Hades descended to the 10th floor, his footsteps echoing in the oppressive silence. He stopped before the massive cell of his uncle and cupped his hands around his mouth. "Uncle! Uncle Brontes! Are you still alive in there? Uncle Brontes!"
A gigantic hand slammed against the bars with a deafening clang. "BRAT! Must you be so loud? My ears are ringing!" Brontes's voice boomed, shaking dust from the ceiling.
A wide, teasing grin spread across Hades's face. "Oh, good! You're alive. I thought you might have died of loneliness in this dusty hole."
"You should worry more about your own health, you little pest," Brontes grumbled, squinting his single massive eye. A flicker of genuine shock passed through him. 'By the forge... he actually did it. He slew Campe.'
Hades raised his hand. Dark energy coalesced in his palm, forming a contract written on shifting black parchment, its terms glowing in elegant, golden script. A simple, sharp dagger materialized beside it. He slid the contract through the bars.
Brontes picked it up; the large parchment looked like a sticky note in his enormous hand. He squinted, bringing it close to his eye. "What is this nonsense?"
"It's a contract," Hades explained, his voice all business. "It states I will free you from Tartarus. In return, you will serve as the royal blacksmith for my kingdom and teach your craft to future generations." He offered the dagger. "Prick your finger. A single drop of blood will suffice."
"Ridiculous! This is indentured servitude! And what is this tiny script at the bottom?" Brontes boomed, crumpling the contract and throwing both it and the dagger to the floor in a fit of rage.
"Very well. If you're not interested, I'll take my leave." Hades turned and began walking away, his boots making loud, deliberate stomping sounds on the stone floor.
A vein bulged dangerously on Brontes's forehead. "WAIT!" he roared, the sound shaking the very foundations of his cell. "I... will sign it!" He snatched the dagger and contract from the floor. With a grunt, he pricked the tip of his massive finger. A single, shimmering drop of blood, glowing with primordial power, fell onto the parchment. It absorbed the blood, and the golden letters flared with light. "Now, open these bars!"
"Patience, Uncle. Let me see how Tartarus actually is." Hades closed his eyes. He merged his Divinity of Secret and Sin with his new, absolute authority over Tartarus. His consciousness expanded, examining the state and sins of every single cell in the abyssal prison.
Brontes watched him, bewildered. 'Has he gone mad from fighting Campe? How can he see anything with his eyes closed? My future looks bleak. Lord Chaos, please have mercy on your poor grandchild.' He nervously wrung his hands together, sending a silent prayer to the primordial void.
Hades's eyes snapped open. "Tartarus," he commanded, his voice low but imbued with undeniable authority. "Move cells 101, 91, and 67 from the 10th floor; cells 34, 78, and 81 from the 8th; cell 45 from the 6th; cells 26, 43, and 73 from the 4th; and cells 1 and 9 from the 2nd. Bring them all before me. Now."
The entire prison of Tartarus groaned. The sound of grinding stone echoed through the depths as entire cell blocks shuddered and slid through the rock, rearranging themselves according to his will.
Brontes stumbled back, shocked. "What's happening?! Why is Tartarus trembling? Has Lord Tartarus perished?!"
Hades shot him an exasperated look. "Please don't say such ominous things. Lord Tartarus is very much alive. Don't just kill him off whenever you feel like it."
'Who is saying, just half an hour ago, you declared me dead!' Brontes thought.
Brontes was utterly confused. "Then why is the prison moving? Do you know something?"
"Because I ordered it to move," Hades replied flatly.
"But... how can you do that?" Brontes asked, his massive brow furrowed in confusion.
"Because I now hold complete authority over Tartarus," Hades stated, his tone utterly nonchalant, as if he were commenting on the weather.
Brontes's single eye widened in sheer, unadulterated shock. "What?! How?!"
Hades looked at him with mock irritation. "Uncle, you ask too many questions. Please be silent for a while and just nod." With a subtle flick of his will, Hades enforced the command. Brontes's mouth sealed shut, and his head began to bob up and down in a steady, unwavering nod, much to his own immense frustration.
The tremors ceased. The new cells were now arranged before them. Hades picked up the signed contract and approached the first five cells, which held his other two Cyclops uncles and the three Hecatoncheires.
"My dear uncles," he announced, his voice dripping with false sweetness. "I am your nephew, Hades. Uncle Brontes has already signed the contract and insists you all do the same."
Cottus, the eldest of the hundred-handed giants, picked up his own contract. He sniffed the air and examined the parchment, instantly recognising the unique essence of Brontes's blood. "He speaks the truth. Brontes has signed."
Hades interrupted. "If you still doubt me, just look straight ahead. See how desperately he's urging you to agree." All five brothers turned to look at Brontes's cell. They saw their brother, trapped behind bars, nodding desperately with a manic intensity, tears of pure frustration streaming down his face.
Cottus's voice was thick with emotion. "But... why is he crying?"
Hades maintained a perfect, businesslike smile. "Tears of joy, Uncle. He's simply overwhelmed at the thought of being reunited with all of you after so long."
The explanation shattered their resolve. The five mighty beings broke down, weeping openly. Without another word, they each pricked a finger and let a single, glowing drop of their blood fall onto their contracts.
Hades snapped his fingers.
Click.
The locks on all twelve cells disengaged with a series of heavy, final thuds. The doors swung open. For the first time in millions of years, they were free. The six brothers rushed toward each other, their reunion a storm of tears, crushing hugs, and rumbling, joyful sobs that shook the floor.
Meanwhile, the other six freed prisoners stepped out cautiously. Among them were three divine beasts: a lazy-looking panda, a timid red panda raccoon, and a sloth that blinked slowly. They had been imprisoned by Uranus for the grave crime of oversleeping and missing a celestial decree. There were also two stunningly beautiful nymphs, who had failed to please the cruel Uranus, and finally, a Titan named Sebastian, who had been imprisoned for daring to raise his voice against Uranus's tyranny.
The Titan, Sebastian, stepped forward and dropped to one knee, his head bowed. "I am Sebastian. I am willing to serve you, my lord." The other five, taking their cue, quickly knelt behind him.
Hades waved a hand dismissively. "There's no need for that. You don't have to serve me to repay my generosity."
Sebastian kept his head bowed. "We wish to serve, my lord. Not merely out of debt, but by our own will. Now we have no place to go, no shelter to protect ourselves. My lord, you are the only hope for all of us."
Hades allowed a fraction of his immense aura to wash over them. "Even knowing that, I am the Underworld King." The six petitioners broke into a cold sweat, hesitating under the pressure.
Suddenly, Brontes threw them a lifeline, his voice still magically compelled to be helpful. "Don't bully the weak, kid."
Hades looked at Brontes, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. But he relented and conjured a new contract. "If you still wish to serve, read the terms. A single drop of blood will seal your pledge." He offered them the parchment.
Hades then walked over and hopped up onto Brontes's massive shoulder, sitting comfortably as if it were a throne. "That was quite generous of you, Uncle. Willing to help others like that."
Brontes managed a strained smile. "I learned from the best. You've shown me how to be both benevolent and venomous at the same time."
"Hahaha!"
"Hahahahah!"
Their laughter boomed through the cavern, a jarringly cheerful sound in the grim pit of Tartarus. To the others, it looked like a nephew and his uncle had become fast friends.
But the truth was something else entirely.
In his mind, Hades was already plotting. 'Perfect. I will turn you into my personal weapons factory. Just you wait, Uncle.'
In his mind, Brontes was making a vow of his own. 'Laugh all you want, nephew. I swear on the forge, I will find a way to make your existence utterly miserable.'
Their laughter continued, a perfect mask for a glorious, brand-new feud.