A few minutes before Pallas entered his divine form, high in the mountains of Mount Othrys, within the divine palace of Kronos—the King of the Cosmos—there was a room considered the council chamber.
At its center stood a long table, surrounded by various thrones, and at the head of it sat one man and one man alone: the leader of the old gods, the King of the Cosmos himself—Kronos.
He was calmly observing the battlefield, his divine energy spreading across the world and focusing on the specific locations reported to him.
He watched how the battles unfolded and how his fellow Great Titans were faring.
He did not act yet.
Instead, he observed, seeking to understand the enemy's intent.
He did not wish to be tricked, nor did he wish to act too soon.
As a king, patience was a virtue he had long mastered.
'Hmm… Themis seems to have grown stronger. Rhea as well,'
Kronos thought to himself.
In the center of the chamber hovered a screen formed of his own divine energy, displaying everything his power could perceive.
The image shifted constantly, showing multiple battlefields in succession—Helios clashing with Crius, distant fronts erupting into chaos.
Kronos was not alone.
To his right sat a handsome man with brilliant golden hair and bright blue eyes.
His physique was muscular yet lean, perfectly proportioned, as though carved from light itself.
Draped in golden attire, this was Hyperion, the Light-Bringer, rider of the sun—one of the Twelve Great Titans and one of Kronos's four generals.
To Kronos's left sat another figure: a man with short brown hair and black eyes, possessing a rugged, crooked handsomeness.
His body was massive, every inch packed with muscle, as though he could shatter mountains or bear the weight of the world itself.
His expression was stern and unyielding as he observed the battle.
This was Atlas, one of the Twelve Great Titans and one of Kronos's four generals—the supreme commander of his armies.
The three Titans simply watched.
No one spoke.
'Should I send one of them to Rhea's battlefield… or Themis's now?'
Kronos wondered.
As the screen shifted again, he saw Helios fighting—Hyperion's son.
'Perhaps that battlefield… 'But Kronos hesitated.
The enemy's movements still felt limited.
No overwhelming force had been committed yet, that he and his men can't handle.
The remaining Great Titans were not in the palace; they resided within their own domains, likely awaiting his command.
Kronos chose not to summon them yet.
If they left their territories, the enemy might strike where defenses were weakest.
For now, he trusted his fellow Titans to handle the situation.
But there were problems.
No—two problems.
Rhea and Themis were both holding their ground against one of his four generals.
That alone was troubling.
Kronos frowned.
Then suddenly—
All three Titans stiffened.
A powerful surge rippled through the cosmos.
"…Pallas,"
Kronos muttered.
One of the Great Titans had entered his divine form.
The energy was unmistakable, felt across vast distances.
Hyperion and Atlas reacted instantly.
"What the—Pallas?"
Hyperion said sharply.
Before Kronos could speak, something even more alarming happened.
The divine energy vanished.
Completely.
As though it had never existed.
Pallas's divinity—gone.
The room fell silent.
Even Atlas stiffened.
"What is happening?"
Atlas asked.
Kronos's gaze hardened as he immediately redirected the divine screen.
The battlefield shifted—but what he saw made no sense.
Pallas was not there.
Instead, a woman with golden hair and royal purple eyes stood in his place, with unimaginable beauty, commanding a rebel army and attacking several of deity's of all rank under him.
It was not a full-scale battle—something recent, something sudden.
Yet Pallas should have been there.
Something was wrong.
'Something doesn't make sense…'
Kronos thought.
For a moment, he considered intervening personally—but dismissed the thought.
The enemies on that battlefield were not strong enough to warrant his presence.
Any Great Titan could handle them.
Still, caution was necessary.
'I should send one of them,'
Kronos thought at last, his gaze shifting between Hyperion and Atlas.
His eyes finally settled on the fastest Titan alive…
Of course behind himself.
Before Kronos could even finish his thought, authority already woven into his presence, Hyperion rose to his feet.
A gentle smile crossed his face, sharp with confidence.
"No need to worry, brother," Hyperion said calmly. "I will go and see what is happening there."
And with that, he stood, ready to depart.
But before Hyperion could even depart for the battlefield he had been assigned to, Kronos spoke.
"Watch out for my firstborn. He may be the reason for Pallas's disappearance,"
Kronos commanded coldly, without the slightest emotion in his voice.
Kronos had his suspicions.
He was not certain it was truly Aetherion, but the boy was the only major force on the enemy's side that had yet to reveal himself.
Only Rhea and Themis currently posed a genuine threat to him and his four generals.
A few—maybe two or three—might be capable of harming a Great Titan, but none of them seemed particularly troublesome to Kronos himself.
And yet… that boy had not moved.
His firstborn—the one who had escaped him at birth.
A truly unknown existence.
And the greatest shame of his life.
To be tricked by a child at the age of eight… to have his children stolen from him by a serpent in godly skin… There was no greater humiliation for Kronos than that.
He wished to erase that existence entirely, to wipe it from the cosmos without a trace.
Kronos fixed Hyperion with a gaze so cold it felt as though time itself had frozen.
"Make sure to capture him alive. I wish to see that boy standing before me," Kronos said slowly. "I will erase him myself."
Even the heavens seemed to tremble at their king's words.
Hyperion did not flinch.
Instead, a calm and cold smile formed on his lips.
"No need to worry, brother. I shall bring your firstborn to you."
And with that, he vanished in a flash of blinding light, as though he had never been there at all.
Left alone in the chamber with Atlas, Kronos turned his gaze toward him.
"You will remain here," Kronos commanded. "Observe the battlefield. Analyze their fighting styles, search for weaknesses, and adapt as you watch. I want everything recorded."
"Understood, Your Majesty,"
Atlas replied simply, turning his attention back to the divine screen.
Kronos had no intention of attacking immediately.
The enemy's movements were troubling, yes—but he was no fool.
Charging in blindly was exactly what his enemies might be hoping for.
He did not yet know how strong his firstborn had become.
And the prophecy still lingered.
One of his children would defeat him.
No—would overthrow him.
Because of that, Kronos chose patience.
Observation.
And making sure to be the one in control.
'I will watch for now,'
he thought.
His gaze returned to the shifting screen.
As the battlefield changed once more, his attention lingered not on the three brothers fighting a major god—but on a woman with golden hair and royal purple eyes.
His daughter.
She stood in her divine form, commanding the battlefield with terrifying authority.
"…Truly troublesome children,"
Kronos muttered.
Another had achieved a divine form.
The bitter taste in his mouth only deepened as he watched.