"Hahaha! Well, now that we have a solution, it is time I return to the sea. I have quite a few krakens to deal with. Everyone, disperse!"
With Zeus gone and Hera ensnared, Poseidon stepped forward with a booming laugh to smooth things over, dismissing the lingering gods who were still eager for drama.
"Hebe, Ares, stay and keep your mother company."
The gods were sensible enough. Following Poseidon's lead, they offered their departures one by one. After all, watching the Queen's embarrassment was one thing, but offending Hera to the point of no return was another—she was well-known for her long memory and even longer list of creative retributions.
Artemis cast a contemptuous glance at Hebe with her silver-gray eyes. Arrogant as ever, she opened her mouth to deliver a final taunt, but under the persistent urging of Apollo and Athena, she turned and left in a fit of suppressed rage. In her heart, she vowed to utterly humiliate Hebe in the duel a month from now to vent today's frustrations.
Once the gods had departed, silence returned to the great hall.
Hebe knelt beside the golden throne that bound Hera, her mind swirling with complex thoughts. Everything felt too irregular—Hephaestus's sudden entrapment of their mother, and the look Zeus had given Hera before he left. Sharp-witted as she was, Hebe sensed an underlying current she couldn't quite name.
"I haven't seen you for a while, and you have grown so much, my lovely daughter."
With only the mother and her two children remaining, the haughty Hera finally relaxed. The anger and humiliation she had displayed earlier vanished, replaced by an expression of serene composure on her exquisite face. The violet-eyed Queen looked at her youngest daughter—the one who had been willing to resort to violence to defend her dignity—with eyes full of maternal pride and tenderness.
"Mother, what is going on with that fool Hephaestus?"
Ares was still fuming. He had always suspected Hephaestus was a man of hidden schemes, playing the "honest blacksmith" to garner attention from their mother and sister, only to strike at Hera like this! He had made her a laughingstock before the entire pantheon.
"I can't stand it. I have to go to Lemnos and teach him a lesson!" The volatile God of War grabbed his battle-axe, ready to settle the score.
"Ares!"
"Stay your hand!"
The White-armed Goddess spoke, her voice carrying an irresistible authority that forced Ares to a halt.
"You have been a Major God for so long, yet you see less than your sister! Athena has been eyeing the office of War for an age. If you continue to be this reckless, she will eventually eclipse you!"
Hera's tone carried a hint of disappointment. Ares was the son she had conceived from the Flower of War during the Titanomachy; he was the God of War by world-will, a natural-born wielder of a Major God seat. He had won the race from the moment he was born. In terms of raw martial might, he had few rivals on Olympus, but he was sorely lacking in coldness and strategy.
Then there was Athena, the daughter of the wise Metis.
Long ago, it was prophesied that Metis would bear a son who would overthrow Zeus. To prevent this, the paranoid King had swallowed Metis whole, keeping her within him to provide him with perpetual wisdom. Shortly after, Zeus suffered a splitting headache so severe he ordered his skull to be split open. From his brow leaped a goddess in full armor—the bright-eyed Athena, Mistress of Wisdom, War, and Weaving.
While Athena's martial authority was inferior to Ares', her command of wisdom made her a master strategist. In the mortal realm, rumors were already spreading that Athena, with her brilliant tactics, was more deserving of the title "God of War" than the bloodthirsty Ares. If this continued, Ares might find his influence eroded by mortal faith. After all, what is a God of War who cannot win a campaign?
Ares lowered his head, not daring to talk back. He stood there like a scolded child, frantically signaling Hebe with his eyes. Save me, sister!
"...Mother, did you orchestrate all of this just so Brother Hephaestus could return to the mountain?" Hebe caught the signal and quickly changed the subject.
"Indeed." Hera sat regally in the golden chair, her gaze distant. "Prometheus told me long ago that the return of the God of Fire was inevitable. But how he returns is a matter of great importance."
Hebe's heart jumped. Prometheus had given her mother the prophecy in advance?
"I don't understand, Mother," Ares said, looking bewildered. "If you wanted him back, why not just ask Father for a pardon? Why all this theater?"
"The gods of Olympus are too proud," Hera explained. "A crippled god who was cast out by his father and raised among mortals would never command their respect. But..." A light flared in the Queen's eyes. "A god who can ensnare the Queen of Heaven and force the King of Gods to bow? His treatment will be very different."
"...Did Father know? About your plan?" Hebe looked at Hera, her concern visible. A man as arrogant as Zeus wouldn't take kindly to being manipulated, even by the wife he loved.
"...What if he did?"
Hera knew what Hebe feared. This wasn't a deeply hidden conspiracy. Zeus, who possessed the stolen wisdom of Metis, would eventually see through the layers. But it didn't matter. Hera understood Zeus better than anyone; to him, nothing was more precious than the throne he sat upon. A Major God who could consolidate his power was a benefit significant enough to make him temporarily set aside his pride.
Hera appreciated her daughter's concern. She wanted to reach out and stroke Hebe's milk-white face, but her arms were bound by the golden chair, so she sighed in frustration.
"I owe your brother far too much."
Hera's gaze seemed to pierce through the river of time. Hundreds of years ago, when Hephaestus was born, he was not the most handsome, but his limbs were sound and his divine power was immense—a natural God of Fire and Forge.
On that day, she had discovered another of Zeus's betrayals. As the Guardian of Marriage, the backlash of her broken office left her in agony. The betrayal of her lover cut her like a knife, and in her pride, she had wept. The young Hephaestus saw his mother's pain. In his youthful heat, he went to confront Zeus, only to learn that even a son cannot challenge the supreme majesty of the King. He was hurled from the mountain by his ruthless father and forbidden from ever returning.
From that day on, Hera truly realized how cold-blooded her husband could be. Her subsequent acts—the constant catching of his mistresses and the persecution of his bastards—was it out of love? A sense of duty to marriage? Or a desire to punish him for what he did to her son? Even Hera could no longer tell.
"Enough. I have my own plans for this; you need not worry." Hera shook her head, pulling herself back to the present. "As for you, you just ascended to the second tier and you already dared to provoke Artemis? Her brother is not a character to be trifled with."
"She insulted you, Mother. She had to be taught a lesson."
In her previous life, Hebe had no family. In this life, the absolute devotion Hera had shown her since birth had made her fully accept the goddess as her mother. Offending Hera was a line Hebe would never allow anyone to cross.
"I know your heart. Do not worry about the duel; I have a gift for you. With this, winning the wager against Artemis will be child's play." Hera smiled. As the saying goes, luck is a form of strength. Artemis might have more raw combat experience, but Hebe had the advantage of birth. She had the Queen for a mother. Apollo and Leto might help Artemis, but their resources could not compare to Hera's, who had ruled Olympus for eons.
"Nike!"
"Great Queen, I await your command."
The athletic, winged goddess appeared instantly, kneeling before Hera.
"Bring it forth."
"As you command."
Nike hurried away and returned shortly with an exquisite treasure box.
"I intended to give this to you later, but now is the perfect time. Having ascended to second-tier power, you should be able to integrate this Godhood."
Hera gestured with her eyes. Nike brought the box to Hebe and opened it. The moment the lid lifted, a brilliant ice-blue light filled the hall. A sacred, frigid aura spread through the temple, causing the temperature of the eternally warm hall to plummet.
The Godhood of Ice and Snow!
Hebe's eyes widened. She recognized this power. It had originally belonged to the Goddess Dyei.
The Godhood of Ice was a rare and potent offensive power. Even as a second-tier deity, Dyei was someone few on the mountain cared to cross in a direct confrontation. Its destructive potential was immense; even Athena would have had to expend significant effort to subdue her.
"The Ice Godhood? Isn't this Dyei's..."
Dyei, with her cold and sacred beauty, had once been a favorite of Zeus. For the Godhood to be here meant...
"She has fallen," Hera said, her voice devoid of emotion. Her violet eyes held the ruthlessness of a true sovereign. "Since her heart belonged to the Underworld, let her sleep forever by the banks of the Styx."
Dyei, the symbol of sacred frost, had fallen in love with Hades. For him, she had stolen secrets from the mountain and even released the Headless Ice Monsters imprisoned in the far north. Her actions had incensed Zeus, who destroyed her and stripped her of her Godhood. As for Hades... knowing her brother, Hera doubted he would resort to such petty schemes to undermine the mountain. But then again, power changes everyone.
"Enough. There is no need to discuss a traitor. Take it. With this, your victory is assured."
"Yes." Hebe nodded. Between mother and daughter, there was no need for "thank you." They were a single entity; they rose and fell together.
The chance to become stronger was right in front of her. Hebe wasn't the type to hesitate out of false modesty. She took the Ice Godhood and pressed it against her brow.
Divine light erupted from the golden-haired goddess. At her forehead, a pale green crystal manifested. The offices of Youth, Purification, Healing, and Cupbearing shimmered. Countless emerald particles took flight, swarming toward the blue-glowing Ice Godhood.
The Ice Godhood flared, releasing sharp, blue light to resist the green invasion. This was the trial of the Godhood; only those capable of subduing it could inherit its power. With Ares and Hera watching over her, Hebe felt no fear. She closed her eyes and let her consciousness sink into the trial.
In the dark sea of her meditation, her green divine power—full of life and vigor—clashed with the ice-blue particles. Unlike the warm green light, the blue aura was cold, sharp, and predatory, like a wild beast tearing through her mind and attacking her essence.
"Insolent!"
A vast torrent of Youth and Purification power flooded her consciousness. The green light intensified, forming a disciplined army that crushed and suppressed the blue beast. More green particles joined the fray, merging into massive spheres of light hundreds of times larger than the blue sparks.
These green suns hunted down the arrogant blue particles, devouring and assimilating them. Though the blue light tried to flee, this was Hebe's mind—there was nowhere to hide.
After an indeterminate amount of time, the blue light was entirely consumed. The crystal within Hebe's core pulsed, doubling in size!
The new Godhood was crystal clear, radiating a brilliant blue-green luster. Beside Youth, Purification, and Healing, a new, powerful office had appeared: Ice and Snow.
A frigid divine power permeated the hall, freezing the floor in a thick layer of frost.
First-tier Divine Power!