No matter how many times it happened, Eros remained convinced, high charisma really could let you do anything.
Without the mask, walking among mortals meant becoming the center of attention, like a celestial body with planets orbiting it.
He barely needed to lift a finger, everyone would rush to help him with whatever he wanted.
But with the mask on? He'd have to accept "plumbing sidequests" like everyone else.
The high-and-mighty oracle who had just demanded Eros complete a favor before she would even consider contacting Hephaestus...
The moment she saw half his face, instant switch. She grabbed her brazier and dashed into the temple to pass on the message.
Being handsome really was power.
If that cheating husband from earlier had Eros's face, his wife probably wouldn't have complained. She would've blamed herself instead, thinking she wasn't attractive enough.
Even Prometheus had to admit, this face had opened many doors for Eros.
If goddesses couldn't resist him, how could ordinary humans?
"Still, I'd advise you not to try that trick on Hephaestus."
"She's not fond of dazzling pretty boys like you."
Eros tilted his head and casually adjusted his mask back into place, signaling with a cheeky little gesture that he got the message.
Moments later, the oracle reemerged from the temple.
She had clearly changed outfits, eyes now full of dreamy affection, and approached with an awkward sort of bashfulness.
"I've informed our goddess of your visit. She has agreed to meet you… She will come shortly to receive you."
The efficiency boost from a beautiful man? Tenfold.
Now that his mask was back on, she seemed visibly disappointed.
"Traveler, may I ask your name?"
She knew in her heart: the man before her, was not someone a mere oracle like her could ever hope to have.
His beauty dimmed even the gods. He had to be a god himself.
She didn't expect anything to happen. She only wanted to know his name, so she could hold it in her heart, like a secret flame.
"My name?"
Eros smiled faintly.
As the sky above shimmered with sparks and the sound of an arriving golden chariot approached, he spoke:
"I am Love, and I am Desire. I am the echo in your heart… and the thing your soul yearns for."
And with that, the chariot of fire arrived, settling before them.
He and Prometheus stepped aboard, leaving behind the oracle, Hypsipyle, whose eyes remained locked on Eros's silhouette until it vanished into the clouds above Mount Vulcan.
Love? Desire...?
She murmured the words, then suddenly made the connection.
"Eros…?!"
Her eyes widened in shock as the realization hit her.
But by then, he was already gone.
Eros, meanwhile, wore a self-satisfied smile behind his mask.
He'd just played the flirt in front of Prometheus, and played it well.
He didn't intend to pursue the girl, but hey, no harm in a little teasing.
Prometheus cracked one eye open, apparently glimpsing some future possibility, and murmured:
"You're going to suffer for this one day, you know."
"That's fine. When it happens, I'll accept it."
Eros's tone was light, as if he were discussing the weather.
Sometimes, it just happened, he couldn't stop the charm from leaking out. It was in his bones.
Mask or not, even someone like Kekropis had developed deep admiration for him without him doing a thing.
Charisma, true charisma, was a radiance that couldn't be hidden.
"Enough. We're nearly there."
The golden chariot descended upon Mount Vulcan.
The volcano was still erupting, molten lava flowing in furious torrents, the sky above it scorched with heat and lightning.
Nestled at the very edge of that crater, was the workshop of Hephaestus.
The black obsidian path beneath their feet radiated a coolness that defied the lava around it.
Strangely, it wasn't hot at all.
As they approached, a few metallic humanoid dolls stepped forward.
"Welcome, guest of our mistress."
They even spoke.
Though clearly artificial, they lacked true sentience, the craftsmanship impressed Eros.
He lingered, observing them with genuine appreciation.
Their sculpted forms were quite beautiful.
Shame I already have too many obedient beauties, he thought. Otherwise I'd definitely ask for two of these.
They entered the forge.
Surprisingly, it was spotless.
No oil, no soot, no cluttered mess. It was cleaner than a temple.
Every tool, every surface, arranged with exact precision.
She's a neat freak… maybe OCD too?
Eros silently noted her tendencies.
And then, a new footstep echoed.
A rhythmic unevenness. One light step, one heavy.
"I heard someone wished to see me? Who would willingly seek out this reclusive smith?"
The voice's owner appeared,
Hephaestus, the Goddess of Flame.
Her short, fire-red hair glowed like embers.
Unlike most goddesses, her attire was purely functional: cropped top, rugged shorts, and several toolkits strapped to her thighs.
But that wasn't what stunned Eros.
Her face, porcelain white, unblemished, delicately carved as if from divine marble.
Not ugly at all. In fact, she was easily in his Top Ten goddesses so far.
This… is what they call "ugly"?
"Mortal, your gaze is far too direct. I don't like it."
Hephaestus frowned at him, but her tone didn't sound angry.
In fact… Eros caught something odd in her expression. Her eyes were saying something else entirely.
After a moment, she turned her gaze to Prometheus.
"So it's you, Prophet. What brings you here? Have you seen something?"
Prometheus tilted her head, puzzled.
"Seen? What do you mean?"
Hephaestus smirked.
"So… you don't know."
"Of course. Even the seer cannot know everything. You only see what Father allows you to see."
Prometheus didn't respond to the jibe.
She opened her eyes, scanning Hephaestus, but found nothing.
As Hephaestus said, her visions were bound by Zeus's will.
If Hephaestus knew something Zeus didn't want her to see, then she wouldn't see it.
So what is she hiding…?
What had started as a courtesy visit now dragged Prometheus into something deeper.
"Well, if you're not the one who requested an audience, then it must be you… mortal."
Hephaestus turned to Eros, sitting gracefully in her obsidian chair, like a queen upon her throne.
"So, what is it? Did you come to ask for a divine artifact? Or perhaps a token of power?"
She was known for her generosity.
If she liked you, she'd forge you a treasure.
If she was in the mood, she didn't even mind teaching mortals to smith.
But her gifts came on her terms, and she had to like you.
Eros didn't waste words.
"Yes. I hope you can forge something for me."
He reached into his cloak, drawing out blueprints, his sketches for the Cloth of the Cosmos.
Hephaestus glanced at the paper,
And immediately scoffed.
"Tch. Just some oddly designed armor?"
Her voice was laced with disdain.
But then, she took a second glance.
And her brow furrowed.
Her smirk vanished.
"A… living armor?"
"Small Cosmos energy…?"
"You want to use divinity and authority as forging materials?"
The scroll trembled in her fingers.
Her expression twisted, not in disgust, but in shock.
A stop.
Then she looked up.
"Tell me everything."