Under the guidance of the two wise deities, Athena and Prometheus, the new humanity gradually stepped onto the right track.
Because the number of new humans created by Prometheus was immense, friction inevitably arose when they were crowded together. No matter how diligent Voultsos was, he lacked the capacity to handle so many affairs alone. Consequently, he selected a group of talented young individuals to lead various factions of their kin, spreading out to establish their own settlements.
As the new humanity diversified, city-states of various sizes were established one after another. The gods of Olympus quickly caught the scent of the immense benefits to be reaped from the competition for faith. They descended to the mortal realm, either manifesting divine miracles within human cities or directly supporting a city-lord who worshipped them to manage the populace.
All of this was done for one purpose: to have the humans within those cities build temples in their honor. In return, the gods would bestow blessings and protect the citizens. Once the number of believers reached a certain threshold, the deity could naturally incorporate the city into their divine territory of faith.
However, despite the growing human population, Prometheus had not yet created women. Without the ability to reproduce, the number of new humans was ultimately limited. As the gods spread their faith, friction was inevitable, and situations frequently arose where two deities vied for sovereignty over the same location.
The most notable piece of gossip currently delighting the pantheon was the clash between Athena, the Goddess of Wisdom, and Poseidon, the King of the Seas. The two had come to blows over the patron sovereignty of a coastal city, eventually taking their dispute before Zeus himself.
Poseidon argued that as the Ruler of the Seas, all coastal cities should naturally fall under his jurisdiction and worship him. Athena, however, insisted that her heralds had long resided in the city, performing miracles and spreading her word; with over eighty percent of the citizens already devout followers of Wisdom, the territory belonged to her.
Both sides held their ground with valid arguments, leaving Zeus in a difficult position. It was the clever Hermes who eventually whispered a solution into Zeus's ear. Zeus decreed that both Poseidon and Athena would offer a gift to the citizens of the city; whoever's gift won the hearts of the people would be declared the city's patron deity.
Both deities agreed, confident in their victory, and prepared their offerings.
Poseidon, being not only the King of the Seas but also the God of Horses, believed nothing could show more sincerity than a magnificent steed. He presented the residents with a stallion of snow-white fur, a creature of peerless grace and power.
Athena, who had fully inherited the brilliant mind of her mother Metis, gave the matter deep thought. She presented the citizens with an olive tree.
The contest ended in a resounding victory for Athena. While Poseidon's horse was indeed a wonder, there was only one horse for thousands of citizens—dividing such a gift was an impossible problem. In contrast, Athena's olive tree could be transplanted and propagated. Its fruit was edible, and it could be pressed into olive oil—a resource of endless utility. Furthermore, the olive tree itself became a symbol of prosperity and peace.
Naturally, the citizens preferred Athena's gift. They chose her as their protector and named their city Athens to commemorate the goddess's benevolence.
While these divine farces played out, Hebe, who had been in seclusion within her temple, reached a critical juncture in her cultivation.
Within her opulent sanctuary, the stunning golden-haired goddess sat upon her throne, eyes closed as divine light shimmered above her head. The immense Merit gained from the creation of humanity had allowed her to ascend to the first tier without obstacle. As she stabilized her Godhood, she began to meditate on the Laws of the Soul, attempting to parse the mysteries of the spirit. However, she did not intend to solidify a Godhood of the Soul; whether considering her own path or her relationship with Prometheus, the risks of encroaching on the authority of the soul far outweighed the rewards.
Instead, Hebe used the power of the Soul Laws to temper her own divine spirit, making it increasingly dense and resilient. After decades of tireless effort, she felt her spirit nearing a state of completion, approaching the threshold she had envisioned.
"The Tao produced One; One produced Two; Two produced Three; Three produced All things. All things leave behind the Yin and go forward to embrace the Yang. By the blending of the 'Qi', they reach harmony. The Way of Heaven and Earth is nothing more than these two words: Yin and Yang."
Hebe had harbored a grand design since the days she held both the Youth and Ice Godhoods. Now that Youth had evolved into the Godhood of Life, her resolve was even firmer.
The Life Godhood governed birth; it was Yang. The ruthlessness of the frost, symbolizing the destructive powers of nature and the "Pale Terror" within her Ice Godhood, governed death; it was Yin.
By using these two Godhoods as mediums—one of life and one of death, as Yin and Yang—she could explore their opposition, their collision, and their transformation. If she could reach a perfect balance between life and death, she would become the true Sovereign of Life itself!
But currently, she had no way to fuse two entirely contradictory powers into one. Though she appeared powerful and radiant to the outside world, she knew she was dancing on a razor's edge. Merging two clashing forces into a single divine vessel was incredibly dangerous. One never saw a god who held both Ice and Fire Godhoods; not only because such a being would rarely be born under the laws of the world, but because every deity knew it was a path to self-destruction.
If clashing powers were forced into the same container, the result was predictable. Previously, her Ice Godhood had been dominant, suppressing her life-oriented powers. Now that Life was dominant, Ice was suppressed, preventing her from detonating. But if the Ice Godhood were to evolve into an even more powerful Godhood of Death, Hebe had no certainty she could neutralize the conflict.
Therefore, Hebe the "Steady Player" decided she needed to split her soul and forge an Avatar. This avatar would inherit the death-oriented power of the Ice Godhood. Once the avatar reached a certain level of strength, she would slowly attempt to fuse the two powers back together. All of this required time, patience, and a specific catalyst.
As a goddess, time was her most abundant resource. Her burning ambition provided the necessary patience. As for the catalyst, her divine intuition told her it would arrive in the near future.
"Lady Goddess, the Herald Hermes has arrived."
Agatha, her transparent wings fluttering, brought a golden tray to Hebe's side. Upon it were the Purple Jade Grapes Hebe favored most.
"Oh? Does Father have more commands?" Hebe plucked a grape, slowly peeling away the skin to reveal the crystalline flesh. As the sweet, bursting juice hit her palate, her violet eyes narrowed in delight. "Let him in."
"Yes, My Lady," Agatha replied respectfully, heading out to lead Hermes inside.
"Lady Hebe, it has been a while. Your radiance has only grown; I fear even the moon in the sky would dim beside your luster." The silver-tongued Hermes delivered his flattery effortlessly. Fortunately, the Patron of Merchants and Thieves possessed a handsome, youthful face that made such compliments seem charming rather than repulsive.
"Good day, Lord Hermes." Hebe's tone was casual and distant. In truth, she did not particularly like this "younger brother" who was so favored by Zeus.
Despite his innocent appearance, his mind was as full of schemes as his profligate father's. Why else would Zeus trust him so implicitly? Whenever Zeus was out carousing, it was Hermes who provided cover to hide him from Hera's wrath. Sometimes, the father and son duo were quite unscrupulous; after the father had finished his dalliance, if Hermes were interested, he would follow with a brief liaison of his own. His own list of illegitimate children in the mortal realm was growing quite long.
Hebe seriously suspected that Prometheus had refrained from creating women specifically because he knew exactly what the male gods of Olympus were like and didn't want his masterpieces defiled.
"Does Father have a task for me?"
Hermes shrugged off her coldness. This goddess was the same with everyone; on the entire mountain, only her two brothers, Ares and Hephaestus, ever received a warm welcome. Every other male deity was kept at a distance. Rumors were already circulating that Lady Hebe intended to follow Athena's example and become a Virgin Goddess.
"The Abyssal Serpent Python has slain Delphyna, the guardian beast of the Temple of Delphi, and seized the sanctuary for itself. The Earth Mother has issued an oracle, commanding Father to dispatch deities to purge the monster."
Python was a gargantuan serpent born in the ancient eons at the confluence of the abyss and the ocean. Legends said its body was colossal, covered in iron-hard scales, and imbued with the primordial powers of destruction and death. It was a terrifying beast with strength rivaling that of a Major God.
Sending me to slay a creature with Major God strength? Hebe wondered if her "dear father" overestimated her.
"Did Father only send me?" She didn't believe Zeus was unaware of the risks.
"Ahem... Brother Apollo is coming as well." Hermes scratched his head, looking awkward. Even though he was a relatively new arrival, his sharp ears had heard plenty about the past friction between Hebe and the Twin Gods.
"Oh?" Hebe arched an eyebrow. Ever since the Godhood Duel with Artemis, Apollo looked as though he wanted to give her a piece of his mind every time they met. Sending them together to hunt Python? She'd likely be tossed into the serpent's maw mid-battle.
"Haha... Lady Hebe, you needn't worry. Brother Apollo knows when to be serious. He will take the lead in the assault; you are only required to provide divine support from the rear."
Hermes groaned inwardly. Python had been born near the abyss and was tainted by the aura of Tartarus, God of the Abyss. It possessed innate powers over destruction and death and was a master of abyssal sorcery and curses. While several Titans would be suited for the task, Zeus did not want them interfering. Among the Olympians, only Apollo and Hebe (with her Godhood of Purification) had the strongest counters to abyssal energy. If they collaborated, slaying Python would be simple.
The only problem was their feud.
"What does Lord Apollo say?"
A monster with the power of destruction and death—and at the level of a Major God? It was as if someone had handed her a pillow just as she was falling asleep. Hebe had already decided this trip was mandatory, but she still had reservations about Apollo.
"You don't need to worry about that." Seeing her interest, Hermes perked up. He leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "I asked him before I came here. He doesn't object, and you needn't fear he will move against you. Between us... success in this mission is vital for him. It concerns his Faith of Light."
Hermes winked and said no more. With a clever goddess, a hint was enough. In this mythic world, even the wind could betray a secret.
Faith of Light? Hebe's mind was sharp; she instantly grasped Apollo's plan.
"So, Brother Apollo asked me to see if you were willing."
It seemed he wanted to collaborate. In that case, she had no more reservations. With Apollo's strength as the vanguard, she could stay in the back with her Scepter of Life, buffing him while he did the heavy lifting. Once the deed was done, he could spread his light and build his temples; all she wanted was Python's carcass.
The exquisite goddess broke into a mesmerizing smile. "An abominable monster dares to defile the sanctuary of the Mother of All Gods? As a member of the divine race, it is my duty to assist Lord Apollo in its eradication."
"..."
Hermes was impressed. Even he had to admire the goddess's ability to lie with a straight face.
Regardless of what she was truly thinking, Hermes was satisfied to have completed his task. He bid her farewell, tapped his Talaria, and took flight to report back to Zeus.