The throne room of Olympus was quieter than it had ever been. Gods and Titans alike stood in uneasy silence, the air thick with dread. No laughter, no debate, no clashing egos. Only the memory of what they had just sensed — a power that made even divinity shudder.
For a brief, terrible moment, the Fallen King's body had not been his own. Something older, darker, had stared through his eyes. And every immortal on Olympus had felt it.
Cronos's face was grave, his golden eyes heavy with a fear he rarely allowed to show. He had lived through the First War. He had seen horrors his children couldn't imagine. But this… this was different.
Finally, breaking the silence, he rose from his seat. "I must go."
Zeus, standing with his arms folded, turned sharply. "Go? Where?"
Cronos looked not at his son, but at the horizon — where the endless sky stretched beyond Olympus. "To the one who came before me. To my father."
Hyperion, leaning against a column, pushed away and approached. "You would go to Uranus? After everything?"
Cronos nodded, his jaw tight. "There is no choice. If what we witnessed tonight continues unchecked, not Olympus, not Tartarus, not the mortal realm will survive. Megumi Valentine is not the danger — it is what sleeps within him. The King of Erasure."
Hyperion's stern expression flickered with unease. He remembered the sensation of that void pressing against his soul, the way it had tried to unmake even his immortal essence. He had fought gods and fallen, but never had he felt obliteration.
"Then I'll go with you," Hyperion said. "If the King of Erasure awakens again, even you may not return alone."
The others stirred at this, whispering among themselves, but neither Cronos nor Hyperion paid them any mind. The two Titans shared a nod, and with a shimmer of golden light, they vanished from Olympus.
⸻
The Ascent to Uranus
The world shifted. One moment, marble and divine halls. The next, the open sky itself — boundless, endless, a canvas of stars and swirling clouds. Here, the air was different. Denser, heavier, humming with power so vast it seemed infinite.
They stood at the edge of a cliff that was not stone, but condensed light. Beyond it stretched the cosmic plane, the realm of Uranus, the sky personified.
Cronos took a steadying breath, his pride buried under urgency. "Father."
The clouds stirred. A presence so great it seemed to press down on all creation descended upon them. The air trembled. Lightning rippled across a thousand miles of sky. And then, he appeared — Uranus, the primordial titan of the heavens.
Unlike the ruined, broken figure who had once been chained and forgotten, this Uranus bore strength. His form radiated light and eternity, his body sculpted from constellations, his eyes the color of endless sky. But there was no warmth in those eyes, only ancient knowledge.
"Cronos." Uranus's voice was deep, resonant, echoing across the expanse. "My son who overthrew me. Come to speak, after so long?"
Cronos lowered his head slightly — not in shame, but in respect. "Yes, Father. I would not disturb you if the matter was not dire."
Hyperion bowed low, silent, as the weight of Uranus's presence pressed down on him.
Uranus studied them for a long moment before stepping closer, each stride bending the air itself. "I felt it too. The stirring. The boy's body was not his own for a moment. The King of Erasure… awake." His voice hardened. "That thing should never have returned. It was meant to vanish forever."
Cronos clenched his fists. "And yet it is here, bound inside a mortal-turned-god. My son, the gods, even I — none of us can stop it if it takes control fully. But… perhaps we can separate them."
Uranus's expression darkened. "Separate?"
Cronos nodded. "Yes. The boy, Megumi, and the Erasure King are bound. But they are not one in essence. The power comes from a source — an anchor beyond him. If I can find it… if I can cut the Erasure King away from the boy and sever that source, Megumi will live. And the King will vanish again into nothingness."
Hyperion's eyes widened. "Cronos… are you certain? To tamper with that kind of bond…"
"I am not certain," Cronos admitted, his voice low. "But I know this: if we do nothing, the Erasure King will consume him, and then us, and then all creation. I will not see my children destroyed because of my inaction again."
The silence stretched, broken only by the hum of eternity around them. Finally, Uranus spoke, his voice slow, deliberate.
"You would risk unraveling fate itself. You always were reckless, Cronos. But… perhaps reckless is what is required."
He lowered his massive form, the starlight in his eyes narrowing as he studied his son. For the first time, there was something softer in his tone.
"Be careful, my son. The path you speak of does not end in triumph or peace. It ends in sacrifice. Yours. His. Or all of ours."
Cronos bowed his head, his jaw tight. "I know, Father. But if there is a chance — even a small one — to save the boy from being devoured, I must take it."
Uranus's gaze shifted, almost imperceptibly, to Hyperion. "And you? Will you follow him into this madness?"
Hyperion straightened, fire flickering in his golden eyes. "I was with him when we rebelled against you. I'll be with him now, if it means stopping this. The King of Erasure cannot rule. I will not allow it."
For a long time, Uranus was silent. Then, at last, he extended his hand, and from the void of the sky a shard of glowing crystal descended. Within it pulsed ancient power — primordial, raw, untamed.
"If you seek to separate the boy and the King, you will need this," Uranus said. "The Skyfire Fragment. It can sever bonds, even those forged before the dawn of Olympus. But heed my warning — it will demand something in return. Nothing is cut without cost."
Cronos took the fragment carefully, feeling its power hum against his palm. It was alive, hungry. Dangerous. But it was hope.
"Thank you, Father," Cronos said quietly.
Uranus turned away, his massive form dissolving back into the stars. "Do not thank me yet. You tread the edge of annihilation, and if you fall… all of us will follow."
As his presence vanished into the heavens, Cronos and Hyperion exchanged a glance. The fragment pulsed between them like a heartbeat.
For the first time in millennia, the Titan King allowed himself to feel something rare.
Hope — and fear.
Chapter 14- The Severing Gamble
The Skyfire Fragment pulsed in Cronos's hand, its glow cutting through the eternal twilight of Uranus's domain. It wasn't a comforting light. It wasn't warm like fire or steady like the stars. It was jagged, shifting, almost… hungry. Each throb sent waves of raw, untamed energy crawling through his arm.
Even a Titan King could barely contain it.
Hyperion stepped closer, studying the shard with narrowed eyes. "It looks alive."
Cronos's lips tightened. "It is. The fragment is not an object — it is a remnant of Uranus himself, stripped away when he was first wounded. It carries his will, his essence, and… his rage."
Hyperion's brow furrowed. "Rage?"
"Yes," Cronos said grimly. "Sky does not forgive what has been torn from it. This fragment will fight us every step of the way. It does not want to sever. It wants to consume."
He wrapped the shard in golden chains of his own making, binding it before it could flare out of control. Still, even bound, its hum filled the air, echoing like a war drum.
⸻
The Chamber of Old Binding
Leaving Uranus's domain, Cronos and Hyperion descended into a hidden crevice beneath Olympus, far below the marble spires where gods walked. Here, in the caverns of forgotten stone, rested the Chamber of Old Binding. It was a place even most Olympians did not know existed — older than their reign, carved by Titans when the sky and earth still warred with each other.
The chamber walls were etched with sigils in languages dead even to the gods. Chains made not of metal but of thought and will hung suspended in the air, faintly glowing. The air carried the metallic tang of blood sacrifice, though no mortal had ever bled here.
Cronos placed the Skyfire Fragment at the chamber's center. Its glow spread across the carvings, awakening the old runes.
"Still intact," Cronos muttered. "Good. We will need every scrap of what remains."
Hyperion brushed his hand across a sigil, feeling its hum. "What exactly do you intend, brother?"
Cronos faced him fully, his expression harder than stone. "The King of Erasure is bound to Megumi by a tether older than even I can fully trace. It is not just within him — it is woven through him. To tear it out recklessly would destroy them both."
Hyperion folded his arms. "And this ritual will not?"
"Not necessarily." Cronos gave a humorless smile. "But it gives us a chance. The fragment can sever bonds of essence. If used properly, it could split Megumi's soul from the Erasure King's — like cutting marrow from bone."
Hyperion frowned. "And if used improperly?"
Cronos's gaze fell to the fragment, its light gnashing against the chains that held it. "Then it will consume Megumi, the Erasure King, and possibly… the rest of us with them."
The silence that followed was heavy, but Hyperion did not flinch. He had stood beside Cronos when they struck Uranus down. He had fought in the Titanomachy against the Olympians. Fear had long been his companion, but so had loyalty.
"Then we cannot falter," Hyperion said firmly. "Tell me what I must do."
⸻
Preparation
Hours blurred as the two Titans worked. Cronos etched fresh runes into the stone floor, each stroke fueled by golden ichor drawn from his own veins. Hyperion summoned fire from the dawn itself, weaving it into circles of containment around the fragment. The chamber pulsed with rising energy, so thick the air warped like heat haze.
At last, Cronos sank to one knee, sweat dripping from his brow. Even a Titan's body strained under the weight of what they were building.
"The ritual requires three steps," he said, voice low but steady. "First, we will attune the fragment to Megumi's essence. That means forging a connection to him, no matter the distance. Second, we will locate the tether that binds him to the Erasure King. And third—" His golden eyes hardened. "We cut it."
Hyperion glanced at the fragment, which flared as though it had heard him. "And what happens to the King if we succeed?"
Cronos's silence stretched too long. Finally, he said, "It will be cast loose. Perhaps erased again. Perhaps… it will seek a new host. I cannot know."
Hyperion scowled. "That's no solution. That's playing dice with existence."
"It is the only chance the boy has," Cronos snapped, before forcing his tone to steady again. "And the only chance we have to keep the King from rising unchecked. You saw what happened when it took control, even for moments. Imagine if it takes him entirely."
The memory silenced Hyperion's protest. That void — the way it had threatened to unmake them — still clawed at his mind.
⸻
A Father's Shadow
As they prepared the final circle, Hyperion spoke again, his voice softer. "Tell me the truth, Cronos. Do you care so much because of the boy… or because of yourself?"
Cronos stiffened.
"You overthrew your father, locked him away, ruled in his stead. You were cast down by your own children, swallowed by time itself. Now you stand here, trying to save a mortal who carries a power greater than gods. Is it truly for him, or for the shadow of your own sins?"
For a long moment, Cronos said nothing. He tightened a rune, his golden ichor searing into the stone, before finally answering.
"Both."
Hyperion blinked.
Cronos's voice was quieter now. "The boy reminds me of us. Of me. Bearing burdens no one should bear, fighting against fate itself. I see in him the same path I walked — a path that ends in chains, in blood, in regret. If I can spare him what I became… then perhaps my reign was not just ruin."
Hyperion said nothing, but his eyes softened. For the first time in centuries, he saw not the Titan King, but his brother.
⸻
The Omen
The chamber darkened suddenly, though no flame had died. The air turned cold, brittle.
Both Titans turned as the runes on the walls flickered, not with golden or crimson light, but with blackness — spreading like cracks across the stone.
Hyperion's hand went to his blade. "What is this?"
Cronos's face was grim. "It is him. The King of Erasure. He knows we are preparing."
The Skyfire Fragment pulsed violently, its chains rattling as though straining to break free. The chamber shook, dust falling from the cavern ceiling.
Hyperion raised his weapon. "Do we abort?"
"No," Cronos growled, forcing his will into the binding sigils, steadying them. "This only proves the bond can be traced. The King's resistance shows us where it lies. We continue. Now."
Together, the two Titans poured their essence into the runes, pushing back against the creeping void. The light of dawn and the glow of time burned side by side, clashing with the darkness.
The Skyfire Fragment screamed — not in sound, but in a vibration that rattled through their very bones. Its hunger flared, sensing prey.
And Cronos, sweat dripping down his face, whispered through clenched teeth:
"Megumi Valentine… hold on. For your sake, and for all ours."