"All the planks have been replaced. Then it's definitely not the same ship!"
Circe's multicolored eyes darted about as she chirped out the first response. As she spoke, she casually wiped the corner of her mouth.
One request from Samael… It's been so long since I last had a proper feast…
"Smack!"
Just as Circe was grinning foolishly, lost in blissful fantasies, her small head was suddenly struck hard.
"And the second part of the question? From what point onward does it stop being the Argo?"
Samael snorted, clearly unimpressed. His scrutinizing gaze carried a cold smile, one that saw straight through Circe's little scheme.
"When the last plank gets replaced?"
"Oh, so whether the Argo exists or not all comes down to that one plank? In that case, if I saw that plank in half and leave half of it behind, does the Argo count as only half preserved?"
"I guess…?"
"Guess my foot! You just threw out a random answer and thought you could freeload? Are you stupid, or do you think I am?!"
Another sharp knock landed squarely on Circe's forehead. Clutching the swelling bump, the silly bird squatted on the ground, silently cursing as she drew circles on the dirt.
"So… it's still the original ship?"
At that moment, little Medea thought for a bit, then raised her slender hand and asked cautiously.
"And your reason?"
Samael rubbed his chin and looked at her with encouragement, his voice gentle.
"Because Lord Theseus is there! As long as the person on the ship doesn't change, no matter how much the Argo is repaired or replaced, it's still the Argo!"
Little Medea gathered her courage and looked straight at Samael, her sweet smile blooming like a flower.
"But what if everyone on the ship leaves?"
Atalanta felt a strange tightness in her chest and instinctively pushed back, her tone sharp and confrontational.
"It doesn't matter if the others leave! The question already says it's Lord Theseus's ship. As long as Lord Theseus is still there, that's enough!"
Little Medea answered without hesitation, her expression utterly matter-of-fact, her smile still soft and sweet.
Something tender in the ancient serpent's heart was stirred without warning, leaving him momentarily distracted.
Hiss!
Suddenly, a soft patch at his waist was grabbed and twisted a full three hundred and sixty degrees by a bare hand. Samael snapped back to his senses with a pained grimace. Straightening his face at once, he delivered his verdict in a serious tone.
"So what you're saying is that the key isn't the ship itself, but the people who give it a special meaning and a name. That leans a bit toward idealistic sophistry."
It was a fair assessment. At the same time, his fingers quietly pressed down, catching the delicate hand that had just rewarded him with that "cat's claw." He discreetly toyed with the soft jade resting in his palm.
This little brat…
Atalanta shot an annoyed glare at a certain junior who was always seizing chances to get handsy. With a mix of embarrassment and irritation, she turned her head slightly to the side, though she didn't pull her hand away.
Little Medea noticed the small exchange in the dim corner. She puffed out her cheeks, waved her tiny fist, and protested indignantly.
"That's not sophistry at all! Just look at Mr. Orion right now. His body has completely changed, but in Sister Diana's eyes, he's still the same person!"
That line of reasoning immediately won the Moon Goddess's support. Her gentle, pleased gaze fell on little Medea, and she spoke up without hesitation.
"Exactly! No matter how many planks the Argo replaces, the overall structure that holds them together never changes. It's the same with people. At every stage of life, bones, features, posture, even every muscle in the body grows and changes. Can you really say that person is no longer the same as who they once were?"
Such a clear and well-argued response left Atalanta, who held the opposing view, completely speechless. She could only concede defeat in silence.
After that, Artemis and little Medea exchanged a look of perfect understanding, as if they had found a kindred spirit in each other.
Considering that both of them were a bit unhinged in their own way, that mutual sympathy didn't seem all that strange.
Seriously, is this how you act as a chief god? Teaming up with outsiders to gang up on your own followers. That's really low.
So then, big sis, interested in learning about Orphism? When I get the chance, I'll introduce you to our great Heavenly Father and Savior, the Primordial Serpent Ophion.
Samael shot the Moon Goddess a sidelong glance, silently grumbling on behalf of his own Tower Cat.
At that moment, Heracles also raised his head and offered a fair, grounded response, voicing his support for little Medea's view.
The ancient serpent clapped his hands and, maintaining an impartial stance, looked approvingly at the purple-haired, violet-eyed witch. He casually pulled Circe over and let out a light chuckle as he spoke.
"That's right. The Argo isn't just a pile of wooden planks pieced together. What truly matters are the companions on board, the friends who shared adventures with us and stood together through life and death.
"If even an inanimate ship must be dismantled and repaired, gradually changing its original appearance, then it's even more natural for us as individuals to part ways and come together again.
"But as long as we're still alive, we'll always have the chance to gather once more from across the Greek city-states, for the sake of the same adventure and the same goal, to sit on that ship again and talk and drink together."
With those words, realization dawned on everyone. They finally understood that the man before them had been using this little thought experiment to gently comfort their hearts, weighed down by separation and reunion.
"Yes! That's exactly it!"
Heracles burst out laughing, his spirits lifted. Fired up, he reached for the wineskin at his waist, ready to share a hearty drink with everyone.
Samael let him do as he pleased, digging out several jugs of wine he had picked up back in Atlantis and tossing them to his companions to sate their cravings. Circe, who had been longing for good food all along, also got her wish, receiving a carefully prepared piece of smoked meat.
As the atmosphere gradually grew more cheerful, the ancient serpent took a light sip of wine and smiled at little Medea.
"Alright then. Tell me, what does our little champion want?"
Encouraged by Circe and slightly tipsy from the wine, little Medea's cheeks were flushed a captivating red.
With Artemis, that shameless goddess, egging her on, Medea was pushed right in front of the organizer of the whole affair. She blinked her watery purple eyes, gently bit her lower lip a few times, hugged her Dark Moon staff close, then lifted her small head and blurted out her answer.
"I… I really want to experience something like falling in love and getting married, starting from matchmaking. If possible, please, Lord Theseus, have a romance with me!"
"Pfft!"
The wine Samael had just swallowed sprayed straight out, followed by a fit of violent coughing.
The others all wore very different expressions.
Artemis looked thoroughly entertained, clearly enjoying the chaos, and even seemed to approve of the little girl's boldness.
Circe, the guardian, recoiled as if she'd seen a ghost. She shrank back, terrified that Samael might seize the chance to grab her and beat her senseless in retaliation.
Heracles, on the other hand, cast a sympathetic look at Atalanta, who had taken a direct hit. The huntress could only laugh bitterly at the little girl's shameless attempt to snatch someone right in front of her.
Then, the cat-eared girl with her healthy coat of fur ground her sharp fangs together. Her emerald eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint flashing within them.
"Boom!"
Just as the atmosphere grew heavy and suffocating, to the point that even Samael felt his hair stand on end, a thunderous roar like massive boulders tumbling down a mountain echoed across the distant wilderness.
"What's going on? Go check it out!"
The ancient serpent sprang to his feet at once, his expression grave and righteous. Without another word, he packed up his gear and shot toward the source of the sound like a streak of light.