With the dissolution of the Reality Marble, the Olympian gods had narrowly escaped death.
The Light of Creation had not managed to descend upon them before vanishing with the collapse of the Reality Marble.
The Rain of Sanction Stones had indeed struck several of the gods, but only heavily wounded them rather than killing them outright.
Of course, a few unfortunate, weaker deities perished beneath the stone's shining rain, yet at least the chief gods survived.
Among them, the most gravely injured was the God of War, Ares.
His misfortune lay in the fact that most of his wounds came from his single combat against the Giant Soldier.
His injuries were so severe that, when faced with the Rain of Sanction Stones, he no longer had the strength to dodge.
Next came Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades. The three great gods had stood at the very front, and so they bore the brunt of the damage.
Naturally, their bodies were still resilient and intact, no limbs lost despite the severity of their wounds.
Others were less fortunate. Hermes was the unlucky one who had lost a leg to the Light of Creation earlier.
It would never grow back. With one leg gone, the title of fastest god no longer belonged to him, and even his role as divine messenger was unlikely to remain his.
Another unlucky soul was Hephaestus. The God of Fire had been struck repeatedly by water- and ice-element Sanction Stones, leaving him blind in one eye.
The rest of the pantheon, too, bore grievous wounds. Only Aphrodite, Artemis, and Athena had "luckily" escaped without loss. Yet of the three, only Athena felt truly relieved.
The other two goddesses were staring at Alaric with glimmers in their eyes that were anything but simple.
They had always seen his potential, had always believed that his future was boundless, perhaps even rivaling the gods themselves. That was why Aphrodite had made her request of him.
But even in their high regard for him, never had they imagined that Alaric could reach the point of standing shoulder to shoulder with gods in so short a time.
Who could have thought that in little more than a hundred years, Alaric would personally forge a goddess of such overwhelming power?
For even among gods, though there had never been a precedent of a mortal ascending to divinity, to grow from weak to mighty took ages uncounted.
Most gods were born strong; those who wished to climb higher after birth faced a long, slow road.
Yet Pandora, no, Hecate, had shattered that belief.
Once a mere mortal, she had ascended in one bound to the very pinnacle of divinity (though a Creator God was rare beyond compare). One step to the heavens, and nothing less.
But the one who had truly created this miracle was Alaric.
Especially just now, when by harnessing the power of the Goddess of Magic, Alaric had fought the entire Greek pantheon alone and utterly routed them. Such a feat inspired only dread.
Aphrodite now saw her dream within reach. She would soon cast off the detestable role of Hephaestus's wife and stand proudly at Alaric's side. The waiting would not be long.
If Aphrodite's heart surged with hope, Artemis's emotions were far more complex.
What Alaric had shown just now was not only a pleasant surprise, but something she had never before felt.
It was the sensation of being conquered.
As the Goddess of the Hunt, Artemis's battle prowess rivaled Athena's among the goddesses, and placed her within the first rank of all the gods.
Though wild and pure in nature, she was also fiercely dominant, whether in the hunt or in love.
To her, Alaric had long been an irresistibly fascinating target. In the hundred years of their acquaintance, the faint distance between them had only deepened her obsession with the unattainable man she desired.
But the infatuation born of a "prey" in love was nothing like what she felt now.
At this moment, in her eyes, Alaric was so overwhelmingly strong that she, not he, had become the prey. He had become the hunter.
The strangeness of this new sensation made Artemis feel both foreign and insatiably drawn. She had never known that to be so forcefully conquered could feel like this…
In short, among the gods writhing in their injuries, she… was wet.
From afar, seeing the two goddesses, their eyes shimmering with water, Alaric's heart was heavy with conflict.
He had only dealt a heavy blow, not eradicated the Olympian pantheon. Was this outcome good or ill? He did not know.
For Greece as it was now, the existence of the gods remained necessary. To slay them outright might well provoke Gaia, the restraining will of the planet itself, into striking back.
But since he had merely wounded them, the end result would likely be a peace accord between the two sides.
After that, the mages of Mistra Academy would inevitably be caught in open and hidden struggles with the gods.
Still, thanks to Hecate's power, at most such conflict would remain at the stage of contest without collapse. So long as Hecate stood, their foundation could not be taken.
But to repeat what had happened today, trapping the entire Greek pantheon within a Reality Marble, would no longer be possible.
At that thought, Alaric remembered the way Arceus and Heracletus had looked at him before they vanished.
The Arceus and Heracletus he had summoned should only have been replicas created from his imagination.
They ought to have remained firmly under his control.
Yet just before they faded with the collapse of the Reality Marble, both had turned their heads to look at him.
And the eyes they gave him were not those of puppets under command.
Could it be… the true wills of two Creator Gods?
Alaric had no answer.
Perhaps Creator Gods really did possess such a power, though even they could not break through the limits of the world to enter the Sea of Chaos, perhaps they could still sense their own replicas across that void.
At least, the gazes they gave him were filled with unmistakable kindness.
Maybe, the next time he summoned them, he could try asking.
As these thoughts churned, Alaric released the borrowed power of the Goddess of Magic, returning it to Hecate.
Having watched from start to finish as Alaric humiliated the Olympians, Hecate soared proudly into the sky once more.
Her actions immediately caught the gods' wary eyes.
Even grievously wounded and leaning upon another for support, Zeus looked up at her, his voice harsh with suspicion.
"H-Hecate… Perhaps… we wronged you in the past, but you have already brought us to this state. What more do you want?"
"What more do I want?" Hecate shot back coldly at Zeus's attempt to play the victim. "Was it not you who struck at me first, a weak woman?
And now you dare ask what I want? That is the question I should be asking you."
"I…" Zeus faltered, unable to answer her accusation. At last, under Hera's prodding, he stumbled out the words.
"Th-Then… it was our fault… we… we should not have attacked you. Before things grow worse, let us… call a truce."