Chapter 37- return to Olympus
When Zeus finally returned to Olympus, the air itself bowed before him.
Every soldier within the marble halls of the Sky Palace dropped to one knee—some out of respect, others simply because an invisible pressure forced them down.
As he strode forward, thunder whispering beneath each step, the gods began appearing one after another, drawn by a pull they couldn't explain. None of them had been summoned… yet they had come.
Hera frowned. "What's happening?"
Zeus didn't answer immediately. His eyes, glowing faintly with stormlight, swept across them all. Then, in a tone that silenced even Apollo, he said,
"—To the meeting room. Now."
They obeyed.
Inside the grand chamber, Zeus sat at the head of the long marble table. The atmosphere was heavy, foreign—like Olympus itself was holding its breath. Every god could feel it.
Finally, Poseidon broke the silence. "Brother… what changed you in those five days?"
"Five days?" Zeus arched an eyebrow, then chuckled darkly. "Five what? I spent centuries inside the Sky Kingdom."
Murmurs spread through the pantheon. Athena's eyes narrowed. "That's impossible. No time flows that way unless—"
Zeus raised a hand, cutting her off. "Forget it. You wouldn't understand. The kingdom was in time debt. It's been frozen since Uranus's dethronement. Restoring it required… adjustments."
He leaned back, lightning flickering in his eyes. "But it was worth it."
"Why?" Hera pressed.
Zeus's lips curved into a smirk. "Because I am now a Harbinger. The Sky Kingdom accepted me as its sovereign. I hold absolute control—the ultimate sovereignty. Olympus can now strike down any threat before it even manifests."
A stunned silence fell.
He tapped the table once, and arcs of blue lightning crawled across its surface. "Oh, and one more thing," he added with a smirk. "I've linked the divine principal. Whenever I call a meeting, no matter where you are, you'll be teleported here instantly. Saves time, doesn't it?"
Most gods exchanged uneasy glances—each one feeling the shift in divine hierarchy—but in the end, they nodded. For now, Olympus had gained an edge.
As athena asked
"why you haven't summon Helios then?"
As Zeus said with smirk
"yk he need to guide the sun he's up their why you think he never show in time of wars? He is the one who dropping these sun rays and explosion that drop on battlefield"whice Athena feels bit foolish since she once called Helios out for it since he never appeared
Then, casually—too casually—Zeus dropped the real bomb.
"Also… Abyss Isad. He's one of us now. A Harbinger. The most devastating one, at that."
Every god froze.
Aphrodite, lazily brushing her hair and dabbing her makeup, blinked. "Oh, that?" she said, feigning innocence. "Honestly, I just designed him after my type, you know? Half Romanian, half Mesopotamian. Didn't think he'd turn out that strong."
Her tone was light—but her eyes, for a split second, flickered with something else. Something she wasn't saying.
Then ares suddenly said
"so... what is a harbinger?"all gods nod they didn't really know what is harbinger but zeus sounded serious so they didn't ask zeus faceplamed now he has to explain everything
Before anyone could press further, the scene shifted.
To Arthur of course POV:
The air was still trembling from the clash. The Boogeyman's host was gone—his presence devoured by the shadows that had birthed him—but his corruption lingered like tar in the wind.
From the crater's edge, Divine Spawn stood victorious over Behemoth, the great monster's black ichor steaming into nothingness.
Then, without warning, Behemoth was pulled back—unsummoned—its body vanishing into the same darkness that had birthed its master.
A silence followed.
Then, from that silence… light.
A figure descended, wrapped in golden armor that hummed with sacred resonance. His eyes were burning with divine order, his aura heavy enough to distort the air around him.
He knelt slightly—yet even on one knee, he reached Arthur's height.
When he stood, he towered at seven feet two of pure celestial authority in human form of course he usually bigger anyway in comparison to Arthur six feet three.
"I have been searching for you," the knight spoke, his voice both calm and thunderous. "Every realm, every layer of the firmament. Heir of Heaven."
The words froze everyone.
Heaven? None of them even knew such a place existed.
Before Arthur could answer, Divine Spawn's demeanor shifted. His posture straightened, his tone sharpened—cold, calculated, ancient.
"...Captain Arama," he said, voice layered with something not his own.
The knight blinked. "What—?"
"Spector," Divine Spawn continued. "It's been a long time."
For a moment, Holy Knight—Captain Arama—stared, disbelief written across his face. "You're alive…" he whispered.
He stepped closer, and behind him, the battlefield blurred—his memories leaking into form. Dozens of phantoms appeared, spectral soldiers in celestial armor, their forms flickering like broken glass. Among them stood Spector, the Arc Warhead—Arama's fallen soldier he always rememberd fallen protecting heaven even the nobodies of his section he knew them by name.
The vision shattered as Divine Spawn suddenly twitched—his voice changing back, eyes swirling with dark ichor.
"No," he said flatly. "Actually, he's not."
That cold answer snapped Arama's restraint. His gauntlet shot forward, gripping Divine Spawn by the chestplate.
"Tell me what you know about Spector—now!"
A violent gust exploded outward—dark wind, unlike anything Arama had seen. The blast hurled him several meters back, carving trenches in the ground. For a heartbeat, he saw something inside Divine Spawn—something ancient, fractured, and very wrong.
Arthur stepped between them, wings of light half-formed. "Enough!"
But before either could strike again, Noah spoke up, holding a small artifact that glowed with ethereal runes. "Wait—let me try something. This can project memory flows from the soul."
He activated it.
Light spilled into the air, weaving a vision from Divine Spawn's essence—fragmented, raw, and unstable.
In that memory, Spector was seen again… this time cornered, fighting desperately before being struck down by an ominous, formless figure. A figure whose mere presence bent the memory's stability.
Arthur clenched his fists. "Who is that…?"
No one answered.
Divine Spawn tilted his head, expression suddenly shifting back to his eerie, playful calm.
"Oooo—wait. I do remember that place," he said, grinning. "Let me lead you there."
Arthur sighed, exchanging glances with Noah and Arama.
Every instinct screamed that following him was a terrible idea.
They followed anyway.
They followed Divine Spawn into a place that should not exist.
The air tasted wrong — stale, metallic, whispering. The ground pulsed faintly beneath their boots as though alive, and the walls… the walls were drenched in blood. Not fresh, but old — corrupted beyond recognition, blackened with age and sin.
Names were written into it — thousands, maybe millions — each name bleeding faintly as if their owners still suffered.
Arthur felt sick just looking at it.
But Holy Knight stepped forward, his eyes wide in disbelief.
"Spector…" he breathed.
He traced the crimson carvings with trembling fingers — the names of every soldier he'd ever lost, written here, mocking him.
He felt it — rage — though Knights of Holiness were forbidden to feel such sin. His aura cracked regardless.
From behind him, hands erupted from the wall — twisted, grasping, reaching to drag him into the blood.
Arthur's sword flashed, cleaving them clean in one swing. But the limbs regenerated instantly, whispering as they retreated.
"...tsk. You're not alone," a voice said.
They turned.
From the shadows emerged a familiar figure — tall, radiant once, but now dimmed, his light devoured by decay.
"Adam," Holy Knight said — barely a whisper.
Once the Perfection of Heaven, the First Commander of the Celestials.
Now, a thing.
Holy Knight's hand trembled on his sword hilt. "You— what are you doing here? You died… you were slain—"
Adam laughed, a raw, broken sound that echoed down the blood-soaked halls.
"Slain? No, old friend. Banished."
His eyes gleamed with madness.
"When Mary struck me down, Heaven declared it mercy. They said I'd fade peacefully."
He spread his arms wide, smiling through the rot on his wings.
"But here I am. The castoff of perfection."
Holy Knight's face hardened. Without a word, he summoned the spectral phantoms of his fallen soldiers — faint lights appearing all around him. They stood at his side, silent, mourning, the echoes of those whose names were carved into the walls here is the thing his divine heart when they day he took them inside his divine essence to remember forever as his essence glow the soul of the dispatched float before stored in his essence just like other comrade.
Adam's grin faltered for a second.
Then it twisted.
"You still carry them, don't you?" he said. "All their souls. All their memories. You hold them tight… yet you feel nothing."
Holy Knight raised his sword, stepping forward until the blade's edge hovered a hair from Adam's throat.
"Why, Adam?" his voice cracked — raw, human. "You were the symbol of Heaven's perfection. Why become this?"
Adam leaned closer to the blade, letting it pierce skin. Black blood spilled down his chest.
"So what if I was perfect?" he whispered, smiling with lifeless eyes.
"What's the meaning of perfection if I can't feel?"
He pushed the blade deeper, blood staining the holy steel.
"I was tired of silence. Of purity. Of smiling while my heart rotted. Down here, I can laugh, I can scream!" His voice rose, echoing like thunder in a hollow temple.
"You— you can't even flinch!" Adam spat, voice breaking. "You see the names of your soldiers, their blood, their pain — and your face doesn't even move! That's what's wrong with Heaven, Arama! You're all empty."
He stepped forward, impaling himself fully on the blade until his face was inches from the Knight's.
His whisper turned cold.
"I carved my way out of hell just to say that."
Then, grinning through the black blood pouring from his mouth, he hissed—
"Next time, I'll carve you.
And you'll crawl to hell yourself."
He vanished into smoke.
The blood on the walls pulsed once, then fell silent.
Arthur, Noah, and Divine Spawn stood frozen — each of them understanding, somehow, that they'd just witnessed something far greater than corruption.