Three | He Who Walks The Night

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The night air was thick with the scent of decay, a cloying aroma that clung to the cobblestones like a shroud.  The moon's light, a pale sliver in the inky sky, barely reached the ground, casting long, distorted shadows in the twisting alleys of the old city. Kyros walked through it with a slow, almost casual stride, his boots echoing in the silence. His long black coat billowed slightly with each step, the collar turned up against the chill, and his eyes, gleaming with a predatory hunger, scanned the shadows. He wasn't here for the thrill; this was beneath him. But still, it amused him to play with vermin every now and then.

The creature had been leaving bodies in his territory. Unacceptable. As the son of Hades, he tolerated a lot, but not sloppiness. Each victim had been drained completely, the life snuffed out of them without any regard for his presence in the city. Disrespectful.

As he neared the end of the alley, the shadows deepened unnaturally, and a low hiss echoed in the darkness. A twisted figure emerged, pale skin stretched over sharp bones, eyes glowing a sickly green, fangs dripping with venom. The creature slithered closer, claws clicking against the stone, its movements jerky and unnatural.

Found you.

"Look what we have here," Kyros said, his voice dripping with arrogance. He stopped, standing tall as he eyed the creature with cold disdain. "You must be the little pest causing all this fuss. Funny, I thought you'd be taller. Or, I don't know—less pathetic."

The creature bared its fangs, a guttural growl rumbling in its throat. "You dare mock me, mortal?" it hissed. "I am the bringer of death, the devourer of souls. You are nothing but—"

Kyros cut it off with a sharp laugh, his hand resting lazily inside his pockets, "Mortal?" He raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Oh, I see. You really don't know who you're dealing with, do you?"

He stepped closer, his face twisted in a cocky grin. "I am Kyros. Son of Hades. Prince of the Underworld. The one who decides where you end up after you die, you brainless sack of rot. You're standing in my domain, and you have the audacity to think you could keep feeding on these pathetic mortals without me noticing?"

The creature sneered, standing its ground. "A god who plays babysitter to mortals? Pathetic indeed. Perhaps your father banished you because even he saw you for what you are—an arrogant, spoiled child."

Kyros' smile faltered for a second, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "You're going to regret that," he said, voice low, dripping with menace. "But I'll give you points for the effort."

In a blur of motion, Kyros unsheathed his sword out of thin air and slashed at the creature, not aiming to kill but to wound. His blade sliced through its shoulder, sending dark green blood splattering across the alley walls. The creature howled in pain, staggering back, but Kyros wasn't done. Not even close.

"Come on," he taunted, leaning forward with a wicked grin. "What happened to all that confidence? Surely the 'devourer of souls' isn't scared of an arrogant and spoiled god like me?"

The creature hissed, lunging forward, but Kyros sidestepped easily, backhanding it across the face with such force that it crashed into the wall.

"You know," Kyros said, strolling over casually as if they were in the middle of a friendly chat, "I could end you right now. Snap my fingers, and you'd be nothing but dust. But that would be too quick." He crouched down beside the creature, who groaned in pain, trying to recover. "No, I think I'd rather drag this out a bit. Let you feel what it's like to be hunted."

The creature spat at his feet, defiant even as it trembled. "You're nothing but a coward hiding behind your father's name!"

Kyros laughed again, darker this time. "Coward? Oh, I don't hide behind anything. I'm exactly what you see—a god who's about to make your last moments on this earth very unpleasant."

He raised his hand, and the shadows around them deepened, swirling like a vortex. The air grew colder, and the creature's eyes widened in terror as tendrils of darkness began to creep toward it, wrapping around its limbs, pinning it to the ground.

"Let me show you what true power looks like," Kyros said, his voice soft but deadly, as he knelt beside the creature, his face inches from its own. "Feel that? It's your soul being torn apart. Slowly. Painfully. And there's nothing you can do about it."

The creature screamed, thrashing against the bonds of darkness, but Kyros simply smiled, watching with cold amusement.

"You thought you could mock me," Kyros said, standing up, his gaze hard and unfeeling. "But in the end, you're just another creature begging for mercy."

With a snap of his fingers, the shadows constricted, and the creature let out one final, agonized wail before its body disintegrated into ash, blown away by the wind.

Kyros brushed off his coat, his expression returning to its usual smugness. "Well, that wasn't so fun," he muttered, turning to leave,  Yet notices the blotches of green revolting blood that had stained his new coat. "Damnit. Seriously.. These are new..." He mumbled, trying to wipe the stain using his hand, looking so displeased. " I fucking hate this job." he mumbled under his breath .

But then he paused, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You know, I should start charging for these clean-up jobs.  Imagine, 'Kyros, God-Slayer, Professional Monster Extermination Services. Guaranteed Results or your Soul Back!'" He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that echoed in the empty alley.  "Maybe its time that those scum gods would finally pay me what I'm worth. How annoying."

Kyros turned to leave, but suddenly, jittery energy stopped him in his tracks. A lanky figure, Phobos, the god of panic, emerged from the shadows, his wide eyes reflecting a nervous tremor.

"Haven't I told you to stop appearing out of nowhere like that?" Kyros snapped, clutching his chest in mock distress. "One of these days, you're going to give me a heart attack!"

Phobos blinked innocently. "You're a god, Uncle Kyros," he replied matter-of-factly. "You're not going to die from a heart attack."

Kyros shot him a frustrated glare, running his hand through his hair. "That's beside the point! Just... stop doing that."

Phobos, unfazed by Kyros's irritation, simply grinned as if this was all part of his daily routine. But Kyros's expression changed as he realized something was amiss.

"Wait... where's your brother? You two are never apart." He tried to sound casual, but his curiosity was piqued.

Phobos fell silent for a moment, fidgeting with his fingers. After what felt like an eternity, he muttered, "Deimos is with our father. Father requires his presence."

Kyros rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what "plans" meant when it came to his cousin. "Right. Using him to torment mortals, no doubt." He crossed his arms, shaking his head. "Your father is a scumbag. He's long overdue for a good beating."

Phobos chuckled nervously, though he didn't argue. Even he knew how reckless his father could be. But then he remembered why he had appeared in the first place.

"Oh, right!" Phobos said, straightening up. "I almost forgot why I came. His Devine Highness wants everyone to attend the family assembly at the end of the month. And—" He hesitated before adding, "Your mother also specifically asked for you to be there."

Kyros clenched his jaw, his entire posture stiffening at the mention of his mother and his Devine Highness--His Uncle. The family summit. It was nearly that time of year again. He hated these gatherings.

"I'm not going," Kyros stated firmly, eyes narrowing.

Phobos's jaw dropped. "What?! How am I supposed to tell them that? Especially your mother? She'll... she'll kill me!"

"Stop being so dramatic, Kid, My mother won't." Kyros said, waving his hand dismissively. "Just tell them I'm busy. " Kyros winked playfully wearing a mischievous grin.

And with a flick of his wrist, he vanished into the night, leaving Phobos standing there in disbelief, his mind racing in a hundred different directions.

" Her Royal highness, Persephone is definitely----going to kill me,Uncle." Phobos muttered to himself, wide-eyed and panicked, as usual.

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