With two orbs awakened—Minerals and Magic—I steadied myself once more. The rush of power, though exhilarating, had not shaken my focus. I knew I could not stop here. The divine spark within me burned brighter with each step forward.
I turned my attention inward again and focused on the third orb—a grey sphere, dull on the surface but subtly shifting, like fog concealing something beneath. The moment I reached toward it, I felt something different. Not resistance… but silence.
I channeled my divine energy carefully and steadily, just as before. This time, however, the sensation was deeper. The grey orb accepted the energy not with warmth or resistance, but with a chilling stillness. Then knowledge began to trickle into my mind—not loud proclamations, but whispers.
Secrets.
This godhood was not merely about knowing things; it was about what was hidden.
Schemes. Whispers behind closed doors. Ancient, forbidden knowledge buried in ruins or sealed within censored texts. It was the power of concealment—of understanding the unknown and the unknowable. I sensed abilities tied to political manipulation, lies that could become truth, and even the terrifying stillness of invisibility, where even gods might fail to notice your presence.
But it did not stop there.
Disturbing visions crossed my mind. I saw the collision of planets, the collapse of galaxies, the birth of the universe itself—and the emergence of… Lord Kaos.
This was only the beginning. What I had touched was taboo.
The greatest sin of the Primordials.
My soul trembled beneath an unknown pressure. I immediately withdrew, severing the connection. I could feel it clearly—learning that truth would cost me my life.
This was not merely a domain of secrets, but the authority of a keeper of taboos—knowledge so dangerous it was forbidden from the world itself.
—
Nearby, Hestia watched with increasing fascination. Her expression grew thoughtful, then guarded.
This time, Hades' aura did not flare outward like flame or sharpen like a blade. Instead, it folded inward, veiling itself in layers of shadow and complexity. His divine presence became difficult to read—like the depths of the ocean, calm on the surface yet unfathomable beneath.
The air around him shimmered faintly, space itself bending away from prying senses.
"His aura…" she murmured. "It's hiding itself."
Suddenly, Hades trembled violently. Golden ichor flowed from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth.
"W-What!?"
Hestia panicked. This was the first time she had ever witnessed someone injured during an awakening.
Moments passed.
Then everything stilled.
With the stabilization of the grey orb, the divinity of Secrets fused fully with him. Hades became a keeper of secrets—and of taboo.
—
With three orbs awakened, my divine presence had begun to take shape: rooted in stone, shaped by magic, and cloaked in secrecy. But I was not finished.
I turned inward once more, locking onto the fourth orb—a deep crimson sphere glowing faintly like a coal burning in absolute darkness.
As I reached for it, something primal stirred within me.
The air grew heavier. Colder. My heartbeat slowed—then quickened. A subtle pressure pressed against my chest, not pain but dread. Every instinct screamed at me to stop.
I did not.
I pushed forward and began channeling my divine energy into the red orb.
Immediately, something changed—not only within me, but throughout the surrounding space.
—
Hestia felt it instantly.
A shiver rippled through her sacred flame. Her heart began to race, awe mixing with deep unease. Without realizing it, she formed a staff in her hand and shifted into a defensive stance.
Her divine instincts, refined over centuries, reacted as though a predator had entered the cave. Her body tensed, her fire flickered, and the shadows deepened.
The very concept of safety wavered.
For the first time, she felt fear toward her brother—not of him as a person, but of what he represented. Something ominous. Something forbidden.
She stared at her trembling hands, then at Hades in meditation.
"Just what did he awaken…?"
She stepped back, lips parted.
"This is different," she whispered. "This isn't just a godhood. It's a warning."
The dark haze around him thickened, heavy yet controlled—like a storm sealed within flesh.
In that moment, a part of her no longer saw the broken child she had protected in the depths of Cronus' prison, but a future calamity waiting patiently for the moment it would be unleashed.
—
Within my meditation, the red orb drew something out of me—not merely power, but reflection.
This was not about terrifying others.
It was about understanding fear itself.
Phobia. Awe. Terror.
Authority born not from love, but from dreaded respect.
More importantly, it granted the ability to control fear—to inflict it, shape it, or suppress it, both in others and within myself.
I felt the essence of dread merge with my soul.
With this awakening, I became the god of fear.