Chapter 159: The Dharma
The world shifted.
One moment the Olympians and their allies stood in the wreck of Egypt, the smell of glassed sand and burnt gods still clinging to them. The next, shadow and star folded over them, and the air itself pulled sideways. Hades’s cloak spread like an abyss, Nyx’s veil stitched the gaps with threads of silver, and Gaia’s roots burrowed through the void. Together they cut a path.
When they emerged, the light was different.
–––
The Hindu realm was not desert, not mountain, not sky. It was everything at once.
Lotus lakes spread as far as the eye could see, their petals glowing with colors no mortal tongue could name. Rivers of milk and fire ran side by side, neither drowning the other. Palaces of gold and crystal floated above, anchored by chains of sound—the hymns of countless mortals echoing upward, forming bridges of prayer.
Above it all rose a tree, vast beyond measure, its roots drinking from seas of eternity, its branches brushing the edge of the void. It was not Yggdrasil, nor Gaia’s flesh, but something older, something deeper: the pillar that held dharma itself.
The Olympians staggered at the weight pressing into their bones. Even Ares’s grin faltered. Hermes’s sandals sparked nervously on the lotus water. Athena’s eyes narrowed, already measuring lines of battle.
Nyx whispered under her breath, her stars dimming in respect. "This realm is awake."
Hades stepped forward, his pale fire casting shadows across the glowing river. His voice carried low. "And it knows we’re here."
–––
The first to rise was not a god but a Primordial.
From the roots of the great tree, a figure uncoiled—massive, endless, clothed in ash and fire. His eyes burned with suns long dead. His skin shimmered with sparks of creation undone. He carried no weapon, yet his presence itself bent the rivers, made the palaces above tremble.
Kala. Time given flesh.
Beside him bloomed another, her form shifting with every breath—one moment a woman crowned with stars, the next a sea that held galaxies, the next a darkness filled with the hum of creation. Her eyes glowed with mercy, her arms endless, each hand holding a different flame.
Prakriti. Nature unbound, mother of movement and form.
The air shook when they stepped forward together.
Athena tightened her grip on her spear. "Two Primordials at once."
Nyx’s eyes shimmered faint. "Stronger than the Shinto. Stronger than Ra."
Hades only planted his bident into the lotus water. The ripples hissed black, spreading outward. "Then we meet them head-on."
–––
The Hindu gods answered next.
From the horizon of fire strode Shiva, ash on his skin, a serpent coiled at his throat, his trident dragging sparks with every step. His dance echoed faintly in the air, a rhythm that shook even Ares’s bones.
From the river of light came Vishnu, blue skin gleaming, lotus in one hand, discus spinning in the other, his gaze calm yet endless. Beside him walked Lakshmi, her radiance soft but steady, grounding the storm around him.
From the peak of a golden palace stepped Brahma, four heads turning in all directions, each speaking a different truth. His words bent the hymns around him, songs breaking into new forms.
Behind them surged others: Durga astride her lion, weapons gleaming in every hand. Kali with her necklace of skulls, tongue sharp as any blade. Ganesha with his axe, calm and terrible. Indra, thunder already pounding in his palm. Agni, his body fire given shape. Hanuman, strength rippling through his fur, mace ready. Parvati with her quiet storm. Saraswati with her rivers of song.
The horizon drowned in their presence.
–––
Hermes’s voice cracked faintly. "There’s... too many."
Apollo’s glow faltered, Artemis drew her bow but did not loose. Even Ares, for all his madness, clenched his jaw.
Athena’s eyes darted across the field. "They’re not scattered like the others. They stand as one. This... this will be different."
Nyx’s stars flared brighter, her veil tightening. Gaia pressed her roots deeper into the lotus water, her face carved in stone.
And Hades... Hades only stared at the Primordials, his fire rising. "This is what we came for."
–––
The battle did not wait.
Kala moved first. He raised his hand, and the world slowed. Rivers halted, stars froze, breath itself caught in lungs. The Olympians staggered as if drowning in syrup, their strikes weighed down.
But Hades stepped forward, his cloak splitting the stillness. The abyss whispered, older than time, and Kala’s grip cracked. Shadows coiled into the frozen air, tearing holes into the timeline.
"Time rots in the grave," Hades said, his voice cold.
Prakriti surged with him, her arms blooming, her forms shifting into endless faces. She hurled oceans, forests, skies all at once. Gaia rose to meet her, roots thick as mountains, stone fists hammering. The two collided, nature against nature, creation against earth.
–––
The gods slammed together like storms.
Shiva’s trident met Ares’s sword, sparks flooding the air, each strike echoing like drums of war. Ares laughed through blood, but Shiva’s rhythm did not falter.
Vishnu’s discus spun, carving the air, but Athena’s shield caught its edge, her spear darting like lightning. His calm eyes met her sharp ones, both refusing to bend.
Brahma spoke words that cracked reality, rewriting space with syllables. Hermes darted through them, cutting threads with his blade, his grin sharp but strained.
Durga’s lion roared, charging through Apollo’s arrows of light, her many arms scattering them like sparks. Artemis’s arrows met Kali’s blades, silver against shadow, each strike painting the sky with streaks.
Indra hurled thunder at Nyx, but her veil swallowed it into stars. Agni’s flames wrapped around Gaia’s roots, but her earth smothered the fire. Hanuman’s mace struck against Poseidon’s trident, river and strength clashing in sprays of power.
The battlefield drowned in color, sound, fury.
–––
And through it all, Kala and Prakriti pressed harder.
Kala’s steps shattered centuries, turning sand into fossils, water into dust. Every motion aged the world around him. Apollo’s bow cracked in his hands just from standing too close. Artemis’s hair turned silver-white in moments before Nyx’s veil shielded her.
Prakriti spread her arms wider, birthing storms of form—armies of animals, forests of steel, rivers of fire. Gaia tore through them, but every root she broke birthed ten more. Her stone body cracked, blood of dust running down her arms.
Nyx flung her stars across the sky, trying to stitch holes into Kala’s time, but his hand crushed them into silence. Hades’s shadows rose to cover her, clashing with Kala’s flames of ages.
–––
The Olympians strained.
Ares’s laughter turned ragged as Shiva’s trident pierced his shoulder. Hermes stumbled as Brahma’s word nearly erased him. Artemis’s arrows broke against Durga’s blades. Apollo’s glow dimmed beneath Kali’s scream. Poseidon bled from Hanuman’s strike, his trident shaking.
Athena called out, her spear glowing. "Hold! We break them by standing, not falling!"
But the line buckled.
–––
Then Hades struck.
He lifted his bident, and the abyss roared. Shadows poured outward, not like smoke but like oceans of night. Kala staggered as the weight of death pressed against him. For every century he conjured, Hades hurled the silence of graves.
Nyx’s stars exploded in rivers, sewing light into the abyss, forming constellations that speared Kala’s chest. Gaia’s roots burst upward, wrapping Prakriti’s arms, dragging her forms back into the soil.
The Primordials groaned, their power heavy but strained.
Hades stepped forward, pale fire burning hotter, his cloak whipping in the storm. "You face death itself. And death does not bow."
–––
The Hindu realm shook.
Lotus lakes boiled, palaces cracked, the tree above shuddered. The clash of Primordials and gods turned the horizon into chaos. Blood fell into the rivers of milk and fire. Ash drifted into prayer-chains above.
And still, no side yielded.
The war had begun.
The Olympians had arrived in the Hindu realm.
And the realm itself screamed in answer.