Within the sanctuary of Areopagus, Athena's lips curved as she swayed her goblet, speaking with steady confidence.
"As creators, Mother Goddess Eurynome and Father God Ophion were gradually replaced by the rebellious Titans and faded into legends forgotten by history.
The symbol of birds was inherited by me; the legacy of serpents lives on in Medusa; and the chaos and order after creation were entrusted to justice and law. That is the truth of this world."
Samael, suddenly elevated to the seat of a Greek creator god, felt a bit blank. Such an abrupt rise in status made him feel oddly guilty.
"Ahem… isn't that a bit much?"
But Athena in the temple spoke with solemn conviction.
"It absolutely is. You created humanity, opened new lands, and founded cities.
You tore through the darkness of the heavens and brought the spark of light.
You drove calamity and plague from the earth and stilled the raging floods of the sea.
You set down order, perfected law, and handed the world's authority from the heavens to mankind.
To us, and to humanity, you and Tina are the rightful creator gods of this world—uncrowned kings."
Medusa and Themis exchanged a glance, then rose in silence. The three goddesses stood side by side and bowed deeply toward the distant figure, their expressions filled with sincere devotion.
Humanity was born because of you. The world changed because of you.
You have always been our god, our king.
It has always been so.
Inside the speeding Advance Apace carriage, the serpent-link abruptly cut off. Samael lifted his head, his eyes filled with churning emotion. His hand tightened beneath the seat, knuckles whitening.
"What's wrong? Are you all right?"
Noticing the shift, Atalanta set down her scroll and asked with concern.
Samael looked quietly at the huntress, a strange glint in his eyes. Only when Atalanta began to tense did he give a small laugh.
"It's nothing. I just remembered a few things."
And, incidentally, I'm taking a moment to appreciate the masterpiece I created.
The Ancient Serpent murmured inwardly. A surge of emotion pushed him to lift the curtain of the carriage window. He watched the fields, cities, travelers, and roads rushing by.
Everything looked brighter, fuller, more alive. Everything felt closer.
Only now did he realize just how much he had done for humanity and for this world. All this time, the efforts he made, the burdens he endured—they remembered. They believed.
Yes. From the voyage out of Mesopotamia, through the endless storms of chaos—what he steered was never a beast of calamity. It was an ark of salvation.
After a long silence, Samael exhaled, letting out centuries of carefully guarded heaviness. He reawakened the serpent-form link and saw the three goddesses standing there with gentle smiles. His eyes softened.
"You've done well in my absence. And… thank you. Truly… thank you."
The Ancient Serpent caught himself repeating the same words again and again.
A soft slap.
Athena tapped her fingers, cutting him off. Like a fox caught stealing eggs, she smirked.
"All right. You personally decreed: [Divine rights are granted by birth; divine duties last from beginning to end.]
Now that the honor's yours, it's time for you to carry out your duty.
Father God, the next journey is yours—find Paradise Island, break the Curse of Fate on the human hero, and bring change to the world."
Samael nodded, serious and calm.
"If I truly deserve the name Ophion, then some tasks naturally fall to me."
He slipped into a focused rhythm, fingers tapping the wooden seat. Layers of thought condensed in his eyes before giving way to a controlled, confident cadence.
"Athena, the rebellion of Poseidon and Hera can be used, but not depended on. Until we uncover Zeus's trump card, we let them sit."
"No issue. Didn't we just publicly slap Poseidon across the face in Arcadia? Zeus won't believe the Areopagus and the Sea God's temple would ever unite."
"So Hippomenes was a pawn Poseidon threw out on purpose? That whole scene in Arcadia—was that arranged by you?"
"Of course not. A slap has to be real. If you can't even fool yourself, how would you fool Zeus? Honestly, I've never tolerated Poseidon's rapist descendants. He was idle anyway—a beating was overdue. Besides, we followed procedure. He brought it on himself when Ares cut him down. Can't blame us."
"So you think Poseidon will come crawling to you even with a swollen face?"
"Father, losing a great-grandson with divine favor won't faze my uncle. Even if I butchered seven or eight of his sons, for Olympus's power he'd pretend nothing happened. The obsession of the God King bloodline with authority is practically a sickness. Unless he gets a chance to fight for it, there's no cure."
Athena looked out to sea, amusement flickering in her eyes, her tone steady.
Heh. When you think about it, it's true.
Unlike Hades, who idled in the abyss playing his own games far from Olympus's political sphere, Poseidon—holder of dominion over the seas—had long simmered with resentment from having to bow and scrape before Zeus every single day.
In Samael's memory, the open and secret power struggles between Poseidon and Zeus had almost never stopped. The Sea King simply lost far more often than he won and was constantly beaten back and lectured.
After the Typhon War, having witnessed Athena's strength, Poseidon even shamelessly went to Athens to pester his own niece, declaring he wanted to marry her so he could gain the Goddess of Wisdom's support to overthrow his brother Zeus.
So whenever even the faintest opportunity appeared, the Sea King would certainly "set aside past grievances" and show up to cooperate.
Samael thought for a moment, then smirked darkly as he calculated how to handle these "allies" who had yet to walk into his net.
"Hera is manageable. Her jealousy drives her—she resents Zeus's promiscuity, and in a moment of rage made this rash, brainless choice.
As for her two sons, Ares and Hephaestus, we can be almost certain they won't easily join a rebellion and betray their father Zeus. And since this queen has been cast out by the Earth Mother's authority for what she's done, she's isolated and weak, nothing to fear. If necessary, I'll help her most hated enemy, Heracles, stoke the flames. We just need to make sure Hera, such a useful tool, doesn't suddenly regret her decision."
How cruel.
Medusa and Themis both twitched their lips, feeling a strange sense of pity for the goddess trapped in an unhappy marriage.
As expected of you.
Athena, however, gave him a thumbs-up, eyes gleaming with approval as she nodded with a cheerful smile.
...
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