Reborn As Hades In Olympus

Ch. 171: Bonus Chapter: Logbook Of The Dead

The Guard Duty: Log I

The underworld was never silent. Even in the moments that seemed serene, there was always movement— the shuffle of souls, the murmur of shades, and the hum of the River Styx coursing through the heart of my realm. For a god, managing such a domain might seem routine, but for me, it was an intricate balancing act.

Today began as most days did: with Cerberus barking at the gates. In my short time here I had managed to realize how much he like starting his day like this, it was much like how cocks crowed on a new day Stay tuned with empire

I stood at the edge of the Asphodel Meadows, watching as the three-headed guardian snapped at a particularly bold soul attempting to sneak past the line. Cerberus had his quirks— one head was always more diligent than the others— but he was effective, and the occasional outburst was manageable.

"Easy, boy," I called, my voice resonating through the gray expanse. All three heads turned toward me, their snarls softening into a unified wag of their tail. The bold soul, however, took this as an opportunity to bolt.

With a sigh, I raised my hand and clenched it into a fist. The ground beneath the soul's feet shifted, turning into a sticky, tar-like substance that froze him in place.

"Impatience is unbecoming," I said, approaching the wriggling figure. "The line exists for a reason. Follow it, or I'll personally escort you to Tartarus."

The soul's translucent form quivered as he nodded frantically. With a snap of my fingers, the tar receded, and he scrambled back to his place in the line. Cerberus gave a satisfied huff, the middle head nuzzling me in approval.

The Bureaucracy of Death: Log II

Managing the underworld wasn't all fiery pits and dramatic judgments— it was paperwork. Or, more accurately, scrollwork.

I entered my throne room, where my steward, Walter, awaited me with a stack of soul scrolls nearly as tall as himself. He bowed deeply, his black suit immaculate as always.

"My lord, the records from the Styx have been updated," Walter said, his tone clipped and efficient. "The influx of souls from the mortal realm has increased by 12% this month. Additionally, there's been a... discrepancy in the Elysium assignments."

"Discrepancy?" I asked, settling onto my obsidian throne.

Walter hesitated— a rare occurrence. "A soul claiming they were a hero. Their deeds were... exaggerated, to put it mildly. The Judges were divided."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Let me guess. Minos wanted him sent to Elysium, and Rhadamanthus suggested the Fields of Punishment?"

"Precisely, my lord."

This was common. The Judges of the Dead were brilliant, but their interpretations of morality often clashed. I made a mental note to mediate their next debate. For now, I signed off on the scrolls, sealing them with my insignia. It was a very tiresome ordeal.

"Anything else?" I asked.

Walter cleared his throat. "A petition from the spirits in Asphodel. They request additional shade-lighting during the longer dark cycles."

I raised an eyebrow. "Shade-lighting? As in, more of those dreadful lanterns Hecate enchanted last season?"

"Precisely, my lord."

The lanterns had been a temporary solution to Asphodel's perpetual gloom. Hecate's magic made them functional, but their eerie green glow gave even me the chills. Still, the shades seemed to enjoy them.

"Approve it," I said with a resigned sigh. "But ensure the lanterns are spaced evenly. I don't want complaints about uneven lighting."

A Visit to Tartarus: Log III

No day in the underworld was complete without a trip to Tartarus. The wails of the damned echoed as I descended into the deepest pit, the oppressive heat licking at my skin.

Charon greeted me at the edge of the fiery chasm, his skeletal form as imposing as ever. He bowed slightly, his voice a low rasp. "My lord, the Titans have been... restless."

Restless Titans were never good news. The chains that bound them were unbreakable, but their rage often rippled through the underworld, unsettling the lesser souls.

I strode to the edge of Tartarus, peering down at the writhing forms of the ancient gods. Cronus, my father, met my gaze with a sneer.

"Hades," he growled, his voice like grinding stone. "Come to gloat?"

"Hardly," I replied, my tone cold. "I've come to remind you that your punishment is eternal. Any unrest you cause only strengthens your bonds."

Cronus's laugh was bitter. "You cling to your power, son, but even gods can fall."

I ignored his taunts and turned to Charon. "Ensure the chains are reinforced. I don't want even the whisper of rebellion reaching the surface."

"As you wish, my lord," Charon replied.

A Moment of Reflection: Log IV

As the day wound down, I returned to my private quarters, a rare moment of solitude. My chamber was sparse but elegant— a reflection of my nature. Black marble walls, a single torch burning with blue flame, and a view of the River Styx from a balcony carved into the rock.

I sat on the edge of the bed, gazing at the swirling river below. The underworld was vast and complex, a realm that required constant vigilance. Yet, it was mine.

A faint knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

"Enter," I said.

The door creaked open, and Hecate stepped in, her presence as enigmatic as ever. Her dark robes flowed around her, and her piercing eyes studied me.

"You've been busy," she remarked, leaning against the doorframe.

"Is that not the nature of my existence?" I replied, gesturing to the piles of scrolls still waiting on my desk.

Hecate chuckled softly. "True. But even gods need rest."

I gave her a wry smile. "Rest is a luxury I can't afford. Not when the balance of the underworld hangs by a thread."

She crossed the room, placing a hand on my shoulder. "The underworld thrives because of you, Hades. But you won't be able to protect it if you burn yourself out."

Her words lingered as she left, the torchlight casting her shadow long across the chamber.

"How about we both head out for coffee?" She asked.

I looked up at her and after a while gave a reluctant nod.

Closing the Day: Log V

I stood once more on the balcony, the weight of the day pressing against me. The underworld was a place of endless duties, of souls and shadows, of punishment and reward. It was a realm that required strength, patience, and unwavering resolve.

As I looked out over the River Styx, I allowed myself a rare moment of pride. Despite the challenges, the betrayals, and the constant threats, the underworld endured. And as long as it did, so would I.

Tomorrow would bring new tasks, new struggles. But tonight, for just a moment, I let the silence wash over me. The weight of the underworld was heavy, but it was a weight I would carry without faltering.