In Hades, eternal silence flowed between Hades and Metis.
The noisy divine punishment upon the Silver Race in the outside world had only left a trace of aftermath here, like a stone cast into the Styx; after the ripples dispersed, not a trace remained.
Metis stood beside Hades, her wise eyes fixed on the slightly distorted face of Zeus in the mirror, filled with anger and humiliation, then turned to the calm profile on the throne.
She clearly sensed that Hades's last contemptuous response had been a deliberate provocation.
"You provoked him on purpose." Metis's voice broke the silence—not a question, but a statement.
She tried to understand the deeper meaning of his actions: "Do you hope to use this pressure to give birth to a more resilient and threatening... weapon? Are you going to make him a 'pioneer'?"
Hades's gaze remained on the mirror, which had shifted from Olympus to the vast and desolate earth.
He slowly shook his head.
"No, that's not necessary." His voice was level, without the slightest emotional fluctuation.
"Making the God-King a pioneer is an inefficient and wasteful use of resources. His value lies elsewhere."
"So, preparing for the next era?" Metis followed his thoughts, and wisdom made her instinctively explore the distant future.
"The Bronze Age? Do you want Zeus, under pressure, to create... a humanity better suited to your needs?"
Hades tilted his head slightly and looked at Metis, his eyes seeming to pierce through the layers of time's mist.
"More precisely, the next era, Metis. The change of times has its own rhythm, like the tides. Zeus's anger and struggle at this moment were merely the necessary undercurrent before the wave."
He paused, involuntarily touching the cold relief on the armrest of the throne, which was a pattern from the 'Chains of Resolve'.
"He has such potential," Hades continued, as if evaluating a tool.
"To produce... quality offspring. That is his responsibility..."
The profound meaning of these words caused a slight clench in Metis's heart.
A complex emotion, one even she herself could not fully explain, reached her heart.
She almost blurted out:
"We... You cannot..."
Her voice was soft, with a slight, barely perceptible tremor.
She felt the invisible chasm between herself and Hades.
Hades paused slightly at her words.
He turned his head, his violet eyes looking at her, a gaze so sharp it seemed capable of dissecting a soul.
He did not answer. Nor could he give an answer.
"The wise do not fall in love." Hades would not fall in love with the current Metis.
Silence reigned between them, like an invisible wall.
As if to dispel the awkward silence, Hades raised his hand and gently touched the mirror suspended before him.
The surface of the mirror was like water struck by a stone, ripples forming and creating waves.
The image of the barren land, just baptized by divine punishment, began to blur and distort, and then drew closer and closer with incredible speed, as if rapidly retreating!
The scene flashed by, beyond the world of Chaos, beyond the ocean encircling the world, and even beyond the very concept of Chaos itself!
The 'perspective' of the mirror seemed to pierce through an invisible barrier, entering a void impossible to describe in words, filled with chaotic energy and primordial colors.
Here, the definitions of space and time became blurred.
Finally, the rapidly retreating 'lens' suddenly stopped.
Before the eyes of Hades and Metis, a scene shocking the gods was displayed in the mirror—beyond the cosmos.
In this infinite void, representing the 'outside world', there existed a massive... world bubble, radiating an indescribable aura.
At the same time, atop Olympus, Zeus, burning with anger and humiliation, poured all his energy into the great undertaking—rebuilding the earth.
No more festive songs echoed in the temple, replaced by the dull rumble of thunder in the clouds, like the suppressed roar of the God-King.
Zeus stood atop the mountain, gazing at the desolate earth after being baptized by divine punishment, the traces of the Silver Age rapidly crumbling and scattering in the wind and rain.
The name 'Hades...' sounded through his teeth, full of anger and fear.
This contempt was like a sting, deeply embedded in his proud heart.
He needed to prove that the glory of Olympus needed no permission from Hades, and that Zeus was the sole God-King ruling the sky and governing the fate of all things!
His gaze pierced through the clouds and fell beside the sleeping Gaia.
Silver no longer shimmered; it was replaced by a harder, more powerful metal—bronze.
"Since silver cannot bear divine grace and wisdom, let bronze engrave the laws of strength and survival!"
Zeus's voice was like a thunderous decree, ringing in the ears of the remaining nature spirits and nymphs, making them tremble.
He no longer sought a spiritually endowed creation as complex as Prometheus.
This time, he wanted to impose his will on the new race more directly and authoritatively.
He summoned the power of the sky and seized the essence of the bronze veins that had only just begun to condense and form in the depths of the ley lines, mixing it with the destructive aura that had permeated the earth after the divine punishment, the will to survive, and the pure desire for power.
On the ruins of the silver tower he had once built, Zeus used thunder as a forge and divine power as a carving knife, beginning to shape the prototype of the new generation of humanity.
These new people were condensed from bronze essence; their bodies had a metallic dark blue hue, muscles knotted and tight, containing power surpassing the Silver Age.
Their eyes no longer held the spirituality and dependence of the Silver Race, but were replaced by a primitive tenacity capable of anything to survive, and even... cruelty.
Zeus endowed them with a sturdy physique, an aggressive character, and an almost paranoid pursuit of honor.
He wanted them to be strong, to survive in harsh conditions, and to spread the prestige of Olympus to every corner of the world with sword and fire.
"Arise!" Zeus's voice was like a bell, shaking the newborn souls.
"You are the Bronze Race! Your lives are shaped by my thunder, and your fate and strength go hand in hand! Conquer, explore with your own hands and weapons, and carve your mark and that of Olympus upon this land!"
The Bronze people opened their eyes, and in their blood flowed an inexplicable restlessness—the desire to fight, the impulse to conquer.
Instead of looking up at Olympus and singing hymns like the Silver Race, they let out a wild roar, like the friction of metal, and then began to spontaneously gather, rub against each other, and even engage in minor conflicts for better positions.
Zeus watched all this, a flicker of slight complexity in his golden eyes.
These creations were indeed full of power and met his requirements for 'tenacity', but the untamable wildness at their core also caused him slight unease.
But this unease was quickly replaced by the feeling of pleasure from finally 'escaping Hades's shadow'.
"Look, Hades," Zeus said coldly in his heart.
"I don't need your consent to still create a new era. These Bronze people will use their strength and battles to wash away the shame you brought upon me!"
He seemed to see the tide of bronze sweeping across the earth, creating city-states based on strength and conquest, and their courage becoming the most direct sacrifice to Olympus.
However, Zeus did not know that everything he did at that moment—his motives and the process of creating the Bronze people—were all reflected in Hades's cold mirror.
Hades calmly watched Zeus's profile in the mirror—a mixture of anger, ambition, and slight anxiety—and the Bronze people, just born and already at their peak.
"It begins," he said lightly, his voice betraying neither joy nor anger.
Metis stood beside him, and wisdom allowed her to see the further future: "Bronze... That means endless battles and bloodshed. Such a race can indeed provide what you expect..."
Hades's fingertips gently tapped the armrest of the throne, emitting a regular, soft sound.
"Zeus is paving the way for his sons, and he himself is still in the dark."