"As far as we know, the five primordial deities—Gaia the Earth Mother, Uranus the Sky Father, Pontus, Tartarus, and Eros—after countless cycles of creation, conflict, and reproduction, have all fused with the cosmic order and fallen into a near-eternal slumber. That is why Athena dared to shape you and Tina into the two Creator Gods of the Orpheus Cult, filling in that vacancy and forging a new human mythology."
Medusa thought for a moment, yet worry still crept into her voice.
"But that also means they must have sensed it. Trying to reenact the Great Offering of last time—using Mother Goddess Gaia's name to restrain Olympus—won't work. Every problem will fall on us alone.
And in the era when the Twelve Titans vanished, the power of the Twelve Olympians, reinforced by human faith, became unquestionable. Even if we lead the 88 constellations through the Zodiac to form a new human-divine system, maintaining the world's basic structure might be manageable. But facing the Twelve Olympians at the same time, while guarding against the old gods like the Twelve Titans… that won't be easy."
Samael nodded slightly, gaining a far deeper understanding of the Greek pantheon.
Even gods have beginnings and ends; authority cannot be split forever. The rise of new gods inevitably means the decline and dormancy of the old.
In the future case of "Orestes avenging his father by killing his mother," Athena siding with paternal law and casting the decisive vote was likely a rational choice born from witnessing the decline of the old matriarchal deities.
That said, strength must come from oneself. If they wanted to challenge all the Greek gods and take their place, relying only on the 88 star-linked Sacred Cloths to boost power through celestial resonance would not be enough.
But Samael already had a brilliant idea. As his thoughts settled, the serpent avatar on the chessboard curled into a grin, his gaze dark and deep.
"The Orpheus Cult created two Goddesses of Beginning and the three goddesses who carry on their authority. So why not integrate the 88 constellations into the system as well? Elevate the rank of the Cloth bearers?"
Themis froze, an answer once blurry now snapping into perfect clarity.
"You mean—deification!"
Samael nodded solemnly.
"Athena and Medusa wield the complete dominions of sky, earth, sea, and abyss. Add the order you established, and you are far more qualified than Olympus to absorb human faith and create gods among mortals."
Medusa bit down lightly, whispering in uncertainty.
"Can such an enormous undertaking really be done?"
Athena slapped her chest with confidence, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.
"I know the stories of all 88 constellations! And the alternation of day and night, the seasons of the earth, long voyages across the sea, the cycle of life and decay—everything is tied to the movements of the stars. We can weave that into the teachings of the Orpheus Cult, letting them draw divinity from sky, earth, sea, abyss, and human faith!"
Samael nodded in approval. Thinking back to what he had seen in Arcadia, he offered Athena another suggestion.
"Don't limit yourself to Athens. The radiance of the 88 constellations should shine across all of Greece. I think we can begin with Asclepius, the Serpent Bearer. Since he has the power to heal and save lives, place disaster bells in temples across more city-states. When plagues or epidemics break out, believers can ring the bells to summon the healing god from the stars to dispel the sickness."
Establish one or two models, then bundle the rest of the 88 constellations—excellent strategy.
This time, not only Athena, who loved unconventional paths, but even the more conservative Medusa and Themis felt their hearts stir.
For humanity and for the world's order, this plan was beneficial and harmless, with ample flexibility in execution.
Perhaps… it might truly work.
By now, Themis—already unknowingly persuaded and fully immersed in the concept—couldn't help but sigh in contemplation.
"It's time for change. The old pantheon born from the power of nature will eventually collapse. The gods of humanity, born from human will, will set sail to conquer the sea of stars and open a new era…"
"Calling them gods feels too forced, too distant. Better to call them—Star Pioneers."
As she spoke, Samael's gaze drifted far away, and a meaningful smile slowly unfurled across her face.
"With Human Order as our vessel, we shall shine among the stars; with human flesh, we shall stand shoulder to shoulder with gods.
Work toward it. The day we transform 'the Athens of the Greeks' into 'the Greece of the Athenians,' the world will rest in our hands."
Transform the Athens of the Greeks… into the Greece of the Athenians?
The three goddesses whispered in awe, their hearts surging. The vision of the future in their eyes overflowed their usual reason, blooming into something dreamy and romantic.
The light that fell upon Samael gave her silhouette a mesmerizing brilliance that inspired both wonder and devotion.
This was their god. Their king.
Undeniable. Unquestionable.
"Alright, that wraps up today's meeting. For now, Areopagus has three tasks.
First, draw Zeus's attention and prepare for me to dig out Paradise Island.
Second, arrange the alliance with Poseidon and Hera properly and wait for the right moment.
Lastly, find suitable candidates for the authority of the 88 constellations. If we're short on heroes, this expedition will bring together the fifty greatest heroes in all of Greece—we can observe and choose from them."
As the meeting came to an end, Samael restated the key points once more.
He then glanced toward the sea-mist–covered horizon. After a brief hesitation, he lowered his voice, offering a quiet reassurance.
"Also, don't worry too much about the old gods stirring up trouble. You've all been busy, and so have I. I have a trump card of my own as well."
"Then…"
"What are you imagining? Unless it's absolutely critical—unless we have no other choice—that card must not be used."
At someone's irritated snort, Athena, unable to suppress her curiosity, rolled her eyes dramatically. She flopped onto the chessboard like a dried salted fish, looking utterly defeated.
"Hiding this from us, hiding that from us… stingy."
"Alright, stop complaining. I'll give you a little gift later—to make up for what I forgot last time. Happy now?"
Samael gave a mysterious smile. The moment the offer left his lips, Athena—who had been brooding over it—immediately sprang up with full energy, eyes shining with expectation.
Perfect.
The Ancient Serpent cut the connection, his consciousness flowing back into his main body. When he opened his eyes, he noticed the carriage had already stopped in a wide clearing. Pushing aside the curtain, he saw night spreading outside, and the group had already disembarked—some starting fires to make camp, others preparing food. Everything ran with practiced order.
Samael lowered his gaze to the blanket laid over him, a hint of warmth flashing through his eyes. When no one was looking, he summoned the golden apple from a magecraft array. Using his finger as a pen, he traced a line of divine power across its golden surface, engraving a playful inscription from memory.
"To the fairest goddess!"
This gift should be surprising enough, right?
With a mischievous grin, the Ancient Serpent lifted the golden apple and handed it to the little spy who had followed him the whole way.
The snow-white owl blinked its golden eyes, pecked the palm of Samael's hand, then dutifully clutched the golden apple, slipped past the curtain, and spread its wings, soaring into the night sky.
...