Rise Of Hades' Hellborn: Trumpets Of The Damned

The Weight Of Consequence.

The White House briefing room sat in near-suffocating silence. Monitors across the far wall displayed looping drone footage of what remained of the Paragon headquarters. Black smoke billowed into the sky like a wound in the Earth. The once-impenetrable structure had collapsed in on itself, nothing more than a twisted cage of melted steel and shattered containment wards.

President Maverick Maddox stood before the screens, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her face carved from steel. He didn't blink. Didn’t speak. The devastation before his eyes was too precise to be called collateral. It was an execution. A message.

Behind him, the room was filled with high-ranking military advisors, intelligence chiefs, and two individuals from Paragon's top brass who had survived the inferno by pure coincidence. Yet all eyes drifted toward the tall figure in black seated silently at the edge of the long table: Director Sandlers.

The president finally spoke. "Report. All of it."

The National Security Advisor cleared his throat. "We lost all primary communication feeds from Paragon HQ at 0200. The last known energy reading spiked past Protocol Sigma thresholds before all monitoring systems failed. Based on field analysis and the surviving drones..."

He hesitated. Sandlers narrowed his eyes.

"Say it," the president barked.

"Based on those readings... it wasn't an external attack."

President Maddox turned to him slowly. "What do you mean it wasn't an external attack?"

"We believe the epicenter of the event came from within. From Agent Myles."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Director Sandlers shifted in his seat. He said nothing, but his right hand curled into a fist beneath the table.

"Agent Myles?" the president echoed. "He was cleared just three weeks ago. Integrated into active status. Your agency vouched for his psychological and metaphysical stability."

"I did," Sandlers said finally, his voice low. "And I would again."

General Harlow, a towering man in a crisp Air Force uniform, leaned forward. "Sir, this wasn’t a breakdown. This was a metamorphosis. We're dealing with something that breached containment protocols, breached dimensional thresholds, and annihilated half a mile of classified tech and resources. We found energy signatures never recorded before—hellfire derivatives, possibly divine."

The president turned to face Sandlers. "Is this true?"

He hesitated, then nodded once. "Yes. But not without context. Myles was exposed to something beyond our jurisdiction. He was manipulated. Possibly... by Kaelin."

A few advisors stirred at that name. Whispers of the name Kaelin had haunted secret channels for years—a being of dark insight, ancient manipulator, linked to the Seven Trumpets, the rise of demonic forces, and rumored mass awakenings.

"So you're saying this was... possession?" the Secretary of Defense asked.

"No," Sandlers replied, tone like ice. "I'm saying Myles was chosen."

The room froze.

"By who?" President Maddox asked.

"By Hades. Or something bearing his mark."

The weight of the room sank, as though the very name pulled oxygen from the air.

President Maddox stepped forward. "Director. You've served this country for thirty-two years. You’ve led the Paragon Initiative through civil unrest, demon uprisings, apocalyptic near-misses. And now you sit here and tell me one of your operatives has become a god's avatar and wiped out your headquarters?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you still defend him."

Director Sandlers stood slowly. His hands were behind his back, posture straight, voice calm. But there was fire in his eyes.

"Because he saved more lives than he cost. Because he has no idea how much weight he's carrying. And because I believe he’s the only one left who can stop what's coming."

General Harlow slammed a folder onto the table. "He killed twenty-three agents, five researchers, and two synthetic guardians in that explosion."

"He was not in control. He was overwhelmed by a trigger he couldn't understand. The Watch activated near him—do you know what that means?" Sandlers growled.

The president raised a hand. The room quieted.

"Director... this country can't afford uncontrolled variables. Especially ones that can collapse dimensional seals."

Sandlers bowed his head slightly. He knew what was coming next.

"We need a meeting," Maddox said. "Not with the advisors. Not with intel. With him."

Gasps. Even Harlow looked stunned.

"Sir, you can't mean—"

"I do," she interrupted. "I want Myles in front of me. He gets one chance to explain what happened. After that, I make my decision."

He turned to Sandlers. "Bring him in."

He hesitated, then nodded.

Back in his secure cell beneath the remains of Paragon's east wing, Myles sat on the edge of a cot, staring at the floor.

The walls shimmered faintly with suppression runes. His hands were still singed, though the healing had begun. He had been awoken some hours earlier.

Around his heart, he could still feel the echo of Anna's arrow. Not the pain. The betrayal. No—not betrayal.

Mercy.

He remembered the look in her eyes. Grief. Duty. Unspoken trust.

The door opened.

Sparrow, a field officer from Paragon, stepped inside. She didn’t speak. Just handed him a folded set of black clothes.

"You’re going to the White House," she said.

Myles looked up, brow furrowing and yet he had a smirk on his face. "To be executed?"

"To be judged."

Thirty minutes later, escorted by three armored agents and Director Sandlers himself, Myles stood in the Oval Office. He looked... human again. No armor. No weapon. Just the scars of what had been.

President Maddox sat behind his desk, flanked by Harlow and the NSA.

He motioned for him to sit.

"Do you know why you're here, Myles?"

"Because I lost control."

"Is that what you call it?"

"No," he said quietly. "That's what it felt like. But the truth is... I became what they wanted me to be."

"Who?"

"Them. The forces trying to awaken the seals. The ones Kaelin serves. They chose me for something. But I don’t know why. Not yet."

Maddox studied him for a long moment. He saw the guilt. The exhaustion. The fading humanity beneath something far more dangerous.

"Why shouldn't I kill you right now?"

“ Probably cause I won't be able to stay dead and it might trigger me again, but do me a favor and try who knows it just might work” Myles replied unconcerned. 

Then Sandlers stepped forward. " he's the last hope we have of understanding what this war really is. If you execute him, we lose our best link to the forces manipulating our reality."

"And if we keep him?"

"We gamble. But it might be the only way we win."

President Maddox stood. Walked slowly to the window.

"I’ve sent thousands to their deaths to protect this country. Ordered airstrikes on cities. Greenlit black ops against allies. And yet this..."

He turned.

"This is the first time I've ever felt like we’re not playing by any human rulebook anymore."

The room was silent.

He returned to his desk. “ This meeting is adjourned, I'll email you my decision when I draw to it”