Chapter 468: The First Heartbreak 1
Half an hour ago.
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The sulfurous winds carried more than the scent of brimstone—they carried the weight of destiny itself, heavy and oppressive as storm clouds. Three figures materialised from the writhing shadows at the edge of the demon territories, their emergence heralded not by fanfare but by the very air growing thick with divine retribution. The temperature dropped ten degrees in an instant, frost forming on obsidian stones despite the hellish heat that had reigned moments before.
Megaera stepped forward first, each footfall causing hairline cracks to spider through the volcanic glass beneath her feet. Her serpentine hair writhed with barely contained rage, each strand the thickness of a man’s arm, dripping venom that hissed and steamed against the ground like acid rain.
"Mortals drunk on borrowed power," she spat, and the very words seemed to corrode the surrounding air. "Playing at godhood with their divine trinkets and cosmic hand-me-downs. Time to remind them why the gods feared us before they learned to chain us with pretty words and prettier lies."
The fiery venom from her hair pooled at her feet, eating through solid rock as if it were paper. Steam rose in writhing columns, carrying with it the screams of souls who had felt her justice across the millennia.
Beside her, Tisiphone’s whip of living scorpions coiled and uncoiled with eager anticipation, each segmented creature the size of a hunting hound, their stingers gleaming with poison that could torment souls across lifetimes and dimensions. The creatures chittered amongst themselves, their compound eyes reflecting the hellish light like fractured mirrors of malice.
"Look how they strut about their little plateau," she laughed, and the sound was like the final snap of a neck in the executioner’s noose. "Divine patrons treat them like beloved pets, whispering sweet promises of power and glory. We’ll show them what happens when the leash breaks—when reality comes calling to collect what’s owed."
Her new whip lashed out, and where it touched, the air seemed to flinch backwards, leaving brief tears that bled darkness.
Alecto’s bronze wings spread wide, each feather sharp enough to slice through dragon scales, casting shadows that seemed to devour light itself rather than merely blocking it. The shadows moved with a will of their own, reaching toward the distant armies like grasping fingers. When she smiled, it was sharp enough to cut through the pretensions of gods and mortals alike.