[Third Person Pov]

As Lucian reached the bottom of the obsidian steps, he found Hades waiting for him. The god stood with his hands tucked into the pockets of his tailored black coat, the faint glow of the Underworld’s torches reflecting off his pale complexion. His expression was unreadable, but the slight narrowing of his eyes implied he’d grown suspicious.

“Alright, Lucian,” Hades began, his tone bordering between concern and impatience. “Be honest with me… What have you been doing in secret? What exactly have your plans been?”

Lucian blinked, momentarily stunned by the abruptness of the question. Behind him, the staircase he’d descended began to crumble apart. The steps dissolved into streams of black sand that cascaded down like liquid shadows until they rejoined the vast floor of the cavern.

“What?” Lucian managed, glancing back at the sand before returning his gaze to Hades.

Hades rolled his eyes dramatically, the gesture somehow regal despite its pettiness. “You are not as secretive as you think,” he said, voice flat. “The other gods might not have noticed—mostly because they’re too busy looking down on mortals and demigods to care—but I have. And you don’t have to be afraid to tell me anything here. This is my realm. No one can listen in on us.”

Lucian exhaled slowly as he and Hades began walking through the cavernous expanse. He rubbed the back of his neck, unease obvious in his posture. “So… you noticed, huh?”

“Pretty hard not to,” Hades scoffed. “I can confidently say I’ve produced a few powerful demigods back in my day—”

“Okay, grandpa,” Lucian blurted out automatically.

Hades stopped mid-stride and shot him a side-eye sharp enough to slice through celestial bronze.

Lucian slapped a hand over his mouth. “Sorry—sorry. Please, continue.”

“Mm-hmm.” Hades resumed walking. “As I was saying, I’ve had my share of powerful children, but their power has always remained within a reasonable limit. You, however…” He clicked his tongue. “You somehow managed to somersault over that limit, do a backflip, stick the landing, and all just for the fun of it.”

Lucian chuckled proudly under his breath.

“And it’s not just you,” Hades continued. “It’s those around you. Annabeth. Thalia. And by the looks of it… Percy, Nico, Bianca… They’re all benefiting from something. And I have a very strong suspicion you are the common denominator.”

He turned his head then, his glowing irises piercing through Lucian as if peeling back layers of flesh and bone to stare directly into the core of his being. “Not to mention your soul.”

Lucian’s steps faltered. “What about my soul?” he asked quietly, glancing down at his hands as though expecting them to reveal the answer.

“Lucian,” Hades said slowly, almost gently, “the quality of your soul is… far beyond what it should be for any mortal—demigod or otherwise. Sometimes you disappear for days, and when I see you again, it’s grown even stronger. Brighter. More refined.” In Hades’ sight, Lucian’s soul shimmered like stardust, as though constellations were embedded within it. “Whatever you’re doing… it’s dangerous. I can feel it. And as your father, I want to know. I need to know.”

Lucian hesitated, his shoulders tightening. “Can’t you just trust me to handle it?” he sighed. The weight of the truth pressed against him; he wasn’t sure how Hades would react—or what cosmic consequences might follow.

Hades stopped walking. “Lucian… you’re dead.”

Lucian stared at him.

“You can’t exactly expect me to have high expectations of your decision-making right now.”

“…” Lucian puffed out his cheeks, pouting. “…Touché.”

They walked in silence for a moment, the looming entrance of the Hall of Judgment growing closer with each step. Lucian studied Hades from the corner of his eye, the way the god’s expression was firm yet patient, stern yet undeniably protective. With a long exhale, he finally gave in.

“…Fine,” he murmured. “You’ve been a good father. I guess I can trust you with this.”

Hades’ face softened, and he reached over to ruffle Lucian’s hair—a gesture both affectionate and annoyingly paternal. “Thank you.”

Lucian groaned softly but didn’t pull away. Instead, he straightened his posture and prepared himself.

“Alright… Here goes,” he said, inhaling deeply. “I was planning on becoming a Primordial Deity.”

Hades froze. Then he turned, very slowly, his expression shifting from confusion to disbelief to absolute cosmic outrage.

“I’m sorry… What the fuck did you just say?” Hades demanded, his voice echoing off the cavern walls. He was so stunned he couldn’t even stop the curse from slipping out.

Lucian laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck again. “Hahaha… Please don’t pass divine judgment on me yet.”

“Lucian…” Hades exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose with a hand that trembled ever so slightly. The glow of the Underworld’s torches danced across the sharp angles of his face, revealing an expression caught somewhere between disbelief and a father’s exhausted concern. “I thought you were planning on becoming a god. That’s what I suspected. That’s what I was prepared to hear you say. But a Primordial Deity?” He lowered his hand and stared at Lucian as though seeing him for the first time. “Can… Can I ask why? Is godhood not enough for you?”

Lucian gave a casual shrug, as though Hades had asked something trivial. “I wanted to see if I could,” he said simply.

Hades just stood there—rooted, silent, genuinely stunned. Lucian continued walking.

“I mean, why settle, right?” Lucian said, gesturing loosely with his hands. “If I can pull it off? Great. If I can’t? That’s fine too. At least I’d know I tried. I just want to know the limits of what I’m capable of. How far I can really go.”

Hades’ voice softened, dropping its divine authority and sounding almost… concern. “Even if it meant dying without accomplishing anything?” he asked. He looked into Lucian’s spirit again—into that shimmering, starlit soul that refused to dim. “Even if it meant dying an insignificant death?”

Lucian chuckled at that, shaking his head. “Isn’t that what life is?” he asked lightly. “A lifelong attempt to give yourself meaning before the end comes? Tell me—what do you think an insignificant death really is?”

Hades remained silent.

“To you,” Lucian continued, “an insignificant death might be one where someone never reached their goals. Where they spent their life trying and failing until the end finally came, leaving everything unfinished. A life that looks pointless. A death that looks meaningless.” He stepped past Hades, walking forward, the long shadows followed him like loyal companions. “But I don’t see it that way.”

Lucian placed his hands in his pockets and continued, voice calm but unwavering. “To me, insignificance is only achieved through a meaningless life. A life without attempts at greatness. Without reaching for something bigger than yourself. Our lives aren’t judged by the moment we die. They’re judged by the moments we dared to truly live.”

Behind him, Hades’ lips curled into a slow, beautiful smile—one touched by pride, awe, and an aching sort of fear.

“And because of that,” Lucian said, lifting his gaze to the black cavern ceiling overhead, “I intend to live chasing my limits. If discovering those limits costs me my life… then it’s a price I’m willing to pay.” His eyes glowed faintly with resolve. “I’d rather die chasing the impossible than live chained to the ordinary.”

Hades caught up to him with a tired sigh and draped an arm over Lucian’s shoulders—a gesture equal parts affectionate and resigned. “Go big or go home, huh?” he said with a breathy laugh. “And you certainly dream big.” He shook his head, though the pride in his eyes betrayed him. “You are a frightening child, Lucian. Not because of your power or potential… but because of your ambition. That alone makes you the most dangerous demigod I’ve ever known.”

Lucian snorted and tapped Hades’ chest with the back of his hand. “What can I say? A dream that can’t kill you isn’t a dream worth having.”

Hades threw his head back and let out a full, booming laugh that echoed through the Underworld as the two of them finally arrived before the towering gates of the Judgement Pavillion. The doors loomed above them like ancient titans, waiting—silent, patient, inevitable.

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