Reborn As Hades In Olympus

Chapter 167 - 167: Ch. 167: Shadows of Olympus

Ch. 167: Shadows of Olympus

The days that followed were a blur of pain, confusion, and restless introspection. My body was weak, a fragile shell compared to the divine vessel I once inhabited. Muscles strained with every movement, and I could barely lift a hand without trembling. Mortality was cruel, far harsher than I remembered.

Jessie visited every day, her soft voice and warm touch an ever-present reminder of this new reality. She would recount stories of our past together— fishing trips, arguments over curfews, and holidays that seemed too perfect to belong to me. They felt foreign, like stolen memories from a life I could no longer claim.

But when she wasn't in the room, when the nurses weren't adjusting machines or administering medications, the weight of my failure consumed me.

I had been a god. A ruler. The caretaker of souls and the arbiter of death. Yet here I was, confined to a hospital bed, unable to even stand without assistance.

What had gone wrong?

I became a failure, that's what.

Each night, as the world outside fell silent, I stared at the ceiling, my mind racing. Fragments of Olympus flickered in my memory— the sound of Pandora's laughter, the cocky attitude of Talos, Aphrodite's knowing smirks, Hecate's gloom, Hermes light. My alliance, my purpose, Poseidon's betrayal...

Poseidon.

The name burned like a brand, filling me with equal parts rage and dread. I had underestimated him, and the cost was immeasurable.

But this wasn't the end. It couldn't be.

I clenched my fist weakly, the IV tugging at my skin. Somehow, someway, I would find a way back.

Three weeks later, I was released from the hospital. My legs wobbled beneath me as Jessie helped me into her car, the world outside blindingly bright and painfully real. The bustling streets, the laughter of children, the distant hum of traffic— it all felt so trivial compared to the grandeur of Olympus.

The apartment Jessie brought me to was modest, a far cry from the opulent halls of the underworld. The walls were adorned with photographs of people I barely recognized— Jessie as a child, a younger version of myself, and a woman who must have been my wife.

"Here we are," Jessie said, her tone forcedly cheerful as she guided me to the couch. "Home sweet home."

Home? This place was nothing more than a cage.

Come to think of it I had no memory of still owning a home, I always spent my time in the library that I practically started to live there.

I sat stiffly, scanning the room. The television flickered with muted news reports, a mug of coffee sat forgotten on the kitchen counter, and the faint scent of lavender lingered in the air. It was all so... mundane.

Jessie sat beside me, her eyes filled with concern. "You okay, Dad?"

I nodded absently, though the answer was far from the truth.

As days turned into weeks, I began to piece together the fragments of my old life. Eugene Daniels had been a man of passion of greek mythology. He had a daughter that still loved him, a wife who despised him, his family hhad been full of mistakes he had made in his esrlier years.

But Eugene Daniels was dead.

I felt I had to acknowledge that fact for me to truly move forward. I still believed I was Hades and that I had no place in this world. It was the one thing that kept me from descending into madness.

No one would believe me if I explained that I had spent over centuries in a fictional world, they would think I was mad from reading too many greek mythology.

Because I believe it did not mean others would too

One evening, as Jessie slept in her room, I ventured into the small study at the back of the apartment. It was cluttered with old books, stacks of paper, and a laptop that hummed softly on the desk.

I sat down heavily, the chair creaking under my weight. My reflection in the darkened screen stared back at me— gaunt, hollow-eyed, and utterly human.

I powered on the laptop, my fingers clumsy on the keyboard. The internet was a strange and vast place, overwhelming in its scope. I

I opened the tome, my hands trembling. The pages were filled with intricate illustrations and passages in a language I barely understood. But one thing was clear: Anox's influence had not ended with Olympus.

His magic was here, in this world.

And if I could harness it, I could find my way back.

This was my chance. My redemption.

I would return to Olympus.

No matter the cost.