SmilinKujo
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Chapter 84 – The Door to Too Much
🕑 Added 2025-05-07 11:23:37 +0000 UTCAs the door creaked open, Jack’s wicked grin—so full of promise and scandal—quickly morphed into… confusion. No glittering vault. No mountain of naughty secrets. No reindeer skeletons or elf union contracts. Just… a room. Ordinary looking.
Dimly lit, floor to ceiling in shelves. Scrolls were stacked and crammed haphazardly into cubbies. Mirror shards—some large, some tiny, most cracked—were scattered across the room, hanging from chains or embedded in the walls like broken puzzle pieces.
Jack stepped inside. And immediately… everything shifted. The air changed. It didn’t smell like woodsmoke or cinnamon anymore. It smelled like too much. As if several realms had collided and decided to awkwardly share a studio apartment.
He shivered, his hair prickling with static. Zephyr hovered behind him, tense. Jack looked into the nearest mirror shard. Nothing stared back. No reflection. The silver glass was blank. Not fogged or dusty—just... empty. Jack tilted his head. Still no reflection. It was like the mirror was ignoring his existence. “Rude,” he muttered.
Curiosity already bubbling, he plucked one of the least-threatening scrolls from a shelf. The moment he cracked it open—FOOSH. A burst of wind exploded outward, almost knocking Zephyr back. The air from the scroll smelled sweet—tulips, bright and crisp like a spring breeze. Jack inhaled deeply, blinking in surprise. “Ohh. I like that one.”
He closed the scroll and opened another. This one erupted with heat, like opening a dragon’s mouth mid-yawn. Another scroll? Cold. Torture cold. The kind that burns your bones and makes your teeth want to crawl out of your skull. “Okay, less fun,” Jack said, hastily closing it.
Zephyr’s eyes twitched. The wind spirit clearly wanted to leave. Jack, however, was too deep into his “kid in a cosmic candy shop” phase. Then came the mirrors. Jack approached a larger shard embedded into the wall. He reached out and tapped it with one finger.
Ripple. Like water. Not glass. The surface pulsed and trembled. “No way,” Jack whispered. He tapped it again. Ripple. He chuckled. There was something weirdly satisfying about it. Like poking reality’s belly and watching it jiggle. He kept tapping, poking, prodding with gleeful curiosity. Tap. Ripple. Tap. Ripple. Tap tap tap tap tap—"STOP CALLING ME!"
The voice roared from the mirror like thunder cracking inside a cave. Jack yelped and leapt back, colliding with Zephyr, who instinctively wrapped around Jack’s head like a frightened scarf. From the rippling mirror, something was emerging. The surface swirled and coalesced. Shadows bled into shape. And then—he appeared.
Hades was not what mortals expected. No red horns. No pitchfork. He was regal. Sharp. Severe. Tall, broad-shouldered, draped in layered robes blacker than midnight and tinged with the sheen of oil-slick steel. His skin was pale marble, veins like silver threads beneath. His hair was dark as voidlight, pulled back into a warrior’s knot. But it was his eyes that rooted Jack to the spot. Twin pits of smoldering ember and old grief. Not angry. Not yet. Just tired—the kind of tired that came from remembering too much for too long.
Dark smoke drifted around his form like a living shroud. At his side was a hooked staff carved from obsidian and fossilized bone. He stepped forward—but did not leave the mirror. “I swear, nephew.” he snapped. “I was enjoying silence for once. You should know better than to—wait. Who are you?”
Jack, still recovering from his scare, grinned sheepishly. “Uh… hi. I’m Jack. Big fan of the dead. Big fan. Love what you’ve done with the… shadow motif.” Zephyr facepalmed with a wing.
Jack had never met Hades before. But he didn’t need to. Even without the name, even without the introduction, the moment the mirror had erupted with that death-touched resonance—he knew. The energy behind the shard screamed of old bones and buried kingdoms. Of rivers that remember names. Of pacts signed in the dark and flames that never warm. It was the unmistakable chill of the Underworld. Jack stood firm, but Zephyr trembled behind him like a windchime caught in a hurricane.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the mirror, Hades narrowed his eyes, his mind quickly working out the situation. The device—this dimensional mirror—had been attuned to specific realms, locked and safeguarded. Only those within the Olympian fold should’ve had access.
Yet now, here was this mortal-turned-godling, casually poking around, acting like he owned the place. “Interesting…” Hades mused aloud, his eyes glinting. “And how did you come to possess this device?”
Jack shrugged, nonchalant. “Oh, no big deal. I, uhh… raided Santa’s private room. Had a bunch of weird stuff, but this mirror was the biggest and shiniest.”
Hades blinked. Then realization hit. His nephew—Hermes—had always been eccentric. A centuries-old hobby of dressing as an old man and handing out presents to mortals. Calling himself Saint Nicholas. “Of course,” Hades muttered under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The idiot’s turned it into a whole persona…” Santa Claus. That was Hermes. And now, his dimensional mirror—a tool of the gods—had been left lying around for a fledgling like Jack Hou to toy with.
Well then, Hades thought, if my nephew won’t clean up his own mess, I suppose I’ll do it myself. Raising his chin, Hades gave a small, knowing smirk. “So… you’re using Saint Nicholas’s artifacts without his knowledge, are you?”
Jack gave a big innocent grin. “Hey now! It’s called early access. I do it first… then ask for permission later.”
Hades’ voice dropped a shade darker. “Raising your voice toward me, are you?”
And with that—The mirror pulsed. A ripple spread across the shard as Hades poured just a fraction of his godly energy through it. Jack’s knees buckled. The air thickened. The warmth in the room died in an instant, replaced by the breathless chill of Tartarus. A thousand unspoken truths pressed against Jack’s ribs. This was not Santa’s toybox anymore. This was a throne room. And the King had noticed him.
Zephyr shrank, coiling behind Jack like smoke trying to escape. But Jack—Jack held his ground. Because if there was one thing he hated more than death itself… It was someone else trying to bend his will.
The energy in Jack surged. His golden gaze flared, burning against the oppressive weight of Hades' divine pressure. Their eyes met. And the world froze.
Hades’ eyes burned like coals plucked from the deepest furnace of the Underworld—fiery, ancient, and heavy with memory.
Jack’s eyes, in contrast, were sharp gold—not just in color, but in meaning. A will that refused to break. A force born not from age, but from raw, unshaped audacity.
The stare contest continued. Neither blinked. And then—Hades laughed. A deep, rich, belly-shaking laugh that echoed like thunder down a canyon of bones. “Hahahaha! Oh, this is fun. You’ve got fire, I’ll give you that.” He leaned in closer to the mirror, eyes still glowing. “But let’s not kid ourselves. You’re still miles from the act you put on.”
Jack’s eyes still blazed. His voice was soft—but cutting. “I’d like to see you for myself then. Without this mirror in the way.” He tilted his head, smirking. “Maybe take your bident… or your helm while I’m at it.”
Hades smiled again. Not with warmth. With teeth. “Brave,” he said, tone low and almost approving. “Or stupid. Possibly both.”
Jack didn’t flinch. He cracked his neck and rolled his eyes like he was being flattered. “Definitely both,” he said casually. “You gods can’t comprehend the stuff going on in my head.”
Hades raised an eyebrow, amused. “Brave it is, then. In that case—why not skip to the good part? Try taking my brother’s trident first. Or maybe, if you’re feeling lucky, die on his hands as a shortcut… just to reach me.”
Jack laughed, head tilted, sharp grin wide. “Kekekek—no sea can qualm my charm.”
Hades leaned back, the amusement in his expression dimming to something older. “Careful now,” he said, voice like shifting stone. “The sea has shaken the land for centuries. And it holds grudges far longer than I do.” Then he sighed, adjusting the edge of his cloak. “Unfortunately for you,” he muttered, “the Underworld is still drowning in paperwork. The dead never sleep, and the bureaucracy is worse.” His crimson gaze locked with Jack one final time. “I'll see you again, Jack.”
And with that, the connection snapped. The mirror rippled once, then stilled—silent, cold, and blank once again.
Jack stood there, unmoving. Still focused. Still smiling. But behind that grin, his mind was churning. “Weird…” He rubbed his chin, staring at the mirror. “How the hell does Santa have a one-way call line to Hades himself?”
He turned his head. The room was still littered with other mirrors. Each one different. Each one humming with silent potential. His curiosity itched. It would be so easy to go mirror by mirror, tapping them open like a gacha machine of cosmic horror. Who knew what other gods, realms, or eldritch office cubicles he’d uncover?
But then—Zephyr let out a soft, anxious trill. It flitted to the door and tapped it with its tiny wing, like an impatient friend reminding him of the time.
Jack checked the room’s strange ambient glow… and sure enough—He’d used a lot more time than expected. “Damn. Right before Christmas morning, too…” He sighed, giving one last look to the room. So many secrets. So many questions. But answers could wait.
He snapped his fingers, casting Bodily Concealment once again. His form shimmered out of sight, the air bending around him. “Let’s go, Zeph.”
With one final look at the dead mirror, Jack stepped out, closed the door with a soft click, and vanished back down the hallway toward his little borrowed room. Tomorrow, he'd ride Santa’s sleigh. But tonight—He was still chewing on the words of the God of the Dead.
…
Far from snow, sleigh bells, and cinnamon-scented halls, the Underworld brooded in silence. Its skies were ash, its rivers glowed with quiet sorrow, and the dead marched in lines unseen by the living. Here, shadows had weight, and time held no meaning.
Hades walked these roads with practiced ease. Each step was purposeful. Commanding. This realm bent to his will—not with thunder or lightning, but with inevitability. For even demi-gods must one day pass through his gates.
As he returned to his sanctum deep in the underworld, the air whispered around him—subtle echoes of spirits, bound contracts, oaths long dead and still unpaid. He smiled. Not because of the death. But because of the living. More precisely, that boy.
Hades paused at the base of his obsidian dais, then climbed the stairs slowly. He had only felt a sliver—a thread of divine essence pushing back through the mirror. But it wasn’t just youthful defiance or raw power. It was familiarity. Old. Wild. Chaotic.
As he sat at his grand blackstone desk, Hades muttered to himself, fingers tapping the marble in rhythm with his thoughts. “…So. Jack Hou, is it?” He chuckled once, quietly. “I’ve felt that fire before… long, long ago.”
He poured himself a fresh glass of ambrosia wine. Rich. Crimson. It shimmered like molten ruby under the underworld light. “And now I’ve seen him…”
A swirl of golden eyes, maddening laughter, and untamed energy echoed in his memory. The same soul. Reforged. Mortal again. Yet unmistakable. “Impossible,” Hades whispered with a wry smile. “How did he get reincarnated?” He swirled the wine. “Is the Buddha’s seal cracking? I thought the Enlightened One was a master of sealing arts. Unless…”
A thought passed, too dangerous to speak aloud. Hades sipped, his eyes twinkling with a mix of dread and glee. “Well. I suppose I’ll look forward to that future.”
He set the goblet down and turned his attention back to the scrolls piled high across his desk. Decrees. Oaths. Death ledgers. The affairs of the dead, endless and absolute. The King of the Underworld resumed his work. But in the back of his mind… the echoes of a golden laugh rang louder than ever.
Comments
Vrael333
Heh. I can’t wait for Jack to gain more of the monkeys soul and power! It’s gonna be fabulous! Thx for the chapter :)
