King - Hades, God of the Dead and Freer of the Titans.
Hades is rarely seen by his subjects; he spends most of his time in his new lair on Mount Olympus, that he has redecorated to be more to his tastes. The Underworld is still the prison of the dead, and he is still their ruler; now they are simply left to their own devices. Many consider this an improvement over constantly risking the burning fury of their Lord. But even considering this occasional outbursts, the God of the Dead has always been a smooth operator, second only to Facilier in the art of getting the best out of any deal. Not that he needs to do that often nowadays, as Hades is a content god, not terribly interested in expanding his territory: his real prize has always been his brother's throne, and he's got that now. Well, if he could manage to get that tentacle face to come back to Tartarus, where he OUGHT to be…
Land - Monsters' Playground
Hades employs a relatively small number of departed souls as look-outs and sentinels, they are to inform him of any wannabe hero getting too big for his britches. Most souls are more than willing to leave the torments of the River Styx for some time in the land of the living, and the fact that the Lord of the Dead compensates them with extra time on the surface makes them even more enthusiastic and vigilant. There aren't as many heroes, nowadays, so the souls resort to denouncing uppity villagers; Hades isn't as generous with these sort of reports, and the departed risks incineration if he bothers the god with info that's not worth his time. What's worse, numberless mythological creatures prowl Hades' territory, knowing full well that their master considers them far more precious to him than the useless mortals that will end up as his more direct subjects anyway. Galloping centaurs haunt the roads from Epyrus to Sparta, drunk on wine and blood; sea serpents longer than pirate ships grow fat on the flesh and bones of terrified fishermen; and the constant screeching of harpies fills moonless nights. The few times that some brave villagers managed to drive out one of their tormentors, they were visited by Hades' own monstrous three-headed hound, there to punish them for bothering one of Hades' loyal servitors. Every day, more villagers resort to sacrificing some of their own to these monsters to avoid both theirs and their master's wrath. Even Cerberus' trail of destruction pales in comparison to the primordial horror caused by the Titans. These lumbering quasi-gods, kilometers tall and full of fury, have already made several large swathes of land completely inhabitable, and they seem to simply go as they please, governed by nothing more than their fancy for destruction. When their roaring cries are heard in a village, everyone rounds up their transportable goods and leaves their homes behind, yet another sacrifice to the God of the Dead and his dreaded servants.