As soon as Themis's gaze no longer followed him, the ancient serpent went limp like a boneless fish, utterly drained, and immediately wanted to rush forward and embrace the goddess's Larva who had saved him at the right moment.
But just as that unfilial son was about to succeed—barely half a step away—a loud cry came from the distant marsh.
"Tina! Hurry over here!"
"There are mushrooms here! Red ones, green ones, they look so fresh and delicious!"
Hearing the call, Tina's eyes lit up. She instinctively turned her head, and the pair of drooping emerald-green earth-touched tentacles swept outward.
Again!
Samael's vision went black. He was blasted backward like a cannonball, snapping several trees as thick as bowls before crashing to the ground.
He climbed out of the grass, his body aching faintly, misery written across his face.
Although Tina consciously restrained her monstrous strength in front of others so as not to harm fragile lives, when around the close and trusted "rebellious son," she always relaxed without realizing it, letting her instincts show.
Because of that, Samael had developed a deep psychological shadow toward those emerald-green earth-born tentacles.
As a certain famous Grand Archer once said, a goddess's love can sometimes be unbearably heavy.
Still, this was not the time to dwell on it.
Forcing himself to focus, Samael leapt up from the ground, grabbed Tina—who was fidgeting nervously as if she had done something wrong—and dragged her deeper into the marsh. His face was dark, his patience at its end, as he roared.
"Daphne, shut up!"
"The brighter the mushroom, the more poisonous it is. That's common sense, you idiot!"
At the lakeside, the nymphs froze at the shout, their jaws dropping, the half-bitten colorful mushrooms tumbling from their mouths.
Half an hour later, several tiny nymphs, their bodies tinged green and purple from head to toe, were carried back by Samael for treatment.
Fortunately, children of nature possessed strong resistance to toxins. So long as the poison was not a divine-level venom, they could expel it with ease. After lying down for a few hours, they would be back to their energetic selves.
Still, you're lives born of mountain streams and forests. Isn't it shameful for your kind to be laid low like this? How did you even survive this long?
Inside the dwelling, Samael stared at the group of little ones lying stiffly on broad banana leaves, waiting for their bodies to flush out the toxins, their skin slowly fading back to normal. His mouth twitched. He had no words.
Even Themis had to step in to help with this farcical mass poisoning.
"Boom!"
Night deepened. The marsh erupted with violent wind as thunder exploded across the sky in a chain of cracks, spreading like tangled roots of an ancient tree. Half the heavens lit up, and the heavy roar rolled endlessly through the wilds.
It didn't feel like rain was coming.
The lightning raged, crooked and chaotic, flaring again and again with no pause, its deafening roar shaking the night.
Tina's cross-shaped pupils gleamed as she bared her small fangs at the storm, grinning.
Samael, meanwhile, felt a chill crawl down his spine. A suffocating weight pressed heavy against his chest.
"Sorry, I may have urgent business to handle."
"Daphne and the others… I'll have to trouble you to look after them for the next few days."
A flicker of surprise crossed Themis's beautiful face. After leaving a few brief instructions, she hurried into the night, vanishing like a streak of light.
Something had happened on Mount Othrys. The only event that could shake one of the Twelve Titans so was that.
Zeus.
Zeus had freed his five siblings from Kronos's belly.
From those scattered clues, Samael instantly pieced together the most likely truth, his expression hardening.
The war of the gods was about to begin—sooner than he had expected.
The ancient serpent gave Tina, who looked at him with concern, a gentle smile and stroked her long blue hair.
Then his eyes shifted back to the window, to the relentless lightning crashing down, before finally settling on the banana leaves where the tiny nymphs lay, snoring softly as their bodies expelled the poison. He pressed a hand to his forehead.
It seemed no one would sleep easy tonight.
...
After a night of unending thunder, the next morning's sky was startlingly clear and bright.
But Mount Othrys was cloaked in gloom. Rubble lay scattered about the temples; the great assembly hall of the gods was scarred with gashes and ravines.
The banquet hall—once laden with wine, fruits, and delicacies—was overturned and broken, cups shattered, tables on their sides. Everywhere was chaos.
"Bang!"
A dull crash rang out as a golden wine jug was crushed to shards in a thick, hairy hand. The oppressive silence shattered.
"Last night, someone offered me poisoned wine, intending to assassinate their king!"
Kronos's face was dark as he slammed the table with a clenched fist. Veins bulged in his neck as he roared like a wronged beast.
"A provocation! This is a provocation against all the Titans!"
The twelve Titans, summoned in haste, reacted each in their own way: some indignant, some frowning in thought, some impassive.
Then, with a brutal yank, Kronos dragged out a nymph with a broken leg and tear-streaked face, tossing her onto the floor like garbage.
"I've already discovered the truth. This wretch colluded with six traitorous conspirators."
"Those rebels have fled to Mount Olympus in the chaos. For the honor of the Titans, these roots of evil must be eradicated!"
Outwardly, the Titans echoed him, each vowing to hunt down the six traitors.
"Eradicate them! Leave none alive!"
But the truth of who those six were was no secret among them.
After all, this god-king who wallowed in wine and women was a pitiful actor.
To suggest that a handmaid had poisoned him with wine—it was laughable.
The potion's effects were merely unconsciousness and vomiting.
Its true purpose was plain: to free the six children swallowed by Kronos.
And though the blame was pinned on this attendant nymph, Queen Rhea was conspicuously absent from the gathering.
The siblings exchanged no words but silently ignored the obvious truth.
After a few perfunctory exchanges with Kronos—who continued drinking heavily despite his dark mood—the gods departed one by one, their expressions varied, each preparing for the inevitable upheaval.
It would not be long before debt-collectors came knocking.
Fate? That was Kronos's fate, not theirs.
The world belonged to the Titans.
...
As Mount Othrys fell quiet once more, Themis, the last to leave, paused. She turned back, pity softening her gaze.
With a wave of her hand, she instructed the nymph attendants left behind to bury their fallen sisters.
"But God King..."
The nymphs trembled, faces pale with fear and sorrow.
"Don't worry. I will explain it myself."
Themis offered them gentle reassurance, then rose and made her way toward Kronos's palace.