Meanwhile, atop Mount Olympus, the temples of the gods lay shrouded in night, enveloped in utter silence. Moments later, a figure leapt into the colonnade—first moving cautiously, then striding boldly, advancing unhindered toward the blazing sacred flame.
Tsk. Zeus really went all out for this act. He even withdrew all the Divine Spirits guarding the sacred fire just to make it easier for me to get here.
Bathed in the torchlight, the Prophet shook his head in derision. He raised his hand toward the flickering golden flames and broke the seals that bound the laws of fire.
In an instant, countless scarlet sparks burst free, scattering across the pitch-black earth. One by one, faint lights rose into the sky, tiny stars illuminating the darkness.
"Prometheus, have you lost your mind?!"
A figure rushed out from the shadows, her expression grave as she looked upon the shattered seal.
The Prophet tilted his head slightly and sighed in relief.
"Hestia? Good. If it were anyone else, this would've ended badly."
"Good? What's good about this! I'm the one on night watch! Before Zeus notices, you'd better get out of here!"
The Goddess of the Hearth clenched her teeth, anxiety written across her face. But no sooner had the words escaped her lips than she cursed herself inwardly.
I swore I wouldn't get involved in this nonsense, so why can't I keep my mouth shut?
"If I run, how will you explain things to Zeus?"
Prometheus merely spread his hands in mock surrender, lifting his chin with a faint smile and a distant gaze.
"Let's go. Our God King must be growing impatient."
Hestia's breath caught. The realization hit her, and her lips twitched.
Of course, Zeus!
No wonder guarding the sacred flame has been my job lately—and he just had to summon me tonight. So this was all part of your plan.
Knowing she'd been tricked once again, the Hearth Goddess cursed her brother in silence. She also knew that under the ever-watchful eyes of the God King, even if she wanted to look the other way, there was no escaping Olympus for Prometheus.
Resigned, she took him to Zeus's temple herself.
Having failed her duty to guard the sacred fire, she had no grounds to plead for him. Before she could even enter, she was turned away.
Frustrated, Hestia left and, following the God King's orders, gathered the other gods to prepare for Prometheus's trial.
...
Zeus descended from his throne and approached the Prophet, speaking openly.
"Son of Iapetus, if you, like your brother Atlas the Titan who bears the heavens, swear before the ancient goddess of oaths, Styx, to forever serve me faithfully, then before the assembly of gods, I shall pardon your crimes."
The wise God King—his cruelty tempered by reason—was not as reckless as his forebears.
"If such forgiveness includes humanity," Prometheus said calmly, unflinching before the thunderous might, "then I might consider it."
"You have no right to negotiate with me!"
Zeus's face darkened, his silver-white eyes blazing with lightning. His divine power radiated with terrifying majesty, shaking the very air.
"Once I've dealt with you, I'll turn my attention to those blasphemous ants crawling upon the earth!"
Branches of lightning arced outward, filling the temple as ether surged and crackled, distorting space itself.
Under the crushing pressure, Prometheus's body bent, one knee hitting the ground. His joints cracked audibly, cold sweat streaming from his temples.
So strong! Even Athena, Medusa, and Samael together couldn't match this power. Good thing I didn't attack.
Enduring the unbearable weight, the Prophet lifted his head with effort, forcing a faint, meaningful smile.
"Great God of Wisdom, compared to those fragile mortals struggling merely to survive, don't you think the troubles brewing on Olympus are your true concern?"
"Do they even have the courage?" Zeus sneered, his tone dripping with disdain.
"Have you forgotten your father, the second-generation God King Kronos, and the Curse of the Mandate that doomed him?"
Prometheus's lips curved in a faint, almost kindly smile.
"Impossible! Metis is already—"
Zeus's expression faltered. He shook his head, denying it, yet unease flickered in his eyes. Even the unreliable prophecy of the Titan Iapetus had haunted his dreams—how could this reminder of divine fate not?
"Even if Metis is gone, the cycle will continue. You have six wives, and more lovers than can be counted. I've seen the future—someday, the child destined to fulfill that curse will be born."
The Prophet's gaze deepened, his voice low and solemn.
"Who is it! Who is that child! Answer me, Prometheus!"
Zeus, enraged, seized the seer by the collar and demanded an answer through gritted teeth.
Yet the Prophet, roughly lifted off his feet, merely wore a strange smile.
"Great God King of Wisdom, now it is your turn to swear an oath before Styx, the Goddess of Oaths. If you promise not to harm mankind, I shall tell you the answer."
For a moment, the God King remained silent, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. Then he released Prometheus, raised his right hand, and forced an oath between clenched teeth.
"Very well! I swear I will not lay hands upon mankind myself!"
As expected, you wouldn't surrender so easily.
Prometheus caught the subtle loophole in his words and sneered inwardly. But the situation left him no choice. Merely binding this God King, even slightly, was already a victory.
As long as the gods continued to taste the sweet rewards of faith from humanity, becoming addicted to its flavor, it would serve as an effective restraint on Zeus.
Seeing the God King yield, the Prophet recalled a symbol carved into the tabletop. His gaze glimmered as he began to chant softly.
"He is infinity. He is possibility. He is the turbulent future…
He shall possess wisdom beyond yours, gain the power of the world, and in the end, he shall shatter Olympus's divine might and seize your throne!"
A warning surged through the heavens, a wave of dread tightening Zeus's chest. A nameless agitation and terror twisted his expression as veins bulged across his forehead. He slammed the seer against a pillar, roaring in fury.
"Who! Answer me!"
"Ugh... cough... cough... Polos! Polos, the God of Opportunity!"
Prometheus, his throat crushed, face purple, barely managed to gasp out the words. Choking and coughing violently, he forced Zeus's powerful hand away and struggled to finish his answer.
"Who will bear this bastard?"
"That... is another question... Unfortunately... it lies beyond our agreement..."
"You dare mock me!"
"God King, did you not also hold back part of your own promise? If you wish to know which goddess will give birth to this child, then you must guarantee humanity's survival."
"Prometheus!"
Zeus's entire form erupted in silver-white lightning, fury burning in his eyes as the seer stood silent, unmoving, lips sealed in defiance.
Crackle—
...
Meanwhile, in the city of Mycenae, Samael stirred the flame of a lamp. The bright light spilled across the tabletop.
Beside him, Athena and Medusa leaned forward slightly, their gazes fixed on a serpent symbol—its head and tail joined in a perfect circle. Their fingers traced the scale-like engravings, expressions clouded with confusion.
We were supposed to inspect your next arrangements. How did we end up here instead?
"What is this?" Athena asked, brow furrowing.
"Ouroboros," Samael replied, his tone thoughtful. "Infinite futures, infinite possibilities—and the opportunity to change this world."
He tapped the table lightly. When his eyes caught the radiant arcs of starlight once again gathering above Olympus through the window, a faint smile tugged at his lips.
"Oh, and to evade the scrutiny of fate, Prometheus and I concealed the True Name of this future project. As for what it really is... you'll learn in time."
How does one handle a crisis again?
When trouble and suspicion arise, you don't rush to explain yourself—doing so only makes things worse. The right move is to drop an even bigger revelation, divert attention, and let the heat die down.
That so-called God of Wisdom must be busy searching for the legendary—or perhaps nonexistent—God of Opportunity. As long as he hasn't pried the full truth from Prometheus, he won't have the time to trouble humanity.
And as for the legend claiming the God of Opportunity, Polos, is the son of Metis—well, that's not exactly wrong.
Isn't there a saying that a son-in-law is half a son?
In the darkness, the ancient serpent watched Athena leaning over the table, fixated on the so-called "secret weapon." Reclining in the corner, he stroked his chin, a faintly amused expression crossing his face.