

“It’s all finished. Would you like to try swinging it?”

A single-handed sword, now dyed pitch-black to match the god of the underworld.

The bronze sword, which had endured at the bottom of the River Styx after receiving my power, seemed to have been reborn.

As I ran my hand along the blade, which had no guard and consisted solely of the edge, the sword trembled slightly, as if recognizing its owner.

“Oh? It seems to have turned out even better than I expected.”

The unique texture of the handle, made from a special oak tree that grows near the top of Mount Olympus, clung to my hand.

It was neither too light nor too heavy and felt just right.

Whoosh—

As the blade cut through the air from left to right, it sliced through the underworld’s atmosphere in a way that I found very satisfying.

As a test, I placed the finest of the finest, the 'Kynee', on the ground and brought the blade down on it, sparks flying from the impact.

Clang!

“Hades! Why are you testing the sword on that precious helmet?”

"But it’s the hardest thing I own, so I had no choice but to test it there..."

“Hah... Really, all the gods of Olympus are a bit strange...”

Ignoring Styx as she muttered and covered her face with her hands, I carefully examined the blade.

Any scratches or damage? None.

The connection between the blade and the handle? Perfect.

Powerful divine power permeability? Flawless.

I wondered how long this blade could withstand the full power of a god.

Just as I was about to concentrate my strength and strike the side of the blade, Styx stopped me.

“Ahh! Please don’t do that! You’ll ruin my baby!”

Baby?

“Ha...?! It’s... it’s the same meaning as when the Cyclops call their masterpieces their babies...”

“Baby sounds good. Then its name will be the Styx Sword.”

“Ugh... But to name it directly after me...”

Ignoring the goddess Styx, who was mumbling and covering her face with her hands, I sheathed the sword at my waist.

Alright, your name is now Styx Sword.

“'Styx' is me...”

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