Chapter 33: Trial of the Gods Part 3
The massive god was currently in the clouds, eyeing Hephaestus. He was young, impossibly so for the strength he carried. A generation of gods, so different from his own.
Still…the boy needed to be reprimanded.
Zababa turned to Zeus, giving a nod of respect.
"Slayer of Kronos, you've allowed me this moment despite your…trial. I appreciate your flexibility."
Zeus inwardly was sweating. No one had seen the Mesopotamian gods for, literally, years. His first instinct was simply to reject Zababa, as was his right. But, considering his son just whipped out Zababa's swords, he wouldn't risk going against him. Mainly because he wasn't sure how divine law would back him.
He was the one throwing the lightning, thank you.
Zababa turned, his gaze going to the large sword spearing the head of a Leviathan.
"Ig-Alima," he muttered.
The sword floated, heeding the will of the god before it.
"Sul-Suganna." Both swords were now within his grip. He swung Ig-Alima, smiling at its strength. The torrent of kinetic force ruptured the ice far beneath it, the water splurging free.
At his side were his swords, though they looked nothing like their counterparts. Both were simply large blades, formed from his divinity.
At first, he had been enraged. The idea that some punk child would dare emulate his prestige in some shoddy copy was enough for him to intrude, not to mention the use of his children's names. They didn't rightly care, both finding it flattering. Even now, Zababa felt the way his divinity was pulling him homeward, his sons trying to bring him home.
No. The slight would not stand.
At least at first. Yet, as he held these weapons, he found that they were not feeble recreations. Feeling these blades…they were immaculate. But they were not simply made of divine metals. They were like this god, mortal elements intertwined into this divine construct.
"His power…it formed them," he thought, "a recreation through his weaving. I must admit…his skill surpasses even Enki."
A tall order. For while Enki had rested on his laurels, they were lofty laurels to begin with. Perhaps the image of this blade may spark his lord's competitive streak.
After all, these blades were composed of the very story of his legends, as if his ancient feats were brought to life and crystalized into a form that suited them. Reforged to better fit the feats that empowered their strength.
Ig-Alima was a personal favourite. Its design was unlike anything he had conjured up, and it held the mantle of "stone crusher" well. He could feel its story within it. It was a sword that would cleave even mountains asunder. Yet…it was also hollow.
Not in construction. It was as solid, more so than any weapon made by his smiths. No…the story within it felt like it was missing something.
"Degraded," muttered Zababa. He tilted Ig-Alima in his grip. "No…distilled is a better word. Parts lost to create it proper."
A strange issue, considering the God's skills. Surely he could recreate them perfectly?
"Though he is young," thought Zababa, "still growing in strength." Hephaestus squirmed in place, his toes bouncing a bit as if itching to get back into the fight.
"Impatiant as well," smirked the god internally. "Imperfections are to be expected by the young."
Zababa was not speaking Greek, nor English, Japanese, or any of the languages that EMIYA had mastered in life. Yet, Hephaestus understood every word. He eyed the Olympians, noting the twinkle in Aphrodite's quick smile.
Zababa continued to admire both blades in silence. Poseidon had to rein himself back, eyeing the swords that had just been used.
"...Just how many swords does that brat have?" thought Poseidon incredulously. "These blades…"
It was not that they were stronger, but rather that they were of a greater existence than the previous weapons Hephaestus had deployed. Such was the nature of a divine construct. Poseidon understood the difference to be the same as that between a Nymph and a proper God.
Both were astral entities, but only one was actually divine.
Zababa dropped Ig-Alima, the sword smashing into the ice below. Poseidon was tempted to simply destroy the weapon, but halted. These blades were named after Zababa's children. He couldn't risk alienating or angering a foreign God.
He could get away with a lot of things, but Hera would quite literally rip him inside out for even thinking about it.
"..."
He turned to said sister. Her eyes were already on him, searing into him as they narrowed.
"...Can't read minds, my ass," thought Poseidon.
Zababa ran his fingers across the blade of Sul-Sugana. The sword at his hip was plain compared to this weapon, though undoubtedly more powerful. His weapon was filled, unlike this hollow variant.
Yet, even hollow…he could feel it.
Sul-Sugana, the horizon that purified the seas. It radiated such potent concepts that Zababa couldn't help but wonder, just how deep this sword would cut.
"..."
Finally, he spoke.
"... It was you who forged this weapon?" asked Zababa.
Hephaestus nodded.
"It was, Lord Zababa."
"...You recognize me," stated the God, "Interesting. Most young ones don't even know our names. Though, I should expect this from you, considering how you named your weapons. My children find it…endearing."
The air grew cold as Zababa narrowed his eyes. "I do not find it nearly so."
Hephaestus internally sweated, though he kept his calm outwardly. It was not that he had forgotten per se, but rather that he hadn't considered the idea. He had used the Kusanagi once before without an issue, so he had assumed there was a range to the whole "name" situation.
Oops.
"You do realize the issue at hand, don't you?" grumbled Zababa. "The price I can extract."
"I do, my lord," lied Hephaestus. He had no idea. "But I had never intended these weapons to be an affront to you or your family."
"...I can see that," whispered Zababa, holding the blade upwards. "They are at least immaculate."
He took the other sword that lay within a sheath at his other side. The other sword was plain, though exotic by western standards. The ancestor of the Kopesh, simply called a sickle sword. Its edge was red hot, but aside from that it was rather ordinary in design.
"This sword was born from the horizon, from life," muttered Zababa, "I named it after my son, the life-giver, in honor of him."
He stared at the other blade, the Sul-Sugana forged by Hephaestus.
"But my son is a warrior as much as he was a protector. This blade….it speaks to all aspects of him."
"It does?" thought Hephaestus.
"What do you mean it does? You made the damn thing!" thought Styx.
Head bowed, Hephaestus made sure any possible micro-expression was absent. Zababa seemed to consider something, eyeing him.
"Child of fire…you've done well. But I will judge you for your transgressions nonetheless."
His gaze hardened as his eyes swirled. The constellations within them peered deep into Hephaestus' being. It was difficult to peer into the history of others. It was a skill that came with age, but even for the great Zababa it was always fractured. Images, pictures, in the current of life that connected all. The god faltered as he viewed the fragments of Hephaestus' history, coming to a realization.
This child…barely knew anything. He was not a few hundred years old, learning from his mistakes. The sheer strength he had, and the potency of the flames that lied within him, he had thought this to be a battle between two developed gods.
He turned to Poseidon. While older, this was still a god developing to their full maturity. Granted, he was closer than any of his other siblings, but still.
"These gods…are strong," thought Zababa.
Not the equals of his great pantheon, but that would change with time. They were not the only ones, with other pantheons equal in their might. The world was changing, as it should.
But the strangest one was the one before him. He was similar to Gilgamesh, his pantheon's greatest hero. Yet, his composition was different. A full mortal spirit intertwined with a full divine core. Strange didn't even begin to cover it. Zababa faltered as the last of the history filtered through.
This child…was barely thirty.
It was sacrilegious, his aura burning around him. It was the duty of the old to guide the young, a duty that had been passed around like a hot stone!
Thirty may have been the human equivalent of maturity, but it was not so for the gods! Yet, try as he might, Zababa could not find a name within this child.
"His core then," thought Zababa.
The sight of it almost made even the war god gag. His fist clenched, his aura turning caustic. Olympus shuddered and if not for divine law shackling Zababa, he may have very well gone straight to war here.
"This," grunted Zababa.
He took a sharp breath, turning to Zeus. He would have done more, but his divinity was already waning. His gaze softened, slowly turning back to Hephaestus.
"...Why?" asked Zababa.
"Why what?"
"...why forge these blades?"
"Truthfully, my lord," said Hephaestus robotically, "I was inspired by the legends of your people."
Artemis' face fell while Athena stiffened.
"He's…he's not seriously lying, is he!?" thought a frenzied Artemis, "Is he insane!"
"Oh," blinked Zababa, "is that right?"
A stone face that would make Buddha proud was firm before Zababa.
"Of course."
Zababa rubbed his lush beard. He could see in this child's history, the fragments of it that could be garnered, that he had lived in the ocean. The scent of a witch, though long eroded, still lingered on him somewhat.
"Ah," smiled Zababa, "The current of life. Yes…that would explain it all."
"You are astute, my lord," said Hephaestus.
"...you're insane," muttered Styx. "You are absolutely crazy."
"So, inspired by our tales, you created your own renditions. No one to explain to you the consequences of your actions…I see. The actions of an ignorant child."
Hephaestus felt a vein throb on his head, the stoic facade breaking. If there was the one thing he found that genuinely irked him, it was the idea that he was a child, somehow.
He was not a damn child! He was a full grown man! He had a kid for chaos sake!?
"I am not a child," grunted Hephaestus.
Zeus almost hurled a lightning bolt to shut him up, Hestia grimaced, and Zababa laughed.
"You've only proven my point, child! I cannot punish one as young and ignorant as you! You've only meant to espouse our glory and draw wonders from our tales…and what wonders you've created, albeit…hollow."
Hephaestus grimaced slightly. He had not yet experimented with augmenting the divine constructs. Creating his own divine weapons took more of a priority.
"These stories you've used…you weave with masterful skill, godling. Beyond even what I thought was possible. I especially like this one," smiled Zababa, eying Ig-Alima.
Zababa turned to him, ruminating on something.
"You will re-create my Ig-Alima for me, as recompense for the use of their names and my legend."
"...shit," thought Hephaestus.
"Shut up and take the deal!" yelled Styx, ""it could be a lot worse!"
"Of course," he agreed readily, hiding his inner thoughts.
His first instinct was to say no. But…truthfully, Zababa wasn't wrong. He had used their names and, in concept, his power to some degree. Or at least some analogue to it.
That and Styx wouldn't be happy.
Zababa continued to study the weapon. He turned his gaze to Sul-Sugana.
"Hmm…it may have been forged by you, this strange blade, but its essence is drawn from me…no…"
Suddenly, the god, towering above Hephaestus, was standing on the ice. His massive form knelt down, inspecting the blade further as he stabbed Sul-Suganna into the ice.
It cleaved through Poseidon's divinity with ease, the sea God clenching at the sight. That was impossible, wasn't it? Ig-Alima had to crush its way through the ice, but Sul-Sugana merely moved through it.
"Its essence is derived from my existence, but not my power. Tell me, godling, what is your name?"
"Hephaestus," he said simply.
His steady tone only emboldened Zababa further.
"You seem surprised I am here," said the war god. "But surely one who can view the history of the world through the current of life, such as you would have expected me?"
Zababa waved his hand, revealing a strange current. It wasn't really there to Hephaestus' eyes, but Hephaestus could see that he was showing them something.
So… he bluffed. Unchanging, unyielding, he lied straight to Zababa's face.
"I only see the past, because that is all I wish to know. The future is mine to forge, no matter what even the fates may say."
Styx began choking in his mind. So, he cut Styx off, along with the others, for the moment.
"I can see that," smirked Zababa. The same current showed him the history of the god before him, albeit in a fragmented sense. Hephaestus stilled, sensing a change in Zababa. The god's eyes drilled into him, ancient beyond measure.
The god turned to the other Olympians, the key one…being Hera?
The god seemed more resolute as he stood.
"I shall fulfill the obligation that should have been done for you," muttered Zababa. "Tell me, godling, what do you know of names?"
"That names can be invoked, and can call upon other gods, make them aware."
Zeus slapped his face. Zababa nodded.
"There is no lie to you," his deep voice rumbled. "Names hold more power than just mere connection. They hold the very essence of a thing, and thus grants them power. Tell me, why did you name your blades…after mine?"
Zababa hummed in approval when Hephaestus immediately answered.
"I had forged the weapon from the stories of your civilization, naming them to honor the inspiration," he said bowing, wondering why he needed to explain this again. "Never did I expect them to be able to call on your attention, Lord Zababa."
It swelled the pride of the War God before him, but there was something more. The God hummed, swirling the water to make Hephaestus turn. So great was his might that the still growling Poseidon could only allow his interference.
Zababa's divinity fettered out, the sheer potency of it almost driving him to his knees. But Hephaestus persevered.
"Hmm, strong."
Zababa's eyes shone, the stars within them peering into Hephaestus and beyond.
"Dutiful."
His tone softened.
"...and resilient."
He held a hand out, the massive sword Sul-Sugana hovering in front of him.
"Ig-Alima holds little connection with you, but this one…this holds an inner fire my own sword does not."
The sword now gone, Hephaestus began conjuring more of the spears of Cocytus to fill in the open spaces.
"Oh," muttered Zababa, leaning to inspect the frigid weapon. "Intriguing. A spear that looks like it is ice…but truthfully freezes energy. I would demand your full wares, if I had the time. Especially for weapons as beautiful as this one."
"Flatterer," chuckled Cocytus.
The great war god grabbed Sul-Suganna once more. He seemed to be settling on something. "This blade is forged from your power, its concepts empowered by your divinity. As your power grows, so will this blade's concepts…this…is worthy of its name."
Zababa took a breath, and breathed over the sword. It shuddered, literally, the jagged edges turning a searing azure blue as if it was freshly forged.
"Become the Dawn that purifies the seas," whispered Zababa. "You have my permission to exist!"
Something shifted, the blade registering within unlimited bladeworks as a separate entity. Of the divine constructs that Hephaestus had, the degradation remained a natural part of their design. Pieces of their power had been lost in EMIYA's analysis and storing of the Divine Construct.
But now…now that hollowed concept had been filled, invigorated even. The degraded parts had been completely filled.
Sul-Sugana…was no longer hollow. Zababa stabbed the sword into the ice. It should have remained as it did before, only to slip through the ice with nary a problem. Both blinked at the sword that kept falling through the water without resistance.
Zababa cleared his throat.
"This…is a fine blade, Dannu."
Hephaestus blinked, the word not really registering.
"Dannu?"
"...you are nameless, so I have granted you a name."
"But I told you that my name is Hephaestus?" he muttered.
"A name you have crafted for yourself, is not the same as a name that others recognize. Names hold power, Dannu. Both strength and protection. It is merely a formality, think nothing of it."
Hephaestus didn't feel any different, but he wouldn't fight it anyway. Not like he planned to go over there.
"Note to self," thought Hephaestus, "for any other divine constructs, make sure to reforge and rename them."
It wasn't like Emiya had that many to begin with, but still.
Zababa snapped his finger, Sul-Sugana erupting from the ocean. Its edge had cooled, and seemed even sharper than before, more defined. The sword before him shrank, bit by bit as it floated back to Hephaestus. Not an ounce of Zababa's divinity was present, yet none could deny the essence of war that lay within it.
It was as if the concepts had crystallised even further. Hephaestus viewed it more as a refinement, as if someone had just sharpened the blades and lacquered the spine of the sword.
"My very breath," he thought. Yet another material he hadn't even considered before. Zababa smirked at the sight of Hephaestus, the look in his eyes reminding him of Enki.
Hephaestus gripped the blade, the edges pulsating with power, responding to him instantly. He blinked, wondering what that was about. He willed the design away…only for it to remain. Hephaestus' brain stopped working for a minute as he realized what had just happened.
Zababa turned to Zeus.
"My curiosity has been sated. My people will not enjoy my absence for much longer. King of the new Gods, I give you my thanks. As for you, young Hephaestus."
His eyes glowed as more of his body dispersed, disappearing to wherever it was that he came from.
"Show me the story of your Sul-Sugana. I expect many great tales. Also…I will be back for my true Ig-Alima."
Zababa said this while looking at Poseidon. There was no telling what could happen with Hephaestus' mortal elements. He may reform, or he may actually just die.
People die when they are killed after all.
Poseidon grit his teeth, the warning loud and clear.
Hephaestus eyed the weapon that now sits comfortably in his palm. Made of jagged volcanic rock, the hilt of the weapon rested warmly in his hand. The stone edges that acted as blades glowed orange with power.
Poseidon scowled. Every time he tried to invoke divine law from within him, it would simply slip through his fingers. Even to his own senses, nothing had been different about the blade. Yet, the presence that had been once annoying was now distinctly uncomfortable.
Just looking at it made his skin crawl. Shadows obscured Poseidon's eyes, the sea slowly churning once more. It could cleave through his waters, sure. But his body?
Never.
"So…you would invoke another god's assistance like this? I never expected you to go so low, nephew."
Hephaestus blinked. His mouth twisted into the first real expression he's had since this whole fight.
"Heh."
Mirth.
"Really," Hephaestus seemed to say, his mirthful eyes dismissing Poseidon entirely, "that's what you're reaching for now?"
Poseidon gritted his teeth. His divinity surged, but not just from within. From countless directions, Poseidon's power came crashing into him, growing larger and sturdier.
Ascending to its absolute apex.
To the true form of a god. Poseidon's body glowed as he roared at Hephaestus.
"Fine, nephew, I'll show you just how outclassed you really are, you arrogant brat!"
Hephaestus charged forward, a glint to his calm expression.
"DON'T!" yelled Ares, unable to contain the concern that exploded from within himself
The true form of a god brought all they were to bear, their full essence. If a mortal were to look upon it, the sheer divinity would render them to ash. Rare was the reason it would be invoked, for truthfully, it was a double edged sword. A god could fight unimpeded by restraints, their domains fully encompassed. Yet, inversely they were at their most vulnerable.
To put it bluntly, it was overkill against a younger God like Hephaestus. To any reasonable God, it was like watching an adult drop kick a toddler.
Hestia was livid as her eyes ignited into flames. Around her body, fire softly circled around her as her own hair now shone a similar shade to Hephaestus' own.
Practically all of the Olympians were shocked at the sight of Poseidon unveiling his true form. In fact, most of them even appeared outraged, aghast, or as the majority of them currently were, a combination of both. Though curiously enough, it was Demeter that was the most vocal.
"You piece of dung!" she roared, slamming her fist onto her throne. "You'd go that far against a child!"
Lightning struck her, keeping her to the chair. Branches grew from her body, her hair decaying to a shade of silver. For a moment, she entertained exerting her own true form.
But alas, doing so would have little effect. A show without any result.
Hephaestus' vein throbbed, the child comment once again getting to him.
To be fair, it was an extreme difference. In his true form, Poseidon's sheer presence would drown Hephaestus. For all that Hephaestus was strong, he was still a developing God, his own divinity would not be a match, even if he wasn't disadvantaged to begin with.
So Hephaestus removed it from the equation entirely.
"GRK!"
All the gods present missed Hephaestus' brief sigh of relief as he closed in.
Poseidon was reeling, the blow to his core making everything shake. He had felt this before, a repercussion from a slight against another. Poseidon's form rippled a number of times, waving from the attempt.
"What the?" muttered Ares.
"So, that's what he was doing."
Ares turned to his half-sister. There was no speck of politeness to him; he wanted answers, now.
Athena said nothing, focused intently on the battle ahead. She had assumed Hephaestus would be swept up into the divinity of Poseidon, just as she had been in her own fight.
For years she researched some means of evening the scales. She gave up, pursuing more viable methods.
Before her very eyes…it was possible. It was doable. She just needed the right tools. So she watched. Watched as Poseidon recovered from his stupor too late. Watched as Hephaestus struck, weapon in hand. The searing glow of Sul-Sugana struck a neon arc. With a single swing, he struck at his uncle's chest.
It was merely a graze, Poseidon using the ocean to pull himself back, despite his reduced state. A graze that cut through his chest, leaving streaks of gold in the air. The droplets slowly flew past Poseidon's gaze. The pain was secondary to the realization that his lauded defences had been breached. They danced for a moment, a game of cat and mouse.
Eventually, Athena turned to her half brother during the chaos.
"Hephaestus has met a few of Uncle's…victims," muttered Athena. "He has requested of them their burdens. I wondered what he was doing. It seems he was preparing for a moment like this."
"What sort of…" Ares trailed off. No one had ever thought to do such a thing, especially for mortals. After all, why bother? Becoming a proxy as the victim directly reduced the strength of divine law greatly, as you weren't the original victim to begin with.
Athena giggled.
Ares slowly turned to her, fear and dread slowly forming as he tried to wrap his head around the sound he had just heard.
"So," smiled Athena, "using Uncle's laws against him…clever."
Ares wasn't the only one listening.
"He's taken advantage of the terrain as well. Here in Olympus, surrounded by father's power and authority, Uncle cannot exert his full power."
Another swipe took a chunk of Poseidon's shoulder, the wound closing with a sizzling pop.
"He's also taken advantage of how divine law has been subverted, using Uncle's own laws against him. Atlantis cares little for circumstance, like divine law does. He's used both to render Uncle unable to collect himself."
Athena rested her chin on her palm, her cold eyes narrowing with interest. For a moment, her dark hair shimmered with color, though she would never admit it.
"...crafty bastard," smirked Ares.
She pursed her lips. She couldn't help but wonder how much of this was planned. She didn't know which was more worrisome. The idea that he meticulously orchestrated this entire thing…or that he was flying off the top of his head.
Worse yet, could it be both?
Poseidon retreated, disengaging from close combat. The wounds he had shut closed with only some reduction. For while Hephaestus' divinity was present, it was much weaker than his own.
But to Hephaestus' keen eyes, he could see the wounds closing slower and slower with every strike.
Poseidon huffed, throwing his trident in an attempt to create distance. The moment he missed or it was parried, the weapon would be back in his hand.
Every throw only slowed his nephew down, it did not, couldnot, stop him. He tried to call the sea beneath the ice, but his power remained cold and unmoving. Every time he'd get a crack to free his might, the frozen spears would seal it again.
It was as if it was all autonomous, a weaving done entirely from the mind without any physical direction.
"Hera must be rolling in her seat at such mastery," thought Poseidon.
He was being cornered.
It was not the first time, nor would it be the last. Poseidon always performed best under pressure. He had fought against the ancient deities of the ocean on a frequent enough basis to understand that there were enemies that could always break his guard.
That was life, but he always won.
Yet, this was a fire god, literally centuries his junior. He was being injured by a child! The insult wouldn't stand, he wouldn't allow it! Yet, every time he tried to invoke his full self, it simply melted, seeping from him, injuring him further like a poison.
His wound was still bleeding, the blood staining his hands. Finally, he had enough, skidding to a stop on the ice.
"What did you do?" growled Poseidon.
Hephaestus simply struck again, and Poseidon dodged once more.
"WHAT DID YOU DO!?"
Another silent strike. Poseidon's strange grace worked for him for now, with bursts of water forming on his legs to help him move. It was a constant struggle to maintain, as it kept freezing on the surface, but he made do.
Every strike Hephaestus had flowed a little better, becoming smoother with every movement. Sul-Suganna had changed; something had cemented the tracing into a genuine article, the jagged edges may have been the same but there was a heat to it.
The more divinity Hephaestus pooled into his weapon, the more rabid it became. It was like they were one, the weapon's fire feeding on his own, growing more and more ravenous with every strike.
It was a flame that would devour even the ocean if need be.
There were changes that he was still adapting to, but it was the best weapon to pressure Poseidon.
"Answer me! What did you do?!"
"Does he ever shut up?" grumbled Phlegethon.
"Doubtful," whispered Cocytus. "He loves the sound of his own voice."
Ignoring the sisters in his mind, Hephaestus dodged a sudden thrust from Poseidon's trident.
"Your actions have consequences," muttered Hephaestus.
"What? I did nothing to you!" growled Poseidon, ducking under Sul-Sugana's blade, "divine law would not invoke…"
His eyes widened. They narrowed in fury as he put the pieces together. He ducks under another blow, but surging with tidal force to reposition behind Hephaestus. The fire god didn't turn, only flipping Sul-sugana in his grip, laying the sword flat across his back. The trident of Poseidon clanged against the rocky exterior of Sul-Sugana, sparks flying. The weapon did not bend, Poseidon struggling to break it.
A flurry of blows followed as Hephaestus pushed Poseidon back. For all that Poseidon was experienced in battle, he was not a typical warrior.
He struck with the force of only his back, using none of the torque from the frozen layer they fought on. Hephaestus hopped back, rolling his shoulders. He had gotten used to the length of the blade.
"Co–"
Poseidon's taunt fell to the wind, leaving as his breath did from the series of weapons that surrounded him. The countless A-rank noble phantasms were nameless, analysed from Gilgamesh's vault from a fight so long ago.
They rained down on Poseidon, striking at every opening, replenishing in an endless salvo. While they broke off his skin, they were leaving welts, tiny fragments of Hephaestus' divinity lingering in his form.
Hephaestus followed suit, using his sword to strike amidst the blades. It was a storm of steel, striking at every space it could, Hephaestus dancing around the falling metal.
Every opening, exploited.
Every hint of weakness, torn open.
Poseidon, a warrior of the sea, was out of his element here… and yet he remained, his pride not willing to allow him to hide within his waters for reprieve.
His mind slowed, an idea coming to him. If Cocytus could freeze his waters… then why couldn't he? Was ice not simply water? His arrogance gnawed on his better judgement, a need not for victory, but dominance drummed in his soul.
The ice cracked at first, but Poseidon persevered. Hephaestus had shown that it was more than possible. That the idea of impossibility was merely a suggestion. Perhaps there were some walls that couldn't be climbed, but for this moment, Poseidon didn't care. The god of the sea pulled deep within his domain, his influence screeching beyond for just a hair's breadth.
It may have only been the tip of his mental finger…but that was all that was needed.
SHULK! CRUNCH!
Hephaestus gagged, sudden spears of ice piercing him through. Poseidon thrust his trident, goring Hephaestus through the shoulder. Fire billowed out of his body, the ice melting, ripping his muscles and organs as it was forced out. Hephaestus's back bulged as he heaved with all his strength.
Perhaps Poseidon had expected him to be weakened, for when he tried to block it, he was only sent flying away. Heedless of his injuries, Hephaestus rushed after him. He took the final swig of Phlegethon's stored fire, his wounds searing closed as a scar.
The ice beneath his feet shuddered but was not as fluid as water. He was already weaving out of the way as countless spikes formed from the ground. He lost track of Poseidon, only for a trident's blades to emerge from an ice spike.
He was able to dodge it, but Hephaestus noted how it sank back in, the ice no worse for wear.
"He's adapting," muttered Hephaestus.
He moved again the moment he landed, another attempt thwarted. Poseidon emerged, grabbing his leg, trying to pull him down. His leg opened, the gears erupting out and loosening his grip.
"What the!?"
A quick swing nicked Poseidon before he disappeared, the golden ichor pooling on the surface of a jagged peak. Poseidon would appear on and off, getting faster and faster.
Yet, Hephaestus' training with Pallas had synchronized his body with the boundless experience of EMIYA. He was able to contend with the god currently, but as Poseidon adapted further, who knows what other tricks he could employ.
He needed to slow Poseidon down. The back of his free hand sounded with a loud crack. The rune formed quickly on the back of his hand. Poseidon went to strike again, leaping from the ocean at Hephaestus' open back.
Hephaestus didn't move, his hand already reaching behind him partially. His words echoed as he spoke.
"Astrape."
Incantations were a massive source of power for spellwork, even for runes. From his cracked hand, came wild lightning. A blue beast that cared not for what was around it, the electricity bit onto Poseidon, shocking his entire body. The sea god reflexively leapt back, only to sigh in relief. Lightning still curled on Hephaestus' body, crackling with wild abandon.
"Are you not a fire god!" bellowed Poseidon, "You freeze oceans, and now you fire lightning?! Perhaps you are a bastard of Zeus."
"Better Zeus than you," muttered Hephaestus.
Poseidon spat on the ice.
"Hera should have finished the job," he scowled.
"Hera couldn't…and neither can you."
The vein throbbed on Poseidon's skull as he rushed forward. Hephaestus reared back, Sul-Sugana shuddering as he flowed his power into its blade. Each jagged protrusion acted as a segment, each separating with a ring of fire. He swung, the fragments surrounding Hephaestus in a perfect circle, the handle remaining in his grip.
"...What is that supposed to do!" taunted Poseidon, "bore me!"
Hephaestus' voice rang with power.
Come Forth The Dawn That Purifies The Oceans.
"Sul-Sugana!"
The power within it shuddered to life, the fragments exploding with a purifying force. There was no escaping the cascade of blinding flames. He felt the prickling of his skin and as the flames drew closer, Poseidon knew the dawn.
His skin sizzled, his trident and innate divinity having protected him. The ice beneath him disappeared in a horrid vapor, the heat tickling his body. Every breath stung, but he endured. The entire ocean…was gone. The peak the other sat on was now ever higher, more a mountain than a cliff.
"It must have taken everything Hephaestus had to accomplish this," thought Poseidon.
WATISH!
Screaming through the vapor, was Sul-Sugana. It was stretched, a body of lava connecting the now extending segments into an absurdly long blade.
"WHAT?!"
Poseidon dodged the first strike, having to duck underneath another one. Lightning curled above them, the steam turning the clouds ever darker. Lightning surged even more frequently, the sound of thunder clapping.
Soon…it began to rain. Poseidon was now on barren ground, his oceans depleted, his divinity broken before the might of Hephaestus. He could flood this whole place again…but would there be a point?
The weapon alone was not capable of this, it was the integration of Hephaestus divinity, augmented by the conceptual advantage of Sul-Sugana that wrought Poseidon's power to its knees.
Poseidon's divinity collapsed into himself, his power retreating to reinforce himself. Hephaestus blinked, noting the way it was similar to reinforcement. Rather than fill in imperfections, it focused on enhancing what was there.
Then Poseidon surged forward, water acting like a jet around his body. He was faster, surging forth like the tide.
"...that's new," murmured Hephaestus.
The young god took a glance at his hand, and looked to the sky. The lightning shuddered within it. He closed his fist a few times, the plan (fully) cementing. He hopped out of the way, Poseidon surging past him.
The ground crunched as the trident was used as leverage, stabbed into the ground to make a quick turn.
Every blow was blocked by the other, the short exchange rattling the ground beneath their feet. Their final exchange cracked even Olympus, the sky rumbling at their might.
The rain that fell collected, surging to slam into the back of Hephaestus' knee. Poseidon grinned as Hephaestus slammed into the ground unexpectedly.
"I GOT YOU!"
Poseidon's trident slammed home, and for extra measure, he skewered his nephew heavenward. He looked into Hephaestus' eyes, ravenously searching. He wanted to watch the hope drain from his eyes. Wanted Hepheastus to suffer.
Instead, Hephaestus just stared back blankly. The mirth was gone, leaving only disappointment.
"You dare!" Poseidon shouted out loud.
His nephew hung by the prongs, acting as if the pain was no great deal. Sul-sugana fell from his grip, his other arm reaching heavenward.
"Really nephew," sneered Poseidon, "calling for your father now that you have lost?"
Lightning curled off Hepahestus' arm as he stared at Poseidon.
"...you're not very good at this, are you?" he muttered.
It struck the god dumb to hear that.
"...what?"
Hephaestus' divinity suddenly surged upward, slamming into the storm above them. The lightning darkened his gaze, Poseidon peering into the uncaring madness that lay within it…and then Hephaestus gripped the trident with his other hand.
"No…he's not that insane!" thought Poseidon with surging panic.
"Astrape."
The lightning of the trial, the essence of divine law filtered through Zeus' domain, fell. A column of pure electrical energy, it struck Hephaestus first, the surge ravaging outwards into Poseidon. Both gritted their teeth the moment they were struck.
The lightning broke off, leaving the two electrified. Poseidon shakingly took a step back, his entire body shivering from the electricity still roaming inside him. His body wouldn't listen to him, his strength leaving.
Hephaestus fell to his knees, the steam sizzling out of his body. Bursts of divinity ejecting the electrical energy. Unlike Poseidon, Hephaestus' own divinity was adaptable in its imperfections.
Excellent for venting foreign power and accelerating his recovery. What happened with Typhon would never happen again if Hephaestus had his way. A technique for slaying the God of monsters, used instead here to defeat his uncle.
"How quaint," thought Hephaestus, rising without difficulty. From various points, fire erupted from his body, the electricity leaving the same way. Using the fires of Phelegethon had saved his own divinity for a moment like this, while Poseidon was left without such a resource.
Poseidon kept shivering, trying to regain control. It couldn't end, not like this. Sul-Sugana steamed as Hephaestus drew near, the air shimmering around it as it was gripped with two hands.
The edges glowed maliciously, Hephaestus peering down at the kneeling god.
"Sul-Sugana," he stated. The noble phantasm surged in power once more as he called upon its name. There were no broken segments, no strange power.
Only a monstrous cleave bathed in fire.
It tore through Poseidon's shoulder, stopping only part way into the rib cage. Hephaestus tore the blade out, twisting the jagged edges to cut off an arm. A quick swipe tore out Poseidon's stomach.
The earth shuddered beneath their feet, feasting on the blood of the ocean.
It was silent, Poseidon lying there, gasping for breath. His wounds would not close, not with the lightning still biting at him. His eyes were unfocused, still struggling to come to terms with what had just happened.
Lightning still curled off Hephaestus' skin with a malicious intent, as if it were diving back for another piece.
"Y-y-you," grunted Poseidon, "c-cheated."
"...and?" muttered Hephaestus. "There were no rules to prevent me from using outside resources. If there was, you wouldn't have that trident, or the blessings you have from your wife."
Hephaestus was admittedly reaching there. Thankfully, he struck home, as Poseidon looked away.
"I-I'm n-not done–GRK!"
Mercilessly, Hephaestus slammed Sul-Sugana into Poseidon's chest, forcibly stabbing the blunt edge of the entire blade through his torso. He ignited the sword fully, the fire seeping deep into Poseidon's body.
"AHHHHH!"
Even the proud god of the sea couldn't keep his voice down. His skin soon began to char from the entry wound…and the room shuddered, returning Olympus to its former glory.
Poseidon and Hephaestus stood in the centre of the twelve thrones, all the other gods not but a few feet away from them. Hephaestus pulled Sul-Sugana out. As his uncle rose with the blade, Hephaestus grabbed him by the neck, throwing him with the force of a cannonball into his throne.
Poseidon slammed with a wet plop, gasping. His blood splattered across his throne, seeping onto his feet.
"Yes, yes, yes!" Nemesis was over the moon. Though her thoughts were to herself, anyone giving her a glance would know what she was thinking. Her eyes shone even further, leaning around Hephaestus' throne as a new weapon joined the fray.
It reeked of power that worked against the gods themselves, and was shaped like a wicked scythe. Poseidon's eyes, along with all of the other Olympians, widened as Hephaestus reared back.
"...father," he thought, the glint of the blade bringing the scars of Kronos to the forefront.
It sliced into his open wound, the scythe finding purchase in the throne behind it.
"GAH!"
Like Sul-Sugana, Harpe's conceptual abilities proved viable even on gods, albeit in a reduced state. Even now, weakened as he was, Harpe could not land a true killing blow for his death.
But it certainly made Poseidon's wounds bleed all the heavier and heal all the slower.
Using the scythe, Hephaestus dragged his uncle upward, cutting through the throne along with him, Poseidon's sturdy body working against him. He stopped a few inches up, keeping a hand on the scythe as he eyed the sea god.
"It's over," said Hephaestus simply. "There is nothing left to fight for. Surrender, and I end this farce."
The blade in Poseidon's chest pulsated with a malevolence against the divine. Used by a goddess that had been summoned as a saber, it was a wicked implement, no matter its altered shape.
"Surrender," Hephaestus said forcibly, "Or die and let your kingdom suffer from your absence."
His uncle remained silent and Hephaestus pushed the scythe up again, dragging his uncle through his own throne.
"HRR! I. WON'T. SURRENDER!"
Hephaestus' eyes glowed. He gripped the scythe, power flowing into the blade. It began to crack as he overloaded the weapon, intent on cutting through the last of Poseidon.
"Enough."
Hera's voice echoed across the chamber. There is not a hint of concern to her. She spoke as if she was ending a feud between children. Both gods turned to her and she pointed to the floor.
"The conditions have been met. This farce of a trial is over."
Hephaestus looked to the ground, recalling the second condition for his victory. A ring out.
"This…this…"
Poseidon's bloody hand touched his throne. It was outside their supposed ring, his altered domain having fallen apart. He said nothing else afterwards.
"...How does it feel," muttered Hephaestus, "being brought low? Remember this feeling, Uncle."
Hephaestus turned to Zeus, waiting for the verdict. He faltered a bit at the near flooded eyes of the supposed greatest god of Olympus.
"That's my boy!" thought Zeus.
It shone with a pride that made the parentless god vastly uncomfortable. Not simply because he didn't wish to be there, but also for the… emotions that it sparked.
"Get on with it, please," muttered Hephaestus.
"Of course," rasped Zeus. "This trial is adjourned. Poseidon's grievance against Ares for the murder of his son is to be absolved. Furthermore," intoned Zeus, his voice and seriousness returning, "all grievances between Poseidon and Hephaestus are null and void as of this moment."
The lightning above them disappeared, the trial finally over. Zeus rolled his shoulders, a bit of sweat on his brow.
"Now, Hephaestus, as you are the victor…what do you desire of Poseidon?"
Poseidon chuckled, blood spurting from his mouth. As if he'd give that child what he wanted.
"I want Lemnos."
"What?"
"Lemnos," repeated Hephaestus. "I want those that call Lemnos home to be free of your abuses. That their lives are free from your interference. Should they break divine law, so be it. But your influence on them, your ability to freely manipulate the ocean against them…I want it."
The room was silent, broken only by Poseidon's gasping laughter.
"You have got the largest set of stones in this pantheon boy! You can't even use my authority. Divine law may grant you a boon, but you cannot enfor–"
Hephaestus leaned in closer, his hand on his uncle's chest. In his inner world, he grasped an item, his mind racing through a thousand thoughts a mere moment. He had seen authority be given physical form again. The Shard of Ouranous' authority still gave a phantom itch in his chest.
If Poseidon wouldn't give it…then he would take it.
"By right of conquest…I demand the waters of Lemnos. I don't need your permission."
Hephaestus' divinity surged within his uncle, the authority of his Kingdom splintering for just a moment. A tiny shard of it broke off, the light of it glowing beneath Hephaestus' hand.
"URK! Ha…ha…HAHAHAHA!"
Poseidon just laughed, eying his idiot of a nephew.
"You really are an ignorant child!" he chuckled, "you don't have the structure to house such an authority–"
His words choked as he felt his power flow outwards against his will. While the trial may be over, divine law was far from absent.
He had agreed to the conditions and he had lost. The rite of conquest, while typically just a law of Atlantis, was still enforced by the trial's power.
Poseidon could only watch as a fragment of his authority flowed into Hephaestus' fingers. Hephaestus' arm shook as it traversed further. Unlike the rivers that were housed within his world, this was an authority for something that belonged in the natural realms. He gritted his teeth, concentrating to keep the power contained.
His instincts as a god screamed at him. If he lost control, it would flow back into Poseidon.
CRACK!
His body shuddered, housing an authority he was, quite literally, not designed to handle. He just needed a moment, the flow traveling to his chest. It stalled, his body slowly cracking more and more.
Eventually the vessel would break, freeing the power.
The others remained silent, afraid that a single sound would shatter the god's concentration. Hestia was struggling, her own divinity locked within her. As a guardian, she could only direct the excess of her nephew's power.
Yet, of all the gods that watched with bated breath, Apollo was strangely calm. The god of healing looked across the party of gods, his family. He thought of his father and then looked at his uncle.
The way they looked at each other, the betrayal, the hurt. He didn't want that. Yet…he had already done it…hadn't he? He had tried to help Hephaestus against his will, and Apollo swore he wouldn't make the same mistake again.
Yet, his friend's back was shaking. The sun god rubbed his fingers together, the feel of the muses' soft touch on his arm keeping his thoughts centered.
It hurt, when Hephaestus kept his distance…but Apollo understood. At least he thought he did. They were two peas in a pod in a way, both wanting to have full control, even if Hephaestus didn't realize it.
He stopped thinking, and Apollo moved.
Hephaestus stiffened, Apollo's hand at his back. The sun god ignored the glare of Poseidon, focusing instead on keeping Hephaestus' body in the fight. Golden light flowed through Hephaestus' body.
The warmth of the sun suffused into the cracks. Unlike the other gods, Hephaestus' body naturally aligned with any divinity that it interacted with, the imperfections aligning to match the wavelength of other gods.
A strange quirk to be sure.
After years of study, Apollo had learned to take advantage of the flow and even replicate such a state with his own divinity.
The cracks on Hepahestus' body slowly mended shut, only the cracks around the blue energy remained. It flowed again, moving across his chest and into his other arm.
Hephaestus reached within himself, Apollo stiffening as he felt the internal shift.
"What is that?" he thought.
Every part of the sun god screamed at him, told him to investigate…but he held himself back. The memory of Artemis pushing against him and their mother echoed in his mind.
She had told him than that he only thought of himself. He didn't like the way his sister looked at him, the slight disgust in her eyes. He was different from her, and for all her good qualities, she had a stubborn streak a mile wide.
If she thought you were trash, you were trash. Frankly, it was irksome at the best of times. Hopefully today, she'd see the truth. His thoughts dimmed, Apollo bringing his full focus on regenerating Hephaestus' body.
Together the two forced the energy through the rest of Hephaestus' body.
In seconds, the energy finally shone at the back of Hephaestus' other hand. The air shimmered above it, a dull crystal falling into his hand. It was about the size of a baseball, jagged and thick. He gripped the crystal just enough that he actually bled over it.
Even in this world, blood remained one of the greatest conduits of magic.
Slowly the authority bled into the crystal, the once dull quartz shining into an ocean green color. It shimmered like sun-reflected water.
Steam came from the cracks of Hephaestus' body, the lines refusing to close from the strain. He held the crystal to Poseidon's face.
"Lemnos isn't yours to play with anymore" muttered Hephaestus, his smoke tinged voice lumbering to a growl, "nor is it anyone else's."
Fire seeped from his wounds, his own divinity attempting to heal that which was broken. It wasn't enough, his body battered from the battle. The lingering pieces of Poseidon's power ravaging his healing.
Thankfully he wasn't alone. Apollo was already hard at work, his golden light flowing the ambient divinity outwards.
"Hurry up and say what you want to say," muttered Apollo, his focus deep. "I will be having words with you about your reckless abandon. You'll have a full physical inspection." The god stilled, a thought coming to his wondrous mind. "…inspection…hmm…I think I'll call it a physical. Yes, a physical!"
Apollo lost to his own world, Hephaestus focused back on his uncle. The crystal shone deep and true. While it may have been but a small piece, it was in truth a proof of concept.
"I'll make this simple, Uncle. Your string of abuses ends here. God, Goddess, human, I don't care what they are… it ends."
Hephaestus tried to subtly put the crystal into his reality marble, only for it to push against it like a magnet. The untethered primordial essence, while greater in power, lacked the tethers this crystal seems to have.
Smoothly, he put the crystal into his chiton, the cloth repairing with a glow. Safely in his pocket, he turned to Ares, his brother's divinity stabilizing bit by bit. Here in Olympus, the cost of his interference with his daughter was reduced, an entire realm now between them.
Ares wasn't happy, but he still nodded in thanks all the same. Hephaestus took a breath, realizing that he was actually quite tired. He could still fight if need be, but he could feel the strain in his body.
He eyed the still broken and bleeding Poseidon. The scythe disappeared, leaving the two to keep their silent gaze.
"If you have a problem with me, settle it with me," muttered Hephaestus. "In return… I'll stay quiet about this."
Pride was a massive currency for the gods. The idea that a god Hephaestus' age would keep such a deed to himself was unheard of. Poseidon said nothing for a moment. The hate in his gaze was a quiet thing, deep and dark. Eventually, he nodded.
"Very well."
Divine law shuddered once more.
"Swear on the styx," grumbled Hephaestus.
"Fine, fine…I swear on the styx."
CRACKA BOOM!
Thunder rumbled above them, lightning falling dangerously close to Poseidon. He narrowed his gaze at the sky, but settled to focus on his healing. Eyes closed, Poseidon ignored the rest of the council.
Hephaestus politely waved Apollo off, going to his throne. He sat down, arms on either rest, looking at Zeus. Steam still came off his body, the scars slowly scabbing off. It would take days before they disappeared if he was left to his own devices.
Hanging by his throne was Sul-Sugana, still radiating its own immense power.
"This case is officially closed," smiled Zeus. He gestured to his children specifically. "However, in light of these…issues, I believe it best to discuss how we will involve Demi-gods in the future. We will have our scuffles, but the idea that our children should be dragged into them is simply redundant," he muttered. "Thoughts?"
"Direct laws mean little," grunted Ares. "We just saw today how they can be redirected."
Slowly, the other gods and goddesses that were not part of the twelve began to leave. Nemesis tried to be stubborn, but Ifrit emerged from the Hephaestus' body, landing on her shoulder.
There was nothing but overwhelming gratitude from Hephaestus for her sacrifice, as the divine phoenix led Nemesis to the forge.
"I believe it best to treat demigods like an extension of the parent," mumbled Hades, his gaze pointedly at Hephastus. "There's no tell–"
"We will be treating the demi-gods as the children that they are."
Every head turned to Hestia. She was not kneeling by the fire anymore, but firmly in the middle of the council. The flames of Olympus danced in her hearth, her gaze firmly on Zeus.
"It is easy for you," she said, turning to Hades, "to treat other demigods as their parents. You don't plan to have them, which makes it easier to abuse."
"Sister, I would–"
Her gaze silenced even Hades.
"No…the best move forward is to treat them as individuals. A child of Athena need not suffer the sins of her mother, nor should a daughter of Hephaestus suffer the consequences of her fathers actions."
"You know as well as I do that it cannot be that simple," sighed Hera. "There will exist circumstances where a child is responsible for the actions of a parent. Such wording would only free others to act on their children's supposed behalf, avoiding consequences."
The gods slowly devolved into a debate, only to be silenced with a resounded boom from Zeus. His symbol of power cracked the marble floor.
"It is obvious we have much to talk about," said Zeus, stroking his beard. He eyed Poseidon and Hephaestus. "Two of our own are not in their best condition…we will convene within thirty moons to discuss this further. With that said…Hera has an announcement."
She rose from her throne, a rare smile on her face.
"I am pleased to announce the existence of a camp. All demigods will be welcomed there, a place of solace from monsters and the like. A place to train under the watchful eye of Chiron."
"A son of Kronos," muttered Poseidon.
"We're all children of Kronos," muttered Hera. "My point is that it is a refuge for our children to strive towards, and a place to grant them some training."
Ares and Athena nodded in agreement.
"Was hoping that monsters wouldn't be as big a concern," grumbled Ares, "but they can smell a demigod by leagues. If they're not prepared…"
He left the rest unsaid.
"Normally, I'd say we can protect our own children…but as Father and Ares have shown us, even the smallest of interference can have consequences."
"There is also distance," agreed Athena, her hands clasped on her lap. "Most demi-god children cannot endure their parents' divinity for prolonged periods of time. With the sample size we have now, the results remain inconclusive. Some, like Alcippe and Erichthonius, have proven to be able to endure for quite some time. Others lack such resilience."
Athena looked at Demeter, waiting for something. The older goddess had the decency to blush, looking away from Perspephone.
"Mother?" she muttered.
"A dalliance that took a joyful turn," she admitted. "I had hoped to spend more time with Philomelus. He's still just a babe."
"For Demeter, her child could endure no more than two days."
"Seriously?" muttered Apollo.
"...how is your son with you, brother?"
At Athena's remark, Artemis turned to glare at Apollo, the sun god uncaring at the moment. He didn't think to tell her?
"How did you know? He was barely born three days ago!"
Athena kept her dead gaze on him.
"So far so good," muttered Apollo, "nothing yet."
He felt a bit bad at the jealous look from his aunt Demeter. Though, he did find it funny the way Persephone seemed so betrayed. Wasn't this what she wanted? The whole "seperate" from your parent thing?
"The point is, that the camp is a good thing," smirked Dionysus, "right?"
"Agreed," smiled Zeus, "but seriously, how many grandchildren do I have that none of you have told me about!?" He crossed his arms. "Alcippe was one thing, but at least Hephaestus had the decency to announce my grandchild."
Said god's stone faced visage never wavered, though he did sweat a bit. Hephaestus wouldn't exactly say announcing Eri was intentional by any means.
Aphrodite was strangely quiet, a hand on her stomach. She looked around, her and Ares sharing a look.
"Well… you do have a divine one on the way."
Zeus turned to Aphrodite. His smile shone with the light of a thousand lightning strikes, his laughter like thunder. The thrones shook from his joy.
"Excellent, excellent! A new face to roam Olympus. You must be tired, go, go! Let us all convene again with the birth of our newest family member."
"What about thirty moons from now?" muttered Dionysus. His concern was warranted, considering divine births tend to be quick. "I had a party to–"
His father gave him the look.
"...never mind."
The gods slowly dispersed, Hephaestus lumbering up. He rolled his shoulders, and while he should have gone to the forge right away he couldn't leave without saying something.
"Congratulations," he smiled, approaching the Goddess of love.
"Thank you. It was…a surprise."