"You know... don’t you feel even a little nervous?"
At the bottom of Tartarus, Hera gazed at Eros’s calm expression, her voice tinged with regret.
She’d really been hoping to see him crumble, to see despair or at least some sign of defeat that would amuse her.
Hera had never been one for crude, simple violence. Killing a rival outright? Boring.
What she truly enjoyed was breaking them down slowly, tormenting them bit by bit, savoring the colorful parade of expressions along the way.
But Eros’s reaction? Far too dull.
Did he really not understand the endless, monotonous suffering that awaited him here in Tartarus?
Then again, maybe that was to be expected. A mortal like him couldn’t possibly grasp what it meant to endure life at the very bottom of the abyss.
The thought stirred a flicker of pity in Hera’s heart.
At least for now, she was still here. At least he had someone to talk to. At least he wouldn’t fall apart so soon.
"What’s the point of being nervous? Just stay chill~"
Honestly, in a situation , a normal magnetic-field user would be freaking out, shouting "Yah!" or "Ugh!" or "Ahhh!" at the top of their lungs.
But Eros wasn’t like those people. His mindset stayed rock solid.
After the battles with Poseidon and Typhon, he’d already hit his high.
It wasn’t like he was the Hulk or something, he couldn’t stay hyped forever. He needed time to recharge.
Besides, he’d only just arrived in Tartarus. It hadn’t really sunk in yet.
For all he knew, maybe the silent, pitch-black abyss would inspire him to awaken some kind of Dark Shura Path or Celestial Dance of the Sacred Wheel.
Bottom line: no panic.
If Tartarus couldn’t erase his soul, then Eros figured he’d eventually find a way out.
Seventh sense not enough? No problem. He’d hit the eighth, ninth, whatever it took.
With his peerless brilliance and talent, breaking through Tartarus, the graveyard of all things, was only a matter of time.
As long as the primordial god beneath him didn’t suddenly freak out and gobble him up, he’d be fine.
"Why are you looking at me like that? Your stare’s getting kinda creepy."
Hera crossed her arms, a chill running down her spine at Eros’s strange gaze.
After all, wasn’t she his backup secret power source?
Surely this queen in disguise would give him ten times, no, nine times the excitement when the time came.
When necessary, she’d be the key to his breakthrough.
Having made up his mind, Eros started settling into his new state.
When he threw that punch at Typhon, he’d already stepped into the realm of the seventh sense.
His magnetic power flowed freely now, with no obstacles until the five hundred thousand mark.
What he needed now was to adapt, to truly grasp the power of his cosmos at the seventh sense.
Manas, the power of thought, reaching this stage finally made him a true Gold Saint, capable of wielding the cosmos properly.
His Phantom Emperor Fist could now be used to its fullest potential.
If it were Achelous in front of him now, he wouldn’t have to pummel her repeatedly. One punch would be enough to "remake" her.
Damn, his fists were itching.
He really wanted to hit something.
Opening his eyes, Eros glanced at Hera.
"Do you know where the imprisoned Titans are down here? Preferably a weak one?"
In the Titanomachy, only four Titans initially sided with Zeus, Oceanus and Tethys, plus his two aunts (who were also his wives).
Later, through sheer charisma, Zeus actually pulled two more Titans to his side, at the cost of fathering children with the nurturing goddess Leto and the moon goddess Selene.
Thanks to all these family ties, the only Titans who actually ended up in Tartarus were Cronus, the second-generation god-king, and Coeus, the big oaf.
Their diehard followers were tossed in too, scattered somewhere in this abyss.
And Eros? His fists ached. He needed a Titan to fight.
"How should I know? This is my first time here!"
Hera sounded completely justified.
She was Hera! Why would she have ever been to Tartarus?
If Typhon hadn’t flung Eros and her down here with his powers, her avatar would’ve just dissipated and returned to Olympus.
Okay, so no help from her.
Looked like she knew as much about this place as he did.
As Eros pondered whether to drag Hera along to explore this pit, a faint glow appeared in the distance, fast approaching.
The voice came first, filled with fury.
That familiar towering figure, those siren-like features, it was none other than his dear "comrade," Achelous.
After being torn apart by Poseidon, she’d naturally ended up in Tartarus, awaiting rescue.
The spell of the Phantom Emperor Fist had long since worn off.
Now, fueled by seething rage, she charged at Eros the instant she spotted him.
"You scoundrel! You ambushed me, messed with my mind!"
Even though she’d been controlled, Achelous still remembered it all.
The fact that he hypnotized her was bad enough. But he didn’t even do anything romantic while he had the chance? Just used her like a puppet?
Unforgivable. She had to make him pay.
Blinded by fury, Achelous didn’t even stop to wonder why a mere mortal was roaming free in Tartarus.
All she wanted now was vengeance, pure, brutal vengeance.
"You again? Ugh, I guess you’ll do."
Eros made a face like he’d been served leftovers, but he raised his hand all the same.
His cosmos and magnetic field power surged together.
Come to think of it, from Achelous’s perspective, she’d never seen Eros actually fight.
When he confronted Poseidon, she’d already been taken out.
So in her mind, the fact that Eros had ambushed her meant he was weaker.
Right up until Eros’s fist crashed into her face, that’s what she was thinking.
[Three hundred thousand horsepower: Whale King Strike!]
His magnetic power soared to the three hundred thousand mark.
No illusions, no Phantom Emperor Fist this time.
Eros wanted to test out his whale-style martial arts.
What was the difference between this "ordinary" attack and his usual punches?
His fist smashed into Achelous’s face.
Her massive siren body spun through the air, twirling a dozen times before crashing away into the darkness.
Yup. Definitely more satisfying.
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