"That's his own son! What could he have possibly done to deserve such humiliation?!"
At this moment, Hestia, who had held back her anger all the way from the palace, could no longer contain herself. She indignantly stood up for a certain nephew, denouncing her dear brother.
"His own son?"
Lorne sneered and shook his head, his eyes full of mockery.
"Heh, if you stand in his way, even his own father could be discarded. What's a son compared to that?"
"...We... Zeus had no choice!"
Almost revealing too much, Hestia quickly tried to cover for her brother—the one who had once saved his siblings and overthrown their tyrant father Cronus.
"Besides, he did care about the lovers he bonded with, and the children who shared his blood. He rescued many of them from Hera's persecution more than once."
"Oh? Is that so?"
Lorne looked at Hestia, who was trying so hard to explain, raising his brows with a half-smile.
"Then where was he when Leto, the goddess of childbirth, was struggling to give birth?
Where was he when his daughter Persephone was kidnapped by Hades and kept in the underworld?
Where was he when Demeter, goddess of the harvest, was frantically searching for her daughter and then violated by Poseidon?
Who turned Io into a little cow and handed her to Hera for punishment?
Who caused Europa's three sons to turn against each other?
And who disgraced King Minos so severely?"
As Lorne listed question after question, Hestia pressed her lips together, her eyes showing inner conflict.
"It was..."
"Was it all Hera's jealousy? Hades' schemes? Poseidon's shamelessness? Or just the treachery of mortal hearts?"
Before she could argue, Lorne cut in again, his smile growing colder.
"Come on. Stop blaming everyone else. That so-called King of the Gods holds absolute power. If he truly wanted to act, who on Olympus could defy his will?"
"…"
Hestia was speechless.
Yet after a moment of silence, she still couldn't give up, whispering softly.
"Maybe... maybe he was deceived... Maybe he just didn't want Olympus to fall into conflict..."
Perhaps because she still remembered how Zeus had once rescued them from Cronus' belly and shared power after the war, this goddess of the hearth clearly saw her brother through rose-colored glasses and simply refused to think the worst of him.
"Even now, even after hearing it straight from King Minos himself, you still don't get it? That so-called King of Olympus—he's clearer than anyone."
Lorne looked at the naïve older sister of the divine family and shook his head, sneering slightly. Then his thin lips curved into a cold smile as he spoke slowly:
"And whether it's Olympus's chaos, or the impending doom of the Minoans—he's made great contributions to both."
What?!
The unexpected answer exploded in Hestia's mind, causing the goddess of the hearth to look up suddenly, her eyes filled with disbelief.
"This is impossible!"
Seeing that Hestia was still unwilling to give up, Lorne's smile faded a little.
"Alright, then tell me—among the Twelve Olympians, Ares is the god of war. So why is the power of victory, which is so critical to war, given to Athena instead?"
"Because… because Ares is reckless. Unrestrained violence only brings disaster and chaos. Victory requires wisdom to guide it. That's why Athena is the most suitable!"
Hestia spoke instinctively, offering a logically coherent argument. Her eyes grew brighter as she spoke, her voice gaining confidence.
"And to ensure Athena could guard the authority of victory, Zeus even split the divine Aegis shield in two and granted one half to her. That proves how much he favors her!"
"Ares brings disaster and conflict?
Hah. Gods who worship power and once unleashed a world-ending flood—since when did they become so compassionate? And as for that so-called favor toward Athena?"
Lorne couldn't help but scoff at such naive thinking.
"Then here's the real question: With the power of victory taken from him, how do you think Ares felt? And what about Hera, the Queen of the Gods?"
"...!"
Hestia shuddered. Her voice turned dry.
"So that's why Ares always opposes Athena?"
"It's not just Ares..."
Lorne snorted coldly, his violet eyes gleaming with dark insight, as if he could see through the polished mask of the King of the Gods to the base greed and filth beneath.
"Poseidon also covets that authority. That's why he made things so difficult for Crete—he was trying to force Athena, the great mother goddess of the Minoans, into submission!"
"And Zeus—wouldn't he put a stop to it?"
Hestia asked on instinct, her tone full of indignation.
"You see? You're being foolish again."
Lorne rolled his eyes at the goddess of the hearth, who didn't learn her lesson, and directly broke the window paper.
"Isn't this exactly what Zeus wants? He wishes for Olympus to fall into disorder, so no one can challenge or threaten his kingship!"
Hestia opened her mouth, wanting to defend her brother, the king of gods, but she didn't know how to start.
Seeing this silly girl still clinging to her illusions, Lorne decided to be blunt, before she got swindled again by Zeus's sweet words:
"Athena being besieged on all sides... Ares stripped of victory and turned into a god of defeat... You think that's coincidence? It's all part of his plan."
"Why?" Hestia couldn't understand—or perhaps didn't want to.
"The reason is very simple. Ares is Hera's most beloved youngest son and a powerful god of war. If he has the power of victory and his mother's doting, it is hard to guarantee that the old story of the God King family will not be repeated.
Cronus and Zeus himself rose to power in the same way. That's why the god of war's authority had to be split.
Athena, on the other hand, is alone.
No matter how strong she is, she'll never gain support from most Olympian gods. She'll never pass Hera and Ares's test.
In an environment surrounded by powerful enemies, she is destined to rely on Zeus and become a tool for the father god to divide Olympus.
Don't believe me?
Then ask yourself: if Zeus truly adored his daughter and couldn't bear to see her suffer, why didn't he release her mother Metis? Why did he swallow the pregnant goddess of wisdom whole?"
Lorne cast a glance at the pale-faced Hestia and continued to peel away the gleaming facade of Olympus, revealing its rotten core.
"Likewise, the conflict between the god of craftsmanship and his mother Hera? That wasn't coincidence either.
If that doting father really cared about his son and peace in Olympus, he would've stopped Hera from casting Hephaestus out. Instead, he waited until the boy, the god of craft, was crippled, filled with resentment, then sent Hermes to retrieve him, pretended to mediate their reunion, and paraded his sense of 'justice.'
Then what? He arranged for Hephaestus to marry Aphrodite, the goddess, who was secretly hooking up with Ares.
Now look at them, mother and son and wife, tearing into each other like wild dogs. The chance of them uniting? Gone."
His sarcasm was razor-sharp. Hestia recalled all the past incidents on Olympus involving the Queen and her son—and her face grew even worse. She turned her head away.
"Don't want to hear more? Too bad—there's more!"
Lorne smiled coldly and pressed on.
"There's the whole affair between Leto and Hera—Apollo and Artemis were nearly killed in the womb. Naturally, they don't get along with Ares.
The daughter of agriculture, Demeter's daughter was abducted by Hades, and she herself was defiled by Poseidon, of course she holds grudges against both sea and underworld.
Hermes, the messenger god, is Zeus's eyes and ears, and with his grandfather, a Titan traitor, still imprisoned, he has every reason to cling to that 'kind father.'
And you, Artemis, and Athena, have all sworn virginity, severing all chances of alliance through marriage..."
"So you see, every major Olympian god has their own clear enemy, and they're all busy fighting each other.
Who among them could possibly threaten Zeus's position as king?"
"If this is what love looks like..."
He sneered.
"Then not just Athena, who was dragged out to be a pawn, but Apollo, Artemis, Ares, Hephaestus… every single one of them should really 'thank' their wonderful father."
As she listened to the words dissecting the truth piece by piece, facing the raw, bloody reality, Hestia, who had always believed some warmth still remained within her divine family, turned pale. Her tightly clenched teeth left a visible mark of blood on her lips.
After a long silence, the hearth goddess finally spoke, her voice dry and defeated.
"Then… does Athena know?"
"Of course she does."
Lorne nodded flatly, his expression utterly unmoved.
"But does she have a choice?"
"…"
The goddess of the hearth, who was in charge of the peace of the home, looked up at the Holy Mount Olympus standing among the stars, her eyes a little dim and empty, and she murmured in a low voice.
"He wasn't like this… before..."
"Don't make excuses for him. You just never saw him clearly."
Lorne ruthlessly shattered the last shred of warmth in the royal divine family. His eyes were deep and piercing.
"Wake up. From Uranus to Cronus, and from Cronus to Zeus… every king of the gods has been the same."
"And Zeus? He only became the final victor not because of justice or kindness.
No, it's because he is the most patient, the most cunning, the most ruthless, and the coldest god-king in history."
With a bone-chilling snort, Lorne's violet eyes, having long seen through the nature of Titan blood, gleamed with icy sarcasm.
"From beginning to end, he's never loved anyone. He only loves himself."
As the echo faded into silence, the goddess who protected hearth and home stood dazed, hugging herself tightly as she looked up at Olympus bathed in cold starlight, shivering as if she could feel the infinite chill of the long, dark night.
It seemed that this cruel truth had deeply shaken her.
For several days, the hearth goddess sat silently before the ever-burning fire, staring into the flames, lost in thought.
Lorne wanted to console her but ultimately said nothing.
Some things can't be solved by words—they must be understood on one's own.
Besides, the monsters and sea beasts of the outer sea were gathering once more, heading toward Crete and regrouping in the surrounding waters.
In just two days, their numbers had doubled the first wave's, and traces of divine-blooded creatures were increasingly spotted among them.
Meanwhile, facing such overwhelming threats, the cities of Crete, under King Minos's command, were madly evacuating civilians, building coastal defenses, and preparing in every way for the inevitable war.
As a temporary advisor, Lorne was completely swamped.
He stayed by Little Medusa's side daily, serving as her external brain, moving between fortifications, military camps, temples, and the palace, using her divine mouthpiece to offer advice and patch holes in strategy, defense design, and personnel allocation.
Though lacking real combat experience, Lorne had studied plenty of historical wars due to his profession.
He knew: Use others' strengths to refine your own.
All he needed to do was offer the ideas. The execution? Leave that to the professionals.
Still, the priests, generals, and commanders began looking at this scribe with increasing awe—praising Athena's wisdom at every turn.
They clearly believed all these plans came from the goddess herself.
Lorne had no intention of correcting them.
After all, having Athena take the spotlight for him, not only allowed him to remain safely in the shadows and plot from behind the scenes, but it also made the Cretans feel their goddess stood with them, greatly boosting morale. Why ruin that?
Besides—this was Greece.
As a child of Zeus, the more outstanding you are, the more trouble you'll get.
The goddess of wisdom, Athena, used as a pawn…
Minos, forced to endure humiliation as a wise king…
Heracles, burdened with twelve impossible labors…
Every sibling bore witness to that truth.
In this way, Lorne adhered to the principle of caution, constantly going back and forth between various defense lines and fortresses, giving advice to the Minoans, and improving the coastal defense lines to resist the beast tide according to the ideas of King Minos.
As time ticked by, both sides across the sea escalated their preparations—like a military arms race, bracing for inevitable collision.
Two massive powder kegs inched closer and closer… waiting for the moment when they collided and ignited each other, and made a loud noise..
Finally, on the third night—
A crimson flare shot up from the sea, cutting through the thick night, streaking across the sky—
And slammed straight into the seaside wall.
"Buzz!"
At the same time, the dense Hermetic inscriptions carved on the outer surface of the wall lit up in response, wildly gathering the aether in the air to form layer upon layer of massive composite magical barriers.
"Boom—!"
Accompanied by the roar like heavy artillery, the intersecting streams of aether light scattered wildly, shooting in all directions.
The ground shook continuously, and the sea surface stirred up towering waves.
The countless sea beasts, hungry for three to four days and driven by the god-blood clans, roared and howled crazily under the stimulation of the smell of blood, rushing toward the barrier in front, eager to tear through the wall and enjoy this feast of blood and fire.
Through the sky, almost bright as day, the front-line troops of the Cretan city-states took a deep breath, biting their lips hard to suppress the fear growing in their hearts, and burst out with a determined courage, fiercely throwing spears and shooting crossbows.
In an instant, the spears shot out, arrows slicing the air.
"Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!"
"Puff, puff, puff, puff!"
Flesh was torn apart, blood splattered.
On this isolated island, humans and beasts, life and death, collided violently, officially striking the opening chord of war!