A few minutes before Hyperion's arrival on the battlefield, high above the war where Hera commanded alongside Kratos and Nike, light itself seemed to take form.
From the heavens emerged a man with brilliant golden hair and shimmering blue eyes, as though divinity had sculpted him from pure radiance.
He appeared out of thin air, standing above the battlefield—present, yet almost unreal.
That man was Hyperion.
He was observing.
No—he was searching.
A faint frown formed on his face as he scanned the battlefield below.
Something was wrong.
Not with the fighting itself—but with what was missing.
One of the Twelve Great Titans.
Pallas.
He could no longer sense him.
That alone was enough to make Hyperion suspicious.
"How annoying…"
he muttered.
Immediately, he expanded his perception, releasing his divine light across the battlefield unnoticed by all.
His radiance spread like a second sun, probing space itself.
And then he felt it.
Something hidden.
Something that existed—and yet did not.
It was as though another world overlapped this one.
Another space layered upon reality.
A second battlefield unfolding somewhere within the same coordinates.
He did not fully understand it, but he knew one thing—
Pallas was likely trapped inside that hidden realm, fighting someone.
'I need to reach it,'
Hyperion thought.
But before acting, he continued observing.
His gaze drifted across the battlefield.
He noticed a woman in divine form—perhaps the most beautiful woman he had ever seen—leading the rebellion forces.
Apparently the daughter of her brother and king, Kronos .
He also saw Nike and Kratos—Pallas' own children—coordinating flawlessly, pushing back their enemies with terrifying efficiency.
Hyperion did not interfere immediately.
He simply observed.
Calculated and observe their level of strength.
Meanwhile, his thoughts wandered to the other battlefields scattered across the world under King Kronos' rule.
His son.
Helios.
Hyperion felt a quiet swell of pride.
'That is my son.'
Helios had grown immensely.
Somehow, Kronos' firstborn had pushed the boy to evolve into a truly powerful Titan—a threat on the same level as one of the twelve great.
Not yet at Hyperion's level… but perhaps one day.
He did not know if Helios would ever surpass him.
But if he tried—Hyperion would welcome it.
Perhaps one day the boy would challenge him for the Sun Chariot.
And if he did, Hyperion would not refuse.
Unlike his brother Kronos—who devoured or destroyed his own children at the slightest threat—Hyperion never forced his will upon his offspring.
He and his wife, Theia, gave their children freedom.
If his son wished to fight him for the chariot, he would allow it.
It was also why he had never stopped his daughters from walking their own paths.
Selene, his mischievous daughter.
Eow, his gentle child.
Both were strong.
Both were capable.
He suspected they may have already defeating the major gods they faced.
A faint smile tugged at his lips before he shook his head lightly, pulling himself back to the present.
His attention returned to the battlefield below.
The daughter of Kronos.
She fought four major gods at once with astonishing control.
For someone who had only been active for fifteen years, her growth was extraordinary.
One of Kronos' daughters, no doubt.
Impressive.
Truly impressive.
Hyperion found it interesting.
But not enough to distract him from his true objective.
Pallas was missing.
And that meant something far more dangerous was unfolding.
He suspected that Kronos' firstborn was behind it.
That abnormal child—so strong, so fast, extraordinary even from a young age.
Hyperion would admit he was impressed.
The boy had freed his siblings from Kronos' stomach, an act worthy of pride and admiration.
But admiration did not change loyalty.
His king had commanded him to capture the boy and bring him back alive.
And so he would.
Hyperion held no personal grudge against Kronos' firstborn.
This was not about hatred.
It was about duty.
Many things could be said about him, but one trait stood above all else:
Loyalty.
He would not abandon it simply because a rebellion had begun.
Nor did he care for a prophecy or a cursed said by his old man.
He understood the rebellion.
What child would accept being devoured by their own father?
Or being destroyed for the mere possibility of becoming a threat?
But understanding did not mean agreement.
He did not believe the boy could defeat Kronos.
Even knowing of the prophecy, Hyperion never once believed it could truly come to pass.
Kronos bore the Scythe—the divine weapon that amplified his power beyond measure and could destroy a immortal physical manifestation.
He was a Greater God, unmatched in this world.
Impossible to defeat.
The rebels would be annihilated.
His only true concern lay with his own children who had joined the rebellion.
When the time came, he intended to request mercy for them—to have them spared and allowed to return under his judgment instead of Kronos'.
That was his only concession.
As for Kronos' other children, he did not consider them a real threat.
He found them unremarkable.
Was It Cruel?
Perhaps.
Did he care?
No.
But among Titans, cruelty and kindness were simply two sides of the same coin.
It depended only on the will of the titan that day.
And Hyperion had chosen loyalty and cruelty.
His radiant blue eyes flickered, a golden tint spreading through them.
Quietly, unnoticed by those below, his divine energy expanded.
His light began filling the hidden distortion in space—the realm that existed and yet did not.
He raised his hand.
Golden light intensified around it, radiant and blinding.
Then he thrust it forward, attempting to pierce the concealed dimension.
Space warped.
The fabric of reality rippled violently.
But—
His hand stopped.
Hyperion's eyes narrowed.
It felt as though an invisible barrier—one far stronger than expected—was resisting him.
Holding and protecting the hidden realm together.
"…Huh."
For the first time, genuine surprise flickered across his face.
He could not break through.
And that was astonishing.
Because very few things in existence could stop him.