Two Days Later — Somewhere Under the Ashen Valley
So, picture this: the earth isn't just cracking, it's throwing a full-on tantrum. We're talking tectonic plates grinding and screaming, a whole valley splitting wide open like it wants to swallow the world. The air's thick, smells like burnt stone and old, angry magic. And right there, smack in the middle, is a gate. This thing isn't your average haunted mansion door. It's laced with red lightning, pulsing like it's got a heartbeat and serious blood pressure issues. Chains are wrapped around it, huge and mean, and, not to freak anyone out, but they're made from angel bones. Real subtle. The kind of detail that makes you wonder if the gods are just flexing or if they're actually worried.
The glyphs on the ground? Not just decoration. They're glowing, throbbing with this weird, buried agony, like every horror story you heard as a kid was true and now it wants out. If you listen, and I mean really listen, you could swear you hear them whispering. Or maybe that's just nerves. Either way, it's not a place you stumble into by accident.
> [New Dungeon: Aetharion's Tomb — Divine Lock Detected]
[Careful: Fallen Archangel Inside]
[Pro-tip: Authority Required to Break the Lock. Good luck, champ.]
Hades is just standing there at the edge of the crater, looking like he's seen all this before and honestly? Probably has. His coat's flapping in the hot wind, and next to him, Lirael looks pale—like she's half-expecting the ground to eat her next.
"They buried him alive," she breathes, voice barely there. "The first traitor. He taught mortals how to climb. Gave away the gods' cheat codes."
And Hades? He's got that look—the one that says he's about to start something nobody else has the guts for. "He's our key. The gods keep all the power for themselves, but if we wake him—well, that's the end of their little monopoly."
Snap, just like that, he raises his hand. The Mark of the Dungeon King blazes on his wrist, brighter than the sky. With a flick, the chains start to tremble, screaming like metal hates what's coming next. Then—bam—they snap, one by one, ringing out across the valley.
The sky doesn't like this. Clouds crowd in, thunder rolls, but it's not the normal kind. This is the gods throwing a fit, divine interference level: maximum drama.
---
Upstairs — Celestial Realm, Throne of Law
Meanwhile, the gods are losing their collective minds. The goddess of judgment gasps, actually gasps, clutching her pearls or whatever gods do up there.
"He's awakening the Tomb of Aetharion," she stammers.
"Impossible. That's triple-sealed," somebody pipes up, all high and mighty.
"Was triple-sealed," mutters the god of light, staring daggers at the wall.
Tension's thick. One of them slams his fist on the table—because apparently gods solve problems with table violence. "Send everyone. Executioners, Heavenblades, Valkyries, your dog if you have to."
But the Prime God? Dead silent. That's the thing—they all remember the last time Hades came knocking. And who gave in first. Hint: it wasn't Hades.
---
Underworld — Inside the Tomb
Seals break with a sound that's half agony, half relief. The tomb's doors don't just open—they wail. Light pours out, but not the nice, hopeful kind. This light is cold, sharp, and it slices through the shadows.
Suddenly, a massive figure lurches out, chained at wrists and wings. Silver feathers, all rusted and broken, drag the ground. The whole tomb shakes with his rage. His eyes? Burning. His voice? Like a cathedral bell cracked during an earthquake.
> "Who wakes me from silence?"
"Who dares speak my name after all this time?"
Hades steps up, not a hint of fear. "Vox Mortem. Dungeon King. Used to be mortal, now I'm the guy your old bosses can't shut up."
Aetharion pauses, studying him. There's something old and sharp in his stare, like he's measuring Hades' soul.
"You. The survivor. The one with too good a memory."
> "I remember everything," Hades snaps back. "Especially the lies."
Chains fall away, clattering. Dust rises. And then—wild—Aetharion kneels. An archangel, kneeling. That's not something you see every day.
> [Ally Unlocked: Aetharion — Fallen Archangel, Bringer of Flame and Ruin]
[Dungeon War Activated: Two out of Ten Locks Broken]
---
Meanwhile — Mortal Realm
Whole world's starting to twitch. Up north, the Knights of the Crucible catch the scent of resurrection magic and immediately start sharpening their swords. These guys don't do subtle. In the desert, the Seraphim Engine—some ancient, half-mythical machine—starts humming, gears grinding after centuries asleep. People start whispering, and nobody sleeps easy.
And out east? There's this girl in chains, blindfolded, skin dusted with ash. She just grins, like she's been waiting for this chaos her whole life.
"He's coming," she whispers, almost giddy. "He's really coming."
---
Back in the Dungeon
Aetharion's voice shakes the stones. "They'll come, Vox. Every god, every traitor, every realmkeeper with something to lose."
Hades just cracks his neck, like he's been waiting for this fight. "Let 'em come."
> "Let the Dungeon Wars begin."
He turns to Lirael, eyes gone full silver—Underworld fire in every glance. "We march tonight. North. Labyrinth of Eyes. We need the Seer Queen, the Maw Drake—hell, the whole freakshow."
"And after that?" Lirael pushes, voice soft but determined.
"We take the System Core. Where gods play editor with fate."
"And then?" she asks again, barely above a whisper.
He turns, staring out at the dark sky, the weight of a thousand rebellions in his bones.
> "Then I'll write my own fate. With my own damn hand."
And just like that, the world tilts. The gods are on notice, the old powers are stirring, and for the first time in eons, maybe—just maybe—the rules are about to change.