Chapter Eleven: Avatar


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    “This next part is important, Chosen,” Hades said, his tone heavy. “A god is bound by certain rules. Rules between the gods. We call them the Golden Accords. One of these limits the amount of power we may grant to our Chosen. Each god can only grant a fraction of their tokens—their divine power—based on how many followers we have and how many serve directly under our banner. However, it doesn’t matter how many Chosen a god has. The power granted is divided among them all… equally.”


    Jace furrowed his brow, trying to piece it together. “Kind of like the conservation of ninjitsu?” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching as he recalled grainy action movies watched on battered VHS tapes with his brother.


    Hades arched a brow. “The what?”


    “It’s this old rule from action movies,” Jace explained, his tone light despite the somber atmosphere. “The more enemies there are, the weaker they all seem. But when there’s only one enemy? That one enemy gets all the juice—all the ninjitsu.”


    Hades tilted his head, considering the odd analogy, then gave a slow nod. “I suppose, in a sense, yes. The conservation of… ninjitsu.” The faintest hint of a smile touched Persephone’s lips as she glanced at her husband. “Because you are my only Chosen, I can afford certain leniencies with the power I grant you.”


    Jace’s eyes widened slightly. “This is huge. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”


    Hades’ expression darkened, the humor vanishing like a shadow under harsh light. “Because the power I can grant doesn’t come without strings, boy. You’ve had a taste of it already. Surely, you’ve begun to notice the effects.”


    Jace frowned, his mind flickering back to moments when his abilities had felt… different. Unnatural, almost. He nodded subtly.


    Hades nodded, his gaze piercing. “The powers of the Underworld are not to be taken lightly. Too much, too soon, and they will leave their mark on you. They can taint your journey, warp your Affinities. Gods who are wise,” his gaze flicked toward Persephone, “are careful with their gifts. When I made you my Chosen, I granted you small boons to aid you on your path, but even those have altered how your Affinities developed. Have you noticed anything… unusual about your abilities?”


    Jace hesitated before nodding. “There’s one thing. It doesn’t fit with anything else I’ve learned. I can… absorb the aether from beings I kill.”


    Hades’ eyes flickered with surprise, though he quickly masked it. “I see,” he murmured, leaning back in his throne. “This is… something I have encountered before. Though, only once.”


    “With my father?” Jace asked, his voice sharpening.


    “Yes,” Hades said simply. “The ability itself is neither good nor evil. It’s a tool, nothing more. But it is potent. You’re tapping into the aether directly, Jason. Most mortals do this unconsciously when they gain experience—EXP, as you call it. But you…” He paused. “You’re doing it intentionally. With enough mastery, you may siphon far more than your peers. Ten times the energy, perhaps even enough to absorb the strength of a creature without having to kill it outright.”


    Jace’s mouth went dry, his mind racing. “And my Soul Tether ability,” he said after a moment. “When I connect to a creature, I can pull some of its attributes. When I tethered to a hydra, I gained part of its healing factor.”


    Hades inclined his head, his expression grave. “Exactly. These changes might have come naturally, but my boons have amplified them, weaving into the fabric of your abilities. The more I grant you, the more pronounced these changes will become. Even so…” His voice trailed off, his eyes narrowing as he studied Jace. “Given what lies ahead, you may need them.”


    “What do you mean?” Jace asked, his voice quiet but steady.


    “The territory you’re entering is neutral ground among the gods,” Hades said, leaning forward. “You will face scrutiny—intense scrutiny. Many will see you just as my only Chosen, my single representative in these games. And single means more dangerous. Some will resent that. Some will want you dead.”


    Jace tensed, his fists clenching. “I can handle myself.”


    Hades’ lips twisted into a faint, humorless smile. “You’ll have to. While you’ll carry the abilities my boons have awakened, you must be ready to fight without my direct intervention. There are… old wounds that haven’t quite closed between me and some of my counterparts. For that reason, my aid will be limited. And once you step into the Tower, all gods—myself included—will be cut off entirely.”


    Jace nodded, the gravity of the situation settling over him like a heavy mantle. “I understand.”


    “Do you? With great power, Jace, comes something else.”


    “Like, responsibility?” Jace asked, tilting his head.


    Hades stared at him, unblinking. “What? No. Who said anything about responsibility?” His voice carried a faint ripple of disdain, like the idea itself was offensive. “No, this kind of power exacts a cost—one far graver than you realize. Take too much, too soon, and it will twist the very core of who you are, altering your path forever. Your abilities won’t just grow; they’ll bind you more tightly to the Underworld. To me.”


    His voice was barely more than a breath, swallowed whole by the responsibility of the Underworld. “Care to elaborate? I mean, I’m all for ominous and vague warnings but not sure I can do much with them.”


    Pride danced in his eyes, subtle but unmistakable, the kind a warrior might show to a recruit who hadn’t yet flinched.


    “This power isn’t a gift—it’s a trade, and it always demands its toll,” Hades said, his voice flat, unyielding, and cold enough to make the air feel heavier. “You’ll have allies, people you think you can lean on. But trust them sparingly. The gods, Jace… the gods play games within games. They will move you like a pawn, manipulate you, twist you until you’re nothing more than a piece to be sacrificed. If you let them.”


    He paused, his dark eyes locking onto Jace’s. “I’ll do what I can to strengthen you against them. To make you something more than just a piece on their board. But don’t fool yourself—I might break you in the process. You mortals, even the so-called long-lived ones, are so… fragile.”


    The word hung in the air like a blade over Jace’s head.


    “Now kneel, Chosen, and I’ll bestow the gift.”


    The pressure hit like a physical force, a weight pressing down on Jace’s shoulders, urging him to kneel. But something deep inside him—the stubborn, rebellious core that had carried him this far—rose up in defiance.


    “Kneeling seems a bit… old-fashioned, doesn’t it?” Jace said, forcing his voice to stay steady, though his knees trembled.


    Hades raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement ghosting across his face. “I daresay your stubbornness will either be the end or the making of you, Jason. But fine. It was mostly to keep you from falling on your ass, anyway. So, have it your way.”


    Hades is attempting to forcibly evolve several of your abilities.


    Accept | Reject


    Jace chose Accept.


    And then it hit.


    A surge of darkness and twilight erupted from Hades’ hands, spilling out like a tidal wave of shadow and raw power. The force struck Jace square in the chest, slamming him to the floor. The world around him twisted, folded, and shattered in flashes of black and violet light.


    This was it—the precipice, the moment where everything changed. The last fragile thread tethering him to the life he once knew frayed, snapped, and was consumed in the void.


    The power roared into him, not as a gentle tide but as a hurricane, tearing through him with reckless abandon. It unmade him—dissolving every barrier, every wall he’d built around himself—before knitting him back together in ways he couldn’t comprehend. He gasped, his lungs burning, the pain both a wound and a revelation, feeding on each other like two serpents swallowing their tails.


    For a fleeting, brilliant moment, the world shattered open before him. He saw it not as a man, but as something more. The intricate web of existence unraveled in his mind—threads of light and shadow twisting together in impossible patterns. Life and death, magic and matter, all bound together in a tapestry so breathtaking it ached to look upon it. His mortal mind buckled, barely able to hold the understanding, and for an instant, he thought he might break. Blood poured from Jaces nose and eyes.


    He felt himself shifting backward, as if untethered from the confines of his body. Two feet, three, five, ten—until he was hovering above it all, looking down on Hades, Persephone, and… himself. But not himself. His body.


    For the first time, he truly felt the divide, the line that separated what he was from his physical form. The thing that had traveled across universes, shedding layers like old skin. The him that was the real him—the essence, the core—floated apart, weightless and vast, as if it had always been waiting to break free.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    And then, just as suddenly as it began, it ended.


    Jace crumpled to the cold stone floor, his knees striking hard enough to send jolts of pain up his legs. He gasped for air, clawing it back into his lungs, his body trembling violently with the aftershocks of the power that had coursed through him.


    Jace raised his head, his body still trembling. His voice, when it came, was hoarse but steady. “I should’ve kneeled.”


    Hades stepped forward, his towering shadow blanketing Jace’s collapsed form. The god’s voice was a steady rumble, heavier now, more tangible. “As my followers grow, so too will your power. A fragment of what they give will feed your abilities. And as your own capabilities expand—your capacity to wield this energy—I will grant you more. But make no mistake, Jace. It must be earned. Prove yourself worthy of it.”


    Jace blinked, his vision swimming, just as the interface flared in his mind, its cold, sterile pings cutting through the haze like distant bells.


    Jace felt the changes surging through him, raw and unrelenting. The power coursed through his veins, igniting every nerve, every cell, until it felt like his very essence was being rewritten. The shift was undeniable, a fundamental reordering of what he was and what he could be.


    His senses sharpened, the world around him snapping into vivid, almost overwhelming clarity. He could hear the faint hum of energy in the air, feel the subtle vibrations in the ground beneath him, as if the earth itself was alive and speaking. His muscles coiled with newfound strength, power humming beneath his skin, ready to explode at a thought.


    His mind was faster, sharper, as if a veil had been lifted. Ideas, connections, realizations—they all came in a rush, like floodgates thrown wide open. He wasn’t just stronger—he was more.


    It was as if the pathways of his aether had been pushed open and realigned, energy flowing in directions it had never before.


    A series of system notifications flashed before his eyes.


    System Notification:


    Soul Step has been forcibly evolved by Hades.


    Soul Step has merged with Soul Walk to form a new ability.


    All merged abilities will be removed from your abilities list.


    New Ability: Shift


    Soul Sense has been forcibly evolved by Hades.


    The evolution has been altered by the Word of Power: Truth.


    Soul Sense has absorbed the following abilities:


    Universal Lore


    Soul Detection


    Knowledge Absorption


    These enhancements have resulted in the creation of a new ability: Truthsense.


    Soul Bind has been forcibly evolved by Hades.


    Soul Bind has merged with:


    Soul Tether


    Aetheric Absorption


    Soul Severance


    The resulting new ability is: Chains of Oblivion.


    Shadow Cloak has been forcibly evolved by Hades.


    Shadow Cloak has absorbed the effects of:


    Iron Stomach


    Resistance to Death


    Mostly Dead


    No Pain, No Gain


    Soul Mend


    The evolution has resulted in a new ability: Etheric Shroud.


    Additional abilities gained:


    Veil of the Underworld


    Rebirth Anchor


    Shadespeak


    Looks like someone just got a serious upgrade, amigo. Hades must really like you. And hey, you didn’t even puke or respawn from the strain! — Jack


    Hades watched Jace with an unreadable intensity, his gaze tinged with something that might have been concern—or perhaps expectation. Jace returned the look, feeling the faintest sway of dizziness but otherwise steady. He flexed his fingers, trying to focus through the lingering haze in his mind. He felt fine enough, but unease crept in at the edges, gnawing at him. His abilities had been reshaped, some erased entirely. What had he lost? What had been consumed in the process?


    The thought barely took root before his stomach turned violently. Without warning, Jace doubled over and vomited with all the force of someone expelling more than just a bad meal. His body seemed to rebel against him, and he barely registered Hades stepping back with a flicker of distaste.


    A few minutes later, the mess was gone, whisked away by ethereal spirits who worked with a brisk efficiency that left Jace clean but humiliated. He sat back, his breathing steadying, the faint hum of residual energy crawling under his skin.


    The interface hovered before him, its sharp glow throwing his reflection into faint relief. Jace stared at the words, but they blurred in and out of focus, eclipsed by the sheer magnitude of what had just happened. Jack’s note at the bottom caught his eye, its irreverent tone almost comforting in its familiarity.


    Looks like someone just got a serious upgrade, amigo. Hades must really like you. And hey, no puking this time—progress!


    Jace let out a humorless chuckle, wiping at the corners of his mouth as he muttered, “Not this time, Jack. You jinxed it.”


    His gaze flicked back to Hades, who remained motionless, observing him with an expression that was hard to place. The god’s features were carved with an almost sculptural precision, and yet his eyes seemed to carry an emotion just shy of kindness—though not quite unkind. It was the look of someone waiting for something to happen.


    Jace’s attention drifted back to the interface, the words sharpening as he forced himself to focus. The list of abilities loomed before him, new names etched in with eerie finality. For now, though, he dismissed it, deciding to delve into the details later, when he could process it alone.


    “Now, if you’ll excuse me, you’ve got new powers to master, and I have matters that require my attention.” With a deliberate sweep of his cloak, he turned, his shadow curling behind him like a living entity slipping back into the dark.


    Persephone watched in silence, her expression unreadable, a statue carved from something more timeless than stone.


    Just before disappearing from sight, Hades called back over his shoulder. “Oh, and don’t muff it up, kid. All eyes are on you.”


    And then he was gone.


    Jace pushed himself to his feet, legs trembling under the burden of divinity, his breath still coming in ragged gasps. The ache in his muscles wasn’t just exhaustion—it was the strain of holding something far greater than he was meant to.


    The journey back to the dock felt longer and when he arrived, the dock was empty—no boat in sight.


    “Figures,” Jace muttered under his breath. He looked out over the still, black water stretching infinitely into the unknown.


    A sudden glow lit the corner of his vision. A small, vibrant green ball of light darted toward him, zipping in erratic circles before hovering a few feet away.


    “Pik,” Jace said softly, feeling a surge of unexpected joy. “Been a while. How in Terra Mythica are you?”


    Pik buzzed, the sound somewhere between an over-wound violin string and a laugh too eager to hold back. It bobbed up and down, radiating energy that practically screamed hello.


    Jace tilted his head, studying the little creature. “You know what’s odd… I think I knew you,” he said, his voice quieter now, tinged with something close to awe. “Back when I was a baby, right?”


    The light flared briefly, bouncing in a way that felt suspiciously like a nod.


    Jace exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair. “How do I know? No, no one told me. It’s just—my Truth Affinity—it’s like I get flashes, pieces of stuff I shouldn’t know. Memories I shouldn’t have. It’s like trying to watch a puzzle assemble itself while someone keeps flipping the pieces upside down.”


    Pik buzzed again, this time with a deeper vibration, and for a moment, Jace felt it—a rush of images, sensations, and emotions flooding his mind, like someone whispering a story directly into his thoughts. It wasn’t words, exactly, but it was clear. The concept that came back was friend and something about an offer to help.


    His brow furrowed, and he leaned closer. “Hold on… Did I just understand you?”


    The buzzing shifted, sharper now, almost like laughter. Jace’s lips twitched into a half-smile, a mix of disbelief and amusement.


    “Well, that’s new. You’ve been holding out on me, haven’t you, Pik? Or is it my new abilities?”


    Pik’s glow pulsed in a way that was undeniably cheeky. Jace chuckled, shaking his head, the warmth of ease settling over him.


    But, the moment didn’t last.


    A subtle movement tugged at the corner of his vision, a shadow stirring where no shadow should be. His amusement drained away, replaced by instinct as his hand snapped to his sword. The blade whispered free, its edge gleaming in the faint light.


    For a heartbeat, it felt like control. A burst of light spread through the hilt, and then—just like that—control was gone. Flowers sprouted along the blade’s edge, delicate blossoms of pink and white climbing the steel like ivy, soft and completely useless.


    Jace blinked at the floral betrayal, then at Pik, whose glow had dimmed to something suspiciously akin to embarrassment. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, the shadow creeping closer.


    Laughter rang out, soft and musical. “Grayson,” Persephone said, stepping from the shadows, her golden hair catching the faint light like a halo.


    Jace sighed, lowering the flower-covered sword. “Perseph,” he replied with a tilt of his head, his voice dry. “Nice trick.”


    Her lips quirked in amusement. “Perseph?” she repeated, her tone curious.


    “What?” Jace shrugged, the picture of nonchalance. “You gods get to call me whatever you want—Jason, Grayson, yadda yadda. So, fair’s fair. I get to hand out nicknames too. Now, what’s the deal? Here to try and sucker me into another quest? Because spoiler alert—I’m not so easy to manipulate these days.”


    She arched a brow, her expression teetering between amusement and mild annoyance, but ultimately let it slide. “No tricks, no manipulation,” she replied, her voice smooth and lilting, but with an edge sharp enough to draw blood. “I came to offer advice. Take it or don’t—that part is up to you.”


    “Oh?” Jace crossed his arms, his wariness plain. “And what’s the catch?”


    “No catch.” Her gaze softened, though it still held its unyielding edge. “In what’s to come, remember your friends. They will be your greatest strength.”


    Her voice dropped, quieter now, but carrying a gravity that seemed to settle into the marrow of his bones. “Sometimes, the darkness is not your enemy but your ally. And remember, Grayson, that the largest tree grows from the smallest seed.”


    She raised her hand, and a small pinprick of light appeared between her fingers. It hovered there, glowing faintly, before she released it. The light drifted downward, touching the ground and sprouting into a tiny tree, its branches glowing with a radiant warmth that filled the space for a fleeting moment. Then it vanished, the light fading into nothingness.


    As did Persephone.


    “Great,” Jace muttered, throwing his hands in the air. “Just once—once—I’d like to have a chat with a god and skip the whole riddle routine. Is that too much to ask?“ He shook his head, frustration simmering beneath his breath.


    He stared at the spot where Persephone had stood moments ago, now empty as if she’d never been there.


    From the shadows at the water’s edge, Bob emerged with his rickety old boat, the skeletal ferryman framed against the dim, eerie glow of the underworld.


    Of course.


    Jace let out a long sigh and climbed into the boat, casting a side-eye at Bob. “Oh, don’t even start, Bob. I know you were out there in the dark, biding your time, stalling me for Persephone.”


    Bob didn’t speak.


    Jace groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Yeah, thought so. And here I was, thinking we were bros, Bob. Bros don’t leave bros hanging like that.”


    Bob’s shoulders twitched, a motion so slight it could almost be mistaken for a shrug.


    By the time Jace reached his quarters in the Fields Below, the faint pink dust from the flowers had disappeared, leaving no trace.


    Jace could still feel it, lingering beneath his skin—the power, the gift—a reminder of what had changed and the brittle humanity he fought to hold onto. A gift in preparation for whatever was coming tomorrow.


    Tomorrow. The word hung in the air, neither promise nor threat, just a certainty.


    Tomorrow, everything would change.