Almost the instant Samael laid eyes on her, he thought of Ana, but quickly dismissed the idea. Compared to Ana or Gorgon, this half-human, half-snake guest had facial contours distinctly different from either of them.
Her body was more heavily covered in scales, her ears were long and pointed, and her skin bore spots, preserving far more serpent traits. Rather than a Divine Spirit, she looked more like a divine beast in an incomplete form, carrying an aura of cold stillness.
Yet the surging divine power within her, coupled with that faint but familiar resonance, allowed Samael to immediately recognize her true identity—the true ruler of the Cilician Marshes, the Mother of Serpents, Echidna.
Perhaps because of the subtle link between earth and creative divinity, Echidna felt an instinctive affinity toward Tina. She let herself be pulled to the campfire and sat down without resistance.
Just as Samael offered her a freshly roasted river fish, three little dog heads poked out from their Mother Goddess's arms, barking excitedly.
"Woof!"
In the next instant, a gust of wind swept through, and the three pups flailed their tiny limbs, tongues lolling as they snatched the skewered fish and landed beside Samael, feasting happily.
No, not three pups—this was a divine beast with three heads sharing a single body.
The three-headed hellhound, Cerberus?
Watching the three heads, now full and satisfied, leap about and circle behind him to bite at his dragon tail, Samael couldn't help but feel a strange amusement.
One head was a pure white fox face, the other two wolfish with black fur streaked with white. Wait—wasn't this the classic "sled dog trio": Samoyed, Alaskan Malamute, and Siberian Husky?
Ahem… the more he looked, the more alike they seemed. Not only in appearance, but in those spirited eyes and that air of clever mischief!
The ancient serpent stroked the hellhound at his side while casting an odd glance at the Mother of Serpents sitting beside Tina. After hearing his Mother Goddess's rough sketches and broken syllable descriptions, he pieced together the circumstances of their meeting, and his thoughts drifted.
So that's what happened. Out walking the dog—no, walking your son, huh?
At some point, Echidna lost track of the mischievous creature, who followed a scent into the forest. It was there that he encountered Tina, who had been gathering mushrooms. And under some powerful instinct, Cerberus obediently lay down, waiting to be tamed.
By the time Echidna arrived, she found a person and a hellhound lying face to face on the ground, wide eyes staring and whimpers exchanged.
Ah, so it was all about building goodwill while looking after the kid.
Perhaps that was the fastest way to reach into the heart of a single mother and earn her closeness.
And with how unusually obedient Cerberus was around Tina, Samael had his suspicions.
The titles Goddess of a Hundred Beasts and Mother of Evil Dragons weren't given to Tiamat in vain. Her very being carried the ancestral origin of the divine beast race.
The greater the intellect and the purer the bloodline, the easier it was to sense that fated resonance.
And in the Age of the Gods, serpent and dragon were one and the same—their attraction to each other all the stronger.
That was why Echidna instinctively trusted Tina, even entrusting her child to him along the way.
Likewise, since sitting by the campfire, this ruler of the Cilician Marshes seemed to shed the suspicion and gloom of a serpent, relaxing for reasons unknown.
Not only did she feel an unexplainable affinity toward Tina, but Echidna could even sense the powerful goodwill radiating from Samael beside her.
It was rare to meet a divine beast in this marsh who could actually communicate. The Mother of Serpents, out walking with her child, gradually lowered her guard and entrusted the three of them to take turns looking after the clumsy yet spirited hellhound.
Once she shed the solitude and silence of living alone, her gentle nature surfaced, showing little of the arrogance expected from the ruler of the marshes. Especially when speaking of her children, the lines of her scaled face softened, carrying a distinctly maternal warmth.
As the sun dipped low, the glow of dusk reflected crimson ripples across the riverbank. Deep in conversation with Samael and Tina, the Mother of Serpents suddenly came back to herself, her face stiffening.
Her dominance over the Cilician Marshes, combined with the innate gloom of serpents, meant most other divine beasts never dared draw near her territory. And yet, this single exchange had nearly equaled all the words she'd spoken in decades. So relaxed, so at ease—she hadn't even noticed she'd spent an entire day here.
A whole day! The brood in her lair must already be wreaking havoc.
"If you don't mind, Tina and I would like to visit your home, see if we can lend a hand."
Seeing her expression, Samael immediately guessed the burden this single mother bore. He suppressed his excitement and spoke calmly, offering goodwill.
With her creative power overflowing, she had given birth to over a dozen offspring at once. Though many had not yet fully hatched, even their daily care was enough to leave her overwhelmed.
Samael and Tina's offer to visit and help was exactly what she needed. Judging from their earlier actions, the way they handled children, their experience far surpassed her own.
Once they agreed, the gloom faded from Echidna's face. She flicked her serpent's tail and led the way ahead, while Samael carried the hellhound by the scruff, cradling it in his arms. Tina happily shouldered the roasted food, eating as she walked.
After half an hour, at Echidna's invitation, the three entered a cavern of jagged stone, dim and oppressive.
"Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!"
No sooner had they stepped inside than eight or nine small figures rushed toward them, squealing and crying. Hunger gnawed at them, their whimpers and grinding teeth revealing a streak of primal ferocity and bloodlust.
But as three powerful auras flared, the savage young beasts froze as if their throats had been seized, obediently circling the Mother of Serpents and the three guests, eyes fixed longingly on the food they carried.
Echidna dipped her head in apology. Samael and Tina only smiled, spreading out to feed the restless younglings.
Perhaps out of mistrust toward men, she only handed Samael two of them.
Even so, their outlines were enough for him to guess their future forms.
The one with nine heads and dark scales, clinging greedily to a wild boar—clearly the infamous Hydra.
The other was the same clumsy yet adorable Cerberus from before.
Nearby, the hundred-headed dragon Ladon and the Colchian Dragon pressed close to Tina, already learning to meekly lick her palm.
As for the Chimera, king of three-headed beasts, and the Nemean Lion, Echidna cared for those herself.
But Samael soon noticed that these divine beasts preferred raw flesh and blood over cooked food. His brow furrowed, pupils narrowing.
They had inherited great strength, yes—but they lacked the intelligence to match it. Compared to their half-human, half-serpent mother, the difference was stark.
With age, their beastly nature would only grow, until it became the dominant force ruling their bodies.
Thinking of these notorious beasts, Samael could already see them one day reduced to elite prey—hunted by heroes and Divine Spirits for glory and servitude.
In that moment, the word "failure" surfaced unbidden in his mind.
As he led Cerberus and the Hydra deeper into the lair, his heart gave a heavy jolt at the sight awaiting them in the central cavern: several towering eggs, each wrapped in a glow of violet phosphorescence.