Mount Dikti was quiet that morning. The sky hung low with clouds, but no rain came. Just wind—soft, steady—moving through the rocks like it was listening.
Down in the sacred grove, hidden by twisting trees and stone pillars, Zeus stood surrounded by the Kouretes. The warriors moved in perfect rhythm—spinning, stomping, clashing their weapons together like a ritual dance. Dust kicked up around them, forming a storm of motion and noise.
And in the middle of it, barefoot and shirtless, was a ten-year-old boy with white hair and a fire in his eyes. He moved like he belonged there. Like the storm was his.
"He's grown into a fine young man, Mother," Rhea said quietly.
She stood at the edge of the grove, her voice soft, hands folded in front of her. Her long crimson robe swayed with the wind. Golden bands wrapped her arms, and a crown of twisted olive branches sat gently on her head. She looked regal—but tired. There was grief behind her eyes, a silence that never left her since Cronus swallowed their children.
Beside her stood a much older figure, taller, broader, carved more from nature than flesh. Gaia, the Earth Mother. Her skin shimmered like sunlit bark. Moss grew along her bare shoulders, and her hair was woven from vines and leaves, braided by time itself. She didn't speak often—but when she did, the mountain listened.
Gaia's gaze was fixed on Zeus.
"He grows fast," she said, her voice like deep soil, warm and unshakable. "Faster than Cronus will expect."
Rhea smiled faintly, her fingers curling around her robes.
"He's reckless. Talks back. Breaks things just to see how they work. He nearly shocked one of the Kouretes unconscious last week."
Gaia's lips curved, almost a smile.
"He is the sky, Rhea. He was born to break."
Rhea looked down. Her voice cracked a little.
"He was also born to fight his father. To kill him. And I…" She hesitated. "I don't know if I can survive losing another child. Even if he wins."
Gaia placed a hand on her daughter's shoulder—roots softly wrapping around Rhea's wrist like a quiet embrace.
"You won't lose him. He is not like the others. He carries two souls now."
Rhea blinked.
"You knew?"
Gaia nodded slowly, eyes never leaving the boy in the storm.
"From the moment he cried lightning. A soul reborn… guided here by fate. That boy is not just your son, Rhea. He is the storm that ends an age."
Thunder cracked in the distance.
Zeus threw a punch, and one of the Kouretes stumbled back, laughing.
Rhea exhaled deeply.
"Then may the Fates have mercy on Cronus."
Back to Zeus and the Kouretes
The storm clouds circled above the mountain like they were watching, waiting.
The ground beneath Zeus's feet vibrated gently, little cracks of static snapping in the air. His white hair swayed even without wind, lifted by raw energy as arcs of lightning danced over his arms and shoulders, weaving through his fingers like living threads.
He stood shirtless, bare-footed, covered in dirt, bruises, and pride. His eyes shimmered with electricity, and his grin hadn't left his face since the last explosion.
Across from him, the Kouretes stood in formation. Weapons drawn. Armor glowing faintly under the dimming sun.
Dion stepped forward, flames rising off his twin axes like they were hungry.
"Now," he said, voice loud and deep, echoing around the canyon. "Time for your final lesson, young god."
Zeus blinked. "Final lesson?"
He tilted his head, lightning crackling over his neck.
"What is it, how to grow a beard like yours?"
The warriors snorted—except Nema, who was already spinning one of her wind scythes around her finger with a smirk.
"No, pretty boy," she called out. "Your final lesson is how to not get smacked by all seven of us at once."
Zeus laughed. "So it's a group hug, but with weapons?"
"Exactly," she grinned. "We call it training—but it's really just stress relief."
"Oh good," Zeus cracked his knuckles, lightning bursting off his shoulders. "I was worried you guys were going soft."
Syra stepped forward, her tonfa rings humming with silent energy. She didn't speak—just bowed her head.
Koros planted his shield into the earth, standing tall like a wall of steel and stone.
Thalos cracked his knuckles, the ground around his feet rippling in sync.
Myra notched an arrow without looking.
Varken swung his hammer over his shoulder, grumbling, "If this brat fries my beard again, I'm shoving that hand of his up his divine—"
"Alright!" Dion shouted, cutting him off. He looked back at Zeus.
"We've trained your body. We've trained your power. Now we train your will."
Zeus rolled his neck. "And here I thought you were going to say 'friendship' or something."
"Cute," Dion smirked. "Try not to die."
Then he charged.
Axes blazing.
The Circle Moved
Dion was first, a storm of flame and steel.
Zeus dodged to the left—barely—lightning pulsing off his body to propel him backward. As soon as his foot touched the ground, Syra was already there, silent and swift. Her tonfas struck, one-two-three.
Zeus caught the second hit with his forearm—CRACK!—and flipped backward, landing beside Nema.
She grinned. "You're doing great."
Then she kneed him in the chest.
WHAM.
He flew across the field, bounced twice, and rolled to a stop near Thalos, who raised a rock wall.
Zeus groaned. "I was doing great."
Thalos raised a brow and swung.
Zeus ducked—barely—and responded with a bolt of lightning straight to the ground. A pulse exploded outward, scattering dirt and breaking the wall apart.
Myra's arrow flew past his cheek. A warning shot. The next one would hit.
Varken landed in front of him like a falling star, hammer raised.
"Surprise!" the old smith roared.
Zeus grinned and clapped both hands together.
BOOM!
The thunder shockwave sent Varken sliding, cursing all the way.
For a second, everything went quiet. Zeus stood in the middle of the circle, panting, sparks flicking off his skin.
"Okay… definitely not a group hug."
Above the Mountain
Rhea and Gaia watched from a high ledge.
Rhea smiled softly. "He's holding his own."
Gaia nodded. "But the real test is not strength."
"Then what is it?"
Gaia's eyes narrowed. "It's whether he rises when they bring him down."
Back on the Field
Dion raised a hand. The Kouretes regrouped.
Zeus wiped blood from his lip. "So… round two?"
Nema winked. "Nope."
She leaned her scythe against her shoulder.
"Round ten."
Zeus sighed. "You people need hobbies."
Then he dropped into a stance, eyes glowing.
"Alright. Come break your god."
And the Circle charged.