Hades immediately understood what she was thinking. He saw the bottomless fear in her eyes—not of Hera herself, but of the terrible precedent of a "Blood Queen" that Hera represented, and the potentially hidden "traditional" ambitions of Hades.
He was silent for a moment, neither immediately denying nor comforting, but seriously examining her fears.
He knew that simple promises would not dispel such doubts, rooted as they were in historical laws and the logic of power.
He reached out his hand—not to take hers, but towards the dark earth of Hades beneath their feet, towards the four swiftly churning rivers of the Styx, towards the abyssal barrier guarded by the distant Hundred-Handed Giants.
"Metis," his voice was low and level, carrying the weight of the laws of the Underworld itself.
"Look at this Underworld. It is not a gift from the heavens, nor an inheritance from the division of the earth. It comes from my will to break free from being devoured, from the order I established in darkness, from the cycle and silence we defined together."
He looked at her with a sharp gaze: "The era of Uranus was overthrown, and the reign of Cronus is coming to an end. Their 'traditions,' along with their tyranny, will turn to dust in the wave of the new age. If I seek power, I will not repeat the old and decadent model."
He took a step forward, approaching Metis, and the divine power of the King of Hades around him was no longer restrained, enveloping her as if substantial—not oppression, but an absolute, undeniable declaration:
"My path is the path of Hades, the path of the 'Underworld,' the path of secrecy, wealth, death, and reincarnation. This road was opened by me and aided by you. It does not need the old blood orthodoxy of Olympus to legitimize it. Its legitimacy stems from its own authority and rules, from the order we built together, which transcends their understanding."
"Hera is an ally, a force to be balanced in the future pantheon, nothing more. Her value lies in her priesthood, not her blood. And you,"
—his gaze met Metis's eyes, like an abyss—
"Metis, you are my Queen of the Underworld not because of any tradition, but because your wisdom is the starlight that illuminates the darkness of Hades, and your very existence is the most perfect complement and elevation of the order I have established. We are the product of 'choice' and 'innovation' that transcend blood destiny. This is the 'tradition' that belongs to us."
His words were like the cornerstone of Hades, word by word, heavily landing on Metis's heart, trying to rebuild the cracks fissured by the shadow of history.
Metis stared at him, the turbulent waves in her eyes gradually calming, but the vigilance did not completely disappear, instead transforming into a deeper, calmer scrutiny.
She believed in Hades's sincerity at that moment and understood the direction of his ambitions.
But the caution born of wisdom would not let her completely let go.
"I understand, my king," she finally said softly, her tone returning to its usual wisdom, but with an added layer of cold armor.
"I will remember that our path is unique. Please... also always remember your words today. After all, power itself can sometimes tempt people to repeat the same mistakes."
She bowed slightly, her posture remaining elegant, but with an invisible aloofness, she turned and disappeared into the shadows of Hades, leaving Hades standing alone.
Hades knew that this incident was not merely a momentary disturbance. It had planted a thorn in Metis's heart—a thorn connecting the essence of power with the cycle of history.
This thorn would not easily disappear; it would only make her more vigilant and... determined to ensure that Hades's path never deviated from her status and to secure her position, unshakable by any 'tradition'.
Hades had no other choice; perhaps only if he ascended the throne of the God-King and personally handed the crown of the Queen-Goddess to Metis would her doubts be dispelled.
After the conversation with Hades about 'tradition' and 'the path,' Metis seemingly regained her former calm and wisdom, assisting Hades with the affairs of the Underworld, integrating the Styx and Dream networks, and everything seemed in order.
However, the thorn in her heart, pierced by historical precedents, was not softened by Hades's declaration, but gave birth to a deeper plan under the fermentation of wisdom.
She needed a guarantee—a guarantee that transcended oaths and perhaps even Hades's will.
She told no one, including Hades.
In the 'dark moment' when even Hypnos's dreams were unreachable, belonging to Nyx's most powerful time, Metis's figure quietly appeared before the Temple of Darkness in the most secluded part of the Underworld.
The temple was still as a frozen night sky, the porch a flowing nebula, and the walls adorned with flickering lights like threads of fate.
There, silence reigned eternally, as if even time itself slept here.
Metis stood at the temple entrance, neither calling out nor trying to enter.
She simply stood quietly, gently pushing forth a will emanating from wisdom, yet filled with anxiety and resolve, like a stone cast into a still lake, into the deep darkness.
She needed no words. She knew that night itself saw all thoughts hidden beneath light and shadow.
After a long time, the deepest darkness in the depths of the temple, which absorbed all light, began to stir.
The triple-aspect goddess Nyx did not fully manifest her concrete form, but only the eyes that overlooked the trajectory of the life and death of stars and the paths of fate slowly opened in the darkness, and her gaze fell upon Metis.
In this gaze, there was neither question nor surprise, only the indifference that understood the ages, as if she already knew of Metis's arrival.
Between them, there was no connection, no collision of divine power, no transmission of thoughts.
Just by looking at each other, a silent understanding beyond language was reached between the two goddesses.
Nyx saw Metis's wisdom, saw her anxiety, saw her devotion to the 'eternal' covenant, and her cold resolve to protect her position at any cost.
And Metis also understood Nyx's stance through those eyes—she was the embodiment of rules, the observer of fate, taking no side, but she... could be a means for some 'possibility'.
From the darkness at the core, a spark—the purest 'night'—seemed to tear away all the stars and impurities of fate, slowly separating.
This was not matter, but rather a living shadow, a solidified 'void'. It silently floated towards Metis, and in the process, the surrounding light, sounds, and even fluctuations of law were completely absorbed by it, leaving no trace.
Metis extended her hands, as if welcoming a sacred relic, and carefully caught the 'gift'.
The moment the wisp of 'Primordial Night' fell into her palm, she felt an extreme cold and silence spreading through her arms, as if even her divinity was frozen and hidden in an instant.
This was not an attack, but absolute 'protection' and 'isolation'.
She did not thank her, nor did she ask the specific name or use of the 'gift'.
The intuition of wisdom told her that this was Nyx's response to her appeal—a power of night originating from the very beginning of the world's birth, possessing concealment properties that even great divine power could not fully perceive... What lay within?
Metis clutched this 'gift,' shrouded in night, tightly to her chest, and the stream of darkness quietly merged with her divine body, like a living thing, intertwining with her [Wisdom] and [Dark Water] divinities, hiding without causing any change.
She bowed slightly again to the darkness deep within the temple, offered a silent salute, then turned, her steps remaining graceful and calm, disappearing into the darkness of the Underworld, as if she had never left.
Nyx's dual pupils slowly closed, and the temple once again sank into eternal silence and darkness.
It seemed that nothing had happened, only that wisp of 'Primordial Night' that had been given was like the deepest secret, hidden in the heart of the Queen of the Underworld, waiting for a moment that might never be activated.
Metis knew she had carried away a dangerous power—a gift from primordial darkness, which even Hades might not be able to fully control.
This was not betrayal, but the ultimate line of defense that wisdom sought for itself under the birth of fear.
She hoped she would never have to use it, but its very existence was like the Sword of Damocles hanging on the thread of fate, giving her an extra chance to redeem everything in the face of possible loss.