Reborn As Hades In Olympus

Ch. 167: Shadows of Olympus

The days that followed were a blur of pain, confusion, and restless introspection. My body was weak, a fragile shell compared to the divine vessel I once inhabited. Muscles strained with every movement, and I could barely lift a hand without trembling. Mortality was cruel, far harsher than I remembered.

Jessie visited every day, her soft voice and warm touch an ever-present reminder of this new reality. She would recount stories of our past together— fishing trips, arguments over curfews, and holidays that seemed too perfect to belong to me. They felt foreign, like stolen memories from a life I could no longer claim.

But when she wasn't in the room, when the nurses weren't adjusting machines or administering medications, the weight of my failure consumed me.

I had been a god. A ruler. The caretaker of souls and the arbiter of death. Yet here I was, confined to a hospital bed, unable to even stand without assistance.

What had gone wrong?

I became a failure, that's what.

Each night, as the world outside fell silent, I stared at the ceiling, my mind racing. Fragments of Olympus flickered in my memory— the sound of Pandora's laughter, the cocky attitude of Talos, Aphrodite's knowing smirks, Hecate's gloom, Hermes light. My alliance, my purpose, Poseidon's betrayal...

Poseidon.

The name burned like a brand, filling me with equal parts rage and dread. I had underestimated him, and the cost was immeasurable.

But this wasn't the end. It couldn't be.

I clenched my fist weakly, the IV tugging at my skin. Somehow, someway, I would find a way back.

Three weeks later, I was released from the hospital. My legs wobbled beneath me as Jessie helped me into her car, the world outside blindingly bright and painfully real. The bustling streets, the laughter of children, the distant hum of traffic— it all felt so trivial compared to the grandeur of Olympus.

The apartment Jessie brought me to was modest, a far cry from the opulent halls of the underworld. The walls were adorned with photographs of people I barely recognized— Jessie as a child, a younger version of myself, and a woman who must have been my wife.

"Here we are," Jessie said, her tone forcedly cheerful as she guided me to the couch. "Home sweet home."

Home? This place was nothing more than a cage.

Come to think of it I had no memory of still owning a home, I always spent my time in the library that I practically started to live there.

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I sat stiffly, scanning the room. The television flickered with muted news reports, a mug of coffee sat forgotten on the kitchen counter, and the faint scent of lavender lingered in the air. It was all so... mundane.

Jessie sat beside me, her eyes filled with concern. "You okay, Dad?"

I nodded absently, though the answer was far from the truth.

As days turned into weeks, I began to piece together the fragments of my old life. Eugene Daniels had been a man of passion of greek mythology. He had a daughter that still loved him, a wife who despised him, his family hhad been full of mistakes he had made in his esrlier years.

But Eugene Daniels was dead.

I felt I had to acknowledge that fact for me to truly move forward. I still believed I was Hades and that I had no place in this world. It was the one thing that kept me from descending into madness.

No one would believe me if I explained that I had spent over centuries in a fictional world, they would think I was mad from reading too many greek mythology.

Because I believe it did not mean others would too

One evening, as Jessie slept in her room, I ventured into the small study at the back of the apartment. It was cluttered with old books, stacks of paper, and a laptop that hummed softly on the desk.

I sat down heavily, the chair creaking under my weight. My reflection in the darkened screen stared back at me— gaunt, hollow-eyed, and utterly human.

I powered on the laptop, my fingers clumsy on the keyboard. The internet was a strange and vast place, overwhelming in its scope. I searched for anything— any hint of Olympus, the gods, or the underworld-- thinking that perhaps there were clues hiding in plain sight but there was none. My frustration grew with every dead end.

No ancient texts, no myths, no whispers of divine intervention. It was as though the world I knew had been erased entirely. Or it never existed before.

But then, buried deep in an obscure forum, I found it.

A name.

Anox.

The word sent a chill down my spine. The traitor. The sorcerer. The one who had poisoned Olympus with his cursed black amber. His name wasn't supposed to exist in the mortal realm, yet here it was, buried in fragments of conspiracy theories and forgotten lore.

The posts were cryptic, referencing ancient rituals, hidden sanctuaries, and artifacts of power. One user claimed that Anox's magic had spilled into the mortal world, leaving behind remnants of his influence.

If that was true, if even a fraction of it was true, then it meant there was a way back.

I leaned closer to the screen, my heart pounding with renewed purpose.

An address caught my eye— a place called the

Erebus Archive

, located in the heart of a neighboring city. The post claimed it held records of forbidden knowledge, texts that predated human civilization.

It was a long shot, but it was all I had.

The next morning, I made my decision.

Jessie noticed immediately. "You're up early," she said, raising an eyebrow as I shuffled into the kitchen.

"I need to go out," I said bluntly.

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Out? Are you sure you're ready for that?"

"I'll manage."

She hesitated, clearly torn. "Where do you want to go? I can drive you."

"No," I said, perhaps too sharply. "This is something I need to do alone."

Jessie frowned, but she didn't press further. "Okay... Just be careful, Dad. I don't want you getting hurt again."

I nodded, feeling a pang of guilt. She was trying so hard to rebuild this connection, to restore the relationship she thought we had. But I couldn't let her get involved in this.

I smiled and gave her a warm hug that felt like the warmest I had felt in ages. "Don't worry I'll handle myself with care."

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She chuckled and said. "You must call me every ten minutes."

I suppressed the tears that were forming for no reason. "Roger that Cap'n Jess."

She laughed against, a laugh that warmed my heart.

By noon, I was on a bus headed for the city. The journey was long and uncomfortable, every bump in the road jarring my frail body. But I endured, clutching the scrap of paper with the address scribbled on it.

The Erebus Archive was hidden in a nondescript building at the edge of an industrial district. It really wasn't anything much, the air was filthy and unrefined , the people the same. Whenever I tried to get directions I always got replied like.

"Why don't ya go to heaven and ask for directions." Or. "What am I a gps?". Another response he got quite a lot was. "Go jump off a cliff." At a time he believed this to be an anthem here.

Eventually after a lot of curses and screw ups he finally found the place known as the Erebus Archive. Its exterior was worn and weathered, the sign above the door faded to near illegibility.

I reached for the door and knocked, there was no response to I opened it and stepped inside, the air thick with the scent of dust and aged paper. Rows upon rows of books stretched into the shadows, their spines marked with symbols and languages I barely recognized but that did not mean they had something to do with Olympus.

I noticed a counger where an old man sat, his face just as wrinkles as I was byt he had a more beared face with grey hair. He looked up as I approached, his eyes sharp and penetrating.

"Can I help you?" he asked, his voice low and measured.

"I'm looking for information," I said, keeping my tone steady. "About Anox."

The man stiffened, his gaze narrowing. "That name hasn't been spoken in centuries."

"Then you know of him," I pressed.

The old man studied me for a long moment before nodding. Then he laughed sarcastically. "Like hell I do, what are you crazy? It's just a story. You city people really believe every damn thing.

He led me deep into the archive, to a section shrouded in darkness. There, he pulled an ancient tome from the shelf, its cover etched with sigils that glowed faintly in the dim light.

"This is what you seek," he said, placing the book before me. "But be warned— knowledge of Anox comes at a price." Then he laughed again. "Just kidding, just watch out for the other kid, eh? He's a regular here, the poor boy really believes in all this nonsense."

The old man asked who I was before he left and I simply responded.

"I'm just your average everyday scholar." I have him a smile which he returned and left me to myself.

I opened the tome, my hands trembling. The pages were filled with intricate illustrations and passages in a language I barely understood. But one thing was clear: Anox's influence had not ended with Olympus.

His magic was here, in this world.

And if I could harness it, I could find my way back.

This was my chance. My redemption.

I would return to Olympus.

No matter the cost.