Chapter 9

In the deepest plane of Tartarus.

Freya was kneeling. The ground beneath her knees was hot, dry, relentless. Her arms were raised high, shackled by incandescent black chains, wrapped in an endless flow of lava. The fire burned her skin but did not consume it. An unending torment.

Her body trembled. Her head hung forward, disheveled blonde hair covering her bloodied face. The white silk tunic she wore, almost translucent, was stained with patches of dried blood. Beneath her, a scarlet pool formed, droplets dripping from her chin, falling without pause.

The air was filled with grotesque grunts. Monsters were hurled into the lake of flames, their voices a chorus of agony. Souls screamed as they were torn apart by the demons patrolling the darkness. The fire crackled, hungry.

Tartarus was a deformed cavern, its jagged walls covered in scratch marks. Petrified bodies of men and titans adorned the rocks, their expressions frozen in pure despair. They had tried to escape. Tried to climb the steep walls. But the heat caught up to them. Their flesh melted. Only statues remained—memories of eternal condemnation.

Then, everything stopped.

The flames shuddered. Silence fell like a sharp blade.

Echoes of heavy footsteps resounded from the upper level. Each beat against the ground made the atmosphere vibrate. Slow. Precise. Unrelenting.

Freya shivered.

The figure advanced, descending the stone steps. The sound of fingers brushing against the rough wall echoed. A suffocating presence filled the space. Fear took root even in the demons. Harrow, the very god of fear and torture, held his breath.

The footsteps stopped.

Freya slowly lifted her gaze. Her vision was blurred. Blurred shapes danced before her eyes.

Until finally, she saw him.

Primordius.

The primordial god knelt before her. His white eyes, devoid of any trace of emotion, met hers. His face was marked by scars. His long, graying hair escaped from beneath a crown of iron thorns. His black armor, cracked from ancient battles, carried the essence of destruction.

A stormy purple aura emanated from his body, distorting the very space around him. Even hell trembled in his presence.

— Aethyr va Zynar-em, nara va nythir, thysir Zorath-em. — His voice echoed like thunder, reverberating through the walls of Tartarus. — Since my birth, the era of the gods has been troubled. I am the chaos that haunts the cosmos, the eclipse that devours the light. My blade has already reaped countless lives. I am the inevitable ruin of humanity.

Freya gasped, her chest rising and falling with effort. But her eyes did not waver.

— You will never erase my creation... — Her voice was weak but firm. — Tesseron has already written in the Archibook the deeds my hands have shaped.

Primordius smiled. A cold smile. Lifeless.

— But I can alter the future of your precious humans.

His hand shot out, grabbing Freya's hair. With a brutal yank, he forced her head back.

— Tell me where the human who invaded the gods' temple is.

Silence.

A colossal punch struck the goddess's face. The impact was deafening. Any human would have been reduced to dust.

— Where is he? — Another blow.

Her face snapped violently to the side. More blood. More pain.

— Where, Freya? — The third blow came.

Her lips trembled. Her skin throbbed. The pool of blood grew larger.

— Where is the damned human worm?! — Primordius's roar reverberated through the caverns.

Freya did not answer.

Another punch. Darkness threatened to take her.

Primordius sighed.

— Tsk... I will return tomorrow.

Black flames consumed his body. And then, he was gone.

Freya remained there. Alone.

Her eyes closed. Blood dripped from the corner of her lips.

She murmured, almost inaudible:

— Ji-Ho...

Ji-Ho awoke with a jolt.

His heart pounded in his chest. His breath was ragged. He rushed out of the tent, the morning cold sending a shiver down his spine.

He looked around.

Nothing.

But that feeling... Had someone called him?

He furrowed his brow, shaking his head to dispel the thought. He grabbed his backpack, took out the flint, and rekindled the fire. As the flame grew, he prepared his meal. After eating, he dressed in athletic clothes, stretched, and began his ten-kilometer morning run.

The forest passed around him in a blur. But his mind was elsewhere.

The weight of responsibility on his shoulders was crushing. The memories of the previous day gave him no respite. The Tree had chosen him. But why? Why him?

Freya. She was the only one who could answer.

But... How could he find her again?

The day passed. Night fell.

Ji-Ho pushed his body to the limit, tirelessly training his newly acquired abilities.

And then, when he finally slept... everything changed.

Suddenly, he was somewhere else.

The environment was suffocating. Red rocks and soil. Monstrous creatures. Humans in battle. Screams of pain and despair filled the space.

Ji-Ho advanced. His hand touched one of the monsters.

And he passed right through.

His eyes narrowed. He couldn't interact with anything?

The screams didn't bother him. They only intrigued him.

Hands in his pockets, he began exploring the place.

Until he saw a staircase.

Leading down… even deeper.

And so, without a second thought, he descended the steps.

Upon reaching the deepest plane, Ji-Ho found a chained figure, arms raised, bound by chains dripping with molten lava, fastened to two towering marble pillars. The figure was kneeling, head tilted forward.

Behind them, a massive waterfall of lava poured incessantly, its source emerging from the void, making it impossible to discern its origin. The walls near the cascade were adorned with statues of petrified giants and humans, each one eternalizing the despair of their last attempts at escape.

Ji-Ho stepped forward, his eyes analyzing the imprisoned silhouette. That was when he noticed—it had a different aura, a white light tinged with gold, something unusual.

His eyes widened when he finally recognized the prisoner.

— FREYA! — His shout echoed through the abyss.

Slowly, Freya lifted her face. Ji-Ho saw the marks of torture, the swollen bruises, and the dried blood on her skin.

A burning fury grew in his chest. He clenched his fists. But… he could do nothing. He was merely a specter, a bodiless existence in that place.

— Run… — Freya's voice came out weak, hesitant.

In that instant, something happened.

Beside Ji-Ho, a presence appeared—fast as lightning. Before he could react, it was already there.

Ji-Ho turned, swallowing hard as he faced the one who had materialized beside him.

— Found you. — The voice reverberated, carrying an overwhelming weight.

It was Primordius.

Time seemed to stop. Ji-Ho's heart pounded. A chill ran down his spine.

The being before him exuded a suffocating presence. A dark, overwhelming aura twisted around him like a storm of purple and black energy. The air grew heavy. Ji-Ho's body froze.

Without warning, Primordius extended his hand toward Ji-Ho.

Then, everything unraveled.

Ji-Ho awoke.

He sat up, gasping, his skin covered in cold sweat. His chest rose and fell rapidly.

He looked around. He was in his tent. Outside, the darkness lingered. Everything seemed normal.

He laughed—nervous.

— It was just a nightmare…

But his laughter soon faded. His entire body was still trembling.

Never before had he felt such absolute fear. His fighting instinct, his confidence… none of it had worked against that being. It was as if Primordius was an inevitable entity, something that transcended human logic.

He lay down again but knew he wouldn't sleep.

Hours later, the sun began to rise. The birds' songs heralded the arrival of a new day.

After that dream—or rather, that vision—Ji-Ho couldn't rest. He tossed and turned in bed, trying to rationalize what had happened. He felt that it hadn't been just a mere hallucination. There was something real there. He had seen Freya… and she was being tortured.

And that being… was it truly Primordius?

Humans only knew of the defeated gods, the ones recorded in books—like Thalerius and Zephyros. But the entity that had appeared before him was unlike anything he had ever read or heard about.

He stepped out of the tent to breathe in the fresh morning air. The cold bit into his sweaty skin. He needed to clear his head.

He changed clothes, ate breakfast, stretched, and began his morning training.

After hours of exhausting exercise, Ji-Ho paused to take in the golden sunlight bathing the city below the mountain. The view brought a tightness to his chest.

He felt homesick.

He thought of his mother and his sister.

It was time to go back.

Upon returning home, Ji-Ho found a warm atmosphere.

His mother stood, lucid, preparing lunch for Hikari.

— Ji-Ho, you're back! — His mother's cheerful voice warmed his chest.

— How were your days of reflection? — Hikari asked, relaxed on the couch.

— Refreshing. I feel better. — He closed the door behind him. — But nothing compares to being back.

Ji-Ho hugged his mother and sister. They seemed surprised.

Hikari, despite being younger, had always been taller than Ji-Ho. But now… something had changed.

Ji-Ho was taller than her. His body was more defined, his shoulders broader. His posture, once slouched, was now firm, almost imposing.

They didn't comment on it. Too many strange things had happened in recent days.

The three sat at the table as their mother finished cooking.

— How are your studies, Hikari?

— Nothing much. The principal of my school wants to talk to a guardian. I was going to ask Mom…

— I'll go. Now that she's better, we need to avoid any stress for her.

As they talked, their mother arrived with the pot of food.

— What joy to see my family together… You two are my cure.

The meal went on peacefully until their mother made a revelation.

— Ji-Ho, while you were away, a man came looking for you. He left a card and asked you to contact him.

Ji-Ho stopped chewing.

— Where is this card? — he asked, still with food in his mouth.

— On top of the TV stand.

He quickly swallowed, wiped his mouth, and stood up.

He picked up the card. Looked at the small white rectangle, its golden details forming a familiar crest.

It was the emblem of Team Cerberus.

His eyes narrowed.

— Mom… what did this man look like? — he asked without turning around, still staring at the card.

— He was about your height, had messy dark greenish hair, deep eye bags, and an unshaven beard. He wore a black suit… and a brooch… But I don't remember his name.

Ji-Ho turned to his mother. His eyes now emanated an intense blue glow, subtle flames dancing in his irises.

He clenched the card tightly.

— Tenkai Arashi.