Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System!

"Poseidon, Ares, and Hephaestus," Zeus said, his voice carrying the kind of finality that usually preceded cosmic disasters. "We're going hunting."

Hera, Queen of the Gods and Goddess of Marriage, looked at him like he'd just suggested they redecorate Olympus with their own entrails. "What the hell do you mean, hunting?"

"Didn't you hear?" Zeus's eyes blazed with the kind of manic energy that came from wounded pride and desperate rage. "That woman just said Artemis, Aphrodite, and Nyx weren't as isolated as the rest of us."

"And... so?" Hera's voice carried a dangerous edge.

"It means somehow they're connected to Parker." Zeus slammed his fist on the armrest of his throne, cracking the marble. "While we've been sitting here feeling sorry for ourselves, three of our own have been playing games behind our backs."

Demeter, Goddess of the Harvest and Agriculture, shifted uncomfortably. "Zeus, you're talking about going after our own family. Artemis is your daughter. Aphrodite is—"

"A traitor," Ares, God of War and Courage, snarled, already reaching for his weapons. "If she's working with that bastard, then she's no sister of mine."

But it was Hades, God of the Underworld and the Dead, who spoke up from the shadows, his quiet voice cutting through the noise like a blade through silk. "Have you completely lost your mind, brother?"

The hall went silent. When Hades spoke, everyone listened—mostly because he rarely bothered to join their arguments unless things were about to go catastrophically wrong.

"You want to hunt Nyx?" Hades continued, stepping into the light with the slow, deliberate movements of someone explaining basic math to a child. "The Primordial Goddess of Night herself? Have you forgotten what she is? What she commands?"

Zeus's jaw tightened. "I know exactly what she—"

"Do you?" Hades cut him off. "Because it sounds like you've forgotten that Nyx is older than us. Older than the Titans. She was there when the first darkness touched the first light, and she'll be there when the last star dies."

The temperature in the hall dropped several degrees.

"She doesn't just control night," Hades said, his voice soft but carrying the weight of absolute certainty. "She IS night. Darkness itself bows to her will. And her children?" He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Thanatos, the personification of Death. Hypnos, God of Sleep. The Moirai—the three Fates themselves—call her mother. She commands death, sleep, and destiny like they're household pets."

Apollo, God of Music, Poetry, and Prophecy, who'd been silent until now, finally spoke up. "He's right. I've seen her realm during my travels across the cosmos. It's not a place—it's a concept given form. Reality bends around her like it's afraid to get too close."

"Her warriors aren't just soldiers," Athena, Goddess of Wisdom and Strategic War, added, her tactical mind already running through the impossibilities. "They're manifestations of primal forces. The Oneiroi—gods of dreams and nightmares. Nemesis, goddess of revenge. Eris, goddess of discord. All of them answer to her. Fighting Nyx isn't like fighting a god. It's like trying to stab the concept of darkness itself."

But Poseidon, God of the Seas and Earthquakes, slammed his trident against the floor. "And what do we have? What about our own strengths?"

"I command all waters, every ocean, every drop of rain," he continued, water swirling around him. "I can split continents with my earthquakes. Zeus controls the sky itself, every lightning bolt, every storm. Ares embodies the fury of war—no strategy can stand against pure battle rage."

Hephaestus, God of Fire, Metalworking, and Craftsmanship, spoke up from his corner. "I forge weapons that can cut through the fabric of reality itself. Divine metals that exist in multiple dimensions simultaneously. If anyone can create something to hurt a Primordial, it's me."

"Exactly!" Zeus's face was turning that particular shade of red that meant he was about to do something spectacularly stupid. "We're not powerless! My lightning doesn't just destroy—it creates. I brought life to clay, made the first mortals. I can unmake what I've made."

Dionysus, God of Wine, Festivity, and Madness, leaned forward with a smile that was half drunk, half insane. "And I can drive anyone to madness. Even Primordials have minds. Even darkness can go crazy if you push the right buttons. But I'm sorry I am too scared of Nyx to join you guys."

"This is madness," Hermes, Messenger God and Guide of Souls, said, his usually cheerful demeanor cracked with worry. "Nyx isn't just powerful—she's foundational. She's one of the building blocks of existence."

"Then what?" Hestia, Goddess of the Hearth and Home, asked quietly. "You'll do what, exactly? Challenge the mother of the Fates to a fight? Demand she explain herself to you?"

The absurdity of it hung in the air like a toxic cloud.

But the hall was starting to divide. On one side, the war-hungry gods were rallying behind Zeus. On the other, the more cautious deities were backing away from what looked like cosmic suicide.

"I'm not afraid of Nyx," Zeus declared.

"Then you're an idiot," a new voice said from the entrance.

Everyone turned to see Iris, Goddess of the Rainbow and Divine Messenger, stepping into the hall with several other gods behind her—Hecate, Goddess of Magic and Crossroads; Persephone, Queen of the Underworld; and Hypnos, God of Sleep, Nyx's daughter herself.

"We heard the shouting from three realms away," Iris said dryly. "And came to see what kind of stupidity was being planned now."

Hecate, her three faces showing past, present, and future, all wore the same expression of cosmic exhaustion. "You want to hunt Nyx? The being who taught me magic? Who showed me how to walk between worlds?"

"You don't understand," Persephone said, her voice carrying the chill of winter and the warmth of spring in equal measure. "I've lived in the Underworld for half my existence. I've seen what real power looks like. Nyx doesn't fight. She doesn't need to. She simply... removes things from existence."

Hypnos, ironically wide awake for once, shook her head. "Mother doesn't wage war. She ends it. By making everyone forget it ever started. But I will join. I have waited for this for so long."

"See?" Hades said, gesturing to the newcomers. "Even her own daughter thinks this is insane."

But Zeus wasn't backing down. "I don't care what she is! If she's betrayed us—"

"Then what?" Hestia asked. "You'll do what, exactly?"

"We'll remind her that Olympus united can challenge anyone," Ares growled. "Even Primordials."

This sparked a full argument.

"United?" Iris laughed bitterly. "Look around! Half of you want to start a war with beings older than time, and the other half are trying to talk you down from cosmic suicide!"

"The girl has a point about our power," Dionysus said, swirling wine in a cup that never emptied. "Combined, we're not exactly harmless."

"Power isn't everything," Hecate snapped. "Wisdom matters. Strategy matters. You can't just punch your way through fundamental forces of existence!"

"Watch me," Ares said, and meant it.

Athena stood up, her owl perched on her shoulder ruffling its feathers in agitation. "This is exactly what that woman wanted. She shows up, plants suspicion, and now we're tearing each other apart."

"Maybe," Poseidon said, and his voice carried the crash of waves against stone. "But I don't care if it's a trap. I don't care if that woman is manipulating us. I don't care if we have to fight Nyx herself."

He stood up, water swirling around him like a personal hurricane.

"Parker Black killed Theseus. My champion. My pride. And for that, I want his head on a spike." His eyes blazed with the fury of storms that could sink continents. "If hunting down our own gets me closer to gutting that bastard, then that's what we'll do."

"And what happens when you manage—let's say if you manage—to drag Artemis and Aphrodite from Nyx's realm back here?" Hera demanded. "What then? You'll interrogate them? Torture them? Turn them against Parker through force?"

"If that's what it takes—"

"You'll lose them forever," Demeter interrupted. "The moment you raise a hand against Artemis, she'll never trust you again. She's your daughter, Zeus. Your flesh and blood."

"And Aphrodite?" Hephaestus spoke up, his voice carrying the weight of someone who knew exactly what love could drive people to do. "You think threatening her will make her abandon whatever feelings she has for Parker? Love doesn't work that way. I should know—I have been chasing her but for like eternity for her love."

The room split further. Now it wasn't just about power—it was about family, loyalty, and the fundamental question of whether they were still gods worth following or just bitter entities clinging to past glory.

"This is what she wanted," Persephone said quietly. "Whoever that woman was, this division is exactly what she was hoping for."

"Maybe," Zeus replied, lightning crackling around him like a crown of pure destruction. "But right now, division might be exactly what we need. Those who want to act, follow me. Those who want to hide and hope Parker forgets we exist... stay here."

As the gods began choosing sides—warriors and storm-bringers with Zeus, wisdom and nature deities backing away—none of them noticed that their argument was being watched.

The hunt was about to begin.

And neither side was entirely wrong about what they might find.