Crowned in the realm of death

As I moved toward the seventh orb, a bright yellow sphere glowing faintly like morning sun, I immediately sensed something different something hostile.

Unlike the others, which either welcomed or passively accepted my divine energy, this one resisted actively.

The essence radiating from the orb was ancient, prideful, and guarded. I recognised it: the domain of Mortality the understanding of life, death, and the frail balance between them. A paradoxical godhood, both divine and grounded in the limits of the mortal world.

As I attempted to channel my energy into it, a force pushed back.

This godhood belongs to another.

I gritted my teeth.

But there were no divine laws barring the existence of multiple gods bearing similar domains. After all, power was shaped by interpretation, depth, and will.

So I pressed harder.

Not recklessly but with purpose. I anchored my divine energy, steady and firm, and pushed again.

Bit by bit, the orb responded, but reluctantly. It did not embrace me, nor bond fully. It allowed a fraction of its power to seep into me—enough to register the domain, but nothing close to mastery.

Outside, Hestia observed with curiosity, expecting another dramatic shift.

But nothing happened at least, not visibly.

Hades' aura barely changed. It gained only the faintest yellow undertone, and even that shimmered inconsistently like a candle struggling in the wind.

She tilted her head. "It's reacting weakly… almost like it's being shared."

She could sense that Hades had linked with the domain but not earned its trust.

Meanwhile, far from the underworld, on a tropical island surrounded by divine winds, sat a towering figure basking under the sun Titan Iapetus, one of the four generals of Cronus, and the ancient master of Mortality and Human Limitation.

His golden skin gleamed as he lounged on a divine throne of ivory and obsidian, ambrosia in one hand, a goblet of nectar in the other, surrounded by ethereal nymph servants.

As he lifted the goblet to his lips, he suddenly paused.

A faint tingle touched the edge of his soul.

Someone is… reaching into my domain?

He raised an eyebrow, mildly amused. "Another brat dabbling in mortality, eh?"

He took another sip of nectar, unconcerned.

"Let them try. That domain breaks more than it blesses."

And with that, the great Titan leaned back lazily, the sky above him clear and golden.

Back in the underworld, I opened my eyes slowly. I had touched mortality barely. It didn't roar or empower me like the others.

But I had tasted it.

And though the domain had resisted, I knew one thing:

Even gods must die someday. And when they do… I will understand why.

I turned my focus inward once more, breath steady and heart calm, my soul still glowing with the echoes of my previous awakenings. Before me now hovered the eighth orb a soft pink hue with a gentle purple shade, glowing like twilight over a quiet dreamscape.

Even before I touched it, I knew its domain:

Sleep.

A godhood not of raw destruction or prideful conquest—but of stillness, dreams, rest, and deep silence.

As I extended my divine energy toward it, I was prepared for resistance after all, I had already felt the hostility of the Mortality domain.

But this time, something strange happened.

The orb welcomed me.

No battle, no pushback. In fact… it bent itself, willingly.

A warmth flowed into my core—not fierce or overwhelming, but gentle, soothing, like a mother laying a blanket over her child. I felt as though the domain was accepting me not just as a bearer, but as its sovereign.

 You are not just allowed, it whispered in sensation, you are crowned.

The divine energy settled inside me, and though no violent aura erupted, a subtle change blanketed the room.

Hestia, ever watchful, narrowed her eyes as she felt a shift around Hades. There was no explosion of light, no flare of darkness just a soft pressure in the air, like walking into a room where time had slowed.

Her eyes widened in realisation.

She yawned suddenly uncontrollably and stepped back.

 "His aura… it's making me sleepy," she whispered, a bit amused but also amazed.

There was nothing inherently threatening about it, yet its effect was undeniable. Anyone who drew near would feel their body weaken, their mind slow, as if they were being lulled gently into slumber.

 "This is… dangerous in a different way," she murmured. "This power doesn't screamit whispers you to sleep."

Meanwhile, far away in a realm shrouded in perpetual twilight, within a palace of drifting mist and suspended dreams, a slender figure sat upon a crescent-shaped throne.

A man with jet-black hair, half-lidded sleepy eyes, and small black wings fluttering behind his back stirred from his slumber.

He was Hypnos, the God of Sleep.

His eyes opened slowly, not in surprise—but in deep recognition.

He felt it.

 Someone awakened my domain… but it didn't fight. It kneeled.

He leaned forward, his voice soft as wind brushing silk.

"A king..."

He didn't feel threatened. On the contrary—he felt at peace. As if the domain itself had made a choice beyond his will.

He simply closed his eyes again and whispered, "Then let sleep serve him, as it serves dreams."

---

And somewhere deeper, hidden in the folds of fate itself, a primordial being, Nyx, the Goddess of Night and mother of Hypnos, stirred in the shadows.

She had felt it too.

The resonance between her son's godhood and this new soul awakening into power.

Pulling lightly on the threads of fate, she peeked into the tapestry of time, following where this presence would lead.

And when she saw it—

The shadowed throne.

The silent crown.

The

Underworld not just ruled but dreamed.

She faintly smiled and whispered to herself:

 "Let him rise. Sleep has chosen its king."