Midnight at Mount Othrys. The hall is thick with anticipation. Lapetus shifts his weight, his voice a low rumble. "Are you sure Lord Hyperion will come today?"
"Yes," Pallas answers, his gaze steady. "He sent the messenger himself. He will arrive at any moment."
As if summoned by the words, an intense, blinding orb of light crashes onto the peak. As the radiance dims, it reveals a muscular man with fiery golden hair and a groomed moustache, clad in golden armour inscribed with a sun motif.
Everyone in the hall bows deeply. "Welcome, Lord Hyperion."
Hyperion waves a dismissive hand. A line of servants steps forward, bearing ornate chests. "Gifts from the Star Forge," he proclaims, his voice echoing with disinterest. "Enhanced weapons and artifacts for the war."
The Titans move forward, opening the chests. Iapetus lifts out a cloth blacker than midnight. A servant explains, "The Invisiblity cloak. Channel your energy into it, and it will render whatever it covers unseen."
Atlas retrieves two massive golden gauntlets. "The Gauntlets of Aegaeon," the servant continues. "They multiply the wearer's physical power." Atlas slips them on. The metal, initially loose, shimmers and contracts, molding itself perfectly to his arms.
Krios lifts a pendant where stars and constellations swirl in a miniature cosmos. "The Celestra," the servant says. Krios's fingers instinctively trace a pattern on its surface, and a faint, shimmering aura of strength envelops him. "Its blessings shift with the constellations you draw."
Lastly, Koios takes a silver ring, its surface embedded with glowing runes. "Axisborn. It allows the wielder to manipulate alignment and perceive thought." Koios slides it onto his right index finger. A foreign, insightful energy flows up his arm, and for a moment, the hidden intentions in the room feel as clear as spoken words.
They bow again. "Thank you, Lord Hyperion. We are indebted."
"Trivial," Hyperion says, his gaze already drifting toward the exit. "Pallas. When does this war end?"
Pallas straightens. "According to our scouts, they attack at dawn with their full force from the south and east. Tomorrow, Lord Hyperion."
"Hmm." Hyperion strokes his moustache. Without another word, he turns, his servants flowing behind him like a golden tide. "Then I take my leave."
---
Dawn breaks over a scarred plain. Zeus and Kratos lead the remaining Olympus army of sky warrior, human soldiers, eagles, and griffins and march toward the Southern Pillar. Waiting for them is a force many times their size. Dragons and wyverns blacken the sky. At the pillar's peak, Iapetus and Krios stand watch, while below, Menoetius commands the Titan legions.
The Olympus army hasn't even finished its deployment when a battle horn shatters the air.
Dragons dive, breathing iron-melting fire. Eagles and griffins climb to meet them in a chaotic ballet of claws and flame. A shower of arrows darkens the sky, cutting down soldiers who burn or are pierced before they can raise their shields.
Zeus grits his teeth and raises his hand. The weather twists to his will, becoming a localized thunderstorm. A howling wind rises, tearing arrows from their flight and sending lesser dragons and wyverns tumbling from the sky like dry leaves. Yet, for his own men, the gale is a firm but guiding hand at their backs, pushing them forward while the enemy struggles against its fury.
Kratos sees the opening. "Charge!" he roars. The Olympians lower their shields and surge forward, protected by their lord's storm.
From his position, Menoetius's eyes narrow. 'The Underworld legion is absent. Their numbers are thin. We only have to wary of the Crimson Death and Zeus himself.' He raises his sword, and another horn blares.
His archers dip their arrowheads into pots of thick, black pitch and ignite them. Their eyes lock on Menoetius. He watches the advancing army, his expression calculative. "Now!" A barrage of fire arrows arcs into the sky.
Kratos halts, watching the burning shots get battered by the wind. 'Is he a fool? The arrows cannot—' A strong, oily, chemical smell hits his nostrils. He crouches, pressing a finger into the wet soil. A sticky, black substance clings to his skin. His eyes widen.
"Fall back!" Kratos's shout is a raw, desperate command, but it is too late.
The first arrow lands. A sea of raging fire erupts across the battlefield, spreading with impossible speed, fed by the wind and the pitch-soaked ground. The wails of his soldiers are swallowed by the inferno. The smell of burning meat and hair chokes the air.
Kratos tears his own smoldering armor from his chest. His gaze sweeps over a landscape of flame and charred corpses. Jaw tight, he adjusts his arm band, grips his axe, and charges into the fire, a lone god piercing the enemy's front line. He begins a dance of death, his axe a blur.
Suddenly, a knife flies toward his throat. Kratos deflects it with a flick of his axe. From the ranks, Menoetius emerges, clad in thick, form-fitting armor, a sharp sword in his hand. He walks forward, a grim smile on his face.
"I have heard too much about you. Crimson Death."
Kratos meets his advance, his voice a low growl. "Then let me show you why."
"Yes," Menoetius says, his smile vanishing. "The stories end here."
Menoetius strikes first, a blinding charge ending in a radiant arc that tears through the air. Kratos catches the blow on his axe, the collision shaking the ground and splintering the earth at their feet. Sparks fly. Dust rises. Menoetius presses with precise, disciplined strikes, testing Kratos's defense. Kratos counters with brute, unstoppable swings that turn the air itself into a weapon.
Strength clashes with precision. Kratos drives his shoulder forward, forcing Menoetius back. The Titan spins, his sword cutting a shallow line across Kratos's side. Blood spills, but Kratos doesn't slow. He retaliates with a heavy overhead strike. Menoetius raises his sword to block, and the impact drives him to one knee, the ground cracking beneath him.
They rise, breathing harshly, eyes locked.
High above, Zeus's fist clenches, veins bulging on his arm. He raises his own sword and rides the storm. Thunder converges on the blade, sheathing it in raw, sizzling power. He charges, ready to annihilate the Titan army in one sweep.
Krios's hand is a blur on the Celestra. He draws the Cancer constellation. A shadow of the crab forms behind him, and his defense multiplies. He steps to the edge of the pillar.
'Celestial Mantle.'
A vast canopy of starry sky unfolds, covering the battlefield and meeting Zeus's thunderous strike. The mantle holds, but spiderwebs of light crackle across its surface, threatening to shatter.
Krios stares down at the King of Gods. "Your fight is with us, boy."
Zeus is startled. "Us?"
"Aaahhhh!"
A blade, unseen, pierces clean through his back from behind. Zeus convulses, releasing a thunderous shockwave in all directions. Iapetus shimmers into visibility, leaping back from the blast. Zeus rips the sword from his back, the blade dripping with his golden ichor. He channels divine energy into the deep wound, but the flesh refuses to knit together.
Iapetus vanishes again, his voice echoing. "It is no use, Zeus. A wound from my blade cannot be undone."
At the same time, Krios draws the Gemini constellation on the Celestra. A shadow of the twins casts behind him, and an invisible surge of power and speed flows to his cloaked brother.
'Lightning Armor.'
Zeus cloaks himself in sizzling golden plates of lightning, his sword now blazing with blue energy. Iapetus strikes again from invisibility, but this time, Zeus parries. Their blades meet again and again, shockwaves rippling out from each clash.
Krios then draws Sagittarius and Scorpio. The shadows of the archer and the scorpion manifest, focusing his power. He joins his hands and slowly pulls them apart, a malevolent purple star forming between his palms. He snaps his fingers.
'Star Bolts.'
The star fractures into hundreds of purple arrows that hurl toward Zeus from unpredictable trajectories and angles.
Zeus raises his bruised, ichor-stained hand.
'Thundervein.'
A wide network of high-voltage lightning shoots from his arm, striking the bolts. Most explode in bursts of purple energy, but a dozen slip through the net. They strike his shoulders and chest.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The explosions gravely burn his skin. A cold, violet poison immediately begins to spread from the wounds, searing through his veins. His lightning, once a torrent, now feels sluggish.
"Heuk-" He coughs, a spatter of violet-tinged ichor spotting his lips.
Iapetus concentrates his mortality-divinity into his blade and strikes. Zeus instinctively throws up a Thunder Cloak, but Iapetus's lethal edge pierces it like paper. With no other choice, Zeus throws up his right arm. The blade shears through it cleanly at the forearm and grazes his chest.
"Aaaaahhhh!!!" Zeus screams, grabbing his severed stump. The buff from Gemini wears off, and Iapetus's speed drops. Zeus dodges the next slash and drives a kick into his stomach, sending him flying backward into Krios's arms.
'THUNDER!'
A rain of lightning strikes Zeus. It courses over his Lightning Armor, his eyes radiating pure power. The energy converges on his amputated arm, materializing into a solid, blazing spear of golden lightning. With a roar of pain and fury, he hurls it at the two Titans.
Krios, with the swiftness of Pisces, pushes Iapetus aside and twists his own body. The lance grazes his shoulder, missing them by a hair's breadth. It flies on, straight toward Lapetus. Near him Menoetius locked in combat with Kratos. His gaze fall on lightning lance.
"Father! Behind you!" Menoetius roars. He abandons his duel and throws himself in front of the lightning spear, his own sword raised in a futile, final block. The spear consumes him utterly.
"Aaaaahhhh!!!" His scream is cut short as his body is incinerated.
Simultaneously, the high-voltage energy of the lance grounds itself, surging outwards in a tree-like explosion of lightning that drowns the entire battlefield. Friend and foe alike are electrocuted where they stand. Kratos's body seizes as the current hits him, and his vision goes black. As he collapses, a pool of unnatural darkness swells beneath him, and skeletal hands emerge to grasp his unconscious form, pulling him into the void.
Zeus breathes in ragged, painful gasps. The poison has spread completely, turning his skin a deep, sickly blue. With his last ounce of strength, he crushes a purple crystal in his hand. A portal tears open beside him and swallows him whole.
On the ground, Iapetus scrambles to the scorched patch of earth that was his son. He falls to his knees, shaking the lifeless, blackened form. "Menoetius! Wake up! See, your father has come!"
Krios lands beside him, his hand already glowing with the warm, green light of the Virgo constellation. He pours all his healing energy into the corpse. Again and again, he traces the symbol, but the light simply fades into the charred flesh, doing nothing. He finally stops, his face grim, and places a hand on the sobbing Iapetus's shoulder. "Iapetus… he is gone."
Lapetus's head snaps up, his eyes burning with a grief so raw it seems to scorch the air. "Shut your mouth!" he snarls, his voice cracking. "He can't leave me."