Samael, a man who had once lived through the 21st century, naturally put effort into recreating familiar flavors whenever he had the chance to indulge.
The roasted bird served at dinner was tender and juicy, its taste further enriched by the leftover spices the ancient serpent had brought from Mesopotamia. Every diner's appetite was thoroughly stirred.
With sweet desserts and refreshing fruit juice afterward, the meal left everyone wanting more.
Harpy, who had been hiding all day, only dared to sneak back once she was sure no one was chasing her with a cleaver. But to her dismay, the feast was nearly over. The roasted bird she had been longing for was nothing but bones scattered across the ground.
Before she could pout and burst into tears, a plate of skewers coated in sauce and well-marinated meat was placed before her.
Harpy's tears quickly turned into laughter. She happily scampered over to the glowing embers, grabbed a skewer, and gleefully flipped the meat as if enjoying her own little barbecue.
After teasing the silly bird for a while, Samael leaned against a tree trunk. He lifted his flower-shaped cup and took small sips of the honeyed nectar, watching with amusement as the harpy—a birdlike supernatural creature—continued to grill meat.
Suddenly, Harpy felt a chill. She shrank her neck, her tufted feathers bristling upright like a startled quail, trembling so much she nearly dropped the skewers into the fire.
After the incident earlier that day, the future child of Typhon, destined to rule the seas, had already developed a deep psychological scar toward the black demon.
Bullying a dumb bird like this… wasn't that a little low?
So next time…
Better go even harder on that brat!
The shameless serpent grinned in satisfaction, tilting back his head to drain the crystal-clear nectar in one gulp, a wave of ease washing over him.
...
Night gave way to dawn as the sun rose.
Samael woke leisurely, carefully withdrawing his arms from Tina's embrace and from beneath Athena's head. Rising, he walked to the cave entrance, stretched, and welcomed the new day.
The ancient serpent's gaze instinctively turned north toward the towering Mount Olympus. Reflected in his pupils was a cylindrical matrix of multicolored light and divine patterns.
These cascading lights pierced sky and earth like the pillars of the world, radiating an overwhelming majesty.
It was clear that after the war in Oceanus, the new gods had begun assigning divine offices, filling the vacuum of power.
This wondrous sight signaled the end of the ancient Titans' glory on Mount Othrys, and the dawning of the age ruled by the Twelve Olympians.
But the pantheon was not yet complete. For now, only five children of the Titan God King's bloodline and the successor of Father Uranus had taken their seats:
Zeus, King of the Gods and Lord of Sky and Thunder; Hera, Queen of Heaven and Goddess of Marriage and Childbirth; Hestia, Goddess of the Hearth and Flame; Poseidon, Lord of the Sea; Demeter, Goddess of Fertility and Agriculture; and Aphrodite, Goddess of Love and Beauty.
Hades, Lord of the Underworld, was confined to his realm and thus did not manifest his divine authority above Mount Olympus.
As for the remaining six—Athena, Goddess of War and Wisdom; Apollo, god of Light, Music, Prophecy, and Medicine; Artemis, Goddess of the Hunt; Ares, God of War and Slaughter; Hephaestus, God of Fire and Crafts; and Hermes, God of Messengers, Thieves, Travelers, and Merchants—most were newly born and not yet of age, unqualified to stand alongside their parents.
Meanwhile, as Zeus's lovers and wives continued to multiply, the original queen, Metis, grew resentful. To see the truth of her husband's feelings, she followed Zeus's suggestion and transformed into a drop of water, entering the body of the God King.
The result? The Goddess of Wisdom fulfilled her wish. She sank into the sea of Zeus's consciousness and indeed saw his surging, sincere love.
But at the same time, Metis also saw his burning hunger for power—and the grim fate awaiting both her and the child in her womb.
In the end, the former Queen of the Gods remained forever within her husband's body, wrapped in that love day after day, lost in a beautiful dream, monopolizing his inner world.
So in this entanglement of love and desire, Samael couldn't tell who had truly won or lost.
The ancient serpent's only thought was: a yandere is terrifying.
Fortunately, Athena hadn't completely inherited her mother's temperament—Samael was deeply relieved by that.
Besides, if Zeus wanted to fill the power vacuum left by the Twelve Titans, he still needed to bring in one more to complete the Twelve Olympians.
The serpent stroked his chin, a strange smile tugging at his lips.
After all, the little goddess of wisdom and war, Athena, had slept in his bed just last night.
With a brief chuckle to himself, Samael's smile faded. He lifted his gaze toward the vast western sky, where golden-red clouds spread across the heavens.
When the serpent's vertical pupils flared with cross-shaped light, he peered far through the churning, chaotic clouds. There, faintly, he made out a towering giant—over a hundred meters tall—its complete form radiating divine power as it expanded the boundaries of the sky, further shaping the outer laws of the Greek world.
The Sky-Bearing Titan—Atlas.
Son of Iapetus, the Titan of Speech and Soul, and brother of Prometheus among the Twelve Titans.
After the fall of Mount Othrys, this second-generation Titan, not particularly sharp-witted, relied on his strength and gathered a band of Titans to challenge Olympus's authority.
The result, naturally, was a crushing defeat at the hands of the Olympian gods in their prime.
Yet Zeus, magnanimous as the God King, forgave the rebel, merely ordering him westward to shape the laws of the frontier world.
Thanks to this Sky-Bearer tirelessly laboring day and night, the domain under Olympus's rule grew ever wider, and Zeus's authority over the heavens expanded greatly.
Of course, Olympus had only just been established, and the Greek world swarmed with ambitious gods and monstrous beings.
For a long time to come, Zeus would have to guard not only against his own siblings but also against the constant emergence of monsters and demons from beyond.
To Samael, the rebellion of Titan Atlas was nothing more than a trivial episode.
What stood out was that Zeus's way of handling crises differed entirely from the methods of Mount Othrys.
This new God King wielded both wisdom and reason, always finding ways to maximize advantage from any turmoil.
Honestly, such an opponent was not easy to deal with.
Atlas's failure served as a reminder to Samael, who nursed his own dangerous ambitions.
Toppling Olympus's rule wouldn't be so easy. For safety's sake, caution was the better path.
At the very least, he'd have to wait until Athena and Ana grew up...
Well, since Olympus, his future adversary, was growing stronger, Arima's Cavern—the stronghold of the rebellious gods—couldn't afford to slack off either.
Time for lessons to begin.
Samael glanced at the little ones snoring inside the cave, his mouth curling into a sinister grin.