Chapter 43 Revelation

Herbert's eyes sparkled with brilliance. The Lord of the Underworld, Hades, seemed to hold sovereign power, but in reality, he was walking on thin ice. The presence of the three primordial gods who had existed since the creation of the world in the Underworld meant that Hades could never have absolute authority. Moreover, most of the underworld gods under him were descendants of the Night Goddess Nyx. The reason Hades was able to hold power was largely because these primordial gods did not place much value on authority. However, if a significant event were to occur, it would still be this group of ancestors who would nod in agreement and make the decisions. If he could gain their support, it might make his future actions much easier. The original gods are connected to the world, sharing the same breath. Their starting point is too high; the disputes among the gods are nothing more than trivial matters to them. What can truly capture their attention are undoubtedly world-class events, such as the Phaethon incident. The birth of Pakus has brought the Underworld the Day of the Dead and has also triggered the emergence of the Night of the Dead. The Underworld is now showing faint signs of a breakthrough. If a complete cycle of reincarnation can be established, it would undoubtedly be a significant improvement for both the Underworld and the Earth, certainly bringing an elevation to the world. With each generation of rulers of the Divine Mountain, a cataclysm capable of destroying the world accompanies their succession. When the war subsides, the majority of the followers created by the previous generation of gods have already perished in the flames of conflict, their souls sinking into the Underworld. To speak specifically of those golden humans who have received the blessings of the gods and now lie asleep in Elysium, as well as the new humans who recently perished in the Celestial Fire incident, their souls were not generated out of thin air. Creating them requires invoking the laws and consuming the world's primal energy. After death, human souls either remain forever asleep in Elysium or settle in the Underworld. This primal energy cannot return to the world, so how can new human souls come into being? Naturally, it means continuing to expend the world's primal energy to create new ones. This leads to a vicious cycle: the Underworld becomes increasingly crowded, and the world's primal energy is continuously consumed. If, like in the Eastern myths of the past, a cycle of reincarnation were established in the Underworld, these souls could be reused, solving the issue of limited space in the Underworld while preventing further depletion of the world's primal energy—achieving multiple benefits at once. In fact, the laws of the world had long hinted at this. When the goddess of memory, Mnemosyne, was deceived by Zeus and gave birth to the nine Muses of the arts, she, in her grief and anger, chose to settle alone in the Underworld. She wields the powers of two springs: the Spring of Memory and the Spring of Forgetfulness, which have the ability to preserve memory and to erase memory, respectively. By using the Spring of Forgetfulness to cleanse the memories of the deceased souls, they can revert to pure and untainted spiritual forms. However, it seems that this revelation from the world has not caught the attention of the gods, who remain focused on other strange matters. 'Chrys has completely perished, and the thin remnants of death energy here will soon dissipate. To avoid attracting the attention of the gods, use the power of death to conceal this, creating the illusion of a slow dissipation." 'Understood!" Pagos replied softly. Hebe raised her hand to eliminate the remaining life energy in the canyon. With his obsidian wings, Pagos flapped his wings and flew through the canyon, enveloping it once again in thick death energy. Without Chrys continuously slaughtering living beings, the death energy here would gradually dissipate over the months, and the Sphithor Canyon would soon return to the lush and vibrant appearance it had millions of years ago. 'Let's go. The commotion we just caused was a bit loud; I don't know if any gods noticed. It's better to leave as soon as possible." Hebe stood up, picked up the artifact, the Midas Gold Staff, left behind by Chrys, and the two deities transformed into photons, dissipating into the air. On Mount Olympus, dark clouds hung over the divine mountain like thick ink, and the once-ever-shining divine light had faded to nearly imperceptible levels. On the mountain, the ancient evergreen trees had withered and decayed, their branches and leaves turning yellow. Flowers and grass bowed their heads and wilted, while the pure white stone pillars lay shattered and crumbled, revealing a scene of devastation that exuded a sense of desolation and decay. 'Olympus? How could my Olympus have turned into this?" Zeus, the master of thunder, wandered among the ruins, the sight before him filling him with deep shock. 'Hera? Apollo? Hermes? Where are you?" The king of the gods called out loudly for his queen and children, but received no response. As he moved forward, his steps suddenly faltered uncontrollably, and a profound sense of weakness and helplessness surged within him. 'What is happening?" Zeus looked at his hands, where bulging veins twisted beneath rough, pale skin covered in brown spots. A flash of lightning illuminated his white, withered hair and aged face. For the first time, this king of the gods, the master of thunder and lightning, felt such panic and unease. This shouldn't be happening; he was a deity, an immortal king of the gods. How could he feel powerless? How could he be aging? 'Zeus…" Someone was calling him, the voice old and hoarse, like a worn-out accordion. 'Who is it?" He turned around to find an elderly woman standing behind him, her skin sagging, her frail body draped in a seemingly luxurious red gown. The stark contrast between the two made Zeus instinctively furrow his brow. But suddenly, he noticed the woman's aged face, particularly her purple eyes. Even though time had dulled them somewhat, they still sparkled with the most beautiful light. 'Hera!? No, Hera, what happened to you? Who harmed you?" Fury surged within Zeus as lightning flickered in his eyes, and the dark clouds in the sky seemed to sense some kind of summons, rumbling with thunder. 'Don't waste your strength, Zeus. We are all the same. This is the destined outcome; this is…" The aged Hera gazed at the ravaged divine mountain, her voice filled with sorrow. 'The Twilight of the Gods." With that, she turned to leave. 'The Twilight of the Gods? Why… why must the gods face twilight? Tell me, Hera, tell me!" Zeus stepped forward quickly, grabbing Hera's arm, desperate for answers. 'It is… it is humanity…" Another crash of thunder echoed, and Hera turned back. Her face suddenly transformed, becoming young and beautiful, her hair as dark as waves, and her eyes, like water, filled with endless wisdom and contemplation, radiating a calmness akin to the sea. Metis! Zeus suddenly awoke. 'No!!!" On Mount Olympus, the king of the gods erupted in unexpected fury, causing thunder to rumble and lightning to flash. The banquet hall fell into silence as the reveling gods looked on, bewildered by the source of their king's wrath. The Muses stopped singing, the Graces ceased their dancing, and the gods exchanged anxious glances, speculating who had angered Zeus enough to summon his thunder. 'What is wrong, Zeus?" Hera asked, her face filled with concern as she turned to look at him. Her purple eyes reflected her care, inquiring about his distress. '…" Zeus did not respond to Hera. He glanced around, carefully surveying his beloved Mount Olympus. The divine light shone brilliantly, the greenery remained lush, the scene of gods reveling in joy, and the beautiful, noble face of his wife beside him. Feeling a sense of relief, he suppressed his thoughts and allowed a faint smile to appear on his face. 'It's nothing; just recalling a few things. Please, continue." With a wave of his hand, the harp in the square began to play a melody on its own, and the air filled with the enticing aromas of wine and roasted meats. Exquisite food and drink materialized, and the gods gradually displayed expressions of enchantment, quickly dismissing the earlier interruption from their minds. Zeus sat silently on his throne, his thick eyelashes casting shadows on his face, obscuring the emotions in his eyes. Gods do not dream without reason; unless it is a revelation from the world, the visions within dreams are likely to become reality. His reign could one day be toppled, and worse still, the gods might lose their divine powers and face their end. Metis… that first goddess he had swallowed, who had long provided him with wisdom. What was she trying to tell him? The Twilight of the Gods… The mortal realm? … Humanity? Zeus propped his chin on his hand, his gaze deep and contemplative. 'Prince Prometheus." The tall and graceful goddess with bright eyes approached the slender god, holding a wine cup and wearing a poised smile. 'Good day, Athena." Prometheus turned, his clear and gentle face as kind and harmless as ever. His expression was warm, and his speech measured, always giving others a feeling of springtime refreshment. But Athena was not one to be deceived by appearances; this goddess of wisdom was not to be underestimated. As a prophet and a god of wisdom, Prometheus had always been one step ahead since his birth, able to seize opportunities and make the most advantageous choices. This had allowed him to stand firm among the divine since the age of Titans.