Soul Land 2: Peerless Tang Sect Meet Ruthless Silba

Chapter 2: The End Of An Untold Saga (2)

When posed the question, Perseus fell into a thoughtful expression. He recalled everything he's done to get here—from that peaceful dinner with his mother to the mental suffering he was forced to go through the next day. The ruthless acts against the Olympians, the cities he'd left in ruins, the bloody fights for survival, the pain he's accumulated both physically and mentally, the bitter curses he had hurled at his father, the sleepless nights, the people he made to fear him.

Yes, they were good times, but he never immersed himself in them, never enjoyed them wholeheartedly. Not even when his little brother hugged him with the biggest damn smile on his face when he praised his work for the first time or when his teacher confessed her feelings to him after he completed her training. That one was especially heart wrenching for the both of them.

The blood left on his claws was thick, and he would never be able to remove them.

So, was it all worth it? "Absolutely not." He answered with sadness and regret, his eyes glossy.

Wiping his eyes, the son of Poseidon went for the silver pen clipped to his collar.

He pressed it, and in an instant, it transformed into a strikingly menacing spear. The weapon glimmered ruby red, intricate markings running from the blade down to the butt spike. The jagged shape of the blade resembled a flame, its bifurcated spearhead boasting multiple sharp points, giving it a fierce, aggressive first expression. The shaft was made of wood, likely from a mystical tree, enhancing its exotic allure.

This masterpiece was called Argyrodini (Αργυροδίνη), or Silver Vortex. Before it came into his possession, it was once a celestial bronze, double-sided sword known simply as Anaklusmos (Ἀνάκλυσμος), aka Riptide.

For a long time, the weapon was safeguarded by the wise centaur and renowned Trainer of Heroes, Chiron, who ensured it would only be handed down to the child of the prophecy. Rather than being gifted to the silver-haired demigod like it was intended, the weapon was stolen by him as his very first task, assigned by the Titan Lord.

His grandfather instructed him to steal it because it was foretold to play an important role in the prophecy. Though he held onto the weapon for years, it served no real purpose—until he double crossed Kronos, taking his powers for himself. That's when he came up with the idea to have it reforged. using his blood and soul, the Titan's scythe, various enchanted metals, including his own, and the essence of the very first Greek entity, Khaos. Frankly, it was impossible. Not even Hephaestus would dare to use Forematter in his work like it was some random ingredient. It was thanks to Briare's help that their hard work bore fruit.

The end result was a weapon unlike any other—a divine creation capable of slaying monsters and gods alike. One fatal strike from this spear meant curtains for the divine. This was made possible by the anti-divine/anti-life properties passed down from his grandfather's scythe during the reforging process. Silver Vortex was so formidable that it repeatedly went toe to toe against the three symbols of power of the Big Three—at the same time.

The markings on the spear glowed with an ethereal white light, resonating with a soft, melodic hum, as if in high spirits of being wielded by its master.

Perseus spun the spear gracefully in his hand, as if performing a dance. Halting, he declared, "Let's move."

A silver-plated hexagon materialized, hovering just above his shoulder. In the next instant, he vanished in a blur, leaving only the rain to fall on the empty space he once occupied.

...

100 kilometers (62 miles) above the earth, space looms like an infinite abyss, vast and endless. It's a realm where the comforting blue of the earth's sky gives way to a chilling void, endless darkness where stars flicker like the cold eyes of distant predators.

No air, no sound, just a silent expanse that stretches on forever, swallowing anything that dares drift too far from the fragile grip of gravity. It's a place where time loses meaning and the very concept of "up" or "down" dissolves.

A silver hexagon suddenly appeared floating in place. It then disappeared, and in its place was none other than Perseus in the flesh holding his spear. He looked completely fine—no blood turning to ice, no asphyxiation, no eyeballs popping out. The son of Poseidon was unfazed by the extreme cruelty of outer space.

Space, a place where no one can hear you scream, don't make him laugh. He was the strongest demigod for a reason. With his powerful body alone, he could survive in space for a short while, but with just a flicker of his aura, he can shield himself indefinitely, no sweat.

Turning slowly, Perseus gazed at the vast blue marble suspended before him—a radiant jewel. Earth. So different from the desolate wasteland they had just left. A rare softness flickered in his eyes as he whispered, "Still beautiful."

For a fleeting moment, the weight on his shoulders seemed to lift.

Kronos, observing the scene through his grandson's golden eye, snorted. 'Hardly. It's just an overgrown dirtball, Perseus.' He muttered, unable to grasp the sentiment that stirred within the demigod's heart. 'Then again, that is my mother you're looking at so lustfully, eheheh!'

His descendant shook his head, not wanting to bother. No matter how many times he laid eyes on it, the awe he felt never faded. This overgrown dirtball, this fragile planet—somehow, he never got tired of seeing it from this angle. It brought a different perspective and not because it was Gaea. Personally, he viewed them as two separate things. One was the crazy protogenoi hell bent on causing the fall of the gods. The other was the home of so many innocents.

Yes, most would call him a madman for what he had done, for the choices he's made to strike back, and he'd agree to some extent, however he couldn't help himself whenever it came to seeing wonderful sights like this. As long as no one was there to see him, of course.

He wasn't the type to wear his heart on his sleeves.

Moving on, Perseus stared for a short minute. The glimmer of Earth reflected in his hardened eyes. A quiet sigh escaped his lips. "It never ceases to amaze me how that can hold so much filth." His voice was laced with disdain.

His hand tightened around his weapon, knuckles turning white. The thought of returning to that wretched place—of driving his spear through the hearts of his treacherous family was too tempting.

His father, Zeus. Apollo. Artemis. All of them—arrogant, self-righteous trash who never took accountability for themselves. Instead, they paraded around as if their judgment was infallible, their so-called wisdom unchallenged. It sickened him to his core. The thought of sharing the same blood with them filled him with disgust.

"And they call me the villain." His terrifying voice returned. He felt his renowned anger brewing, the very trait he shared with his father and grandfather. It surged through his veins, familiar and relentless, threatening to come alive.

His spear's markings ignited with a fierce fire, heeding his call to right these wrongs, and he wanted to, oh how he wanted to, but he had to hold himself back. Now was not the time to behave brash.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself down, he said, "Not yet, Deeney." He called his weapon by its nickname. "Just a little longer." He told, getting it to dim down.

Though he admits he was getting weary of this pointless vendetta—almost to the point of feeling numb sometimes, he nonetheless still chose to follow through with it. Perhaps he still harbored unresolved anger, or maybe he was just as fickle as the whims of fate.

'Sounds like you need to check yourself for bipolarism.' Kronos snickered.

"We're Greek, Grandfather. We all belong in a fucking insane asylum… in straightjackets." He countered, receiving a snort.

Raising his hand, he summoned a silver hexagon into existence, and within the next heartbeat, a neon key materialized in his palm. Its outline gleamed with a vibrant, glowing cyan—a futuristic, almost otherworldly light. The key's body shimmered with a transparent, reflective surface, as if it were forged from liquid glass. Sharp, angular teeth jutted from its base, and near its head, a distinct hexagonal hole stood out, sleek and symmetrical.

This wasn't mere magic—it was technology, the very thing the gods can't bend to their will. But even this key, with all its brilliance, was only the beginning. A prelude to something far more extraordinary.

Putting his hand forward to empty space, he turned the key as if about to open a door and what happened next coil only be described as shocking. Like millions of coins flipping, something big was unveiling. A futuristic structure floating in space.

The structure's design resembles a flower with metallic petals radiating from a central hub, each petal looking like a large vessel. The central hub has a glowing blue core, and there are beams of light emanating from the bottom of the structure towards the planet below.

Its size was staggering—spanning at least 50 kilometers across, perhaps even more. In comparison to the Earth beneath it. This was 'it' or more precisely, The Ultimate Weapon.

Stepping inside, he didn't linger to watch the towering doors closing behind him. The corridors stretched endlessly before him, their sleek metallic walls gleaming under the soft glow of white lights. On his way, he met with many of his silver soldiers scurrying around, diligently performing their tasks—adjusting control panels, monitoring systems, and maintaining the vessel's vast network, etc. They moved with precise efficiency, while also showing him the proper respect.

At his current pace, it would take him an hour or two before he reached his destination, but that didn't bother him. He had time—plenty of it. The gods should already be locked in battle again, so he wasn't in a hurry.

Each step he took echoed through the corridors as he made his way to the heart of The Ultimate Weapon. Meanwhile, Kronos was grinning madly, unable to contain the anticipation of what was about to happen.

...

At his destination, he stood in front of two giant metal doors.

*CREAAAAK.*

They opened themselves to let him in, revealing a dimly lit throne room designed with the combinations of both technology and grandeur.

Blue neon strips ran along the floor and walls, creating long shadows and an eerie, yet regal, ambiance. The high ceiling adds to the sense of vastness and importance.

The back of the obsidian throne stood at the center of the room, extending high towards the ceiling, with spikes across the top rail. It had a striking and angular design, featuring intricate glowing patterns that give it a technological, almost cybernetic, aesthetic. It rests on a raised platform with steps leading up.

'I still think you should've added encrusted diamonds on it.' The Titan said, receiving an annoyed look.

"I'm not adding jewels to my throne, grandfather. It's tacky. Don't you know less is more?" He replied, seating himself gracefully with his hand resting on his face. He looked nothing short of royalty.

Kronos cast an approving nod at the sight. 'At least you do the royalty in you proud, so I can't complain... much.'

"Mm, I suppose." Perseus mumbled as a floating screen materialized in front of him. He mentally scrolled through the data until coming to a stop. The display revealed a special construct, no larger than a torso, resembling an unnatural engine or an alien spine.

This was the true Ultimate Weapon.

Throughout his numerous confrontations with the gods, he discovered a peculiar phenomenon: when the gods exhausted their powers, no matter how small the amount, the remnants of their power seeped into the world. This power supply didn't simply vanish or diminish over time either. Instead, it existed as an invisible force beyond the gods' control, accumulating over time as a wellspring of power. It's how the world was capable of bearing the burden of the divine or how Kronos put it, capable of putting up with their tantrums.

That very power he was given permission to use ultimately led to the weapon's creation. Its purpose was to siphon energy directly from the planet and blast it down to the Empire State Building, striking at Olympus itself. The intent was to target the gods' thrones of power, erasing their existence along with his Titan forces that were currently engaged in battle in one fell swoop.

Just as he was about to activate it, they sensed the presence of three beings they knew all too well. At the foot of the throne, Kronos's gaze darkened, a sneer curling on his lips as he took in the sight before him. Standing there were three elderly women, clothed in white cotton dresses, their gray hair bound neatly beneath white bandannas. 

'Well, if it isn't you three.' Kronos growled. 

"Hello, ladies." Perseus greeted the unexpected guests.

The women he addressed so casually was none other than the Moirai—the Fates—the divine embodiment of destiny. Normally the mere sight of the fates of these three ladies would frighten anyone, gods included. Kronos felt tense by their presence, but Perseus stared unfazed. The son of Poseidon never let them get to him before, he sure as hell wasn't going to start now.

They smiled at him with an unsettling gentleness, their hands busy with a peculiar task: knitting a half-finished sock, one large enough to fit a giant. On the left sat Clotho, her fingers deftly spinning the yarn, weaving the threads of fate with ease. On the right was Lachesis, carefully measuring the shimmering blue threads, her sharp eyes focused on their length. And last but not least was Atropos, who was seated between them with scissors in hand.

Atropos was the first to break the silence, her voice steady but laced with irritation. "You've been making our job very difficult these past years, Perseus Jackson." She said, accepting a freshly measured string from Lachesis. Her scissors gleamed ominously in her hand as she scrutinized the thread.

"Things have truly gone to hell thanks to your war." She continued, her tone shifting to a grumble, "And we've barely had any time for ourselves because of it." She sighed, as though recounting an exhausting chore.

"They wouldn't stop," he replied, his voice calm but laced with the edge of barely restrained power as he let some of it slip free. "As far as I see it, I only had two choices: fight or die. I chose to fight."

The three exchanged a glance before nodding in quiet agreement.

"True," Atropos admitted with a solemn sigh. "But still, you'd have been far better off without that cannibal fiend whispering in your ear." Her gaze flicked pointedly to his golden eyes, the faintest hint of disapproval shadowing her expression.

Without another word, she raised her scissors.

*SNIP.*

The sound of the scissors cutting the thread echoed throughout the throne room. Kronos gritted his teeth in anger.

"I've made my bed with the devil," Perseus said coldly, "and I've accepted the severity of my actions.". 

"Moving on." He continued, "Why are you here? Did you come to convince me to find it in my heart to stop this and all that crap?" He scoffed.

Even if these embodiments of destiny tried to intervene, it wouldn't be so simple. The threads of divination were in disarray, tangled and useless, thanks to the ultimate weapon. Persuading him to abandon his course out of the supposed goodness of his heart was an even more laughable. Even if the three grannies tried to bash his head in with their clubs, it wouldn't end well for them.

The Fates exchanged knowing looks, their heads shaking in unison. Clotho said, "No, we know you've steeled your heart. Trying to convince you would be a pointless endeavor, you arrogant boy." She snorted, earning a soft chuckle from her sisters, while Perseus and Kronos exchanged an eyeroll.

"Then why?" Perseus asked.

The three then smiled as their eyes turned white.

'Oh, this won't be good.' Kronos muttered under his breath.

Lachesis began, "What you do this night, 

Will shift your lives in ways untold, 

The spine will glow, a battle unfolds." 

"Sever all ties to the Greek domain, 

No more will you suffer its grip of pain," 

Clotho declared with a voice so clear, 

"Freedom awaits, but no solace is near." 

"Death is close, yet your blind eyes will see, 

The truth unveiled in your nonexistent destiny." 

Atropos finished.

Despite all his knowledge, Perseus couldn't quite make sense of what they were saying. Some parts were clear enough—his involvement with the ultimate weapon and the upcoming conflict—but there were other things, like the cryptic talk of his death, that left him perplexed. It sounded as though he was going to die, but not in the normal sense. 

"I don't understand what you three are saying, but if I'm fated to die ending this, then I won't question it." He took a breath, his gaze shifting from one Fate to the next. "But what of Grandfather? Will he survive?" He questioned, receiving a look of surprise from the titan.

The Fates' eyes dimmed, their glowing light fading as their words took on a somber tone. "That's a tricky question." Clotho began, her voice quieter now. "In some versions, he survives. In others, he doesn't. We can't keep track of you all, no matter how much we try." Her sisters nodded in agreement, each one's expression unreadable. "Do not be surprised if you never see him again." they said in unison, bringing the conversation to a definitive end.

Kronos was deep in thought, his mind racing to grasp the meaning of their cryptic words. But, as usual, the Fates' riddles were very irritating to decipher. 'This... this is why I hate you all, fucking cryptic bitches.' He muttered under his breath.

"Screw you, fallen titan." They said with a flick of their middle fingers, a mocking smile tugging at the corners of their lips. "Farewell, Silba." The Fates waved before disappearing into nothingness.

Perseus let out a heavy sigh, his hand pressing against his mouth. "So, we're about to die." He muttered.

'And apparently live again... I think...' His voice faltered, uncertainty creeping in. 'I don't know. I'm not sure what to make of this... But I do know this: things aren't over for you, not by a long shot.' He paused, his voice softening as he looked at Perseus, his face filled with a rare sadness. 'Whatever happens, good luck, child.' A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"Grandfather—"

'Shut up!' Kronos snapped. 'This is not about me. This has never been about me.' He clenched his fists. 'This was all about you. I only played the part of your guide, and it has been...' He trailed off, struggling to find the right words. 'I mean, I've never... shit!' He cursed under his breath, frustration bubbling to the surface.

'It was very... interesting.' He finally managed, his lips twitching into a half-chuckle. He looked at grandson with pride.

Perseus nodded, his expression weighed down with sadness, which immediately drew a frown from the titan. 

'Stop that. Rub that look off your face. It's pathetic!' Kronos shouted, his voice sharp with irritation. Perseus shot him a disapproving glance, but the titan didn't flinch. 'Trust me, kid, death is nothing new to me. Don't worry about the future—just focus on your final battle with those bastards, alright?' Kronos clenched his fist, his fiery determination clear in his eyes. 

His grandchild's eyes blazed. "You're right... grandfather." He tightened his grip on Deeney.

With a mental command, Perseus pressed the button, and the Ultimate Weapon was turned on. The outer shell of the structure brightened with bright light as the atmosphere darkened with particles of energy floating around.

The vessel's petals spun around. At the same time, back on earth, divine energy seeped out of the ground at a rapid pace, flying in masses above the sky to the structure. It struck the vessel, causing it to spin harder.

He then felt a tingle in his ear, sensing the presence of three immense auras he was quite familiar with. 'They're here.' Kronos smiled.

Right as the Titan said, a deafening explosion rumbled throughout the structure, causing the throne room to shake.

*BOOM!*

The floor shook beneath them as the alarm sounded. The lights across the room turned red.

*BOOM!*

"Intruder alert! Intruder alert!" The voice of the security system warned.

...

..

.

(Fun fact, I came up with the Ultimate Weapon from the Pokémon X & Y game, fired by King AZ. Honestly when I heard the name and the story behind it when I played the game, I liked it.)