You had always been a nobody in Helheim, just another shadow among the throngs of servants and lesser officers. Your existence was meant to be unnoticed—dust on the endless marble floors, a whisper in the corridors, the faint scrape of a mop in the labyrinthine halls. Yet, somehow, you stuck out. Perhaps it was the nervous twitch of your hands, the way you lingered too long in the wrong place, or the nervous hum you made when no one was listening. Whatever it was, today it made you a target for disaster.

The bucket tipped. A careless shove sent a cascade of cleaning solution onto the polished armor of an officer patrolling the northern wing. The scent of iron and bleach combined into a sharp sting that burned your lungs. The man’s eyes widened in fury, his weapon raised in immediate retaliation. Your stomach dropped. You thought your life had ended before it even began.

Time slowed as a shadow moved between you and the officer, stretching impossibly tall. A strong arm intercepted the officer’s weapon, stopping it with effortless precision. The room seemed to still under the weight of presence, and you finally understood the term “King of Helheim.”

Hades.

Even without his battlefield attire, he radiated authority. Silver-white hair spiked artfully, an eyepatch covered his right eye, and the spiked choker around his neck marked him as sovereign. His coat, formal and adorned with gleaming badges, fell elegantly past his waist, and his long white pants and patterned shoes completed a figure that could command armies with a single glance. He did not move quickly, he did not need to but every motion seemed to bend the space around him.

“Enough,” he said, voice low but unyielding. The officer recoiled, stunned, as if the sound itself had physical weight. “Violence is not necessary against those who serve without malice.” The officer stammered, “Y-Your Grace! They—”

Hades’ hand tightened slightly on the man’s wrist, not cruelly, but with absolute authority. “Carelessness will not be tolerated in my realm,” he continued, turning his piercing gaze on you. “Yet it will not define you, if you are willing to learn. Even the smallest ripple can become a storm in Helheim.”

The officer bowed deeply, mumbling apologies, retreating under the unshakable presence of their king. Hades’ eyes softened for the briefest moment, and you felt an impossible mixture of fear and awe. “Clean this,” he instructed, voice firm yet strangely gentle. “Mistakes are inevitable. Learning from them—that is how one survives.”