Under the restoration of the Scepter of Life, Hebe's injuries gradually subsided. A radiant burst of crow-gold light erupted from her form as her Half-Self, Pagos, separated from her body. The black-haired god opened his eyes and hurried to assist his primary self, a look of regret flashing in his dark gold eyes.
"My Lord, after all the effort we spent condensing it, the Time Godhood Projection has shattered. It is truly a pity..."
"It matters not," Hebe replied, wiping a trace of divine blood from her lip. Time was never her primary domain. "That projection was merely a forced manifestation of several related offices. As a single-use tool, its loss is acceptable. The true Solar Origin of Time remains in the hands of my grandmother, Rhea. Though she rarely appears now, her power is undeniable. To encroach upon the authority of Time is to invite a supreme enemy, and I have no desire to offend the former Queen."
To covet a deity's primordial essence was a direct provocation that usually ended in a relentless hunt—especially when that deity was the mother of the King of Gods himself. Pagos nodded, dropping the subject.
"Pagos, the Resurrection Godhood is not yet fit for the eyes of the Olympians. Take it back to the Underworld and find a secure place to seal it away."
Hebe summoned the Godhood; the gold-blue crystal was exceptionally magnificent. Adhered to its base were three golden seeds—the Miracle Seeds, birthed by the world's laws as a gift upon the Godhood's creation. These seeds were peculiar; they required the irrigation of deathly aura to germinate. Only within the extreme power of death could they catalyze a spark of life, growing into the golden Resurrection Grass—a herb capable of bringing the dead back to life.
"As you command."
The power of Solar Eclipse shrouded the gold-blue Godhood, sealing its aura and shielding it from all prying eyes. Pagos absorbed it into his chest.
"During the banquet, Prometheus told me he intends to create human females in the near future," Hebe whispered. "Once that is done, the cycle of human reproduction will be established. That will be the time for you to propose a Reincarnation system to Hades. If possible, use that opportunity to make contact with the true masters of the Underworld."
Hebe's eyes sparkled with sharp intent. Hades, the Host of Many, seemed to hold total sovereignty, yet he too walked on thin ice. The presence of the three Primordial Gods who had existed since the dawn of creation meant that Hades could never have the absolute final word. Furthermore, the Chthonic deities beneath him were almost entirely the offspring of Nyx. Hades ruled largely because the Primordials were indifferent to mundane power. However, in matters of world-altering significance, it was these ancestors who made the final decisions. Securing their support would grant Hebe immense leverage.
The Primordials were one with the world. Divine squabbles were beneath their notice. Only world-class events—like the Phaethon incident—drew their gaze. Pagos's birth had brought the Nether Sun and triggered the Nether Moon, and the Underworld was already on the verge of a breakthrough. If a complete Reincarnation system could be established, it would be a monumental perfection of the laws for both the Underworld and the mortal realm.
The transition of power between divine generations always brought world-shattering catastrophes. When the wars settled, the creations of the former masters were often left as ash, their souls sinking into the earth. The souls of the Golden Human Race and the recent victims of the celestial fire were not created from nothing; their creation required the mobilization of the world's primordial essence. When these souls remained trapped in the Underworld or Elysium, that essence could not return to the cycle. This created a vicious cycle where the Underworld became crowded and the world's essence was continuously drained to make new souls.
If a Reincarnation system were built, as it was in the legends of the East, souls could be recycled. This would resolve the Underworld's lack of space and prevent the depletion of the world's essence—a masterful stroke of efficiency.
The laws had already hinted at this path. The Goddess of Memory, Mnemosyne, had retreated to the Underworld in grief after being seduced by Zeus. She guarded two springs: the Spring of Memory and the Spring of Lethe. The former preserved memory eternally, while the latter granted oblivion. By washing souls in the Spring of Lethe, they could be restored to pure, untainted spirits ready for rebirth. Yet, the gods remained focused on their own petty agendas, ignoring the world's obvious invitation.
"Cres is gone. The remaining deathly aura here will soon disperse. Cover it with your power to create the illusion of a natural, slow decay. We must not alert the mountain," Hebe commanded.
"Understood!" Pagos replied.
Hebe erased the lingering traces of Life power in the canyon. Pagos beat his obsidian wings, flying through the chasm to spread a fresh layer of dense deathly aura. Without Cres's slaughter to sustain it, the miasma would gradually fade over months, and Sphyttus Canyon would eventually return to the verdant state it held eons ago.
"Let's go. The commotion earlier was significant. It is best we depart before any eyes turn this way."
Hebe stood, retrieving the Golden Grain Staff left by Cres. Both deities dissolved into motes of light and vanished.
On Mount Olympus.
Dark clouds, as thick as ink, shrouded the divine peak. The eternally shimmering light had grown so dim it was barely visible. Trees that had been green for ten thousand years were now withered and rotting; flowers bowed their heads in decay. The snow-white pillars had cracked and collapsed, leaving a landscape of desolation and the stench of ancient rot.
"Olympus? My Olympus... how could it become this?"
Zeus, the Master of Thunder, wandered through the ruins, his heart seized by horror. "Hera? Apollo? Hermes? Where are you!?"
The King of Gods called for his Queen and his children, but received no reply. As he walked, his legs buckled. A profound sense of frailty and powerlessness surged through him.
"What is happening?"
Zeus looked at his hands. They were gnarled with bulging veins, the rough, pale skin covered in liver spots. A flash of lightning illuminated his dry, white hair and his wrinkled, ancient face. The King of Gods, for the first time, felt a paralyzing terror. He was a god—the immortal King! How could he be weak? How could he age!?
"Zeus..."
A voice called to him, ancient and raspy like a broken accordion.
"Who is there?"
He turned to see an old woman. Her skin sagged, her frail body loosely draped in a magnificent red gown. The contradiction between her decay and the luxury of her dress made Zeus frown instinctively. Then, his eyes locked onto her violet eyes. Though clouded by age, they still held a familiar, beautiful light.
"Hera!? No... Hera, what has happened to you? Who did this!"
Rage boiled within Zeus. Lightning sparked in his eyes, and the dark clouds roared with thunder.
"Waste not your strength, Zeus. We are all the same. This is the destined end. This is..." The elderly Hera looked upon the ruined mountain, her voice hollow with grief, "The Twilight of the Gods."
With those words, she turned to leave.
"The Twilight of the Gods? Why... why must the gods face a twilight? Tell me, Hera! Tell me!" Zeus rushed forward, seizing her arm.
"It is... the humans..."
Thunder crashed again. Hera's face shifted suddenly, becoming young and radiant once more. Her hair was dark and wavy, her eyes like still water, filled with infinite wisdom and contemplation—a tranquil, oceanic aura.
Metis!
Zeus snapped awake.
"NO!!!"
Thunder rumbled across Olympus, triggered by the King's sudden outburst. The festive plaza fell into an abrupt silence. The carousing gods looked toward the throne in shock, unable to fathom the source of his fury. The Muses stopped their song; the Charites ceased their dance. Gods whispered in fear, wondering who had dared to incense the King.
"What is it, Zeus?" Hera asked, turning to him with concern in her violet eyes.
"..."
Zeus did not answer. He looked around, scrutinizing his mountain. The light was brilliant, the flora was evergreen, the gods were in high spirits, and his wife's face remained exquisite and noble.
He let out a breath, suppressing his thoughts. A faint smile touched his lips. "It is nothing. I merely recalled a trivial matter. Continue the revelry."
With a wave of his hand, the lyres began to play themselves. The Cornucopia released a fresh wave of fragrant wine and meat. The gods, lost in their pleasure, quickly forgot the interruption.
Zeus sat in silence, his thick lashes casting a shadow over his eyes. Gods did not dream without reason; unless it was a revelation from the world, such visions were likely to become reality. His reign would fall. Worse, the gods would lose their power and fade away.
Metis... the first Queen he had swallowed, who had provided him with wisdom for so long... what was she trying to tell him?
Twilight of the Gods... the mortal realm... Man?
Zeus rested his cheek on his hand, his gaze darkening.
"Lord Prometheus."
The tall, athletic Goddess of Wisdom approached the lean Titan, a wine cup in her hand and a graceful smile on her face.
"Good day, Lady Athena."
Prometheus turned. His refined face was as kindly and harmless as ever, his manner as refreshing as a spring breeze. But Athena was not deceived; she knew the master of wisdom was a force to be reckoned with. As a seer, Prometheus always stayed one step ahead, making the most advantageous choices. It was why he had remained standing since the Titan era.
Athena felt a sense of kinship with him. Having inherited her mother's intellect, she found most gods to be arrogant and foolish. In terms of strategy, only Prometheus was her equal.
"I hear you intend to create human females soon?" Athena asked, her tone full of intellectual charm.
"...Your Ladyship is well-informed. Indeed, the humans are settled and protected by Lady Hestia. It is time for them to reproduce." Prometheus's expression softened as he spoke of his creations.
"Might I serve as your assistant this time?" A sharp glint flashed in Athena's eyes. The benefits of being a "Creator" were immense, as evidenced by Hebe's sudden rise. Athena did not intend to miss out again.
"Alas... I have already promised the role to Lady Hebe." Prometheus offered a look of slight apology.
Athena's grip on her chalice tightened, but she relaxed instantly. Her smile remained flawless. "A shame. It seems I am a step too late."
Prometheus studied her for a moment before speaking. "Perhaps... your Ladyship could join Lady Hebe in the project? I am certain that with the cooperation of two such great goddesses, the new women will be perfect."
"But..." Athena had been ready to yield, but this was unexpected. "I am not deeply familiar with the Laws of the Soul..."
"Do not fret. Wisdom and the Soul are naturally entwined. I myself did not inherit my father's Godhood of the Soul, yet I can guide you in its laws. With your brilliance, bestowing souls upon the new women will be a simple feat."
Prometheus spoke casually, surrendering the right to create the human female spirit as if he were merely discarding a pebble.
Athena's face lit up with surprise. She offered him a look of deep gratitude. "I shall remember this help. In the name of the Bright-eyed Goddess, I shall repay this debt in the future."
"Then I thank you in advance, My Lady."
The wise seer touched his cup to hers—a toast to their new partnership. His goal achieved, Athena moved off to find her friend Artemis, who seemed to be in a foul mood lately.
Prometheus watched her go, a small smile playing on his lips. He felt no regret in handing over the "Faith of Women" to Athena. She was one of the few truly clever gods on the mountain, having established herself without a mother's protection. She was close with the solar twins. Apollo now held the sun; he and his grandmother Phoebe—the ancient Goddess of Radiance and the New Moon—would surely help Artemis seize the moon.
If successful, Artemis would likely claim a Major God seat. Athena's "early investment" in Artemis was far-sighted. By bringing Athena into the human project, Prometheus had secured a powerful protector for his race. The trade was more than fair.