The God of Underworld-Chapter 97 - 51: Goodbye

High atop a hill, far from the effects of the war between men and divine, Hades, Lord of the Dead, wore his shadowed crown with a solemn dignity.

His dark robes fluttered gently with the windless air.

He sat upon a lone boulder, hunched forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees.

He had been watching the battle, from start to now, when Herios—the Unifier of Man, the God-Slayer, the King of Humanity—has diedd.

Hades breathed deeply, a sad, wistful smile playing on his lips.

"...Aah, so it’s finally over." he murmured. "A mortal who defied the divine... yet died not with hatred, but honor. Herios, you are truly a great man."

Hades stood, looking behind him over his shoulders, "So? Are you ready to move on?"

Behind him, a shape materialized slowly from the mist and shadow, stepping into the soft glow of the fields beyond.

It was Herios

His eyes were calm, deep, and full of a strange peace... and sorrow.

Hades turned to face him.

And then, to the surprise of the god, the man who had refused to kneel to gods in life, who had challenged fate itself and spat into the face of destiny....kneeled.

Herios kneeled.

His one good knee touched the soil. His head bowed low.

Not in submission.

But in reverence.

Not for all gods.

But for this one god.

"My lord," Herios whispered. "I have come home."

Hades’ smile faded. Not in disappointment, but in ache and understanding.

He stepped forward, voice deep and kind. "You do not need to kneel to me, Herios. You earned your place by walking upright when all others fell."

Herios lifted his head slightly. His voice trembled with emotion.

"Please, allow me to show my respect this way, lord Hades."

There was a deep and heavy silence.

Hades looked down at the soul of the mortal king and asked softly. "Very well. So then, are you ready to go?"

But Herios looked at him in the eyes, his mouth curving upward. Not quite a smile, but something near it.

"Can we speak for a while... before I cross?"

Hades tilted his head. Then, he walked past Herios, motioning for him to rise.

"Come. Walk with me, king of men."

The two figures—one god, one mortal—walked side by side as a gentle breeze pass by them.

Leaves swayed, animals parted, as if giving way to the two great figures.

"Ask what you will," said the god.

Herios closed his eyes, although he couldn’t feel the wind, he still felt a sense of serenity...like a child laying under the shade of a tree, enjoying the gentle caress of a cool wind.

"Did I do right?" he asked. "All that I’ve done, fighting gods, uniting tribes, dying alone... was it worth it?"

Hades was quiet for a time. His gaze was heavy.

"You did more than right," he finally said. "You reminded the world that greatness is not born in Olympus. It is forged in fire, tested in loss, and defined in the moment one refuses to fall."

"You inspired gods to cry," Hades continued. "And made mortals believe they could reach the stars. That is a legacy no divine wrath can consume."

Herios bowed his head. For once, tears rolled down his cheeks. Not from pain. Not from loss.

But from a strange, warm peace.

"I thought I would burn out, and be forgotten."

Hades shook his head.

"You will not be forgotten."

Herios looked toward the fields again, "Will the gods come for mankind now? Will Zeus strike them down?"

Hades’ face darkened slightly, and then he nodded. "They won’t. I can’t personally prevent them from granting blessings to their believers, but I promise that they will not be able to directly interfere with the humans."

Herios nodded at that, "That will be more than enough."

The then arrived under an olive tree, where Hades created a seat made from stone for them to sit down.

Herios sat slouched on the stone bench beside the god,

Hades regarded him with an unreadable expression—something between fatherly care and quiet mourning.

Herios broke the silence first, staring down at his hands. "I was afraid. The whole time. I didn’t want to die."

Hades turned toward him, more fully now. "Courage isn’t never fearing death. It’s standing anyway, despite the fear."

The words made Herios flinch—not from pain, but from the unbearable kindness of them. His lip trembled slightly, and his voice came out hoarse.

"Did you see it? My last stand?"

Hades smiled faintly. "Yes. I saw it. From beginning to the end."

Herios swallowed hard. "Was my death worth it?"

Hades nodded. "Very much so. I am sure, that once people heard of your tale, they will gain courage and power to be more than they are. To be greater than what the gods have decided for them. You will inspire an entire age, an age of heroes."

Herios looked away quickly, blinking tears from his eyes.

"I didn’t think I’d cry in death." he muttered.

Hades smirked softly. "Souls cry more than you’d think. The dead remember what the living try to forget."

They sat in silence again for a while, the weight of memory draped over both of them.

Then Herios asked, barely more than a whisper. "Are you proud of me?"

It struck Hades in the chest. He had seen thousands of great figures, gods, and titans pass through his realm.

But none had ever asked that. Not like this.

He didn’t answer at first. Instead, he reached out slowly and placed a hand on Herios’ shoulder.

"Yes," he said. "More than you know"

Herios closed his eyes tightly, trembling like a child held after a storm.

"I tried so hard not to bend," he said. "They kept telling me I should kneel. That it was foolish to fight gods. That humanity was meant to obey."

He looked up, eyes burning. "But I couldn’t. Not after everything we suffered. I couldn’t pretend it was alright."

Hades nodded, "You made your choice, and defied the will of gods. No need to lament, you have chosen your own path."

He laughed bitterly. "I wanted to be a farmer, once. Just a boy with dirt under his nails. No sword. No crown." freeweɓnovel.cѳm

Herios turned toward him fully now, eyes red and aching. "Lord Hades... Will they be alright? Will they continue what I started? Will humanity truly, one day, conquer the stars?"

Hades looked out over the horizon of the mortal world, where faint echoes of mortal prayers have reached him.

"They will. Slowly. Painfully. But they will. No gods or monsters can take that away from them."

Herios let out a long breath and leaned back on the bench.

"I didn’t get to say goodbye to anyone," he said. "Didn’t even tell them to keep fighting."

"You said it, Herios," Hades said. "With every breath you took in that final hour. With every wound you refused to die from. That was your goodbye."

Herios smiled faintly. "Maybe you’re right. Kaerion will do well even without me. My council will make sure everything is in order. My people will mourn and grieve, but would rise again."

Hades looked at him, "...Yes, you can leave everything to them."

Herios’ looked up and closed his eyes. "I’m tired."

Hades rose from the bench. "You’ve earned your rest."

Herios stood too. His hands had stopped shaking. The weight on his shoulders seemed lighter, not because it was gone—but because he no longer carried it alone.

They began walking again, this time toward a massive gate that appeared out of nowhere, giving off a serene yet eerie feel.

However, before they could enter, Herios paused once more.

"If I forget who I was, in the next life... will you remember me?"

Hades smiled.

"I will remember, always. And when your name is sung by future generations, I will whisper to the stars; That was my champion."

Herios nodded, chest full of something indescribable—pride, sorrow, peace.

He turned to face the gate. As its light touched him, he whispered one last question.

"Do you think I was a good king?"

Hades didn’t hesitate.

"You were the first true king."

And with that, Herios stepped forward.

The gate opened.

And the king walked into his next destination.