The creation of the new human race brooked no delay. Shortly after the council concluded, Hebe and Prometheus descended together into the mortal realm.
After years of rest and restoration—and thanks to the God of War, Ares, who had spent decades purging nearly eighty percent of the monsters from the land—the world below had regained much of its former splendor. Lush trees and jade-like grasses grew in profusion, while foxes, wolves, eagles, and lions roamed freely across a landscape vibrating with primal vitality.
"Lady Hebe, this way."
Prometheus led Hebe toward the vicinity of the Temple of Delphi. This sanctuary, housing the statue of the Great Mother Gaia, had existed since the dawn of time. Cloaked in the Earth Mother's divine power, it had remained untouched by the erosion of eons—for even Time itself was a daughter of the Earth.
Though Gaia was not present within the temple, Hebe could feel the staggering, primordial power radiating from its stones. Her heart filled with a mixture of envy and aspiration, wondering if she might one day reach such a transcendent state.
Prometheus offered a solemn bow to the temple before walking toward the river that flowed before it. This sacred river cascaded down from Mount Olympus like a ribbon of jade; its waters were as clear as divine nectar, and the silt at its bed was as white as snow, speckled with pearls, agates, jades, and gold that shimmered brilliantly under the sun.
"Hebe, goddess of the Great Lineage," Prometheus began, his calm, wise eyes resting on the golden-haired goddess with a trace of unreadable tenderness. "As the mistress of New Life, Youth, Purification, and Healing, your understanding of the Laws of Life far exceeds my own. Therefore, I wish to entrust the duty of bestowing 'Life' to you."
Hebe was tempted by the proposal, but the act of granting life to a new race required a profound mastery of the laws. "Honorable Lord Prometheus, I do not mean to decline, but with my current grasp of the Life Laws, I fear I cannot grant the new humans a 'complete' existence."
Hebe spoke her concerns plainly. She had originally intended to act as a mere assistant, "farming" some Merit to boost her cultivation. She hadn't expected to be thrust into such a heavy responsibility immediately.
"You need not worry about that." In Prometheus's hand appeared a vessel of singular design. It was shaped like a womb, its surface etched with profound, shimmering divine runes. At its center was an emerald-green gemstone of unknown origin, radiating a brilliant luster. Hebe sensed an infinite, surging tide of life within it.
"The Vase of Life!"
Legend had it that when the world was first born and the earth was barren, the Earth Goddess Gaia held the Vase of Life. With the Seeds of All Things and the Spring of Life contained within, she sowed the world, allowing all beings to reproduce and thrive in an eternal cycle. This was, in every sense, an artifact of creation.
"The Mother of All Gods has lent us this relic for our task. With its aid, bestowing life will be no difficult feat for you."
No difficult feat? If she could fully comprehend the laws within this vase, Hebe was confident she wouldn't even need her Ice Godhood to ascend to the peak of the first tier—she could do it solely through the offices of New Life and Youth!
"I... state your requirements, My Lord. As long as it is within my power, I shall do it." She didn't believe for a second that a god she had just begun collaborating with would offer such massive benefits without asking for something in return.
"Hahaha, you are indeed like your mother—clever and sharp. No, you are even better than her." Prometheus stared at her, yet it felt as though he were looking through her, seeing someone else entirely.
Who is he looking at? Hebe's heart skipped a beat as a wild, improbable theory began to take root. "You—"
"Shh..." The wise god smiled gently, placing a finger to his lips. "The wind is a mischievous child; he hears all."
Hebe understood his warning and fell silent, though a tempest of realization raged in her mind.
"Do not worry, Lady Hebe," Prometheus continued, his tone turning solemn. "My request is simple. Beyond bestowing life, Fate has revealed to me that the human race will one day face a great calamity. Though the veil of destiny obscures the details, the visions I have glimpsed suggest you play a pivotal role in that event."
"Therefore... I ask that you promise me this: when that day comes, you will help the human race survive the catastrophe."
Hebe knew exactly what that calamity was, though she was powerless to stop it. It was the inevitable shift of power between the old and new gods. Heaven is ruthless, and beneath it, all are as ants—gods included.
"I promise you." She might not be able to change the grand tide, but she could provide shelter and preserve the sparks of humanity.
"Then I thank you, My Lady. Now, let me help you master the Laws of Life as quickly as possible."
Time flew. Ten years passed since Hebe and Prometheus had descended to the mortal realm. During this decade, neither god remained idle.
Prometheus scooped silt from the sacred river before the Temple of Delphi and placed it into golden containers. He withdrew a Seed of All Things from the Vase of Life and crushed it. Emerald-green particles flowed from his fingertips—the quintessence of life. A single seed contained enough vitality to sustain the creation of hundreds of human vessels.
He mixed the life quintessence into the silt, added water from the Spring of Life, and kneaded the clay with divine power until it was perfectly blended. Then, using his masterful hands, he sculpted the clay into athletic human forms. He worked with painstaking detail, carving every inch of skin with devotion. These humans were clearly his most prized masterpieces.
As for Hebe, she had spent these ten years clutching the Vase of Life, meditating on its laws without a moment's rest. With the aid of such a powerful artifact, her understanding of Life grew by leaps and bounds. Yet, the deeper her understanding, the more she realized that creating life was a delicate calculation.
To bestow life, a deity had to understand the "Life Spark" perfectly. The weaving of laws and the calibration of divine power required precision; a single error would ruin the whole. If the flame of life was too dim, the body would wither; if it was too fierce, the vessel would shatter. No wonder the other gods wanted no part of this—the sheer detail was enough to drive a deity mad.
Hebe no longer looked the part of a divine beauty. Her once-ethereal white gown was wrinkled and stained with mud. Her hair, brighter than the sun, was now dull and tangled like dry grass. Heavy dark circles hung beneath her pale face. She was utterly exhausted.
For ten years, Prometheus had used "scraps" from the sculpting process to make various animal vessels for her to practice on—starting small with butterflies and kingfishers, then moving to rabbits, foxes, tigers, lions, and eventually even monsters. Hebe went from failing to etch life-meridians at all, to failing the power infusion, to her current state: she could now carve, infuse, and ignite the Life Fire in a single, fluid motion.
The hardship was evident in her haggard, power-drained appearance and the pile of "tragically dead" clay failures stacked beside her.
A monster. He's a total monster! Hebe looked at Prometheus differently now. The "kindly" god was definitely a "closet-dark" workaholic.
In ten years, she hadn't stopped for a second. The stream of clay figures from Prometheus never ended. She felt like a child laborer trapped in a black-market factory, forced to grind out Life Laws for eternity. She couldn't understand it—she'd watch him spend ages on a single human sculpture and think, Finally, I can rest. Then, he'd somehow pull another stack of practice models out of thin air.
Is he a master of time management?
Thanks to this "demon training," Hebe's routine for igniting the Life Fire was now second nature—an instinct burned into her soul.
She held a miniature clay human in her hand. Her eyes were closed as she calculated the perfect balance of lifespan, wisdom, reproductive capability, and potential. Only with this balance could the Life Fire be truly ignited; otherwise, they would merely be human-shaped beasts. The sheer computational load was staggering, but fortunately, a god's soul was resilient.
Emerald-green threads of light condensed at her fingertips. She drove them into the clay figure's head, where they branched out to the heart and limbs like the roots of an ancient tree, covering the entire body in an instant.
"Hoo—"
Hebe blew a breath of divine essence. The internal meridians "ignited," glowing with brilliant green light before fading into the flesh. Hebe opened her eyes. The miniature clay man had lost its earthen look, becoming vivid and adorable. He breathed steadily through his nose, appearing to be in a deep sleep.
It worked! The Life Fire was lit. Once granted a soul, he could live as a member of a new intelligent race. Since this was just practice, Hebe withdrew the laws, and the figure crumbled into dust.
"It seems you are ready."
Hebe turned. Prometheus stood behind her, flanked by tens of thousands of full-sized human clay vessels.
...While I was calculating life-fire until I went bald, he silently finished all the proportional bodies. And he still had time to make my practice models every day? You really are the ultimate grinder.
"The time is right," Prometheus said. "Steady yourself. Igniting this many Life Fires is no light task; ensure your divine power is at its peak."
"Mm."
Hebe's expression grew solemn. She closed her eyes as the Vase of Life hovered above her. The milk-white Spring of Life poured over her, washing away her exhaustion and replenishing the vitality she had lost over the years. Her hair regained its luster, her face its radiance.
A gentle vortex of wind carried her into the air. Hebe cradled the Vase, her soul resonating with the Laws of Life as her mind crunched the final balances.
"With the Seeds of All Things and the Spring of Life as the foundation, the essence of the Earth Mother as the body, and the bounty of the earth as food..."
"Strong physiques, and relatively long lives..."
"Environmental adaptability, reproductive capacity..."
The Life Laws wove the meridians of the new humanity. Brilliant light gathered and was struck into the Vase of Life by Hebe. Since she had yet to solidify her own Life Godhood, she relied on the artifact's power. The aura grew so massive it shook the very foundations of Mount Olympus.
"Growth potential... New Humanity, AWAKEN!"
As Hebe spoke the final word, a torrent of gold-green light erupted from the Vase. Every life-meridian was drawn to the clay vessels, diving inside. Moments later, tens of thousands of Life Fires burned fiercely, merging with the clay like a shimmering river of stars. As the flames settled, the clay turned to true flesh and bone. The new humans lay there, expressions peaceful, eyes closed in slumber.
It was done!
A nameless force suddenly empowered Hebe. The blue-green crystal at her heart erupted with light. Within the green aura of Midwifery and Youth, a spark of brilliant gold emerged like a new bud. It spread with predatory speed, devouring the green until everything was a luxurious gold-green.
"To welcome new life, to guard youth, to purify filth, and to heal pain—all are the blessings of Life. From this day forth, the Goddess of Youth is no more. In the name of Hebe, Goddess of Life, I solidify my Godhood!"
Her voice shook the heavens.
The Godhood of Life! Aside from the Earth Mother and Demeter, no god had ever mastered this law—this was a Godhood of true First-tier Sovereign potential!
The gods of Olympus watched with a mix of envy and hatred. Her speed of ascension was beyond belief. They saw only the speed; they did not see the goddess clutching a golden vase for a century, the goddess hunting monsters in the wild, or the goddess laboring day and night at the Temple of Delphi to weave the threads of life while they caroused on the mountain.
As the divine essence flooded her, Hebe closed her eyes to absorb the power, her new Godhood growing more solid by the second.
"My Lord," Hebe said, descending as she stabilized her fluctuating power. "It is your turn."
"In the name of the son of Iapetus, God of Souls, I bestow upon this new generation of humanity their spirits: pure, kind, self-respecting, ambitious, resilient, and unyielding..."
Prometheus's father was indeed Iapetus, the God of Souls. As a God of Wisdom, his understanding of the soul was profound. He spoke the divine words, and silver light condensed before him—pure, flawless, and beautiful.
"This is the New Humanity!"
The silver light shattered into a thousand sparks, diving into the sleeping bodies. The humans' lashes fluttered. They opened their eyes, looking at the world with curiosity—and then looking at the two deities before them with gazes of absolute reverence and devotion.
Their Creators.