Chapter 25: Iapetus

Iapetus sat rigidly on his grand stone throne, his fingers gripping the armrests so tightly that cracks began forming on its surface.

His sharp, steely eyes burned with frustration as he glared at the flickering torches lining the temple walls.

For months now, his lands had been under constant assault by the Olympians and their rebel forces.

His men were being picked off one by one, their strongholds crumbling under an enemy that never stood still.

Whenever he attempted to mount a counterattack, the bastards had already melted away into the shadows, vanishing before his forces could strike back.

It was an infuriating game of cat and mouse, and Iapetus was beginning to feel like the mouse.

His teeth clenched as a thought crossed his mind—if only Prometheus wasn't so indifferent about this war.