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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.”

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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.”

“But power like this, Jace, comes with a price.”

Jace’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching so hard his nails bit into his palms. The sharp pain felt grounding, a reminder that he was still here, still himself—for now. His voice was barely more than a breath, swallowed whole by the responsibility of the Underworld. “What is the price, exactly? I mean, I’ll 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.

“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.”

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.

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.

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.”