Soul Land 2: Peerless Tang Sect Meet Ruthless Silba

Chapter 8: Shut The Hell Up (1)

...

They collided and exploded, causing darkness and bones to fly apart.

A dense dust cloud shrouded the surrounding area, but it wasn't due to the residue of the attacks. This was Mist—a magical fog, capable of obscuring the mystical from mortal eyes and can affect immortals if the individual using it was skilled enough.

Hades stood still, his gaze scanning the obscured surroundings, not believing for a second that his nephew would let him off so easily. Sweat trickled down his temple as labored breaths escaped him. Though he had endured better than most with his abilities, this endless game of cat and mouse had pushed him to the limits of his mental and physical states.

The demigod sure knew how to back him into a corner.

'What's your next move?' He muttered under his breath as his fingers tightened around the handle of his sword. His stance betrayed no weakness, but the weariness in his eyes told a different story.

The truth was, even he didn't know what to expect. His nephew was unpredictable—too changeable, a trait he shared with his father. Combined with the boy's brilliant mind and vast combat prowess, the battlefield could turn in any direction at any moment.

Anything could happen—and Hades hated that uncertainty.

No matter what, he could not let himself be devoured by this tidal storm. He was better than that!

Whatever happens, he'll be ready.

And he wouldn't have to wait long because as the mist began to dissipate, his sharp eyes caught sight of his nephew, wielding yet another weapon. 'This guy, he just keeps bringing new toys to the party just to screw with us!' He thought, beginning to feel pissed.

The polearm featured yet another odd design, but compared to the rest he's witnessed, this was pretty tame. Its body was dark blue with a rounded tip at the bottom. It was a two-pronged weapon, with the head consisting of two misty white curved blades shaped into twisting and interlocking patterns reminiscent of two halves of a drill. It was a Bident.

'Why, you little bastard.' Hades smiled, feeling the vein in his head threaten to burst before releasing a defeated sigh. 'Well, at least you have taste.'

If it wasn't obvious before, the King of the Dead was a fan of the bident. He invented it after all.

Hades's eyes then shifted to his nephew, who was in a forward-facing stance, raising a confused look from him.

The demigod's body leaned slightly forward, radiating a still calm. His left leg was planted firmly on the ground, slightly bent, while his right leg was positioned behind him in a wider stance. He held his weapon firmly with his right hand, holding it diagonally across his body, as though he was about to run it through the Underworld deity.

Bright, misty white markings traveled across Silba's right arm as his heterochromatic eyes were fixed onto the Rich One.

Behind him, hundreds of pale blue flames spurred, taking the visage of ancient Greek soldiers, ghosts of warriors' past holding their own polearms. As the ruler of the underworld, Hades could discern who their identities were merely by a glance. These men were the six hundred soldiers from the Odyssey. The warriors smiled with battle-ready expressions on their faces.

And standing beside the son of Poseidon was none other than the King of Ithaca, Odysseus himself. This could not be any more poetic.

"So that's why you asked for them. Well played, nephew, well played." Hades retorted as he quickly brought out a massive wall of darkness-clad skeletons, each layer taller and denser than the last.

As an added measure, Hades released millions of skeletal warriors armed with mystical weapons and armors, commanding them all to surround his nephew from every direction.

Unfazed by the overwhelming number of oppositions, Silba casually slicked his blinding white hair back and muttered, "Six hundred...strikes."

At his words, his spectral army erupted into a unified battle cry. "HYAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!"

The six hundred souls floated into the air as all reunited within the bident, its head shining a blinding white color. The floor beneath the demigod could only crack further as, with a sudden burst of speed, he thrust the weapon forward, but it was no ordinary thrust. It was the opening act of one of the most feared techniques in the entire pantheon.

*SWISH!*

One thrust, then two, then four, then ten, then dozens, then hundreds.

Silba stood firm, his feet planted on the floor like a statue, while his right arm blurred into motion, a whirlwind of thrusts, breaking through the undead in his path.

*SWISH!*

*SWISH!*

*SWISH!*

Each consecutive strike unleashed shockwaves so fierce they distorted the air, shredding skeletal warriors into nothing more than clouds of bone dust. The relentless barrage advanced like a tidal wave, carving effortlessly through the undead army and the defense the King of the Dead placed for himself.

*CREAK!*

*CRACK!*

*CRUNK!*

The sounds of bones shattering and raging warriors echoed across the throne room. The attacks effortlessly busted a hole through the crumbling bone shields until reaching their way to the Lord of the Underworld. 

Hades grunted as the onslaught reached him, raising his dual, darkness-infused swords just in time to intercept them. "AAAAAAAAGH!"

*CLANG!*

*CLANG!*

*CLANG!*

The force of the strikes sent him sliding backward, his feet grinding against the stone floor. His teeth clenched as his muscles strained to deflect the relentless blows.

"DAMN IIIIIIIIT!" Hades's voice bellowed as he swung his Stygian blades desperately.

Try as he might, the sheer speed and precision were overwhelming, and he could feel the edges of the Bident grazing him—cutting through his armor and biting into his flesh little by little. Small trails of his ichor leaked out from the shallow wounds on his arms, legs, and torso.

Hades hacked and slashed away like a man possessed, his swords becoming a flurry of defensive strikes to keep the deadly two-pronged weapon away from any vital areas. However, each deflected thrust chipped away at his stamina, but he had to keep going, lest he become a kebab.

*TINK!*

*CHUNK!*

These six hundred strikes, as his nephew called them, were a bastard version of a technique praised and feared alike during the Titanomachy. A series of near-endless attacks that would not stop until the target was finished, thought to be used only by two deities, Poseidon and his predecessor, Oceanus, who taught it to him.

It was rumored to be a secret only lords of the oceans were permitted to learn and next to impossible to master.

It was shocking, honestly, to know the demigod held such a dreadful card in his arsenal. The King of the Dead could only wonder how he got his hands on it. Was the boy just that much of a genius?

'Heh, it definitely was a fantastic idea to teach it to you. Good job, Kronos.' Kronos gave himself a pat on the back.

The Titan had shown his grandson memory clips of the Titanomachy, where Poseidon utilized it to cut down his forces. He taught what he learned from that experience to his descendant, and boy did it pay off. Perseus absorbed that knowledge and managed to reverse-engineer it.

'I've earned myself some pie tonight... If I survive this.' The Titan of Time finished as he took great joy observing each passing strike.

Meanwhile, Hades found himself in a critical situation. The strikes left shallow wounds across his body as he struggled to keep himself above water. He would've loved to disperse into the shadows to avoid them completely, but he couldn't. If he did that, the moment between thought processes would be more than enough to get skewered.

Even if he survived by a hair, that weapon—no, that monstrosity—in Silba's hands would do him in. It was not bound by the natural laws. It tore into both the spiritual and physical planes, leaving no escape for Hades.

His mind raced as he continued to block and evade, his every movement driven by a desperate rhythm. Each strike he deflected was replaced by another, faster and stronger one. There was no opening, no room to breathe. It was a real hell. It was his own.

*TINCH!*

*CLANG!*

"Ugh," Blood leaked from the corner of his mouth, but a smirk was tugging at his lips despite his worsening condition. "I'll admit it, you got me, but..." The image of his wife's smile flashed across his mind.

"I'm not dying here, HAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!" Hades roared, his sword swinging wildly, darkness swirling around him as his frustration boiled over. His attacks were savage as he threw everything he had into defending himself.

He was about to do something crazy.

During the immense flurry, Hades deliberately slowed the pace of his left arm, allowing his defenses to falter ever so slightly. It was a gamble, one that paid a heavy toll.

*SHUNK!*

*SHUNK!*

*SHUNK!*

That was all it took before a hellish pain coursed through his body. "!!!" Hades' eyes widened, his teeth grinding together as blood leaked through his mouth. His left arm was shot through by the bright Bident, leaving three gaping, bleeding holes in it.

This would definitely leave a mark, but he was fine with that.

Because this was exactly what he wanted.

Finally, there it was, a single moment. Because he allowed his enemy to land an attack, it provided him enough breathing room to summon forth a power he's rarely seen using because anyone who caught sight found themselves dead.

The atmosphere in the surroundings got hotter, increasing exponentially by the second.

With a guttural growl, Hades's eyes blazed as, on his left hand, a swirling red energy formed, condensing into an inferno. This was no ordinary fire—it was hellfire in its purest, most devastating form.

These were fires that consumed the damned, growing more powerful and hotter for every soul consumed in it. It was the most dangerous power in the King of the Dead's possession.

His left arm on fire, Hades directed it to the demigod as he scarily whispered, "Burn."

The flames erupted from his hand in a geyser, roaring with the cries of the damned. The air itself burned, becoming suffocatingly hot and bathing the chamber in an eerie crimson glow. The hellfire surged forward, devouring the rapid strikes all the way to its source.

The flames continued nonstop, burning through Silba, reaching even further until bursting out of the walls of the throne room and into empty space.

Hades gasped for breath, letting his Stygian sword fall to the floor as he held his injured arm.

*CRACK!*

Sensing the danger, a wounded Hades leaped back just as a colossal silver water snake exploded out from under the floor, flying after him. "Go to hell!" He shot a stream of flames towards the serpent. 

They collided, and the silver serpent writhed under the blaze, putting up a struggle against the hellfire, forcing Hades to exert more focus into it, but like all metal, it melted under the heat. The snakes form dissolved apart into nothing.

...

..

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(Will Silba survive the flames of hell and complete his revenge? Will Hades ever see his beloved Persephone again? Will Poseidon be able to stop his own child? Will the king of Olympus ever not be a terrible person? The answer will arrive in the next chapter of 'Soul Land 2: Peerless Tang Sect Meets Ruthless Silba.'✌️)