Son of the Hero King

Chapter 776: Kill them all and you are a god

Hypnos observed the thousands of crimson eyes eyeing him greedily with their eldritch gaze. The fallen god made the mistake of staring too deeply into one of the eldritch reflections of crimson horror, but immediately regretted it as he was rewarded for his impudence with a pure bombardment of information powerful enough to bring even someone on his level a head-splitting headache.

“Be careful, do not act like that fool over there. Someone once said, If you look at the abyss, the abyss will look back at you. You are already insane enough as is.” Sol waved his hand, hugged a squealing Echidna, and smothered her in his embrace.

Sol made sure that her face stayed planted against his chest, eyes fully covered, to keep her from making the same mistake as Hypnos. He had noticed her trying to observe the eyes more closely and knew that she was mad enough to continue the staring contest until only a husk of her sense of self was left, devoured by the Eldritch horrors.

Things are becoming messy. Hypnos sighed to himself, the headache still raging quite strongly. Still, it was better than before once he stopped focusing on those… abominations.

Until a few moments ago, the situation in itself had not been dire, in a sense. Sol’s infiltration of Elysium was unprecedented, an impossibility to his knowledge. However, his presence did not dictate that the fallen god had lost. Ambrosia and Lilith were fighting Euphoria, but he was not worried about her.

One could even argue that the former god had everything under his control, still. In fact, from the resurrected god’s perspective, this was the perfect occasion for him to analyze Sol and gain a deeper understanding of this young adversary.

That thought completely did a 180 when Sol started using his powers.

The moment the dastardly prince had summoned the incarnation of hunger, alarm bells started ringing in his mind, making the fallen god reel in horror.

The feeling Hypnos got from Sol’s powers was… really hard to describe. He could feel the Concept of Gluttony pushed to its extremities, distorted to a point that he was not sure if he was observing from the prince.

Famine, perhaps. That seemed to be the case indeed.

However, there was something more. Something inherently wrong with the concept. Something completely alien. A peculiar feeling he could not describe, but the very nature of it made goosebumps crawl on his skin.

“What kind of abomination are you?” He asked, gloom evident in his voice.

His plan had changed; it had to change. Observation be damned. Sol needed to be neutralized immediately or else everything they were building up would crumble in front of their very eyes.

“Oh my…! Your words profoundly hurt my heart. I am no abomination. At the moment, I am nothing but a gentle, if hungry, Dream Eater.”

｢ Famine -::- All Devouring Beast ｣

The beast of uncountable eyes and Eldritch horrors awoke with that evocation. Dozens of tendrils uncoiled from beneath Sol’s feet, like starving limbs dragging themselves through ash. They crawled, scraped, and dug into the nothingness, anchoring themselves in the void that constituted the base of Hypnos’ realm.

Once tethered in place, all of them, at once, lunged for the void itself. Mouths bloomed across the limbs— wide, jagged, unnatural hollow creations. Rows of teeth churned like grinding metals, ready to devour and destroy, to crush and grind, and disintegrate. An onslaught of crunch and bites followed their devouring spree. They chewed, slow and loud, like something savoring the taste of the realm itself.

The inky dark void was unable to resist in front of this absolute behemoth of violence and carnage. It peeled away like flesh, giving way to nothingness. Every inch the shadows touched was devoured and swallowed into oblivion.

The air shook and dissonated with the sound of chewing.

The beast's mastication slowly hastened, became more methodical. Its hunger rose instead of diminishing with each part of the void it took for itself and integrated that with it. The mouths multiplied even further than their initial staggering amount, overlapping in tangled masses of horrific forms, snapping at the edges of anything and everything in their presence. There was no shape. No order. Just hunger, an unstoppable motion, and the sounds of devouring existence.

Sol watched the eldritch debacle with a sense of detachment in his eyes. His showing of power did not match that of any heroes, at least not any heroes that Sol knew of. Anyone who saw the horrific display would believe he was a monster from hell.

Funnily, the quote he had shared with Hypnos, the first part of it that he did not utter, flashed in his mind as he watched the monstrous display.

He who fights monsters should be careful not to become one himself, and if he gazes into the abyss for too long, the abyss will gaze back into him.

Stolen novel; please report.

Sol gazed into the multiple eyes, and they gazed back at him. The staredown had been enlightening; it made him realize that the abyss he was gazing into was his own. This was the representation of his will. The very personification of his power.

Perhaps he was now indeed a monster sinking into the depths of the eternal void. But so what?

“I just wish to protect them,” and for that, he would gladly become a monster if that was necessary in the long run.

* * *

While Sol was gaining some personal enlightenment in the abyss that he encompassed, Hypnos was having the second-worst time of his life.

As the All Devouring Beast chomped and swallowed the realm of dreams, the fallen god screamed with a shriek as he felt something deep inside him being torn apart and vanish forever in all its entirety.

The horrific backlash was completely different from what happened with Ambrosia or even Echidna. One had destroyed the dream that she had been trapped in, and the other had devoured the energy source fueling the dreams trying to contain her.

“You’re trying to steal my Concept!” Hypnos roared like a wounded beast, his godly aura booming throughout the void of dreams.

Sol tilted his head and just… shrugged. “Let’s just call it borrowing… for an indefinite period of course.”

Hypnos moved to retaliate against Sol's indiscriminate theft. Surprised, he might be, but he was not about to allow someone to take his powers so easily. A god's concept was not easily snatched, and he was going to make sure Sol regretted even trying.

However, the Dream World itself shifted before the reincarnated god could even take a single step.

Dozens of pale skeletal hands shattered forth from beyond the void, latching onto his arms, shoulders, and legs before he could even register the assault. Without even giving him a chance to react, a throne rose behind him— white bone stacked and fused into shape by the power of sheer will alone. It wrapped around him like a cage masquerading as a seat.

He was forced to sit down. Forced to watch. Helpless to do anything to even defend himself. He could feel his power weakening and his grasp over the very realm he had shaped through the eons slipping for the very first time in his long existence.

The culprit was clear.

“Anubis,” Hypnos gnashed hatefully through clenched teeth.

* * *

At the same time, in Anubis' dream, the very world containing him was transformed into a sea of death and fire.

In a sequence of events similar to Ambrosia, the dream had slowly tried to bring Anubis into a different possibility. A world where he did not manage to win his way through the colosseum, but rather was still recognized for his undeniable talent and brought to the royal capital.

In their instant of disdain and hate, he was met with love and appreciation. He had no Book of the Dead and was not particularly special, but he was just talented enough for his siblings not to be worried about him, yet granted him the favor of most people of his realm.

Then, after working hard, he managed to get the love of his father, obtained a house and a county territory on the outskirts of the kingdom, and created a nice and happy family.

This was definitely a very beautiful story. One filled with warmth and happiness. He even instinctively understood that this was not just a regular illusion but a real possibility— a parallel reality.

But for Anubis, not a single detail truly mattered. For his dream had never been to settle and die old in this world, but to find his way back to his original world and meet his original parents once more.

Breaking out of the dream was proving to be hard. Even harder than he initially thought it would be. However, escape was not impossible for a False God like him. Even Ambrosia had escaped after all.

He was slowly able to worm his way through the world and implant his will upon it. If he truly wished, he could leave anytime he wanted. He did nothing of the sort, however. Instead, he decided to accomplish something different, leveraging the nature of this world. To sublimate his own soul by committing an action he had never dared to in the real world.

So he killed.

He killed his fake wife. He killed his fake children. He was caught in the act and even accused of murder. But this was not enough to stop him. He killed the knights who came to capture him and did not forget to nip the lives of the wardens either.

From his servants to the people of his county, then the people of the duchy, and finally the entire empire.

He did not have the Book of the Dead, but he never had any need for the book for what he was trying to accomplish here. Necromancy came naturally to him. He was the Master of Death, and not even the God of Dreams, much less a mere Demigod still clawing his way back to his previous exalted stature, could take that away from him.

Everywhere he went, the odor of blood and a sea of corpses followed. Curses, plagues, poisons, massacre. Nothing was beneath him. Children, women, and old men. He paid no attention to their ages, gender, or races.

All were equal in the presence of Death.

At first, they cursed him. Then they feared him. And when fear broke their very soul, they prayed to him. Kneeling in the mud, sobbing, they begged for mercy.

He granted them mercy in his eternal benevolence.

To them all, he brought the sweet release of Death, for there was no greater mercy that the Master of Death was aware of.

This dream lasted ten years.

For ten years, the stench of decaying corpses never left him. He slaughtered without pause— one, ten, a hundred, a million, until the corpses drowned the entire horizon in crimson red.

In the end, he drove his hand through his father’s chest and crushed the still-beating heart in his palm.

That was kill number 999,999,999.

Silence followed.

Watching the futile end of the one who could have become the emperor of the world, Anubis sat on the throne made out of thousands of bones and looked at the army of the dead that covered the entirety of the world.

His mind flashed back to the words he once shared with Lilin when she was nothing but a young chick.

“Kill one man, and you are a murderer. Kill millions of men, and you are a conqueror. Kill them all, and you are a god.”

Golden light flashed in his eyes, and his divinity nearly doubled outright. This entire endeavor had been a grand ritual that cleansed his soul and allowed him to bathe in the greatest essence of death.

He felt no remorse. Such things had long been beneath him.

As he was now, he was sure he could match even Tiamat.

Yet the Throne of Godhood still eluded him.

The answer was clear. At the end of the day, this was nothing but a dream. The souls here were all fake.

But, if he were to repeat this ritual in the Mortal Realm? If he truly erased all life until only he was left?

Then godhood might belong to him.

“What a shame. My son-in-law would never let me do this, and Isis would hate me.”

He sighed at the futility of it all. He had found a possible way to godhood, but he could not use it. Risking his relationship over a mere possibility was simply not worth it.

This was truly frustrating. His mind connected to the backdoor he had created while committing the massacre, and he made sure to tighten his control on Hypnos.

Coming back to the Mortal Realm had truly been a great decision. This had been a productive trip, and he was sure he could glean more from it.

As for dealing with Hypnos and Euphoria. He would leave that to his infuriatingly competent son-in-law.