Darren’s eyes opened, and for a single, fragile heartbeat, he forgot how to breathe.

  He was standing on solid ground—not the red sand of the Underworld speckled with fragments of glass that had formed from the heat—but on a narrow path that led to a small stone cottage. It was a cottage that Darren had built with his very own hands. Weathered gray stones made up its walls, softened by creeping ivy and years of salt-heavy air. The roof sloped gently, patched and repaired countless times. Beyond it stretched the sea, vast and familiar, its waves rolling in with a steady rhythm that once had been the backdrop to his days. The air smelled of brine and wind.

  It smelled like home.

  This was the edge of a coastal village, far from the clustered houses and narrow streets, far from the heart of the Kingdom he had once belonged to.

  From here, the world felt smaller, quieter. It always had. This was why he had chosen it.

  Darren stood still, his gaze fixed on the cottage as memories flashed through his mind.

  He had been the youngest son of King Daerion, the Last Son of Nozar, a title spoken with reverence and expectation. A prince born into stone halls and gilded futures, raised with the weight of inheritance hovering over him like a shadow.

  One day, the Kingdom might have been his. But Darren Ittriki had walked away from all of it.

  Royalty, riches, a crown forged through generations of conquest and blood—none of it had mattered when measured against the life he had built here. Against Aurelia’s laughter echoing through those walls. Against Andrea’s small hands clutching his fingers as they ran down to the shore. Nothing would ever measure up against that. This cottage had been their refuge, carved out by stubborn hope and love, a peace he had chosen long ago.

  But it wasn’t real.

  He knew it the moment he had opened his eyes. This place, this moment, was a construct that had been pulled from his past, stitched together from longing and regret. The peace he had known here had been erased long ago, reduced to ash and loss.

  He had buried this world with them.

  Still, he could not look away.

  Darren let his eyes travel over every familiar detail, committing them to memory once more. The way the door leaned slightly to the left. The small window that caught the morning light just right. The faint sound of waves in the distance, endlessly patient. If this truly was the last time he would see it, then he would not rush it.

  Only when he had taken it all in did he turn.

  They both stood a short distance behind him.

  Death was there. Tall and gaunt, his form wrapped in the same quiet menace and disdain that he seemed to regard Darren with.

  Above the immortal's head hovered a glowing title, stark and clear.

  // Thanatos, The God of Death.

  The System confirmed what he already knew.

  But Death was not alone.

  There was another who stood beside him. The crystal embedded in Darren’s chest pulsed suddenly, a sharp thrum that resonated through his bones.

  “Warning. The System is detecting a being of great power. Calculating threat level—”

  A translucent screen flashed into existence before his eyes. The letters burned bright red, flashing again and again with frantic urgency.

  // ERROR.

  // THREAT LEVEL INCALCULABLE.

  Darren did not lie to himself this time. The being standing beside Thanatos was on an entirely different plane of existence, one that even Death itself did not compare to.

  A name appeared above the figure’s head.

  // Hades, the King of the Underworld, the God of Tartarus.

  The ruler of the Underworld was dressed in a finely tailored suit, dark and immaculate, its cut elegant rather than intimidating. His skin was a deep magenta-black, smooth and unreal, the light itself bending differently around him. His face was beautiful in an ethereal way too, features far too perfect for any man to possess. His irises were pure black, in a more natural way compared to the ones that had filled Death's empty eye sockets. But his pupils stood out starkly white, like fresh snow against midnight.

  At a glance, Hades seemed far less imposing than Thanatos, whose very presence radiated the inevitability of death. But Darren felt it immediately; the vast, crushing power this god held tightly in check. It seeped into the world around them regardless of restraint, bending reality with its quiet pressure. This god did not need to raise a hand or speak a word. Darren knew, with absolute certainty, that Hades could erase his soul entirely with the simplest of gestures if he so desired.

  And yet, he did not. Hades simply stood there in silence, watching.

  For now, Darren still existed.

  The man's gaze remained fixed on the two gods before him, his expression hardening. He did not wait for either of them to speak. Yes, both Hades and Thanatos possessed great power. But the man did not fear the power, even the power of these gods.

  “Be gone with these illusions.” For a brief instant, nothing happened.

  Then Hades’ dark eyes softened, a faint understanding passing through them.

  He inclined his head in a small nod.

  The coastal air vanished, the scent of salt and sea dissolving into nothing. The cottage, the path, the distant waves—all of it faded like mist under harsh sunlight. Darkness folded in around them, heavy and oppressive, until the familiar crimson sands of the Underworld stretched out once more beneath Darren’s feet. The sky above burned with a dull glow, casting long shadows that never seemed to move.

  Hades turned toward him.

  “My apologies,” he said smoothly. His voice carried a silken quality, rich and measured, devoid of the terror one might expect from the King of the Underworld. “I thought you might find some comfort in returning to the home you once knew.”

  Darren did not respond right away. He was beginning to adjust to the oppressive atmosphere of the Underworld. When he finally spoke, his eyes flicked briefly to the crystal embedded in his chest.

  “What is this… System that you have placed in me?” he asked. “It said its name was—”

  “Merlyn,” Thanatos cut in gruffly, his voice sharp and impatient. “I don't think you understand that you have been given one of the very last Systems that have remained uncorrupted in its purest form. You should be—”

  Hades raised a single hand.

  The gesture was simple, almost lazy, yet Thanatos fell silent instantly without argument. The air itself seemed to acknowledge the command. There was no question about it.

  It was Hades who held absolute authority here.

  The King of the Underworld lowered his hand and turned his attention back to Darren.

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  “What you now possess is a gift from me to you,” Hades continued evenly. “The least I can offer to the man who nearly defeated the very first King of the Dragons.”

  Darren’s jaw tightened.

  “I must say,” Hades remarked, a faint hint of amusement touching his tone, “Darren Ittriki, your reputation precedes you.”

  So the gods knew who he was.

  “Your magic is one that even the gods fear. You are a legend among immortals, did you know that?” Hades asked with a soft laugh. “They say you are undoubtedly the greatest swordsman to have ever lived, even to this day.”

  Darren shook his head once, physically rejecting the words.

  None of that mattered to him.

  “Tell me what it is that you want from me,” he stated bluntly.

  Hades studied him for a moment, then nodded. There was no reason for ceremony between them.

  “Very well,” he said. “I propose a deal, Darren. One that I know will benefit both of us greatly.”

  Darren said nothing, waiting for him to explain.

  “There is a package of mine that needs delivering. I need you to be the one who protects it.”

  He frowned slightly, the simplicity of the request clashing with the power standing before him.

  “And where does this package need delivering to?” he asked.

  Hades’ lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. “I need you to bring this package to the God of War.”

  Darren drew in a sharp breath, memories stirring within. Among other titles, that was the one that the King of the Dragons had been known for.

  “Pallas,” The man whispered.

  The mere mention of the Titan's name caused Hades’ smile to widen, the god's dark eyes gleaming with quiet satisfaction

  Was that what he had really become?

  A God of War?

  “But do not be mistaken,” Hades cut in. “I will not lie to you and claim this path will be easy. There will be things—unspeakable things—that will try to stop you. Still, I have been told that you are the man for the job.” His dark gaze flicked briefly to the crystal embedded in Darren’s chest. “With the System, I believe it might just be possible.”

  Understanding settled over Darren like cold iron.

  So that was why.

  That was why they had given him something so rare, so valuable. Not out of charity but necessity.

  He was a means to an end.

  “And what is it that I shall get in return?” Darren asked quietly. Even as the words left his mouth, he already knew the answer. His heart began to pound, each beat louder than the last.

  “I will find your family,” Hades said.

  Darren swallowed hard, forcing the lump in his throat down before it could fully take shape. For a moment, the Underworld seemed to tilt beneath his feet, the crimson sands blurring at the edges of his vision. He clenched his jaw, drawing on sheer will to maintain his composure.

  Aurelia. Andrea.

  His wife. His daughter.

  They were his world.

  They were his everything.

  “Find them?” Darren asked, his voice on the verge of breaking, despite his efforts to keep it steady. “So even you do not know where they might be at this moment?”

  Hades did not answer immediately.

  Instead, the King of the Underworld glanced toward Thanatos. The exchange lasted no more than a second, yet Darren knew a silent conversation had passed between the two immortals who had watched the rise and fall of countless ages. When Hades finally looked back at him, the mirth from earlier was gone.

  “Darren,” Hades began, and for the first time, there was something almost somber in his voice. “You must understand something. To you, it may feel as though it was yesterday that you fell in battle against the Dragon King. But in truth…it has been eons since your fight with Pallas was etched into the records of history.”

  The world seemed to drain of color.

  “You are a relic of the past,” Hades explained. “And so is your family. Where their souls might be now—” He paused. “Even we do not know.”

  Darren felt light-headed and this time it wasn't because of the System that had been integrated into his very being.

  Eons.

  Hundreds of millions of years.

  “No,” the man muttered, shaking his head. “That’s not—”

  Hades raised his hand again. The simple gesture cut through Darren’s spiraling thoughts like a blade, snapping his attention back to the present.

  “But I promise you this,” Hades declared. “If you hold up your end of this bargain, you shall be reunited with your family. I will do whatever is in my power to find their souls.”

  His voice lowered as if hesitant to speak the words that came next.

  “This, I swear…on the River Styx herself.”

  Even after all this time, even after eons had reshaped the cosmos, the eldest daughter of Oceanus remained a constant. The Goddess of Unbreakable Oaths did not forget. Breaking any promise sworn upon her name carried consequences that not even the gods could escape.

  Even the God of the Underworld feared what she was capable of.

  Hades extended his hand toward Darren, his dark eyes never wavering, never blinking.

  Darren searched their faces carefully, his gaze moving from Hades to Thanatos and back again, looking for any trace of deception. Any flicker of falsehood. Any sign that this was another illusion, another cruel manipulation meant to break him.

  He found none.

  “I will find your family,” Hades whispered again.

  The crystal in Darren’s chest pulsed once more, and the familiar translucent screen flared into existence before his eyes. This time, there were no flashing red texts. This was not a warning.

  // The King of the Underworld has offered you a deal.

  // Will you accept his deal and become the Champion of Hades?

  Two options hovered beneath the message, stark in their simplicity.

  // [ Yes ] OR [ No ]

  Darren barely spared them a glance.

  He did not need a System to know what his answer would be.

  Caution did not matter. Darren did not need another second to consider the consequences. The decision had been made the moment Hades had sworn it upon the River Styx. Because he would do anything if it meant he could see Aurelia and Andrea again.

  Darren reached out and took Hades’ hand.

  He nodded once as he shook it, sealing the pact.

  The Underworld seemed to hum in response.

  Hades’ lips curved into a satisfied smile as he released Darren’s hand and turned away, already acting as though the matter was settled. As though…there had never been any doubt that the man would have ever refused his proposal.

  “So what happens now?” Darren asked, frowning slightly as his eyes shifted toward Thanatos.

  Death was smiling and it was not a kind smile that Darren saw on his face.

  It was sharp, knowing, and entirely unwelcome.

  “Find Charon and his Ferry,” Hades replied. “He has both the package and the instructions you’ll need to deliver it.”

  Darren’s unease deepened.

  Why was Death smiling like that? There was something about it that set his instincts on edge.

  The System began to buzz softly, its presence growing more insistent as it updated itself, lines of unseen data flooding through Darren’s senses.

  Hades lifted a glass filled with a glowing, honey-like liquid; one that he had summoned from thin air. The substance shimmered faintly as he swirled it, its golden light standing in stark contrast to the darkness of the Underworld.

  “By the time you reach the Ferry of the Dead,” Hades said calmly, “I think you will be ready for the long journey ahead of you.”

  The God of the Underworld raised the glass slightly in something almost resembling a toast.

  “Good luck, Darren. Because you are going to need her.”

  Before Darren could respond, his eyes widened as the ground beneath his feet vanished.

  The sensation was sudden. One moment he was standing on solid crimson sand, the next, there was nothing. He plummeted downward, weightless, the Underworld rushing past him in a blur of darkness and heat. His scream tore from his throat, the sound echoing through the air until it was swallowed by the void.

  The last thing he saw was the words that appeared on that gorydamn screen in front of him.

  // The Tutorial will now begin. Prepare yourself, Darren.

  Then, just like that, he was gone.

  Thanatos watched the space where Darren had disappeared from, his smirk widening.

  “I'll be surprised if he even makes it out of the Underworld,” Death remarked coolly.

  Hades did not look back. He merely took a slow sip of his ambrosia, savoring it.

  The God of the Underworld said nothing. But what Hades did know was that if Thanatos truly believed that, then he was in for a world of surprise. Because not even Hades himself could fully grasp the lengths Darren Ittriki would go to if it meant reuniting with the ones he loved.