An Understated Dominance - Chapter 2566

If Zeus hadn’t spoken up, Hera wouldn’t have lifted a finger—she would’ve just kept watching from the sidelines.

But now that he’d asked for help, she couldn’t ignore him. After all, he was their leader. Like it or not, she had to respect his command.

“Let’s see how tough this thing really is,” Hera said.

She raised one hand and spread her fingers. Behind her, a dozen black, icy spears materialized out of thin air.

Each was six feet long, thick as a wrist, and radiated deadly cold. The air grew razor-sharp and biting. Within thirty feet, grass, stone, and trees became glazed with frost.

“Go.”

Hera clenched her fist, and the spears shot forward like missiles toward the golden steeple.

The air cracked with a high-pitched whistle as the icy spears struck. But instead of exploding on impact, they slipped in like blades through water, leaving behind only faint ripples.

Zeus snapped, “Hera, that pathetic excuse for an attack won’t cut it. Show me what you’re really capable of.”

He had already been fighting with everything he had. But her strike felt sluggish and half-hearted, like she hadn’t even bothered to fully engage.

The sight irritated him. While he was exhausting himself, she stood back and barely contributed.

“Okay, relax. I’ll go all out now,” Hera replied, her expression hardening with resolve.

Her first strike had been a probe—though powerful enough to seriously injure a grandmaster-level martial artist. Yet against the golden steeple, it left nothing but faint ripples. That surprised her.

She had known the steeple was a potent divine artifact, but its defenses were far stronger than expected. Unless they unleashed their full power, there was no way they’d break through it tonight.

Taking a deep breath, Hera raised her hand again. This time, hundreds of black, icy spears appeared behind her, quickly swelling into the thousands. They filled the sky like a dark, frozen storm.

Inside the temple, the monks felt sharp prickles on their scalps, as if thousands of icy needles were piercing their skin.

At first, a few spears had seemed trivial. But now, with thousands bearing down, the force was overwhelming.

“Fire!” Hera shouted.
She clenched her fist, and thousands of icy spears launched toward the golden steeple like a raging storm. As they struck, sharp cracks echoed through the air, and ripples burst across the steeple’s surface.

A few spears didn’t matter—but when thousands landed at once, the entire structure trembled under the force. The ripples surged outward in layers, growing heavier with each wave until they crashed like a tide against the glowing barrier.

“Good. Keep going.”

Zeus finally smiled. This was Hera’s true strength on display.

The golden steeple wouldn’t fall from a single hit, but under this kind of pressure, even it had limits.

Hera kept channeling energy, launching volley after volley of spears. The relentless assault made the steeple groan as each wave compounded the last, the strain steadily building.

“Hera, let me fight with you!”

As the golden light around the steeple began to fade, Zeus sensed his chance. Power surged through him as he leaped forward, hurling lightning spheres one after another. Each impact landed with deafening force.

The dimming light wasn’t just a sign of weakness—it was confirmation. Zeus could tell the steeple was reaching its breaking point.

Its glow had dulled, and the steady rhythm of its energy faltered. It couldn’t hold on forever. Once it passed the limit, the whole structure would collapse.

Together, the two royal gods intensified their assault.

Zeus’s lightning spheres exploded on contact, each blast sending tremors through the steeple’s foundation. Hera’s icy spears continued to rain down in waves, sharp and merciless—like a blizzard that wouldn’t stop.

Their powers merged seamlessly—brute force and surgical precision, thunder and frost—forming a rhythm that pounded the ancient structure without pause.

Inside the temple, the monks felt every blow. Their scalps tingled as though stabbed by thousands of icy needles. Frozen in place, they were too terrified to move.

They knew the steeple was their only shield. If it failed, they’d be obliterated. Facing the royal gods directly wasn’t just suicide—it was complete annihilation.

Time dragged on. With every strike, the golden light faded further. Then, just as the first light of dawn touched the horizon, the glow disappeared completely—and a thin, splintering crack split open at the steeple’s peak.