The plan was simple. At least, simple on paper.
We had spent the night hunched over a rough map Hecate traced across the stone floor with chalk, each of us tossing ideas like arrows. The storm around Olympus was wild but predictable, cycling in spirals. Typhon nested in the eye, resting between rampages. That gave us one narrow chance: strike while he slept.
It was madness, but then again, every plan against Typhon was madness.
By dawn, we stood in the courtyard outside my palace, ready.
I let out a long breath, centering myself. The ground shivered under my boots as I called my armor, it has been some time. Bone clawed its way up from the cracks, spiraling around me in plates and ridges, forming pauldrons like fanged skulls, a breastplate ribbed and jagged, gauntlets ending in talons. The helm sealed last, sweeping back into a crown of horns.
Zeus muttered, "You're getting dramatic again."
I ignored him. With a thought, I summoned my blade. Black steel materialized in my grip, long and heavy, its surface etched with runes that pulsed faintly like veins.
Demeter tilted her head. "Sick weapon, where did you get it?"
I glanced down at the sword, then back at her. "It was a gift from Tartarus."
That earned me silence. Even Zeus's smug grin faltered for once. Poseidon finally broke it, whistling low. "Our lovely little brother's been busy making friends in low places."
I slid the longsword back across my spine, the weight of it settling between my shoulders like a promise. Shadows clung to me as we left the Underworld behind, the cavernous gates closing with a low groan of stone.
Ahead, Olympus rose—white cliffs stabbing into the heavens, its crown wreathed in storm clouds.
The climb was merciless. The air thinned, the wind shrieked through the passes like the cries of the dead, and the mountain itself seemed to fight us. Boulders shuddered loose and went crashing into the depths below. Frost rimed the higher ridges, turning the path into a jagged knife-edge of ice and stone. Every step carried the unspoken truth: Olympus remembered Typhon's rage, and it did not forgive intruders lightly.
No one spoke. Not Hera, grim and silent; not Zeus, jaw clenched with a pride too brittle to show fear; not Poseidon, though the sea-born god had grown pale far from his waters. Even I felt it—the mountain pressing on us, daring us to turn back.
At last, we crested the ridge.
And there he was.
Typhon.
Sprawled in restless sleep across the plateau. His body stretched so far it seemed to merge with the mountain itself—spines like jagged ridgelines, scales overlapping like armor forged from night and storm. Each breath he drew rumbled through the stone, the rise and fall of his chest sending gusts of wind screaming down the slopes as if Olympus itself exhaled in dread.
His wings lay folded against his sides, vast beyond comprehension. Even at rest, their edges curved like obsidian battlements, veins glowing faintly with a cold, azure fire. The membranes shimmered with shifting colors, the way oil slicks ripple across water, hinting at the storm bound within.
His scales gleamed black-blue, each one the size of a shield, edges catching the moonlight like blades. Between them ran fractures of living light—lines of molten blue and silver that pulsed with every beat of the monster's slumbering heart.
From his shoulders and back sprouted serpentine necks, coiled and twitching, their heads murmuring in fractured hisses, as if even their dreams were venom. Some bore jaws bristling with teeth, others slit eyes that flickered faintly, all waiting for the moment their master stirred.
But the central head—the dragon's—was worse than them all. It lay pressed to the stone, as though the earth itself bowed beneath its weight. Horns like blackened spears curved backward, and fangs longer than towers gleamed in the darkness. Even asleep, his mouth smoked faintly with lightning, sparks whispering between teeth like caged stars.
I raised a hand, forcing the others to still their weapons. My voice was low, urgent.
"Wait. He's vulnerable now. If we strike together, we might actually have a chance to—"
A crack of thunder split the sky.
My stomach dropped as I spun toward Zeus.
"Don't you—"
Too late.
Zeus hurled his Thunderbolt as it struck Typhon square in the head. The sky exploded white, the air humming with raw power.
For a while, silence filled that air as we held our breaths.
Smoke curled lazily from Typhon's scales.
And then the dragon stirred. Golden eyes opened, slitted and hateful, glowing with ancient malice. The sound that rumbled from his throat was not a roar but the grinding of mountains—the groan of the earth beneath crushing weight.
"You idiot!" I roared, rounding on Zeus. "He is the storm! Lightning won't hurt him—it'll feed him!"
Zeus blinked, confused, like a child caught with his hand in the jar. "I… didn't know."
"You never know, brother," Hera hissed. "That's the problem."
But there was no time for arguments.
Typhon rose. The mountain shook beneath his shifting mass. His coils unwrapped like rivers coming alive, wings unfolding with a sound of thunder cracking. Electricity raced across his scales, sparks bursting from the golden veins until his entire body pulsed with light.
The force of his first wingbeat hurled us back, ripping trees from the slopes, tearing boulders free as though they were pebbles.
Then he roared.
It wasn't what I was expecting—this guttering shriek that hammered the air so hard I felt my bones rattle inside my armor. Clouds ripped apart, thunder screamed, lightning cascaded in endless forks from the heavens.
The skies darkened, as webs of lightning started striking the land. Suddenly the ground started shaking as we turned to see many monsters heading towards us.
They came like a flood. Hellhounds, Trolls, Kobolds and goblins swarmed out of the forests.
Serpents as long as rivers slithered from the valleys. Several Hydras, a Chimera, and a pack of Drakes charged, looking like wolves as they ran. Oni, ogres, a sphinx, Lamia and several Empusa darted in shadow, eyes gleaming hunger.
Poseidon swore under his breath, trident glinting from the lightning. "We're doomed."
"Not yet," I muttered, drawing the longsword across my back. The blade sang as it cleared the scabbard, a hollow groan that rattled in my chest. "But we will be if you don't shut up and fight."
The first ranks of monsters crashed against the ridge like a tide of flesh and fang. The storm howled with them, rain slicing sideways in sheets so sharp they stung like knives.
Zeus vanished into a crack of lightning, his laughter rolling like thunder across the slope. He reappeared in the heart of an ogre pack, his fist colliding with one's skull. The giant's head detonated in sparks and bone, body collapsing as Zeus's thunderbolt whirled to his hand once more.
"Alright then, I guess this is it." I muttered under my breath, ducking as a harpy swooped at me with claws extended. My sword cleaved upward, splitting her chest in two. She dissolved into smoke, carried away by the wind.
Poseidon hurled his trident, the weapon spiraling like a spear as it skewered a hellhound mid-leap, pinning the beast to the rock. The god raised his arms, and the rain itself answered. Droplets froze midair, hanging like stars, before he flung them as a thousand darts that shredded a swarm of goblins climbing the cliffside. Their screams were drowned by the storm.
Demeter swept her scythe in a wide arc, vines erupting from the stone. The roots impaled kobolds by the dozen, dragging them underground. She spun, cutting a chimera's tail clean off before the beast lunged. Its lion's maw snapped at her throat, but Hera intercepted, her spear slamming through the beast's chest in a shower of blood.
"Watch your flank, sister!" Hera barked.
Demeter smirked grimly, wiping ichor from her cheek. "Thank you."
Hestia stood further back, her hands alight with fire. With a flick of her wrist, she conjured a wall of flame that split the battlefield, holding back a tide of orcs as they snarled against the barrier. The fire clung to them when they tried to push through, consuming their flesh as they screamed.
Now how was Hestia even able to keep her fire burning even though we were in a storm? Well she was a goddess, while a mortal with the ability to control fire would struggle to ignite anything.
"Stay behind me, Hestia!" Hera ordered.
"I'm not that weak" Hestia shot back, her fire flaring higher even through the storm. "I'm holding the line. Do your part."
I barked a laugh despite myself, even as I split another ogre from groin to sternum. Black blood sprayed across the stone, steaming in the rain.
The sky rumbled again.
Though it was not from Zeus's doing.
Typhon.
The beast loomed above, his massive coils vanishing into the storm. His chest glowed molten blue as he drew a breath, scales sparking with violent light.
"Scatter!" I roared.
His jaws opened. A beam of lightning cascaded downward, a torrent of pure destruction. It struck the ridge, exploding the stone into molten shards. The shockwave hurled me across the slope, my armor hissing as it absorbed most of the force. Hera and Demeter barely raised barriers in time; Poseidon's water surged into a dome around him, steaming as the lightning boiled it away.
Zeus stood in the heart of the blast, his own lightning clashing with Typhon's. The two storms screamed against each other, a contest of fury and pride. For a heartbeat, Zeus held the line. Then Typhon blinked, and the dragon's attack overwhelmed him. Zeus was flung into the cliffs, carving a crater into the rock.
"Idiot," I muttered, forcing myself to stand. My sword throbbed in my hand, hungry for the dragon's blood.
Drakes charged next—wingless, horse-shaped dragons whose scales shone wet in the rain. Their jaws gnashed, and their hooflike claws cracked stone as they galloped straight for me.
I summoned my bident with my off-hand, shadows coiling around its prongs. The first drake lunged, and I met it head-on, driving the bident through its skull. Its body dissolved into black mist as I spun, slashing my sword across another's throat. Blood sprayed, steaming against my armor.
The third rammed me. Though looked confused when I stayed standing.
"Oh ho, yeah that is not going to work." I laughed, plunging my blade into its side. Shadows exploded from the wound, devouring the beast from within until only its skeleton collapsed at my feet.
"Brother!" Poseidon called, water swirling around him like a living shield. He flung the rain in a barrage of spears that pierced through a hydra's necks. One head fell, then two more—but for every one severed, another sprouted. "This damn beast won't die!"
"Hestia!" I bellowed, quickly remembering the lore of the Hydra. "Burn the stumps as Poseidon cuts them!"
Already on it. She hurled a column of flame that engulfed the hydra's regrowing heads, searing them to ash. Poseidon finished the beast with a thrust of his trident, splitting its heart in two as its body slumped and fell into the ground.
A pack of lamia slithered through the chaos, their serpent tails coiling as they hissed promises of death. Hera snarled, driving her spear into the first's skull. Demeter wrapped another in roots, squeezing until bones snapped. The last lunged for me, fangs bared as I rammed my bident into her mouth and in the angle that she was heading toward me, I ended up completely spearing through her body as I turned her into a Kebob before ripping her body off my weapon and throwing it aside.
That's when I felt the shift of air at my back.
A goblin had slipped through the fighting, crouched low and silent until it sprang for my throat.
Its screech split the storm—then cut off in a strangled rasp as I twisted, meeting it head-on.
Then it choked.
A blade slid through its belly, guts spilling down the steel before the body crumpled at my feet. Hecate stepped out of the rain, her eyes glowing like twin coals in the dark.
"My lord," she said, voice calm despite the chaos. She kicked the goblin's corpse aside as if it were an afterthought. "I have managed to find the others and do not worry as reinforcements are coming." Her smile was sharp.
As if summoned by her words, three shadows detached themselves from the storm.
Thanatos touched down first, black wings folding against his back. His hair was braided neatly over one shoulder, not a strand out of place despite the carnage around us. He carried his scythe with the serenity of a man walking through a garden, though when he swung it, skeletons clawed their way from the shattered earth. They rose at his command, armor hanging from brittle frames, eye sockets glowing with pale fire.
Keresthys was next, and she was madness given flesh. Her hair was a snarl of knots, her dress torn and crusted with dried blood. She moved like she hadn't slept in centuries—fast, twitching, unpredictable. Daggers flashed in her hands, and every cut left monsters screaming. She laughed with every kill, her voice high and raw, like a song sung in hell.
Then came Moros.
He did not walk so much as drift, his simple white chiton glowing faintly against the darkness. The wrappings across his body fluttered in the storm winds. His pale hair veiled his eyes, and he carried no weapon. He didn't need one. Wherever he went, monsters faltered. Some clutched their chests and fell as though struck by unseen hands. Others fled—fled from the worst member of death.
Charon's voice was a guttural growl, his oar whistling through the air before it cracked against a drake's skull, shattering bone like pottery. He strode forward from the shadows, cloak soaked with rain, eyes gleaming like coins in the dark. "I usually ferry the dead to Judgment," he rasped. "but tonight, I will have so much fun beating the life of you damn beasts!"
I almost laughed. My ferryman had never been more terrifying.
Nemesis raced through the battlefield. Red hair plastered to her face, muscles gleaming in the rain, she moved with terrifying grace. Her Ikakalaka sword cleaved through an ogre as though it were straw, blood splattering across her simple chiton. She looked divine and brutal in the same breath—a goddess sculpted from vengeance itself.
Alecto's hair writhed with serpents, her eyes wild with endless hatred as she carved through harpies. Megaera's laughter rang sharp as she strangled a lamia with her bare hands. Tisiphone, calm and focused, slit throats with surgical precision. Together, they descended like a storm of their own, wings beating in fury, claws and whips tearing the battlefield apart.
The ground trembled.
I looked up.
And my heart leapt.
Brontes and his brothers, the Elder Cyclopes, strode into the storm. Their massive hammers glowed white-hot, each strike forging sparks even in the rain. They smashed ogres flat, sent drakes flying, and split chimeras with single blows. Sparks from their hammers lit the battlefield like a forge at the end of the world.
Briareus swept through the hordes with his Dao swords, each slash sending dozens flying. Cottus moved like a dancer despite his size, daggers flashing in every hand. Aegaeon's staff slammed into the ground, shockwaves tearing fissures through the earth. Gyges simply punched—brass knuckles shattering trolls, and even a lesser dragon with brutal ease.
The monsters faltered. For the first time, they faltered.
My siblings stared, their weapons raised, rain running down their stunned faces.
Hera's lips parted. "By the Fates…"
Poseidon spat seawater, his eyes wide. "You've been busy, brother."
Zeus, bloody but still standing, gave a grin that didn't reach his eyes. "Seems you've got quite some subjects."
I raised my sword, shadows curling hungrily along its blade. "They really are something—though I do see them more like family than subjects."
Hecate stepped forward, her hair plastered against her face, eyes glowing with sorcery. With a single flick of her wrist, a line of fire erupted before us, splitting the battlefield in two. Monsters shrieked as the flames devoured them, and the air shivered with her power.
"My lord," she said, her voice low but steady, "leave the horde to us, we'll hold them."
"Very well," I said, turning toward the beast. The mountain shook as Typhon roared, lightning splitting the heavens.
I spread my wings and leapt into the storm, my siblings following behind.