Chaos’s Daughter: Sweet But Psycho

The silence stretched again. Olympus seemed to hold its breath, awaiting her decision.

Even her daughters had fallen quiet now, their usual bickering stilled by the weight of what was hanging in the air.

The Fate Loom itself seemed to tremble beneath their feet.

Hespera said nothing.

Not at first.

She walked—slowly—toward the ruined dais, boots crunching through broken stone and ash.

Her fingers trailed lazily across the shattered edge of Zeus’s fallen throne, curling thoughtfully around a jagged remnant of marble before flicking it aside like trash.

Her eyes drifted toward the Olympian Court.

Then to her daughters.

Then to Gaia.

Then—finally—back to Persephone, who stood watching her with those calm, knowing eyes that had once tamed even Death itself.

Hespera’s lips parted.

And the whole room leaned in, waiting for her decree.

But instead… she laughed.

A low, slow, utterly wicked chuckle that rippled through the hall like static electricity.

“…Option three.”

Demeter’s brow furrowed. “Option three?”

Hespera snapped her fingers—

And in a spiraling vortex of swirling Nihility and Chaos-flame, a box materialized in the air beside her.

Smooth. Black. Carved with ancient Primordial runes. Sealed with a sigil that only she could open.

Hespera flicked it open with a casual snap of her wrist, revealing thirteen crystalline pieces—each pulsing faintly with raw Chaos energy. Each piece carved into jagged, otherworldly shapes that mirrored the Evil Piece system… but these?

These throbbed with Primordial influence.

Gaia stilled.

Demeter’s eyes widened.

Even Hades—normally unreadable—leaned forward just slightly, recognizing the signature of something not of this world.

Persephone’s lips parted softly in realization. “…Chaos Pieces.”

Hespera’s grin widened as she held one up between two fingers, the dark crystal humming with barely restrained cosmic potential.

“Why rebuild Olympus… when I can rewrite it?”

She turned toward the Olympian thrones—

And with a snap of her fingers, the first Chaos Piece began to float, spinning slowly in the air, awaiting its first worthy claimant.

The floating Chaos Piece hummed, rotating slowly above her open palm. The air around it bent, threads of divine law unraveling just by its presence.

But before anything else—

Her fingers curled into a fist, and the piece stilled midair.

Her smile faded.

Slowly, she turned her head to look down at Zeus.

Broken.

Twitching.

Desperate.

Still alive.

She strolled toward him, every step echoing through the ruined throne room like a countdown to judgment.

Zeus tried—pathetically—to crawl toward the edge of the dais. Lightning flickered weakly from his fingers, but there was no charge left in him. His power, his dominion… gone.

He felt her shadow fall over him.

He froze.

And then she spoke, her voice soft but cutting through him like obsidian:

"You never knew when to stop… and you still don’t.”

She crouched beside him, cupping his jaw with one hand, forcing him to meet her heterochromatic gaze—Nihility burning in one eye, Chaos spinning in the other.

"But I’m going to help you with that."

Zeus gasped, trying to summon one last bolt of skyfire—

But she leaned in closer, lips brushing his ear. "You don’t deserve rebirth."

Her other hand pressed to his chest—

And Eternal Pyre ignited.

Magenta flames erupted from his body— Inside-out. But this fire didn’t just burn.

It unwrote.

Zeus’s form convulsed, mouth opening in a silent scream, as the flames tore through his name, his fate, his very existence.

The King of Olympus was being erased.

His body collapsed into glowing ash, swirling briefly in the air before vanishing into nothing.

No godly corpse. No lingering spirit. Just obliteration.

The throne room stood paralyzed.

Hespera stood slowly, dusting imaginary ash from her palms, her expression unreadable.

"Now… where were we? Ah, that’s right. The third option."

The Chaos Piece floated back to her side, glowing softly, awaiting its first claimant.

Forged in the Dimensional Abyss where Chaos first birthed Concept, these pieces were not designed to mimic the Evil Piece system.

They precede it.

Where Evil Pieces reshape the dead into devils, the Chaos Pieces do something far more terrifying:

They awaken potential.

They rewrite species.

They unbind limitations.

They do not claim loyalty through reanimation— They bind souls through resonance, permanently linking the user’s existence to the Primordial Source of Chaos.

Their forms are jagged, imperfect, and constantly shifting, reflecting not a fixed shape but possibility itself. Each hums with paradoxical energy—neither matter nor spirit, yet both at once.

Unlike the Evil Piece’s fixed roles (King, Queen, Rooks, Bishops, Knights, and Pawns), Chaos Pieces do not define the role of the chosen. They amplify whatever role they were born to play.

No hierarchy. No rank. Just unrestrained potential unleashed. Each Chaos Piece, once bound, cannot be undone—unless the user themselves are completely erased.

Hespera smirked as the first piece spun in the air like a predator searching for its prey.

She turned to her daughters—her first, her truest, her eternal companions.

"Aigle."

"Khrysothemis."

"Erytheia."

They stood—poised, defiant, unyielding.

"Come here."

The sisters shared a glance, then stepped forward as one, their energies swirling together—three souls born of one divine lineage, woven tighter than any other creation Hespera had ever made.

She smiled as the Chaos Piece shimmered, recognizing them not as three, but as one living Trinity.

"You’ve always been one heart," she whispered, lifting the piece higher.

It split—not into parts, but into threads of light, weaving through all three of them like they’d been waiting for this moment since the moment of their conception.

Magenta energy pulsed through their veins, wrapping their forms in layered runes and spirals of abyssal flame.

Their power didn’t just increase—it synchronized, multiplying exponentially as they each became one with the Chaos Seed.

The throne room trembled as the air around the Hesperides ignited in golden and magenta flame, their combined presence now rivaling that of any god or Primordial.

They kneeled, not in submission—

but in acknowledgment.

"Our Queen."

Hespera smiled softly, placing a hand on each of their heads in turn. "Rise… my Trinity."

And so they did. Three goddesses. One Chaos Piece. The first of her new pantheon.

Hespera’s eyes, still glowing faintly with Chaos runes, drifted across the trembling assembly of gods.

Some stared in fear. Some in awe. Some… in resentment.

She could sense it. The undercurrents of their fragile loyalty, laced with the bitter taste of self-preservation.

But there was one presence…

One steady flame…

One who hadn’t flinched, hadn’t postured, hadn’t lifted a blade or bolt.

Hestia.

The quietest of them all.

The hearth goddess stood near the edge of the broken dais, her hands calmly resting on the handle of her staff. She had not run. She had not begged.

She had watched.

And her flame had not wavered.

Hespera lowered her hand, summoning the next Chaos Piece, its edges shimmering like molten glass, its hum softer—gentler, as if it recognized what kind of power it was about to amplify.

The power of foundation. The power of home.

She stepped toward Hestia, every eye following.

The goddess of hearth and family straightened her posture but did not kneel. She simply watched Hespera approach with an unreadable calm.

Hespera stopped before her, lifting the Chaos Piece between them.

“You didn’t run,” she murmured.

Hestia smiled softly, eyes warm and unafraid.

“Someone had to stay and witness it all. Although, I will admit I am displeased you killed two of my siblings. They were terrible individuals, but they were still family.”

Hespera studied her for a long moment.

Then… she smirked, lowering the piece into Hestia’s waiting hands. "And that is why you were my favorite little Olympian."

The moment Hestia’s fingers curled around it, golden light—not magenta—exploded around her, mixing with spiraling threads of primordial Chaos.

The piece didn’t rewrite her.

It anchored her.

The flame of Hestia’s Hearth grew brighter, deeper, unshakable.

Not destruction.

Balance.

She opened her eyes slowly, now glowing faintly with Chaos-touched gold, her aura radiating stability.

She gave Hespera a small nod of respect. “I will not be your warrior,” Hestia said gently.

“I know,” Hespera replied with a crooked smile. “I didn’t choose you to fight. I chose you to keep what I build from falling apart.”

The air hummed again, the next piece already coalescing in her palm, awaiting its next worthy soul.

Persephone stepped forward on her own—

Calm. Graceful. Inevitable.

Hespera didn’t even lift the next piece. She simply tilted her head and let the magenta flame of the Chaos Piece drift toward the Spring Queen as if the universe had already decided she belonged.

Persephone raised her hand, catching it mid-air.

The ground bloomed beneath her feet—flowers, vines, and roots flaring outward as the power of renewal and decay merged perfectly with Chaos.

She glowed softly, life and death intertwined, her aura now vast enough to make the room hold its breath once more.

Hespera nodded toward her softly.

Persephone smiled, whispering just loud enough for her alone: “You’ve always been my favorite chaos.”

Hades, of course, didn’t move. He stood back, watching, waiting—expression as unreadable as ever.

Hespera simply snapped her fingers again, and a darker, heavier Chaos Piece materialized.

This one didn’t float toward him. It sank, embedding itself in the ground like a black stone lodged in the bones of reality.

Hades tilted his head, bemused. “A gift?” he mused.

Hespera grinned. “A crown, if you have the spine to claim it.”

With a low hum of laughter, Hades finally stepped forward, knelt, and pressed his hand to the stone.

The ground shuddered, shadows poured upward like smoke, and the weight of Underworld Authority magnified under the Chaos influence until it felt like Death itself had entered the room.

He stood, rolled his neck once, and smirked.

“I accept.”

Demeter approached next, surprisingly unshaken. Her face calm. Her presence immense.

“The harvest will need balance too,” she said simply.

Hespera considered, then extended a smaller, seed-shaped Chaos Piece, placing it directly into Demeter’s palm.

Life and Decay swirled in perfect symmetry, and Demeter glowed, her body surrounded by a soft green and gold aurora that tasted of soil and rebirth.

Demeter leaned in close, voice sharp but fond:

“But I still hate that you helped Eris that day.”

Hespera snorted again. “Duly noted.”

Hermes, ever the opportunist, glided forward with a roguish grin.

“Gotta have someone who knows how to deliver, right?”

He caught the next floating Chaos Piece between two fingers without waiting for permission, flipping it like a coin before letting it absorb into his skin.

His wings shimmered brighter, his speed practically humming in the air like a heartbeat.

Hespera rolled her eyes, but didn’t stop him.

Athena approached last among the Olympians, cautious but proud.

Hespera’s eyes narrowed. “…Arachne. Medusa.”

Athena flinched slightly, jaw tightening. “Mistakes… I intend to balance, if you let me.”

Hespera paused, studying her. Then, after an excruciating moment—

“…One piece. One chance. Do not disappoint me.”

It floated toward Athena like a whisper. And she took it silently, her aura folding around her like living strategy—colder, more calculating than the others, but no less powerful.

"And speaking of balance..." Hespera turned to an empty space and waved her hand, letting a pulse of Chaos and Nihility throughout the dimension.

And waited.

And after some time, Astraea, the fallen Titaness of Justice, arrived through a crack in the dimensional edge. She approached, silent as moonlight, kneeling without prompting. "You called, Daughter of Chaos?"

Hespera let a luminescent Chaos Piece drift into her waiting hands. Justice itself trembled, reforged under Chaos’ touch.

Eirene, the lost Goddess of Peace, walked out from behind the thrones with silent grace. She had hidden during the bloodshed—watching. Waiting.

She took her piece without a word.

The room felt calmer, anchored by her presence—as if even Chaos needed peace.

And lastly…

Hephaestus, limping from the shadows, burned steel still staining his hands.

“You’ll need someone to build what you’re about to break,” he rumbled.

Hespera’s grin returned fully. “Welcome to my forge, Hephy.”

The last Chaos Piece lit up in searing crimson, embedding itself into the smith-god’s core, his aura expanding, hammer and flame flaring brighter than ever before.

Her Court was chosen.

Hespera lowered her hand, stepping back to observe what she had gathered.

"Hmm... not bad."