Fortunately, this time Samael didn't want to delay mealtime, so he had the students process the venison while listening to his rambling.
"Both of them are right, but only from one perspective. Everything must be judged by circumstance."
The ancient serpent took up the teaching stick, rhythmically tapping it against his palm as he paced around the students, speaking in a low, deliberate tone.
"Suppose you've just eaten your fill and are lying in the sun, when a rabbit accidentally wanders into your territory. It passes by and wakes you up.
At that moment, you recall Teacher Themis's words. You restrain your irritation, resist the urge to smack it into a bloody mess, ignore this so-called offense, and let the rabbit hop around or leave freely. That is kindness and magnanimity."
As he spoke, Samael's gaze swept over Hydra, Cerberus, and Chimera. Seeing how intently they were listening, he nodded to himself in satisfaction. Good. Now they wouldn't go around slaughtering passersby and end up hunted down by heroes.
"If you're hungry and need to eat, then hunt as Teacher Horse instructed—without cruelty, without senseless destruction of the balance. Respect what the prey provides. That is reverence for nature.
But if you're starving, so hungry even stones seem edible—then forget restraint. Nursing mothers, entire bloodlines, three generations if they're in front of you—eat them. That is emergency survival.
If you encounter a formidable foe, then hold nothing back. Use whatever works, strike to kill!
When your life is on the line, worrying about restraint, mercy, or respect is just stupidity.
Don't waver in those moments. And if you're afraid Teacher Horse or Themis will scold you, I'll take the blame!"
The ancient serpent grinned, looking every bit the righteous teacher as he roused them.
"Woof!"
"Roar!"
"Howl!"
"Hiss!"
The more feral students—hounds, Dragonkind, lions, serpents—were instantly fired up, itching to brawl right then and there.
That was more like it. Eat when you should eat, drink when you should drink, and don't let trivial matters weigh you down. Bullying weak, ordinary species that couldn't fight back would only cheapen them. But if someone came looking for trouble and dared provoke them? Now that would be just to their taste.
The offspring of Typhon grinned savagely, venting their overflowing energy and fearless ferocity.
"Keep it up. Perhaps one day, you'll become beings that surpass even the gods."
After offering a few words of encouragement, Samael turned toward the podium, ready to dismiss the class for lunch.
Ana, watching her rowdy siblings, pressed her lips together and shook her head slightly.
"Teacher, we're merely divine beasts. Our divinity is flawed by nature. Many of us still can't even speak properly. To most gods, we're nothing more than powerful animals."
Samael recognized this as Ana's familiar pessimism and chuckled softly.
"Since we've got time, let me tell you a story I once heard."
The students immediately perked up. While tending the fire and preparing food, they pricked their ears, eager to listen.
The ancient serpent cast a glance into the forest, stroked his chin, and began with a smile.
"Legend has it, during the age of the Twelve Titan Gods, Kronos once got drunk and asked: 'What creature in the world is the most cruel and vile?'
'The wolf!' answered a Divine Spirit. 'Cunning and foolish, they devour even their own kind alive!'
Somewhat intoxicated, Kronos grew intrigued. He proposed, 'Why don't we bring a wolf up the mountain, let it live among us, bathed in divine will? Perhaps it will be enlightened, its vicious nature reformed.'
The gods all agreed. So they brought up a wolf—one that had just devoured its own kin for food—to Mount Othrys. Generously, they allowed it to join their banquet, to drink while watching blood-soaked duels.
But when the feast ended, the wolf spoke one line, refused to stay, and bolted back to the forest below.
Guess what it said?"
The students buzzed with guesses until finally Samael shook his head, smiling slyly as he revealed the answer.
"The wolf said, 'The gods are terrifying!
They don't eat their own kind, yet they kill so many of them!
The bones and flesh on their plates are more than we gather in a month of hunting!'"
At first the students froze, then burst out laughing once they grasped the meaning.
But after the laughter faded, the Gorgon sisters—most complete in intellect—and the wise Athena caught the undertone, falling into thought.
Compared to the Titan King who devoured his own children for power, and the old wolf who only struggled to survive...
Who was nobler? Who was more savage?
The lofty halo of divinity was stripped away by this biting, sarcastic fable. Mount Olympus itself, with its eleven descending pillars of light, was revealed as nothing more than a mountain where powerful beings resided.
As the students, their hearts quietly changed, drifted back to sit around the campfire and enjoy their feast, Samael felt satisfied.
But then, a pale hand pressed against his shoulder, and a calm, curious voice reached his ear.
"How come I never heard of Mount Othrys hosting such a wolf?"
The ancient serpent glanced at the unruffled Themis beside him, a chill crawling up his spine.
"I'd also like to know when His Majesty Kronos ever did such a thing."
Before Samael could stammer out an excuse, another disaster struck. The centaur Sage approached, drawing his bowstring with a meaningful look.
"Legend! It's just a legend! Nothing but a story for entertainment—don't take it seriously!"
Cold sweat broke across Samael's face as he raised his hands in a flustered defense.
What a mess. He'd only meant to share a parable to guide his students. In a moment of stupidity, he'd chosen Kronos and the gods of Mount Othrys as his negative example.
The problem was, standing beside him was one of the Twelve Titan Gods of Mount Othrys. And across from him sat Teacher Horse—Kronos's own son.
That tongue of his had landed him right on the chopping block. He'd managed to insult both at once!
Staring at their kind, smiling faces, the exposed storyteller wanted to cry.
Meanwhile, the students feasting on meat and fruit shouted from a distance, demanding their usual after-meal entertainment.
"Pankration!"
"Pankration!"
"Pankration!"
"You ungrateful little brats!"
Samael, roasting over the fire, shot a vicious glare at the loudest shouters and scribbled their names down in his little notebook.
With a weary sigh, the ancient serpent turned to the centaur sage across from him, who was rolling his wrists in warm-up, his face filled with gloom.
"Friendship first, competition second, alright?"
"Alright..."
But before the words had even finished leaving his mouth, Chiron lunged forward at breakneck speed.
"Seriously?! A sneak attack's bad enough, but you're kicking with your hooves too? Teacher Horse, you've got no sense of honor!"
Suddenly beset by both Chiron's fists and his front hooves, Samael flailed in a panic, cursing nonstop.