For millennia, the Demigods-immortal, unstoppable beings with powers beyond mortal comprehension-have walked the Earth in secret, blending with humanity. But now, with the rise of the malevolent forces of Chaos, their ancient unity must be reforged...
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Beginning
Present Day – London, United Kingdom
“Here’s your Americano, sir,” the waitress stammered with a shy, breathless voice as she placed the cup down on the table.
“Thank you, love,” Theseus replied with a calm, gentle smile, his voice smooth as silk.
The waitress stood frozen for a moment, mesmerized by the warmth in his gaze. “Uh–uh… you’re welcome, sir,” she mumbled, her heart racing. She turned abruptly, dashing toward her co-workers like a woman possessed.
“Oh my God! Did you see how he smiled at me?” she whispered excitedly, cheeks flushed.
“I know, right?” another waitress chimed in. “Is he a new model or something?”
“Bloody hell, he’s gorgeous!” said a third, nearly swooning. “He can’t have a girlfriend, right? Not with a face like that.”
“Yeah, no way!” added another, her voice dripping with envy.
Theseus sat at his table, oblivious to the flurry of whispered admiration. Though the weight of countless legends rested upon his shoulders—the hero of Athens, slayer of the Minotaur, and unifying king—he carried them lightly. In this modern era, he walked freely among mortals, tasked by the gods to prevent the apocalypse that threatened humanity. Yet the peace they had fought to secure seemed to stretch on endlessly, leaving him adrift in the quiet hum of the present.
He sipped his coffee, frowning slightly as he pondered. Was it really over? Had we truly ended the reign of the Giants? The war seemed like a distant memory, yet its echoes still lingered in his mind.
Whispers floated from nearby tables, tugging at the edge of his thoughts.
“Who is that guy?” “Is he an actor? Look at that face!” “Looks like he’s filming a one-man show or something...”
Enter Iolaus
Before Theseus could drift further into his musings, the sharp hum of a motorcycle engine shattered the calm. A rider pulled up to the curb and dismounted, shaking off his helmet with a carefree grin.
“Whoof! That was a ride,” the man exclaimed cheerfully, tossing his helmet onto the seat.
The rider’s tousled golden curls caught the light, revealing a face that seemed as ageless and captivating as Theseus’s own. It was none other than Iolaus, the Charioteer of Heracles.
"Yo, Theseus!" Iolaus called as he sauntered toward the table, plopping down with the ease of an old friend. “Got your message. What’s on your mind, man?”
Inside the café, the waitresses were thrown into another frenzy.
"Another one?!" one whispered, clutching her chest. “They know each other?!” “This must be illegal—two men that beautiful in one place…”
A waitress cautiously approached their table, cheeks burning. “W-would you like anything to drink?” she stammered.
“Black coffee. No cream, no sugar,” Iolaus said with a wink, sending the poor waitress scurrying off in a daze.
Iolaus leaned back in his chair with a lazy grin. “Man, it’s been, what—five centuries since we last met?”
Theseus chuckled softly. “I thought you were still roaming the world.”
“Yeah, well, I was. But after a few centuries, it all starts to feel the same, you know?” Iolaus said with a playful shrug. “Figured it’s time to settle down for a bit. But, hey—this new world’s got some cool stuff. A couple hundred years ago, I went on an adventure that would blow your mind.”
Theseus laughed, shaking his head. “You always did know how to have fun.”
The Second Coming
The two heroes lost themselves in conversation, their laughter blending into the soft hum of the city around them. As night fell, they strolled through the streets of London, the city lights casting a warm glow over their shared memories.
“This feels good,” Theseus said, smiling. “We should do this more often.”
“You’ve got a point there,” Iolaus replied, chuckling.
Just then, the ground rumbled beneath their feet. Buildings quivered, car alarms wailed, and the streets cracked under the force of a violent tremor. The two heroes exchanged a glance, their playful demeanor vanishing in an instant.
“What the hell was that?” Iolaus muttered, his hand instinctively brushing the hilt of an ancient dagger hidden beneath his jacket.
Before they could react, a deafening roar split the night. From the heart of the city, a colossal figure emerged—its monstrous form towering over the skyline. A Giant.
Theseus’s blood ran cold. “That’s impossible…” he whispered, disbelief etched across his face. “We ended them... a thousand years ago.”
The creature snarled, its massive fists pounding into the ground, sending another shockwave through the city. Mortals screamed and scattered in terror as chaos erupted around them.
Iolaus clenched his fists, his easygoing demeanor evaporating. “Guess retirement’s gonna have to wait,” he muttered with a grin, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
Theseus’s gaze hardened, his warrior instincts kicking in. “This isn’t over,” he said grimly. “It was never over.”
And as the two heroes prepared to face the impossible threat, they knew this was only the beginning—an omen of something far more terrifying waiting just beyond the horizon.
The age of heroes had returned, and the battle for the fate of humanity was about to begin again.
