Divine Ascension: Reborn as a God of Power-Chapter 84: Theomachy (Part 21) - The Fates (Part 4)

Zeus stood in the center of the smoldering crater.

His chest heaved.

Steam hissed from his wounds. Lightning coiled along his spine like a dying serpent, its energy stuttering. The raw detonation had cost him—too much. The force had torn muscle, cracked ribs. But he refused to fall.

Then—

The sea returned.

Not as a wave. But as a spear.

Poseidon’s attack struck from below—compressed saltwater so dense it pierced bedrock. It launched Zeus into the air like a thrown god, hurling him skyward, where the broken clouds swallowed him whole.

Poseidon rose from the edge of the ruin, arm outstretched, trident gleaming. His body was battered—bruises dark beneath wet skin, left arm trailing blood—but his power surged. The ocean answered him without hesitation. The mountain trembled at his command.

Then came Hades.

From the shadows behind the swirling mist, he emerged—silent, cold, lethal. No longer cloaked, no longer holding back. His new weapon—a jagged glaive of void-iron and soul-flame—spun in his hands like an executioner’s guillotine.

And he struck.

Hades carved a path through space itself, stepping across darkness. Each motion a blink. He landed where Zeus had once stood and vaulted high, just as Zeus came crashing back down from the heavens in a blaze of golden lightning.

They collided on air.

Zeus twisted midair, arms rising to block. But he was too slow.

Hades’ glaive slashed across his chest.

Divine ichor exploded. White-gold blood sprayed like comet trails. The wound bit deep—not just into flesh, but into his divine form, dimming the aura around Zeus’s body.

Before he hit the ground, Poseidon was there.

He summoned a maelstrom of pressure, spiraling seawater shaped into spinning blades. They tore into Zeus mid-fall, gouging muscle, tearing skin. Each slash screamed like a broken chorus.

Zeus crashed back into the stone—hard.

The crater deepened, fire and water hissing in all directions.

He tried to rise.

Poseidon sent a crushing wave of ocean pressure from one side—while Hades summoned a spike of black iron from the other.

Zeus caught neither.

Both attacks hit at once.

The spike impaled his side, the pressure fractured his jaw. His body tumbled across the shattered ground, divinity sputtering from open wounds. The cloak of stormlight that had once surrounded him was flickering now—dim, ragged.

Poseidon closed in.

Hades landed opposite him.

They moved without coordination, yet in perfect sync—two ancient forces who had waited millennia for this moment. Their attacks came in relentless rhythm: Poseidon’s trident driving from above, Hades’ glaive slashing from below.

Zeus tried to retaliate.

He threw a bolt—

But Hades caught it.

With his bare hand.

The scythe-scar from before had not faded—it had grown, feeding his power. The bolt screamed in his grasp, but Hades twisted it, folded it, and sent it back.

It struck Zeus full in the chest, hurling him into a jagged outcrop of collapsed temple ruins. Marble shattered around him like glass.

Poseidon surged next.

He wrapped the god-king in a prison of ice and salt, hard as celestial diamond, formed from oceans that hadn’t existed since the age of the Titans.

Zeus struggled.

And cracks formed.

But they didn’t spread fast enough.

Hades approached with slow precision. His glaive now bled smoke. His body—though wounded—radiated death’s inevitability. With every step, the earth blackened beneath him.

He raised the glaive and drove it through the prison.

The blade tore into Zeus’s thigh, pinning him inside.

Poseidon slammed his trident against the earth. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

From beneath, geysers of divine water erupted—ripping through the terrain and slamming into the trapped Zeus from every direction. The sound of crushing stone and breaking armor echoed across the plateau like thunder.

Zeus roared in pain while his barrier shattered.

Electricity burst out in all directions—wild, chaotic, unshaped. It lashed at everything, burning air, stone, and flesh. Hades and Poseidon were both thrown back—impaled by arcs of lightning, wounds scorching down to the bone.

But they rose.

Slower now as they were hurt. But rising anyway.

Zeus was staggering. One leg no longer responded. His ribs showed through torn flesh. One eye bled gold. The bolts around his arms sparked like dying stars.

He raised his hand to summon another—only to find his fingers too broken to close.

And that’s when Poseidon tackled him.

He slammed Zeus into the rock, trident across his throat, waves crashing around him. Zeus fought back with raw force, grabbing Poseidon’s arm and twisting—until Hades reappeared behind him and drove his knee into Zeus’s spine.

The two brothers piled on.

Strike after strike.

Zeus fought like a cornered beast. Teeth bared. Wounds forgotten. But even a king bleeds. Even a storm burns out.

And slowly—

Blow by blow—

They brought him down.

The trident struck Zeus’s shoulder, digging past flesh into godbone. The snap echoed like a broken hymn.

Zeus cried out—more fury than pain—as he swung his arm wide, dislodging Poseidon with a quake-pulse of raw divine force. The sea god rolled across the shattered field, smashing through marble and coral alike.

But before Zeus could rise—

Hades was there.

His glaive spun through the air, carving streaks of shadow through light. It bit into Zeus’s ribs, twisted, and pulled—ripping a ragged wound that spilled ichor and blood hit the stone.

---

Far above, in the chamber beyond time, the Fates watched in brittle silence.

The Loom had stopped moving.

Atropos’s fingers trembled on her shears. They remained closed, but every second she held them, they felt less like tools and more like lies. The blade had dulled. The magic it once channeled had begun to dissipate into strands she couldn’t name.

Across from her, Clotho hovered near the loom’s edge, watching as the threads of the three brothers collided violently again and again—not in elegant patterns, but in knots, ruptures, spirals of chaos.

They had seen gods die before. They had cut gods before.

But this... this was different.

This was unbound.

"This shouldn’t be happening," Lachesis murmured. She stood in the center of the dais, her cord limp at her side, her eyes flicking from thread to thread. "The three of them... their fates were already locked. Their paths diverged and rejoined a thousand times, but this..."

She gestured toward the Loom.

"They were never meant to collide like this."

---

Zeus, still on his knees, inhaled lightning. It coiled into his lungs, sparking along his jaw, reigniting the storm inside him.

He roared.

A vertical bolt shot skyward, punching through cloud and vapor, blinding in its majesty.

Poseidon raised a barrier of ocean-steel, but the bolt cracked it in two. The feedback sent him crashing back into the flooded ruins.

Zeus surged upward, battered and bleeding, but radiant with ancient fury.

Then—

Hades reappeared above him.

Not charging.

Falling.

A blur of black, his glaive spinning like a reaper’s wheel. He landed behind Zeus, drove the blade into his shoulder, twisted, and ripped.

Zeus dropped again.

---

"The threads are mutating," Clotho said softly.

Lachesis’s head snapped up. "What?"

"Look," she said, pointing. "They aren’t tethered to future patterns anymore."

The threads of the three brothers were flickering. Not forward. Not backward.

Sideways.

Each decision was creating multiple echoes—not one future, but fractured reflections. Alternate paths, entire timelines splitting and dying before they were born.

---

Zeus caught Hades’s next blow.

Not with his hand—with his will.

He twisted, redirected the momentum, and flung his brother into a wall of divine glass Poseidon had summoned seconds earlier.

It shattered in slow motion.

Poseidon struck from the opposite side—trident-first. Zeus ducked, grabbed the shaft, and headbutted his brother so hard the ocean stilled.

For a heartbeat.

Then Poseidon countered, sending a geyser of boiling current through Zeus’s gut.

---

In the chamber, the Loom twitched.

Atropos stepped back, eyes wide.

The thread of Zeus—once golden, thick, unyielding—was unspooling faster now. No longer a smooth path. It frayed at the edges. Patterns broke apart. A thousand possibilities died every second.

"But that’s not how threads die," Lachesis said. "That’s... that’s disintegration."

Clotho turned.

This fight was forming a type of event, one well known.

Something not from Olympus. Not from Tartarus. Not even from Chaos.

A force between narratives.

One that consumed endings before they arrived.

"What is doing this?" Lachesis whispered.

They didn’t answer. They couldn’t.

They only watched as the divine cords began to twist together—Zeus, Hades, Poseidon—no longer separate destinies, but a singular convergence. What was commonly known as a nexus point.

An event that mixed and could altere the destinies or two or more individuals at the same time.

---

Poseidon spun his trident, calling forth a vortex that rose into the sky like a reverse waterfall. Lightning danced around its edge, caught in the current.

Zeus punched the core and the vortex exploded.

Steam, water, light, bone—all hurled outward in a cyclone of ruin. Zeus and Poseidon were flung in opposite directions.

Hades dropped from above like a shadow comet, glaive extended.

He and Zeus collided midair.

A ripple spread across the heavens.

Olympus cracked.

---

"We have to stop it," Clotho whispered.

"We can’t," said Atropos, stepping forward while her eyes narrowed seeing the fight.

---

Down below, Zeus collapsed to one knee. A spear of sea-glass jutted from his thigh. Half his face was scorched. Blood streamed from his lips.

Meanwhile, Poseidon advanced, limping and Hades moved opposite, dragging his glaive.