Every word Odin said was right, so why did Ah Puch feel this trophy goddess was so scorching to the touch?
Ah Puch shuddered.
He thought his own god-king was very likely still under the thumb of the Aesir God-Emperor, but he didn't dare dwell on it.
Simply put, although his own god-king looked like a toyed-with puppet, in these times, plenty of gods lofty in the eyes of mortals couldn't even find a way to go be the Aesir's dogs if they wanted to. Let alone that the Aesir were clearly the overwhelmingly dominant side now.
Placing your bet only after you see the outcome taking shape—it was already too late.
Luckily, their boss Odin seemed to have placed his bet early.
What's more, Odin had shoved over a death-aspected goddess, and she wasn't hard on the eyes—would've been a shame not to enjoy it.
Having thought it through, Ah Puch broke into a radiant smile. "Your Majesty truly has grand designs. Since it is your decree, I accept with gratitude."
With that, Ah Puch actually put on the look of a lecher in heat, hoisted Macaria, and ran off to his newly acquired temple.
Thalos was indeed ordering Odin around, but he wasn't about to pull the crap of "wanting the horse to run fast without feeding it." In less than five minutes after Ah Puch left, these long-suffering former Maya gods felt a stir in their souls—the divine-power link to the Rilanka world that had once been severed was being reconnected.
Thalos not only returned their former small world to them, he also sent back the populations that had migrated to Ginnungagap.
If there was any loss to speak of, it was the four prime elements that had been hollowed out back when they lost to the Greek pantheon.
That didn't matter; the lost elements had long since been replenished by subjugating the Dogon world—there was even surplus.
Not only that, more divine thoughts linked in—the god-kings of former Greek subordinate pantheons, forced to submit by several Aesir god-kings, sent their "congratulations," stating that by order of God-Emperor Thalos, they were coming to report to Odin.
Since Zeus had long since stripped those ex–god-kings of their titles, they now, as Major Gods, would temporarily take orders from the god-king Odin—no rank issue there.
And that settled it.
On the other side, in Asgard in Ginnungagap.
The place was, as they say, a cacophony of drums and gongs.
Of course, the Aesir had no such things as gongs and drums, but that didn't stop the revved-up gods from making noise in all sorts of ways to vent their ecstatic joy.
Right! That bastard Thor was the ringleader!
"Haha!"
"Victory!"
"Hoo-hoo!"
"Victory!"
"Drink, drink, drink!"
"A great victory!"
Thor himself, bare-chested, stood in the Hall of Joy banging two massive mallets, leading the beat. The thump-thump-thump of the drums stoked the gods' excitement.
The freshly concluded great battle had hugely boosted the morale of the Aesir and mortals alike.
No doubt, it was another big win.
After capturing the Olympian goddess-king Artemis last time, this time they not only killed one of the enemy's god-kings and captured another, they had, in effect, torn down the enemy God-Emperor's temple.
Whether or not the Aesir personally did the demolition—fact is, it got torn down.
The heads of Zeus's "divine envoy," Hermes the god of commerce, and Dionysus the wine-god hung from either doorframe at the entrance to the Hall of Joy. Their unclosing eyes and the top-tier divine radiance still emanating from the severed heads proclaimed their status in life to all onlookers.
Not to mention the colossal haul of water and earth elements the various Aesir god-kings and Major Gods had plundered from the Greek world.
This time, the Aesir had both face and substance.
The only thing lacking was the final blow against the Olympian pantheon.
Everyone present believed that moment wasn't far: with the next clash, when the two great cosmic currents officially merged and the Mutant Star Region no longer lay between them, that would be the Olympians' end.
Thor's ruckus inside was at most a warm-up; everyone knew the night's main act was still in the side hall.
Grief-stricken, heartsore, and despairing, Hestia knelt seated on a chaise, head bowed.
Suddenly, the temple's door, covered in binding divine spells, was opened.
Two files of valkyries bowed, welcoming the arrival of a goddess.
Hestia was not surprised by Artemis's appearance.
The hearth goddess slowly raised her head, saying nothing, quietly regarding her niece whose brows shone with radiance.
Artemis was no stranger to the anger in Hestia's eyes—on the contrary, she knew it well.
This once irrepressibly lively goddess of the hunt clearly spoke without guilt or other such negative feelings: "Hestia, how have you considered it?"
Wordless silence was the greatest protest.
Artemis sighed helplessly and spread her hands. "Why make it hard on yourself? I used to be as stubborn as you, trying to hold to my convictions. Unfortunately, when I saw the great His Majesty Thalos, I realized how laughable my stubbornness was."
"…"
"I know you're mocking me in your heart, even looking down on me. But I want to say, I did hold on—I held on for so, so long; each day of holding on felt like a century. I prayed that in the next moment, Father Zeus would storm into this hall and rescue me!" Artemis's voice turned resentful. "But what I waited for was Father stripping me of my god-king title, Hermes's head—and you…"
Hestia's expression shifted sharply.
Convictions can be kept; reality is merciless.
Rather than sneering at a forerunner's fall, one ought to lament how the Olympian pantheon was hurtling toward the abyss of defeat.
The hearth goddess began to tremble all over.
Artemis set both hands on Hestia's shoulders. "At the start of the war, His Majesty Thalos Borson swore a grand vow—to conquer Olympus's three virgin goddesses. You and I have already come to this; do you think Athena is far behind? Do you think Olympus's demise is far off? The universe is vast, yet can hold only one pantheon."
A true god cannot be deceived by lies; only truth is a sharp blade.
Each of Artemis's words was like a blade, stabbing hard into Hestia's heart.
The hearth goddess trembled all the more, her lips quivering.
Seeing the softness in her aunt's eyes, Artemis knew she had done her job as persuader.
"As someone who's been through it, I'll say just one thing—you must remember it."
"…"
"Remember to ask His Majesty to be a little smaller."
Hestia's eyes widened, full of confusion.
It didn't take long for her to understand.
Seeing the giant god fully four times her height—seeing that weapon of mass destruction—Hestia's divine body trembled violently for the first time, and the dignity she had held up for so long was completely shattered.
Chaste and pure as she was, she finally understood what her niece's warning meant.
Hestia was slightly different from Artemis. Artemis had endured Thalos's dominance by taking it with her divine body. Hestia, as an old-line deity who had mastered shapeshifting like the Aesir, could change her size.
She enlarged her divine body to approach an Aesir's size.
Who knew Thalos would give a wicked smile and directly take on the size of a frost giant.
Hestia was dumbfounded; that exceeded the limits of her shapeshifting. In the end, she didn't dare persist and pleaded in a small voice, "S-smaller."
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