Crowned in the realm of death

After several days of meditation and internal focus following my ascension, the divine energies within me began to settle no longer clashing or surging uncontrollably, but flowing in harmony, like rivers converging into a single, deep ocean.

With that stability, my body changed again this time not from raw awakening, but from the natural evolution of a divine being stepping into their true form.

I had grown into the appearance of a tall, athletic young man, around sixteen in mortal years. My physique now reflected my strength lean, powerful, and balanced, forged.

My once-short black hair had become dense and wild, cascading all the way down to my waist, thick and flowing like the bushy tail of a wolf, carrying with it a quiet menace.

My canines had extended, sharp and pointed like a vampire's fangs, yet not monstrous refined, regal, as though carved for a king who ruled with fear and command.

My hands and feet were now sheathed in black from the fingertips and toes up to the forearms and shins, as if dipped in darkness itself, a living armour granted by the domain of Darkness.

Most strikingly, my eyes had changed.

The white sclera was gone replaced by pure black, void-like and endless.

My iris, once a simple dark shade, now gleamed with a vivid, almost glowing amethyst purple, like the last light of dusk trapped inside obsidian.

Finally, the two horns had grown longer and more defined, obsidian black and curving slightly backwards just above the ears. They were sharp yet elegant, a clear mark of the demonic divinity I had.

Now, as I looked at my reflection in a pool of divine essence, even I could tell 

I no longer looked like a simple god.

I looked like a Demon God a ruler born of darkness shaped by survival.

As the days passed, I refused to grow complacent. Power alone, no matter how vast, was nothing without control.

So I began a strict routine.

At dawn, I trained my physical body, pushing it beyond its limits with relentless push-ups, sit-ups, squats, and shadow sparring.

Each movement forged muscle, sharpened reflexes, and anchored my growing strength in form.

When my body ached, I turned to spiritual discipline through long meditation sessions, breathing in divine energy and refining my control over it.

My aura, once wild and uncontrolled, gradually became focused, precise, like a blade.

---

Then, one day, amidst the quiet hum of progress, a sudden splash broke the silence of the acidic pool that had long tormented us.

Hestia and I turned at the same time.

A small girl floated helplessly in the corrosive bile, barely protected by a flickering divine barrier. Without hesitation, I leapt into the acid, wings shielding my body, and swiftly pulled her to safety.

She was young, maybe only five or six in appearance.

Blonde hair, now clinging wet to her skin, and bright green eyes filled with confusion and fear.

She trembled in Hestia's arms, glancing at me and immediately, I saw it.

Fear. Disgust. Rejection.

Her tiny hands clutched Hestia's robes, hiding behind her like a frightened animal. Her eyes never met mine for long. My presence, my aura, my appearance everything about me terrified her.

I couldn't blame her.

I wasn't like the others.

My demonic horns, blackened limbs, void-like eyes, and the thick aura of death, darkness, and sin… to a child, I must've seemed like a monster.

Hestia gently comforted her, whispering that everything was alright, that I was her brother, not a threat. But even her calming voice could not erase the instinctive revulsion that Demeter felt.

Yes, Demeter our little sister. The goddess-to-be of harvest and growth, whose very essence rejected all that my domains represented.

I stood there silently.

Not angry.

Not sad.

Just… silent.

Because in her reaction, I was reminded of a harsh truth:

The world might never see me as anything but a demon.

During one of my intense physical training sessions, sweat dripping from my brow, muscles straining under divine weight I felt it.

A wall.

A ceiling.

My current body, though enhanced by divinity, had reached its limit under the training conditions I had created. No matter how many push-ups or sit-ups I performed, the growth was diminishing. I was maintaining, not evolving.

But I already knew the answer.

My gaze shifted toward the acidic pond the same hellish substance that had once tried to erase my existence.

That pool wasn't just destructive.

It had a unique property: it suppressed divine energy and restricted physical movement, forcing the body and soul to fight harder, adapt more rapidly, and evolve under extreme conditions.

In short, it was the perfect crucible for training.

But before I could enter, I needed to speak with Hestia.

When I approached her, she was tending to Demeter, gently weaving warmth into her divine aura to comfort the frightened child. As I explained my plan, her face immediately hardened.

Her voice trembled, though she hid it behind calm words:

"You're… leaving, aren't you?"

It caught me off guard.

She misunderstood.

To her, I was the one constant here her protector, her companion in this timeless prison. And now, with Demeter here, the fear of abandonment crept into her heart.

I tried to explain again and again.

"No, sister. I'm not leaving you… I'm preparing myself."

I told her of the acid's potential as a training ground. Of how I would only be a short distance away. Of how, if I didn't push myself further, I would become stagnant unworthy of the throne that waited.

Her eyes softened, just a little. She looked at Demeter, then at me.

Finally, with a long sigh and a whisper:

"Alright… But promise me… you'll come back often. Promise you won't lose yourself in that darkness."

I stepped forward and placed a hand gently over hers.

"I swear it. I'll return. 

She nodded slowly, and I gave her a small bow as a greeting of farewell.

Then I turned, spreading my black wings, and walked toward the very pool that had once tried to kill me.