He sat in the empty training hall, feeling lost. Not sure where to start. The last time he tried to use his father’s godly power, it ended horribly. He collapsed, body burning from the inside out. The pain wasn’t as bad as before, but it still felt like his entire body locked up—like the worst muscle cramp he’d ever had. He lay on the cold floor, staring at the ceiling, wishing Orion was here. Someone to explain how this works. Someone to guide him. Then he remembered something. The old man—he saw back when he was drowning in the River Styx. His voice echoing in the dark: "Trust your shadows." "Why not," he muttered. "Not like I got another option." The shadows had always been there—wrapped around him since the day he was born. They had never let him down. Plus, they were his father’s power. So maybe... they knew what to do. He sat down again. Crossed his legs. Closed his eyes. "Hey... shadowy buddy. I need your help here." Nothing moved at first. Then, the shadows slid up his arms and across his chest. He let them wrap around him like a blanket. He could feel everything. The shadows responded. They moved toward his chest—right over his heart. Instantly, he understood what they were trying to tell him. They were telling him to focus the energy here. It started at the center of his heart, then spread like veins. It moved slow, steady, calm. He finally understood why he failed before. He was dumping all his power into his body at once, flooding everything. Overloading his system. Not guiding the energy in any direction. But now, everything made sense to him. The energy had a path. From his heart, through his spine, then into his arms, hands, legs, and feet—like blood through veins. Like breath through lungs. It didn’t want to be forced. Let it build in the heart. Then let it move—slow, steady, like a heartbeat. The shadows pulsed with him. The energy flowed perfectly. Kael opened his eyes. His body wasn’t shaking. He felt the power flowing through him—deeper than magic, heavier than shadow. Something inside had changed. He closed his eyes, removing all sound. He listened—not with his ears, but with something else. A sense that stretched across the entire Underworld. He could hear everything. He could see everything. He was connected to every shadow. And more than that—he could choose what he heard. He blocked out the noise. Like tuning a frequency, he focused on one voice. "Mother, are they ready?" he said calmly. Even though Kael was nowhere near her, Persephone turned to face the shadows beside her and smiled. Kael had finally accepted it. He was walking the path of Hades. "I’m so proud of you," she whispered. "I’ll send them right away." He was confused what she meant—but he ignored it. In an instant, three undead soldiers rose from Kael’s shadow. Their armor was shattered. Only bone and scraps remained. One was a sword master. They were the best the Underworld had. Bodies long forgotten. He let the shadows take the lead. His shadows began to move, swirling like black flame. They crawled up the undead soldiers, wrapping around them, pulling them together. Then it lifted them in the air. The shadows started to swirl, forming a perfect massive black sphere. Their bodies twisted as it compressed tighter and tighter, pressing against itself, reshaping them until it looked like a pomegranate. The fruit was glowing faintly with violet cracks along its skin. Kael walked toward it and reached out to grab the fruit. He sat down in silence. Each seed burned in his mouth. Not with heat—but with memory. Every bite carried something. A man cutting through a hundred innocent people with a single sword stroke. A soldier breaking bones with bare fists, smiling through blood. A warrior spinning a spear so fast it cracked the sky. But with the skill came their crimes—murder, betrayal, endless pain. Kael didn’t look away. Kael opened his eyes. He didn’t just absorb their strength. He absorbed their story. Once again, he closed his eyes, trying to focus. As he did, the flashes of their skill came up. He didn’t fight back. His movement—his swordsmanship—improved. Things were getting easy—too easy. Kael paused for a moment. Then a thought hit him. What if he pushed further? He looked down at his body—stronger than before, faster too—but it was not enough. He could keep training under more intense gravity. To push his body harder... By adding more weight to his body. That way, he could increase his strength and endurance. It would also sharpen his precision, speed, and control. It was the fastest way to get stronger. This time, no one would help him fight his battle. He trained day by day, adding more and more bracelets. The gravity in the hall kept rising. And soon, he started mixing both—to practice his sword strikes, to make every swing heavier and more powerful. By the seventh day, Kael was able to handle 500 pounds on each arm... under 200x gravity. The next day, he stood in the middle of the hall—alone, like always—his body dripping with sweat. The bracelets on his arms felt light. Kael reached for a sword. His fingers wrapped around it. He slowly lifted it, inch by inch. He tightened his grip. Then he started to swing, syncing each strike with precise footwork, step by step. He stepped forward, slashed down. Stepped back, cut across. Again and again, until the rhythm kicked in. He was completely focused— Until he heard clapping from behind him.