Imp to Demon King: A Journey of Conquest-Chapter 454: The Fall of Olympus 1

The obsidian throne room erupted with controlled chaos as Adam opened the spatial rifts. Each portal shimmered with different energies—the dry heat of Egyptian deserts, the pristine mists of celestial mountains, the sulfurous winds from the edges of demonic territories. Reality bent and warped around the openings, barely containing the power flowing between realms.

The assembled forces moved with grim purpose. The Furies stepped through their portal like shadows given form, their serpentine hair writhing with anticipation. Behind them, Zane’s dark armor clinked softly, Morwen’s ice-blue aura creating frost patterns in the air, Gilgamesh’s golden mail gleaming, and Gawain’s blessed sword humming with divine resonance. They vanished into the demonic borderlands, carrying with them the promise of vengeance.

Apep coiled through his portal next, his serpentine form rippling between realities. Set’s red eyes blazed with millennia of contained fury as he followed, while Njord brought the scent of storm-tossed seas. Luna moved with them, her silver light a stark contrast to the chaos gods’ darker energies, and Garduck’s scarred face showed grim satisfaction as they disappeared into the Egyptian realm.

Izanagi and Eris made an unlikely pair as they approached their portal—the calm creator god and the dancing embodiment of discord. Shihan’s bow was already strung, arrows of pure energy nocked and ready, while Karna’s golden armor blazed like a second sun. They stepped through into the mathematical perfection of the Celestial Court, bringing with them the beautiful chaos of change.

The remaining forces—Zephyr, Silas, Victoria, Sarah, Ifrit, Maven, Loki’s ever-shifting form, and Fenrir’s barely contained rage—didn’t need a portal. Asgard floated directly overhead, its golden halls gleaming against storm clouds. Gork’s fleet was already rising from the seas, their battle cries echoing across the water.

As the last of his allies departed, Adam felt a gentle touch on his sleeve. Luna had lingered, her green eyes filled with worry.

"I would have preferred to stand by your side," she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of their bond.

Adam pulled her into a fierce embrace, feeling her warmth against the cold purpose that had settled in his chest. "You will, later. This is just the start." He breathed in her scent—moonlight and starshine—knowing the future had become uncertain. But he also knew he’d win this war. He had, too.

She nodded against his shoulder, then stepped back, her expression hardening into warrior’s resolve. With one last look, she turned and stepped through the portal to the Egyptian realm, leaving Adam alone with his chosen champions for Olympus.

Adam turned toward Achilles, who stood examining his abominable spear with satisfaction.

"Didn’t you say you could defeat Ares in single combat?" Adam asked, his voice carrying both challenge and confidence. "Time to prove you weren’t merely boasting."

Achilles’ famous smirk spread across his face, his eyes lighting with the joy of impending battle. "That was before," he said, hefting the abominable spear. "Now I feel like I could take him and Athena together—rise over any Greek god of war."

Before Adam could respond, the ground shook. The three Hecatoncheires stepped forward as one, their voices rumbling like grinding tectonic plates.

"The three strongest," Cottus declared, his hundred hands flexing in anticipation.

"Zeus, Poseidon, Hades," Briareus continued, ancient fury blazing in his eyes.

"We will isolate them," Gyges finished.

Adam nodded, feeling the rightness of the strategy settle into place. "I’ll take care of the other Olympians first, then join you for the final battle." He paused, his smile sharp as lightning. "Let’s remind them why they feared the old powers."

With a gesture that tore reality like fabric, Adam opened a portal to Olympus. The mythical mountain materialised before them—temples of impossible white marble reaching toward perfect skies, colossal statues of the gods looming over everything like ancient sentinels. The very air hummed with divine power, thick enough to choke mortals.

Lightning boomed at the summit, followed by Zeus’s voice rolling like thunder across the mountain. The mockery in his tone was thick and twice as poisonous. "Even the Fates cannot save you, no one can. But to think you’d throw yourself into my hands... Pathetic."

The twelve Olympians arranged themselves in a perfect formation, their divine weapons drawn—each blade, spear, and shield a masterwork of Hephaestus’s craft. Gold and adamantine caught the light as they struck weapons against shields in unison, the sound ringing out like a funeral bell.

Zeus’s laughter echoed across the mountain. "Let me show you why no mortal ever succeeded in defying us."

Adam waved his hand dismissively, pointing his thumb back at the portal with a smirk that promised destruction. "Show it to them first."

The Hecatoncheires erupted through the portal like living mountains. Their forms expanded to titanic proportions, each one the size of a peak, their hundred arms like twisted trees growing from stone walls. They had been bound, betrayed, forgotten—but they had never broken.

No words were needed. The time for talk had ended when Zeus cast them back into Tartarus after their victory over the Titans. The Hundred-Handed Ones lunged with the accumulated fury of eons, their massive forms blotting out the sky as they descended on Olympus’s summit.

The earth cracked beneath their weight. Their hundred arms moved in perfect, terrible synchronisation—fifty hands each seizing Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades while the remaining fifty pummeled them with blows that shook the foundations of reality. The three strongest Olympians found themselves wrapped in the embrace of primordial rage, dragged away from the main battle as the Hecatoncheires settled in for their long-awaited vengeance.

The shockwave from their landing threw the remaining gods sprawling. This was Adam’s moment.

Achilles flashed him a wink, his form already blurring as he moved faster than divine perception could follow. "Ares! Athena!" he called out, his voice carrying across the mountain like a war horn. "Let’s dance!"

Adam’s smile turned predatory as he surveyed his remaining targets: Artemis with her silver bow, Aphrodite already trying to activate her charms, Hephaestus’s eyes wide with shock at the assault, Demeter rising with wheat-gold fury, Dionysus sobering from his eternal wine-haze, Hermes’s wings already beginning to flutter for escape, and Hera’s eyes burning with queenly rage.

Following the oldest principle of warfare, Adam struck the weakest first. He teleported instantly to Aphrodite, appearing beside the goddess of love as she desperately tried to weave her enchantments. Her large eyes fluttered with divine beauty meant to ensnare any heart, her charm magic cascading over him like honey-sweet poison.

But Adam was immune—his authority as Sovereign of the Verdant Crown protecting his mind, his love for Luna making him faithful beyond any magical compulsion. Her magic slid off him like water off stone.

Aphrodite’s perfect features twisted in shock and fear as she realised her power held no sway. "Impossible—"

Adam’s god-slayer plasma blade swept in a perfect arc, its chaotic energy cleaving through divine flesh like it was mortal skin. The goddess of love and beauty fell in two pieces, her golden ichor painting the marble steps crimson.

Hephaestus’s scream of anguish echoed across Olympus—raw, primal grief for his beloved wife. The god of the forge raised his massive hammer, divine fire blazing around him, but his rage made him clumsy.

Adam was already moving, the hunt began in earnest. Seven gods remained, and the mountain would run red with ichor before the sun set on this day.

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