The Nameless Heir
Chapter 73: Hymn of the Morning Star

Chapter 73: Hymn of the Morning Star

Hermes slowly lifted his head, eyes locking onto Kael—unblinking, calm. His expression went black, but Kael could tell he was burning with fury.

Gold light flowed through his body like veins toward his arms, slowly forming a pair of twin golden blades on his palms. It radiated his own power—and the blessing from Zeus.

The blades let out a subtle hum, making his vision waver.

The sound wasn’t loud... but it cut through the air like a ripple in glass.

Even the dust around Hermes began to rise, trembling, drawn toward the light like it was being pulled into something divine.

Then the wings on his back disappeared.

But the wings on his sandals began to flap—faster, sharper—kicking up bursts of wind.

Dust rose around his feet.

In an instant, he became a blur of light.

And then—he was everywhere.

He reappeared all around Kael, shifting from one position to the next with impossible speed. A flash to the left. Then behind. Above. Below.

Kael’s eyes could barely keep up.

Every time Hermes moved, he moved faster—like motion itself was bending to his will.

His afterimages dragged across the sky, golden streaks flashing like lightning. The air rippled from the force.

"Look at you," Kael said with a smirk, his voice sharp. "Showing off after borrowing some power from Daddy."

The words had barely left his mouth—

When Hermes appeared behind him in a flash of golden light.

His blade came down fast.

But Kael’s shadow reacted on instinct—rising up in jagged tendrils, forming a wall of black between them.

The strike landed with a crash, golden light slamming into darkness. The shadows held, trembling under the force, gripping Hermes’s arm the moment they made contact—trying to bind him in place.

Kael moved instantly.

He twisted his body and swung the scythe, the tip aimed straight at Hermes’s skull.

But it passed through him cleanly.

Hermes’s body flickered, revealing itself to be nothing more than an afterimage made out of golden light. Slowly, it broke apart, then dissolved into the air like he was never there.

Kael’s shadow began to ripple, like it was struggling to hold its shape.

Confusion filled his eyes.

But before he could react, Hermes was already moving again.

He attacked from every direction, but Kael’s shadow rose each time, trying to block the blows.

Hermes would bring his golden blade down, then disappear—and every time Kael tried to counter the attack, another strike came from the opposite side.

Every time he moved to counterattack, Hermes vanished, and the next attack came from somewhere else. And each time, the attacks got faster, sharper—it was relentless. And the humming in the air grew worse, sharpening with every second, vibrating like a blade dragged across glass.

It rang in his head, piercing and shrill. The sound grew louder. Until it felt like his head would split in two.

Then his shadows began to falter—thrashing wildly, whipping out in every direction, like they weren’t tracking the real target anymore.

They were lost, confused—chasing ghosts.

Next, he started to lose control over his shadows. They thrashed wildly, whipping in every direction, as if trying to keep up but failing to lock onto their target.

Hermes kept moving, faster and faster—and Kael’s shadow was becoming uncontrollable. It no longer responded to him the way it should.

Then Hermes appeared above him.

He raised his arm, the golden blade gleaming under the sunlight—then threw his weight behind it, bringing it down with crushing force. But Kael raised his scythe just in time, using the shaft to block the strike.

The force cracked the ground underneath him.

As soon as their weapons collided, a deep, humming vibration pulsed through the weapon, traveling from the shaft into his arms, then spreading through his chest like a ripple.

His shadows twitched—erratic and out of sync, as if they’d forgotten how to move.

His body buckled.

His legs gave up. His vision warped—colors bleeding at the edges, the world tilting sideways like a painting knocked off its frame.

Just then, it hit him.

Hermes hadn’t gotten faster. He was just getting slower.

It was the humming—the radiant vibration coming off him—that was warping Kael’s senses.

Using his legs, Kael pushed upward—forcing Hermes back with a sudden burst of strength.

But Hermes didn’t stop.

He kept moving.

His eyes drifted—unfocused, slow, like he wanted to take a nap. The world shimmered in front of him, like a mirage under a desert sun. His senses spun. He couldn’t keep up. Not for too long.

Using that chance, Hermes struck him from every direction, each hit landing clean.

Slowly, his armor began to shatter, one piece at a time.

The coat tore first.

Then the helm of darkness cracked and vanished into smoke.

He needed to distance himself.

But Hermes wouldn’t let him breathe.

"Envy. Lust. Come here," Kael called out, voice low and strained.

They rose from the nearest shadow, flickering into form.

Hermes saw them—and changed targets instantly.

He shot toward them like a spear of light.

But Kael appeared in front of them, just in time—blocking the strike with the shaft of his scythe.

The impact sent a shock through his arms.

Kael gritted his teeth and held his ground, pushing back as Hermes drove forward, dragging him across the field.

If he let go now... Hermes’s blade would pierce straight through his chest.

"Envy. Lust..."

Kael’s voice was low—calm, but heavy with command.

"Sing the Hymn of the Morning Star."

The air shifted.

The two Sins stepped forward, their eyes gleaming—feral and knowing.

Then they smiled.

Not sweet. Not kind. But the kind of smile that promised ruin.

Their mouths opened—and their voices spilled out like silk-draped daggers. Sweet, yet sharp. Haunting.

It was something older—something not meant for mortal ears.

A song that felt like a lullaby... but not one anyone alive would remember.

As it spread through the field, the air around Kael shimmered.

Each note dragged light from the sky, twisting the shadows at his feet.

It wasn’t just noise. It was awakening something buried.

And as the hymn rose... something else rose with it.

Something terrible.

Something divine.

His shadows flared out—like fire. Violent. Uncontained.

The helm of darkness returned, snapping over his head like a curse reawakened.

And just like that...

The humming vanished.

Power surged through his body—it pulsed through his veins, crawling beneath his skin. He smiled—he liked that feeling. His body burned with excitement.

Behind Hermes, his shadow rose, taking Kael’s form. It moved like a ghost—silent—and without a word, chains erupted from its limbs—black, alive—snapping around Hermes’s waist and yanking him backward, ripping him off of Kael.

Hermes flew, twisting mid-air—but his balance held.

His eyes flashed.

With a sharp cry, he raised his blade—

One clean strike.

The chains shattered.

Kael and his shadow stood still, side by side—like twin reflections.

Hermes floated across from them—his robes tattered, his breathing quiet but sharp. Their eyes locked.

And in the blink of a moment... they moved in different directions.

Kael shot forward, and the shadow mirrored Kael’s every step—knowing his rhythm, his weight, the very pulse of his movement. They attacked in perfect harmony, like dancers locked in the same breath of war.

Their rhythm was flawless.

Kael spun the scythe—fast, tight—building momentum with each spin.

Then—he brought it down.

Each strike got faster. Heavier.

Hermes was able to block them. His body was coated with divine protection, like an invisible barrier wrapped around him. Each strike just bounced off.

But Kael didn’t stop.

He kept the scythe spinning between each strike, faster and faster—building power.

Each time it came down, it hit harder.

And harder.

And harder.

While he kept the pressure high, the shadow crept low. It slithered up Hermes’s legs like a serpent, wrapping around them—tightening.

Locking him in place.

Kael’s shadow formed a scythe of its own—pure darkness, rippling like smoke—and began copying his every movement, strike for strike.

Together, they attacked from both sides, the rhythm flawless—almost unnatural.

Hermes moved fast, deflecting the heavier blows with divine precision. The lighter strikes, he let pass, and his armor absorbed them with ease.

Kael’s scythe couldn’t break through.

All the force was concentrated at the tip—sharp enough to cut, but not hard enough to break.

And that—was the problem.

So Kael changed his approach.

He twisted his body sharply to the side, then brought the scythe upward in a wide arc—dragging its blade through the dirt, carving into the earth. The ground tore open, dust and debris flying into the air.

He aimed it high—right toward Hermes’s face.

A cloud of dirt exploded into his eyes.

Hermes flinched, crossing his arms instinctively to shield himself from the strike.

But that’s when Kael moved.

He twisted the scythe mid-swing, shifting its form. Slowly, his scythe changed form, turning into a stream of shadows that wrapped around his arm, coiling up to his fist like liquid steel.

When Hermes opened his eyes—

Kael was ready.

He drove an uppercut straight into the god’s stomach.

Something cracked in his hand—bone, definitely. But the shadow wrapped around his arm held it together, sealing the damage with darkness.

Kael twisted his body and followed with a sharp hook to the ribs.

Hermes was still locked in place—chains tight, nowhere to run.

Behind them, Envy and Lust sang louder, their voices rising like a war hymn.

Kael and his shadow moved in perfect sync, their steps mirrored like a single breath drawn by two bodies. Every punch struck with rhythm—measured, brutal, deliberate.

Each strike carried weight.

Each one broke something inside him.

But the shadows wove around the fractures—holding him together just long enough to swing again.

He didn’t stop.

He couldn’t.

Even as his fingers started to go numb.

Even as the pain faded into something distant.

He could barely feel his hand now—

But still,

He kept punching.

Cracks began to spread across Hermes’s golden armor—fine lines at first, then deeper, more visible.

Kael saw it.

A sliver of weakness.

An opening.

Without hesitation, he re-materialized the scythe in his hand.

Then he struck.

A barrage of slashes tore across Hermes’s body—sharp, precise, controlled. He didn’t aim to kill. Just to wound. Just enough damage to slow a god’s recovery, to buy himself time.

Killing Hermes outright would be dangerous. Too dangerous.

If a demigod murdered one of their own, the gods would descend. All of them. And they’d come for his head.

But maiming Hermes—crippling him long enough to complete his mission?

That...

That would buy him time.

Hermes fell to his knees.

His wounds struggled to heal—golden threads of divine light trying to stitch the damage shut, but barely managing.

But through all of it...

Kael noticed something.

Not once did Hermes grunt.

Not once did he cry out in pain.

He was completely silent.

Emotionless.

His eyes slowly opened—

But they weren’t looking at anything.

They were blank.

Flashing with golden light.

No pupils. No focus. No soul.

And then... it hit him.

The lightning.

It wasn’t a blessing.

It was control.

It wasn’t power flowing through Hermes—it was a leash.

Someone had taken his mind. Turned him into a weapon.

Kael’s chest tightened.

A god—so afraid of losing to a mere demigod—that he’d sacrifice his own son to win.

Kael turned slowly toward the darkened sky—

To the clouds where the eagles still circled.

His voice rose, bitter and sharp.

"You’re willing to let your son die... for what?"

He paused. The silence burned.

"Pride?"

Above, something flashed behind the clouds.