The God of Underworld
Chapter 109 - 9: Memories

The scratching of the quill against parchment had long become a rhythm in the underworld—a quiet, relentless sound in the dim golden chamber beneath the Hanging Fortress of Pluto.

Hades, King of the Dead, Lord of the Spirits, sat in silence, his dark robes flowing around him like living shadows.

In his hand, a bronze-feathered quill moved across a scroll documenting soul intake statistics, border disputes in the Inner Sections, and temple offerings from the surface world.

He paused, eyes drifting upward—not toward anything specific, but into a corner of the ceiling where no one ever stood. His thoughts wandered.

"I wonder if she's still playing. Those two better return her before dinner."

That 'she' that he's talking about is his daughter.

The little one who had sprung into his world like a star in the night, radiant and curious.

She was supposed to be with Hera and Aphrodite today, playing in the blooming gardens of the Underworld's Core Section, where divine spirits had shaped a miniature paradise.

He smiled faintly. Hera would teach her posture. Aphrodite would likely spoil her with honeyed fruit and flowing silks.

Hades can already imagine Hera being the strict but kind aunt, and Aphrodite being the indulgent and playful aunt.

His smile, however, was brief.

A sound interrupted the stillness—a ripple in the veil. Before he could glance up, a voice pierced the silence.

"Lord Hades."

He didn't flinch. He never did. His eyes on his work, doing his job.

"Hecate," he said, setting the quill aside, "you enter unannounced. How...unlike you. You aren't one to act so disrespectful to me."

"Apologies, but I came with unrest." she replied.

Her form emerged from the flickering shadow near the corner of the hall—tall, pale, her cloak dark as the night, her lamp flickering .

Her eyes—serene yet sharp—bore a strange urgency today.

Hades gestured toward a chair carved from obsidian. "Sit, then. Share your unrest."

She did not.

Instead, she stepped forward, putting her hands on Hades' desk. "We have… received souls lately. Quite a number of them."

"That's... everyday." he replied. "Mortals die, Hecate. It is the one constant."

"These are not like others," she continued. "Some were executed as heretics. Others died as outcasts. But all of them—every single one—possessed knowledge that should not exist."

He arched a brow. "You'll need to be more specific. Knowledge of what? War? Magic?"

"No," she said softly. "They talk about weird things to complicate numbers by adding alphabets. They even spoke of things called atoms, and of stars that were not gods but balls of burning gas. Some died trying to build things—something called engines, turbines, machines. They even tried to teach others, but most were killed for it."

Hades leaned back slightly. "Then they were simply… visionaries...or delusional, take your pick."

"No," she said, voice now tinged with something rare in Hecate, uncertainty. "It's wrong. It feels wrong. Not divine inspiration. Not Prometheus' flame. Something else."

The shadows in the chamber grew longer.

Hades studied her carefully, then sighed.

"Take me to them," he said, standing slowly. "If your instincts are stirred, then it is worth a look."

*

*

*

They descended into the deeper vaults of the Underworld, through spiraling black stairs and gates carved from the bones of dead stars.

Eventually, they emerged on the banks of the River Lethe, where memory came to drown.

The waters shimmered silver-blue beneath a starless sky.

Mist curled upward from the currents like whispering spirits.

Lethe, the goddess of forgetfulness, stood knee-deep in her waters, brushing her fingers along the surface.

When she saw them, she smiled faintly.

"My king," she said, bowing slightly.

"Hecate says you've been busy," Hades murmured.

Lethe nodded, her expression unreadable. "These souls… they do not wish to forget. Even after the touch of my river, some fragments remain. As if their memories do not belong to this world, and thus… cannot be erased."

Hades frowned. "Show me."

Lethe raised her hand, and the river shifted.

Dozens of floating memory-fragments emerged from the waters—small orbs of light, each flickering with visions, equations, sounds, and diagrams.

They began to pass before Hades, one by one.

A man drawing a parabola, speaking of gravity not as a divine force, but as curvature of space-time.

A woman designing a turbine powered by water pressure, speaking of energy conservation.

A child naming elements by number and weight, long before alchemy had even become a whisper in the minds of men.

Hades stared at them in a daze, as if his mind was trying to process a forgotten memory.

And then—

A chalkboard.

An old, grey classroom.

An argument with a professor.

A textbook filled with dense formulas.

A memory of being late for exams.

A memory of wearing fabric that didn't exist in this world.

A memory lf walking under electric lights.

Hades stepped back, eyes widening—not in fear, but in recognition.

The symbols.

The words.

They were not foreign to him. They were not mystical, or divine. He had once written them. Long, long ago.

"This... this is calculus," he muttered. "Trigonometry. Electromagnetism. The standard model. Quarks. Bosons…"

His voice grew quiet.

At this moment, he remembered.

A lecture hall. A cool afternoon. Books clutched in his hands. A city of glass and steel. Skyscrapers. Airplanes. Earth.

Before he became Hades, he had been a man.

Not a god.

A student.

A mortal.

He had died, he remembered...or did he? He didn't know how he ended up here, or he how he became Hades.

He was sure that he was on...

No.

He couldn't remember. It was foggy. Faint. Buried beneath layers of divine power and rebirth. But the memories now stirred like hornets.

He had known this world. The modern world. And so had these souls.

Hecate was watching him closely now, her expression worried, "My lord, is something the matter? Are you unwell?"

Hades snapped out of his thoughts and stared at Hecate, shaking his bead slowly. "Y-Yeah, I'm fine."

Lethe, her voice gentle, asked, "Shoul I stop? It seems like looking at these memories made you uncomfortable, my king."

Hades turned to face the river, the flickering memories still hanging in the air. "No need. I was just surprised. It seems like these souls aren't supposed to exist. Or rather, they aren't supposed to be born yet."

Hecate's eyes narrowed. "Are you saying, they are Souls… that should've been born in the future?"

"Maybe." Hades replied, voice like thunder now. "But they could also be souls from another world entirely. Perhaps… another universe, brought here by someone...or something."

He looked to the sky, though there was none, and felt something watching. Not from above, but from outside.

"...Something that shouldn't be here," he whispered.

Hecate stepped closer. "Then...what should we do? Should we erase any of traces of these anomalies?"

Hades thought for a moment, but soon shook his head. "No need. These people died because someone was already doing that. We don't need to interfere right now."

He turned towards Lethe, "That is enough."

Lethe nodded as the river quieted. The memories dissolved back into the mist.

Hades gazed at the sky.

'It seems like something bigger than thr Gigantomachy is brewing. I must prepare."

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