As Hades's words fell, the faces of the new generation of gods, led by the Twelve Olympians, changed.
There was more to Hades's words. Under the banner of unity, he had won over the older generation of gods who had long been distant from the center of power.
And it was highly likely that Hades had already contacted them in secret.
Looking at the older gods again, each wore an unchanged expression, as steady as old dogs, seemingly unmoved. This only made the new gods more uneasy.
If Marvel's gods were all lunatics, and DC's lunatics were all gods, then Olympus's gods were absolutely a group of mortals—gods more human than humans.
After Zeus's death, no one could suppress the power struggles on the Divine Mountain. The conflict of contradictions was laid bare at this moment.
The new gods were unwilling to relinquish the authority in their hands, while the old gods wanted to reclaim the honor Zeus had once taken from them. With one large hand extended and a slight stir, Hades sent this tangled web of conflicts in a direction favorable to himself.
That was right. Hades had seen the crux of the matter. Whether it was drawing lots or holding a fair election, he held no absolute advantage. It would even be difficult for him to make it to the final round.
Though the King of the Underworld appeared incomparably glorious, standing on equal footing with Zeus and Poseidon, he was not actually among the Twelve Olympians. He had been squeezed out of the circle of power long ago.
Like the older gods, if he wanted to return to this circle, he had to thoroughly muddy the waters and drag everyone into it.
With Zeus dead and the Twelve Olympians fighting on their own, lacking a central