I Will Protect You
“It's done. Let's head back.”
“Didn't go well, I take it?”
Ares strode out with open confidence, leaving the Golden Throne behind him. The woman in the black robe who had drawn the cart asked in a quiet voice,
“No. In a way, it went better than I could have hoped. Now I know her true nature beyond any doubt—that she never saw me as anything more than a tool.”
“Hmm~ Is that so? Well then… that worked out rather nicely.”
Her voice carried a thick note of interest. Without the slightest hesitation the two of them set off toward the exit of Olympus.
At that moment—
“Hm? Ares, where do you think you're going?”
“!”
“…U-Uncle.”
A man they happened to meet near the gate. Ares's uncle, the king of the underworld—Hades.
Ares faltered, searching for the right words.
Then—
“Good heavens… what happened to your face already… Don't tell me Hera struck you again?”
“…Yes.”
Hades touched the still-swollen cheek with a bitter expression. The gentle weight of his hand left Ares only able to fidget awkwardly.
“Honestly… when will that foul temper of hers ever improve… It seems I will have to speak with her myself.”
“! N-No, Lord Hades, I—”
“Don't refuse. I'll go right now and—”
As Ares's uncle and Hera's elder brother, Hades was ready to take responsibility. But for a boy who had only just decided to run away, the offer was nothing but a crushing burden.
Then—
“Forgive the interruption… but I would ask you to hold off on that, Lord Hades.”
“Hm? And who are you…!!”
In that instant the woman casually pushed back her hood and revealed her face. The moment Hades saw it, his expression froze solid.
“A… Ah… Y-You… how are you here…”
“Keres, goddess of violent death, greets the king of the underworld. It has been some time, Lord Hades.”
“…”
Keres, the cruel goddess of death. Even Hades, lord of the underworld, knew her well—the strongest and most terrible among the death gods. He also knew that ever since Hephaestus had defeated Tartarus, she had begun to walk the surface world.
The problem was why she was here on Olympus at all… and why she was with Ares.
“You… what is your purpose? Don't tell me—”
“Ah, please don't misunderstand. I merely happened to meet this child and decided to help him.”
“What do you mean… why would you help Ares?”
“Surely you already know the reason without my saying it? Especially you.”
“?..! Ah.”
The words brought to mind the nature of Ares's and Keres's divinities. Come to think of it, it was not strange at all for the goddess of cruel death to walk beside the god of war. War itself was the act of creating cruel death.
Though the gods and Titans who led this great war were immortal, death inevitably bloomed among the nymphs who followed them and the humans of the surface world caught in the middle.
“In that sense, I have been at this fine child's side for some time now, harvesting souls and sending them to the underworld. You already know that part well, don't you? After all, you yourself are the one who handles them, Lord Hades.”
“Mmm… that… is true, but…”
As king of the underworld he had processed the dead until he was sick of it, so of course he knew. Keres's foul personality still grated, yet the perfectly reasonable excuse of “divine duty” forced Hades to accept the picture of his nephew standing with the goddess of death.
Sensing that the tension had eased, Keres put on a look of pure pity and gently stroked Ares's head as she spoke.
“Yet I hear that a child of such splendid talent is constantly abused by his own mother. The tale moved me to tears, so I had no choice but to follow him all the way to Olympus.”
“…”
Keres's words dripped with heartfelt sorrow. The expression on Hades's face, however, clearly said, What the hell is this crazy bitch babbling about?
“I'm sorry, but that part sounds like a complete lie.”
“Heh heh, does it? What a shame. In any case, as a fellow professional I decided to offer this child a little help. That is why I climbed all the way up to this stifling Olympus.”
“Help?”
Hades frowned slightly. The goddess of death answered with a smile full of keen interest.
“Well… you'll learn the details soon enough. For now, the two of us will be going.”
“Wait—where do you think you're taking him? Ares only just returned home.”
“You'll learn that reason soon enough as well. Ah, and rest assured this is no kidnapping. I am merely providing a place to take shelter while the arrows of rain are falling.”
With those words Keres held out a small scroll. Looking thoroughly uneasy, Hades nevertheless accepted it.
“The place where we will be staying is written inside. If you have business with us later, come find us there. Come along, little one.”
“A… A-All right. Then, Uncle, I'll be going…”
Ares bowed politely to Hades and left with Keres. Watching them go, Hades debated until the last moment whether he should stop his nephew—yet in the end he let the boy walk away.
Well… given Hera's personality, keeping his head down for a while is probably the smart move.
The boy had barely returned from the battlefield only to be slapped by his mother instead of comforted. Hades knew better than anyone how much the child had suffered under that impossible woman, so he could understand why Ares would now call “running away” a temporary refuge.
Besides, crazy as she was, Keres was a powerhouse even Hades had to acknowledge. She could casually carve up ordinary Titans, so if she stayed at the boy's side during his flight, that was at least somewhat reassuring.
And that woman wouldn't try to deceive me over something this small…
In modern terms, Hades the king of the underworld and the death gods were like a corporate chairman and the presidents of his subcontractors. Even if the subcontractors were super-powered underdogs, a clear hierarchy still existed, and while they might trade jokes, professional trust remained intact.
Gazing at the scroll that listed the “shelter,” Hades decided to look the other way for the time being. He never realized that his silence had effectively become permission. He simply returned to his own domain, the underworld—unaware that, at that very moment, a brilliant lighthouse had begun to shine inside Olympus.
“So it ended up that way after all.”
“Yes. You were right, Lord Hephaestus. Mother… that woman… she never saw me as anything but a tool. I suspected it, but even in a situation like that she still…”
“Mmm…”
Ares's words were heavy with disappointment. And that disappointment was not his alone—it settled on me as well.
Honestly, when I sent Ares back to Olympus I had given him only even odds of returning. Hera had shown plenty of shortcomings, and the stories I had already heard were pure trash-tier parenting, yet I had still hoped she might at least keep the bare minimum of a mother's duty.
If she had simply welcomed the boy home with warmth, soothed the wounds in his heart, and mended their relationship even a little, I would have been content. I would have taught him the basics of being a real man and then let my still-young brother stay where he could receive a mother's love. After all, to a child a mother is practically a god.
But Hera's actions shattered that hope completely. Even then she only criticized her son. Instead of cradling his pain she dug the knife in deeper. And so she received the “gift” I had forged while praying I would never have to use it—the gift crafted by her son's hands and delivered by her son's hands. At this very moment she sat bound to the Golden Throne, transformed into a brilliant lighthouse shining over Olympus… or rather, a warp beacon.
For the record, this was not solely my idea. In the original myths Hephaestus, furious at the mother who abandoned him, gifted her a golden throne that trapped her. Later, seeing her weep upon it, his heart softened; he freed her and forgave her, and the story ended on a warm, fuzzy note…
I had no intention of writing any such soft-hearted ending. Hera had already disappointed me enough, and on top of that she had abused my little brother. To borrow the original phrasing, that “dog-faced mother of mine” (Iliad 18.396) needed to spend a good long while bound there, reflecting on her sins.
Having decided to ignore the matter for the time being, I looked at Ares sitting before me. The boy kept silent, face dark. A pitiful child who, at such a young age, had already seen the ugliness of his own mother. He had begun to forge his own convictions and will, yet he still needed care and help.
“Are you afraid?”
“…Yes, Lord Hephaestus.”
Ares answered softly. I laid my hand on his head and stroked it slowly as I spoke in a quiet voice.
“Don't worry. I will protect you.”
“!...”
Surprise bloomed across Ares's face the instant he heard the words.
“…R-Really…? Will you truly… protect me, Lord Hephaestus…?”
His voice held worry, doubt, and hope all at once. Looking straight at him, I answered with clear, unshakable sincerity.
“From now on, call me big brother.”