Raven was more than just the Sun God's greatest fear.
Zeus's deepest fear was Raven, too.
Of course.
Although Zeus could empathize with the Sun God's terror, he couldn't bring himself to openly admit it. Even though his heart had already yielded, he maintained an air of authority.
Lightning crackled beneath their feet while distant stars watched silently.
"Do not challenge my authority," Zeus warned in a low growl. His glowing white eyes pierced the Sun God. Already paranoid from Kratos and the prophecy of the Gods' Twilight, Zeus gripped the Sun God tightly.
The Sun God flinched slightly, yet he was still compelled to warn Zeus.
"You know he never truly leaves," the Sun God whispered. "If we slaughter these mortals, he'll seize the opportunity to return."
"And this time, we don't even know what he wants. He might use this as a pretext to attack us again. Perhaps these civilians are merely pawns to lure us into giving him an excuse to strike."
It had to be said that the Sun God's analysis struck right at the heart of Zeus's paranoid fears.
His concerns mirrored Zeus's own.
Silence stretched between the God-King and the Sun God. In the distance, the surviving humans helped each other to their feet.
Some began building makeshift shelters from rubble while others wiped down short swords scavenged from corpses. There were no prayers or tears, only a silent determination utterly foreign to the gods.
"You're right. We can't let Raven succeed."
After an eternity of internal debate and finding a way out that saved face, Zeus slowly relaxed his fingers one by one. The phantom of the Sword of Olympus dissolved into golden motes of light.
"My child, you seem to have grown timid," Zeus finally said coldly. His white robes billowed into a thundercloud as he turned. "But today, I'll allow your cowardice."
'He still has to act all high and mighty, huh?'
"As long as Olympus stands, we will control the rules forever," Zeus declared in a low, unwavering voice. Without another word, he shuddered and transformed into a colossal giant eagle, its wings blotting out the sky.
Spreading its massive wings, the giant eagle stirred up a raging wind, and lightning crackled between its feathers. A piercing shriek tore through the night sky as the eagle soared upward, crossing the cloud layers and streaking toward distant Mount Olympus.
"We've controlled the rules for too long," the Sun God murmured, watching the receding figure. The light of his sun chariot dimmed slightly.
He knew this wasn't a compromise but a calculated weighing of options, his dread of the raven had ultimately outweighed the tyrant's fury.
High above the clouds, a pitch-black raven circled silently. Its silver-gray right eye reflected the ant-like humans scurrying across the earth and the retreating thunderclouds on the horizon.
The Raven cocked its head and let out a clear, mocking cry.
Ian was also in flight, following Zeus. He was tailing the King of the Gods himself, not some island girl.
Zeus's scalp prickled with unease.
He was becoming more and more convinced of the Sun God's theory, but he dared not turn back to confront him. Instead, he clung to the hope that the other god still needed something from him. He pretended not to notice Ian's persistent presence as he flew back to his lair:
The abode of the gods.
Mount Olympus.
Raven's wings sliced through the clouds as Ian spiraled high above. His silver-gray right eye reflected the resplendent palaces atop Mount Olympus. He knew that, behind the dazzling golden light, countless eyes were fixed on him: Zeus's thunderous gaze, Hera's jealous glare, and Athena's cunning scrutiny.
"Such warm hospitality," Ian chuckled softly, tilting his wings slightly as he glided toward the northern slopes of the mountain range.
He knew the gods were watching his every move, but as long as he didn't trespass on their sacred mountain, Zeus wouldn't risk open conflict. After all, that old eagle knew better than anyone: push Raven too far and pay the price.
"What are they so afraid of?" Ian slowed his pace deliberately, a hint of amusement flickering in his silver-gray eyes. "Afraid I'll steal their Golden Apples? Or afraid I'll tear down their nest again?"
Ian wasn't a demolition captain.
He wasn't here to frighten the gods or destroy their new home either.
"I came here with my own purpose."
As the cold wind howled past, Ian's thoughts raced.
He needed a god's heart, but the living Greek deities wouldn't willingly donate one. Thus, he was searching the vicinity of Mount Olympus for deceased gods.
Ian could dig up a corpse to obtain a god's heart, something Zeus would never willingly give him, as it would touch a sensitive nerve in the god king's psyche. Thus, Ian had no choice but to find it himself.
What?
The dead Kratos?
Kratos? He's no longer a god. Even though he had slain countless deities and slaughtered the entire pantheon of Olympus, his divinity vanished when Zeus stripped him of his divine power and cast him down as a mortal.
Consequently, Kratos's corpse, now devoid of divine power, could no longer be considered the body of a god. Naturally, Ian couldn't extract a god's heart from it.
"I need to find the god's tomb," he muttered.
He flew around Mount Olympus, surveying the sacred land from high above. Winds blew from all directions, carrying the lingering scent of burned temple ruins.
This sacred realm, the abode of the gods, was naturally beautiful. However, Ian was hardly the type to appreciate such scenery. In this ancient era, he was just a cold, emotionless quest machine.
He just wanted to go home.
He needed to deal with Female Titan Claire immediately.
Ian flew constantly, circling near Mount Olympus. Seeing that Ian made no attempt to invade Mount Olympus, Zeus finally breathed a sigh of relief upon returning to his abode.
"What exactly is he looking for?"
On the summit of Mount Olympus, the gods had gathered.
Standing atop the cloud-wreathed temple, they gazed down at the solitary, eerie figure below, a Raven circling through the mountains at night.
Sometimes it swooped low; sometimes it paused in midair. Anyone could see that it was searching for something.
"What is that?" Hephaestus asked, his voice tinged with suspicion and caution. "It's been circling this area for quite some time."
"It's Ian," Athena replied softly. "He's transformed into a Raven and is searching for...something."
"What could he be looking for?" Hera frowned. "Is another war against the gods brewing?"
"It doesn't seem like it," Apollo shook his head. "He shows no hostile intent, merely wandering aimlessly."
"What exactly does he want?" Dionysus muttered. "He's wandering around like a scavenging crow."
A moment of silence followed his words.
Suddenly, Athena's eyes flickered as if she had grasped a crucial clue.
"Perhaps he's literally just a crow," She said slowly. "Crows are scavengers, aren't they?"
"What do you mean?" Hermes asked.
"He's searching for dead gods," Athena declared firmly. "He's looking for graveyards."
Her words sent a shockwave through the assembled deities.
"Are you saying..." Poseidon's voice trembled slightly. "Is he looking for Ares's tomb?"
"If I'm not mistaken, he's already sensed the existence of that sealed place," Athena nodded. "It bears the Most Ancient Seal and is the only true resting place of a God of War who has truly died."
"But that's a forbidden place!" Hera exclaimed angrily. "We rarely even mention it!"
"But he's different," Athena said, gazing at the Raven in the distance. "He can sense traces of fate and find forgotten places."
Zeus, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. "Why are you helping him?"
Athena glanced at him calmly. "I'm not helping him. I'm merely guiding him away from unnecessary detours."
She raised her hand and gently tapped the air, releasing an invisible wave of divine power that cascaded down like the first rays of dawn. The wave guided the raven toward the forgotten valley.
From Ian's perspective:
Suddenly, a gentle breeze brushed against his wings. The wind was peculiar, carrying the crisp scent of olive leaves and tugging him gently southeastward. Ian narrowed his eyes—it was Athena's divine power.
"Interesting," he mused, following the wind's guidance. "Does the Goddess of Wisdom want to point me in the right direction?"
The breeze led him to a secluded valley.
Here lies the Fool of War, forever slumbering.
No vegetation grew in this desolate place, and the black rocks were scorched from lightning strikes. In the center of the valley stood a massive stone coffin bound by heavy chains.
A line of faded divine script was carved into the coffin lid. Suddenly sensing something, Raven dove down and vanished into the darkness, the eyes of the gods following his descent.
"Ares?"
Ian landed on the ground and reverted to his human form. His black robes stood out sharply against the barren mountain valley.
He slowly approached the stone coffin and lightly touched the rusty divine iron chains with his fingertips.
"Ah, my dear warmonger," He murmured. "It seems your family couldn't even be bothered to give you a proper tombstone."
The moment these words left his lips, Zeus's expression darkened. Yet he restrained his fury.
The chains crumbled to dust the instant Ian touched them. With a heavy rumble, the coffin lid slid open on its own, revealing the preserved contents within.
Ares's corpse was remarkably well-preserved. Though scarred from countless battles, the former god of war remained intact with no missing limbs.
When Ian, in the form of Raven, pierced the corpse's chest with his beak, he found a fresh heart within. No matter how long Ares had been dead, a god's corpse remained a god's corpse.
"Zeus is truly ruthless," Ian muttered as he crouched down to examine the corpse. "Not only did he kill his own son, but he also sealed away his divinity. Are these blood crystals meant to prevent his resurrection?"
He reached out to touch the crystals and immediately sensed a familiar, violent aura.... Kratos! These crystals contained the rage of the Spartan ghost; no wonder they could suppress the god of war's divine essence.
"A product of patricide," Ian mused. "But this isn't what I need."
His hand plunged directly into Ares's chest cavity.
He extracted the heart.
Simultaneously, a crimson glow erupted from the valley—the lingering traces of divine essence. The gods, who had been observing Raven all along, were already aware of this.
"He's found it," Athena whispered.
"He's taken the heart," Apollo murmured.
Zeus pondered for a long moment before finally sighing. "It seems we underestimated this mortal."
"What exactly does he plan to do with these materials?" Hermes couldn't help but ask.
"Alchemy," Zeus replied slowly. "Or something even more ancient. He's gathering items for some kind of ritual."
"Should we stop him?" Hera pressed.
"No need," Zeus shook his head. "He's not here to destroy us. At least, not yet."
He glanced at Athena, a complex emotion flickering in his eyes.
"You're smarter than the others," he said flatly. "Fulfill his request quickly and find out what he truly wants. We must get rid of this pest."
Athena nodded slightly.
"I will," she vowed to the great god-king.
Under the watchful gaze of the gods, Raven soared from the valley once more, his wings spread wide as he sliced through the night sky. Without pausing, he flew straight into the distance, vanishing among the stars.
On Mount Olympus, the gods stood motionless and silent.
The wind rose, and the clouds surged.
The storm had yet to break, but the gears of fate had already begun to turn, the twilight of the gods had begun. When a leader loses their rightful qualities, a civilization is doomed to fall.
The night was as dark as ink, the stars hanging low in the sky.
Ian transformed into a raven and soared into the distance. He knew he had entered the gods' field of vision and that Zeus would not easily relinquish his scrutiny.
For now, though, all he could do was wait for the King of the Gods to deliver the remaining two artifacts into his hands.
Until then, he needed a place to take refuge.
Thus, he chose Thebes.
One of the most ancient and glorious city-states in ancient Greece, Thebes was nestled on the fertile plains of central Greece and blessed by the gods' protection.
It was not only a center of mortal civilization but also a place where extraordinary power intertwined with the mundane rhythms of daily life.
Raven landed atop the temple spire, folding his wings as he surveyed the bustling city below in silence. The first rays of dawn painted the streets with light, stirring them to life.
The rhythmic clatter of chariot wheels on cobblestone streets, hawkers' cries, children's laughter, and blacksmiths' metal clanging wove together into a vibrant tableau.
The streets carried the mingled scents of olive oil and roasting meat, and the marble-paved roads glowed softly in the morning light.
The city's splendor stood in stark contrast to the ruins of the port of Rhodes. Hawkers' cries rose and fell like waves. Richly robed nobles glided past in gilded chariots. The most captivating sights of all were the extraordinary beings walking among mortals:
Wizards.
The city harbored many hidden wizards. A man draped in radiant golden robes strode past Raven, his steady steps echoing the rhythm of fate itself. Ian's keen senses recognized him instantly as a priest of Hermes; his aura was faintly tinged with divine essence.
Not far away, a young woman stood by a pool, her hand reaching out to touch the water's surface. As her fingers grazed the water, droplets rose into the air and coalesced into a blooming lotus flower. Her eyes shimmered with an otherworldly light, betraying her divine nature.
This was Athena's avatar.
Hidden among mortals, they subtly spread faith in their own existence or that of the beings they served. In simpler terms, even in ancient times, there was propaganda warfare.
The gods controlled faith by manipulating public opinion.
Simple and effective.
"Make way! The sacred water chariot of Apollo's temple is here to bestow blessings!"
The crowd parted as a glass chariot drawn by four pure white horses slowly rolled past. Priests aboard the chariot scattered faintly glowing water droplets with golden branches. A lame old beggar hastily crawled to the roadside. When the sacred water touched his leg, his withered muscles visibly swelled back to life.
Ian raised an eyebrow, discreetly observing everything. Such "divine miracles" were commonplace in ancient Greece, yet their concentrated occurrence in the marketplace surprised him. It seemed Zeus had put considerable effort into maintaining faith, after all, a race accustomed to divine blessings would never consider self-reliance.
(End Of This Chapter)
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