I Knew Something Like This Would Happen Someday
Waves crashed against the shore.
There, the boys—
No. To be precise—
One was a genuine young boy, and the other a young man who merely retained a boyish appearance. Both stood facing a single man, sword and spear in hand.
The man wore a black robe and held a massive scroll in one hand.
The god who governed fated death. Moros.
To look at them, it seemed for all the world like two children confronting a grown adult. Watching that scene, three goddesses—Thetis, Aphrodite, and Keres—had settled into their seats.
“Mmm, so who do you think will win?”
“Chew, chew. Even so, it’s two against one. Moros is strong, sure, but I still want to root for Big Brother and Ares.”
“Hmm…? Really? Honestly, I’d like to side with Ares and that blue one myself. But if I’m being cold about it, our Moros is going to win, don’t you think? Oh my, this is delicious.”
They chatted while munching on the eggplant fritters Hephaestus had made for them.
In an atmosphere that was pure popcorn-munching entertainment, the three of them were thoroughly invested.
“…Hmph… Not that it would matter. One of my arrows would end it either way.”
“…”
“Khh…”
At Aphrodite’s sudden mention of a memory the other two would rather not revisit, Thetis and Keres quietly averted their eyes.
While the “audience” chattered according to their own thoughts, the one who had truly orchestrated this entire situation—Hephaestus—watched with a gaze that was colder and far more analytical.
Strictly speaking, Moros still has the edge. Their combat experience is on completely different levels…
As he kept that thought in mind and observed, the three gods began drawing up their divine power at the same time.
“We go as planned.”
“Yes!”
At Nerites’s command, Ares immediately charged forward.
In one hand he gripped the steel sword his “big brother” Hephaestus had forged for him, closing the distance to Moros in an instant.
Right behind him, Nerites moved as well.
In his hands was the weapon the Cyclopes had given him during their past journey into Tartarus—a spear with two blades protruding, sealed by chains. Raising a fierce spray of seawater, he rushed Moros from the opposite direction of Ares.
Fierce attacks slamming in from left and right.
Despite their small appearances, these two could grind most Titans into dust without much trouble. Between them, Moros slowly adjusted his grip on the scroll.
And then—
Whoosh!
“KWA-BOOM!!!”
“!”
“Tch!”
The two struck almost simultaneously.
Yet Moros used his enormous scroll to block both attacks at once.
“Haaaaah!!!”
Ares swung his sword with even greater ferocity, while Nerites stabbed with his spear, desperately trying to find an opening.
Through it all, Moros continued his defense, batting every strike aside without fail.
“Yes! Just like that! Push him hard, Big Brother! Skewer the bastard right now!”
“…Kihiit! Don’t go easy on Moros—turn him into proper minced meat!”
It had started as a simple spar, but somewhere along the way it had turned into a pride match between Thetis and Keres.
The two cheered without restraint, tossing out remarks that would have been genuinely dangerous if the sparring partners weren’t immortal gods. Aphrodite, by contrast, was watching the fight with surprising seriousness.
“Hmm… It’s more evenly matched than I expected. Wouldn’t you say, Hephaestus?”
“No. Not at all. Not right now, at least.”
“…Oh? Why is that?”
“Because…”
I answered Aphrodite in a quiet voice.
On the surface it looked like a tightly contested battle.
But watching it, I could tell.
At this moment, the advantage still belonged to Moros.
“Haaaaah!! Ugh!”
“Damn it!”
Crack!!!!
Even against a perfectly coordinated pincer attack, Moros’s expression remained composed and unhurried.
His fighting style was fundamentally defensive: weather the storm, then exploit the openings that appeared to deliver heavy counterattacks.
In other words, successfully blocking these small strikes was simply him planting his feet one careful step at a time, preparing for his own decisive move.
That same style had once gotten him retired in a single blow back in Tartarus, when my overwhelming one-hit power punched straight through his defense. But against these two—who still couldn’t break through and were steadily losing stamina—Moros’s tactics felt like an unbreakable wall slowly closing the distance.
And then—
“!”
“Guh-haaack!”
The opening that finally appeared exacted a heavy price in an instant.
KWA-KWA-BOOM!
“B-Big Brother! Ares!”
“Kihiit! Just as I thought.”
Caught full force by Moros’s scroll, the two went tumbling across the ground.
The sand was soft, yet the impact was still severe enough that neither rose easily.
*
“Kh…”
“You okay, Ares?”
“Y-Yeah. This much is… just a broken right arm… What about you, Nerites hyung?”
“Me…? Just a few shattered ribs.”
“…Haha.”
Injuries that would have left any human incapable of laughter.
But for immortal gods, this was little more than a scratch.
Spit on it, lie down for a few minutes, and they’d be fine.
Of course, that didn’t change the fact that their combat power had taken a real hit in this spar.
“No choice… It’s still pretty rough, but…”
“A-Are you going to use it?”
“I’ll open the path… Find a way to make use of it.”
“…Yes. Hyung.”
With those words, Ares steeled his resolve and rose once more.
At the same time, Nerites placed his hand on the iron chains wrapping his spear.
And then—
Clink.
The chains snapped and fell to the sand.
In that same moment, the spear in Nerites’s grip began to change.
Originally it had only two blades.
But the instant the chains came free, a third blade that had been hidden revealed itself.
The Cyclopes’ greatest masterpiece, bearing three prongs.
It should have gone to someone else, yet the twisting of fate had placed it in Nerites’s hands. Its name was:
Triaina.
Known in English as the Trident—and to modern people most famously as Poseidon’s trident.
The moment that weapon, still too powerful for Nerites to fully control, was unleashed, Moros’s expression grew markedly more serious as he settled into a ready stance.
And then—
“Kh…”
Nerites barely managed to rein in the overflowing power and set his posture.
Blue lightning and swirling spray of water shook his injured body, yet he endured it and prepared a single decisive strike.
Then—
“Haaaaaaaaah!!!”
Tremendous water pressure erupted from beneath his feet.
His body shot forward like a spear hurled at Moros.
“!…Tch.”
Sharper than expected.
Even knowing it was coming, the attack was too fast to dodge. Moros’s brow furrowed slightly.
Crack!!!
Nerites’s spear slammed into Moros’s scroll.
Each heavy blow was on an entirely different level from before—enough to strain even Moros’s defense.
But—
“Not bad. Still not enough, though.”
“Kh!”
In the end, Nerites failed to break through. The recoil from using the Triaina drained his stamina at a frightening rate.
The brief, fierce offensive collapsed into a desperate defense, and defeat began to settle over Nerites’s face.
“It’s over.”
Moros raised his scroll to smash it down on Nerites’s head.
At that moment—
“Guh-hack!”
“…Heh.”
A sudden, crushing pain in his shoulder.
Blood sprayed as one arm was severed clean off.
From behind the startled Moros, Ares stood with a faintly exhilarated expression and called out to Hephaestus on the far side.
“Th-This much… how many points is that, hyungnim?”
“I’ll give you sixty.”
“Ah!”
“Hey, that’s stingy! Be a little more generous!”
Hephaestus answered with a smile.
Completely exhausted and sprawled on the ground, Nerites offered a small protest, yet a deep smile still spread across Ares’s lips.
A boyish, pure smile filled with simple joy and happiness.
*
“Khhhuuugh…”
Hera remained bound to the Golden Throne, unable to move an inch.
Once word of her plight finally reached them, various gods had returned to Olympus and tried to free her… yet not a single one had managed to get her off the Golden Throne.
“It’s no use… Even my power can’t put a scratch on it.”
“Not even you, Hades hyungnim?”
“What in the world is this thing…? And where did that Ares even get something like this…?”
The gods looked on in dismay as even the King of the Underworld threw up his hands.
Yet, separate from all that, Zeus merely clicked his tongue as he gazed at his restrained wife.
“I knew something like this would happen someday.”
“Ze-Zeus! How can you say that at a time like—kkuuh!”
The more Hera raged, the more fiercely the Golden Throne drank her divine power, flaring even brighter.
From a distance it almost looked magnificent—the Queen of the Gods seated upon a throne radiating glorious light. The irony that the one sitting there was in pure agony was not lost on the assembled deities.
Watching his thoroughly humiliated wife, Zeus felt the familiar throb in his skull and spoke with every ounce of accumulated feeling packed into his voice.
“That good-hearted boy Ares must have been pushed to the absolute limit to do something like this.”
“He truly reaped what he sowed.”
“I told her time and again. Keep that up and something big would happen one day.”
“I guarantee you—if she’d given Ares even one proper word of praise, none of this would have happened.”
“Uuuugh…”
Starting with Zeus, the gods each added their piece.
They had all been watching quietly from a step away, but every one of them had known.
Hera’s harsh child-rearing was bound to invite disaster someday.
No one had imagined it would take such a… creative form, but the catastrophe that had finally arrived was one long foretold.
Receiving not even a single proper word of comfort, Hera simply sat on the throne and wept.
Watching his youngest sister in that state, Hades let out a quiet sigh.
He agreed that she had brought this on herself and that a certain amount of punishment was only fair.
Still, as the eldest brother, simply standing by while his sister suffered was painful.
Especially since he knew the fuller story—more precisely, he knew where Ares, the one who could end this, currently was. The thought of freeing the suffering Hera crossed his mind.
But—
No… it’s still a bit early. It’s a pity, but Hera needs a sharp lesson this time so she can properly reflect…
Given everything she had done, a measure of educational discipline was necessary.
Deciding to leave her like that for a while so she could have time to come to her senses, Hades approached Zeus, who had been rubbing his temples for some time.
“Are you all right?”
“Mmm… My head hurts.”
“I can imagine. You already had enough on your plate without this blowing up.”
War, the management of the world, and now a family meltdown.
Feeling anew just how headache-inducing the throne of the King of the Gods truly was, Hades felt a small measure of relief that his own duties were limited to the Underworld.
And then—
“Ugh! My… my head… my head…!”
“…Zeus?”
In the next instant, Zeus clutched his head and collapsed to his knees.
Shock flashed across the faces of Hades and every god present.