King of Underworld

The gods are immortal beings.
Unlike mortals, they do not die, no matter how much time passes.
Even if they lose their followers, are imprisoned in Tartarus, or are decapitated.

B.C. and A.D.
By the arbitrary standards of mortals, it is now the 21st century A.D.
The Olympian gods still exist.

That includes me, Hades, the King of the Underworld.
I’ve had many children, and the Underworld has become highly automated, leaving me with plenty of free time.
Of course, there are still moments when important judgments must be made, but compared to the past, it’s practically paradise.

Naturally, Charon, Thanatos, Hypnos, and the rest of the gods here now exude a relaxed demeanor.
I, on the other hand, am dealing with a bit of a headache—an issue with my children.

"Father, it’s me."

I was reclining against the side of my audience chamber, eyes closed, when a voice called for me from outside.
It was my son, Zagreus, born from my union with Persephone.

"Zagreus? Come in."
"Yes, Father."

The doors to the audience chamber opened, and Zagreus entered with steady steps.
His appearance was neat in a sharp black suit, but his tired face and the way he rubbed his eyes betrayed another long night of work.

Stopping a short distance from my throne, Zagreus began to vent his frustrations at me.
His tone and gestures betrayed a sense of injustice. Did someone cause trouble again?