Chapter 1: Hades

He jerked himself awake, breathing heavily as a soul splitting headache assaulted him.

He grasped his head tightly, almost screaming from the pain he is currently feeling.

And then, it hit him.

Memories.

Knowledge.

Experience.

The identity and life that wasn't his flooded his mind as if he was the one who lived through it.

He almost forgot his own identity due to the massive amount of information that poured into his mind.

He is Eren Forger, an average university student.

Yet he is also Hades, eldest son of the Titan Cronus and Rhea, the King of Underworld, the Lord of Spirit, and the God of the Dead.

Two lives.

One from the modern era, and the other from a myth almost no one believed to be real.

Yet he is here, in this body, in this period. As Hades.

"...fuck."

From his memories, he and his siblings are currently hiding in Mount Dikte after they successfully escaped from Cronus with the help of Zeus.

He doesn't know much time they have left, but it probably won't be too long before Cronus found this place and start the war.

His siblings, specifically Zeus and Poseidon, were gathering allies. His sisters, Hera, Hestia, and Demeter, has been doing all the internal affairs and logistics.

He, however, remained recluse and distant. Barely communicating with his siblings and almost always on his own.

"But that's fine...it's better this way."

At least with this, he can train silently to prepare for the worst. He can't rely on his knowledge about mythology alone, who knows what changes had happened, and who knows if what was written on mythology is true or not.

He sat up, crossed legs and started to look through the memories and knowledge he had received.

At this moment, Hades wasn't as strong as in the myths. He has yet to take the crown of being the King of Underworld. He wasn't the Lord of Spirits yet. And most importantly, he has yet to receive his Divine Weapon, the helmet.

Truthfully, he finds that weapon quite lackluster compared to Zeus' Thunderbolt and Poseidon's Trident.

He feels like those two brothers of his are always conspiring to keep him at the bottom of power.

But that's besides the point.

Currently, Hades only has authority over shadow, darkness, curses, and spirits.

It may sound a lot, but in his "prime", Hades also has authority over the dead, the underworld, funeral rites, necromancy, wealth, mining, agriculture, dreams, and earthly fertility.

But those were all for the future.

"Shadow...spirits..." Hades muttered, thinking of a certain aura farming character with power over shadows.

Thinking of trying it, Hades used his power as the shadows writhed and deformed, turning into a figure akin to a medieval knight.

However, it remained motionless. It only moved when Hades personally used his power to make it move.

"But if I use this..." Hades opened his palm, using his dominion over spirits to pull an unknown, wandering soul from the afterlife. "...so this is a soul."

A small blue flame flickered on his palm, with a gentle flick, the flame went inside the shadow knight.

Moments later, blue flames burned from the "eyes" of the knight as it immediately stood straight.

Hades observed the shadow knight, watching as the ethereal blue flames within its form flickered with an eerie light. It was stable, obedient, and followed his silent command like a marionette bound to its master.

"Interesting..." he muttered, his gaze shifting to his open palm. He had tested his dominion over shadows and spirits, but he needed something more. Something to enhance his combat capabilities.

He raised his other hand, focusing his divine essence. The darkness around him responded, writhing and converging into his palm. The black mass condensed, taking form—long, slender, deadly. A spear.

But a mere shadow construct wasn't enough. He needed to refine it, to make it as sharp and unyielding as divine steel. Reaching deep into his inherited knowledge, he infused the spear with divine energy, solidifying it.

The weight was perfect. The balance—flawless.

Memories from his past life resurfaced. He had practiced Kali, the Filipino martial art specializing in blades, sticks, and spears. The techniques, the muscle memory—it all returned as if he had never left his past life behind.

He spun the spear in his hand, feeling its flow, its potential. Then, without hesitation, he lunged forward.

A swift thrust—precise.

A sweeping strike—controlled.

A spinning counter—unstoppable.

The shadow knight moved toward him, acting as an opponent. With a flick of his wrist, Hades maneuvered the spear with the same efficiency he once wielded a rattan stick.

Each movement was sharp, refined—lethal.

A downward strike shattered the knight's form into writhing shadows. It was weak, incomplete, but a step in the right direction.

Hades exhaled, gripping the spear tighter.

He wasn't as strong as he would be in myth, but that didn't matter.

Power wasn't just given. It was taken.

He would forge his own path, shape his own legend.

And when the war against Cronus comes, he would be ready.

Hades took a deep breath. The first shadow knight had fallen too easily. It wasn't enough of a challenge. He needed more.

Raising his hand, he called forth the darkness once more. The shadows slithered and twisted around him, taking shape. One, two, three—no, several knights emerged from the abyss, their forms flickering like dying embers before stabilizing into solid silhouettes.

With another wave of his hand, he pulled forth lost souls from the afterlife, binding them to the shadows. The moment the blue flames ignited within their hollow eyes, the knights came to life.

This time, they did not stand idly.

They attacked.

The first lunged at him with a crude shadow-forged sword, its speed surprising. Hades barely had time to raise his spear, parrying the strike.

The force behind the blow rattled his bones, but he gritted his teeth and pivoted, redirecting the knight's momentum before countering with a thrust.

The spear pierced through the knight's chest, dispersing its form momentarily before it reformed a few feet away.

The second knight closed in from behind. Hades spun, using the motion to bring his spear up in a sweeping arc. The tip grazed the knight's helm, sending it staggering, but before he could follow up, the third and fourth knights struck together.

One slashed at his side, the other thrusting directly at his torso.

Hades reacted on instinct, twisting his body and angling his spear to deflect both attacks. But he wasn't fast enough—he felt the sting of a blade cutting into his shoulder.

Not deep, but enough to make him hiss in pain.

They were improving. Or perhaps, he was simply not good enough yet.

"Again," he growled, tightening his stance.

He charged, spear thrusting forward like a viper's fang. A knight dodged, but he twisted his grip, using the shaft to bash it across the head.

Another came from the side—Hades sidestepped, driving the butt of his spear into its torso before following up with a downward stab.

The shadows dissipated, but they would return with his command.

He moved fluidly, recalling the lessons from his past life. Kali was all about adaptability, precision, and control. He wasn't just swinging a weapon—he was directing it with intent.

A knight attempted a downward slash. Hades raised his spear horizontally, catching the blade before twisting and pushing it aside.

In the same motion, he spun the spear in his hands and delivered a quick jab to its exposed flank, dispersing it.

Three remained.

Sweat dripped down his brow, but his movements were smoother now. He could feel the improvement, the slight increase in efficiency.

The remaining knights advanced cautiously.

He smirked.

He lowered his stance, spear poised like a coiled serpent. The moment they struck, he would be ready.