Chapter 174: Chapter 19
In the quiet of her office, deep within the halls of her Underworld Temple, Hera let out a long, weary groan.
Scrolls and parchments—reports from mortal affairs, reincarnation request of heroic spirits, salary increase requests from divine spirits—were stacked in neat, daunting towers upon her desk.
She had just placed her signature on the final document when she dropped her pen and slumped forward, resting her head on the polished obsidian surface.
"Why does it always fall on me..." she muttered, her regal composure nowhere to be found.
For once, she looked less like a noble and refined goddess and more like an exhausted bureaucrat drowning in endless paperwork.
Her golden eyes flicked toward the corner of her office where a vase of withered lotuses stood.
Her mind, however, wandered elsewhere.
To her.
Aphrodite.
That bubbly and stupid goddess could shove her responsibilities onto others with a flutter of her lashes and a smile.
And because of it, she spent most of her time basking in freedom, fluttering about like a songbird, and lately more and more often within Hades’ presence.
Hera sat up sharply, her eyes narrowing, the lines of fatigue vanishing as her pride flared.
She clenched her hand into a fist, nails biting into her palm.
"That harlot better not be making any advances on Hades..." Hera hissed under her breath. "Otherwise—"
Suddenly, the heavy doors to her office burst open with a thunderous slam.
Hera immediately straightened, her tiredness vanishing behind the immaculate facade of majesty.
Her spine straight, her expression cold and dignified, she looked every inch the queen she was as her gaze turned upon the intruder.
A young divine spirit, pale and trembling, rushed inside. "L–Lady Hera!"
Hera’s eyes narrowed, "Have I not taught you manners? Knock the door before you enter. If this happen again, I will increase your workload."
The spirit flinched, bowing deeply. "F-Forgive me, my lady, but it is urgent!"
One finely arched brow lifted. Hera leaned back in her chair, resting her chin upon the back of her hand, her tone dangerously calm.
"Then speak. What has you quaking like a mortal before the gallows?"
The spirit swallowed hard, her eyes flickering with panic. "...Olympus, my lady... Olympus is probably about to erupt into civil war."
The room fell utterly silent.
Hera’s golden gaze hardened, her divine aura swelling like the crackle of a storm behind calm skies.
"...What did you just say?" she asked, her voice low, each word trembling with restrained fury.
The spirit bowed again, nearly collapsing under the weight of Hera’s presence.
"Athena and Poseidon—they are at each other’s throats. Their conflict spreads across the heavens. If this continue...Olympus will tear itself apart."
Hera sat motionless for a moment. Then, ever so slowly, a bitter smile curved her lips.
"Fools. Every last one of them," she murmured, her tone dripping venom.
She rose gracefully from her chair, her robes trailing behind her like storm clouds, her aura pressing down on the very air.
"So," she said, her eyes gleaming, "Although I don’t care about what they do, I need to make sure it doesn’t affect the natural order."
Her expression turned sharp, calculating.
"Order my divine spirits to prepare, we must ensure the fight doesn’t affect the mortal lives. Also, inform the rest of the patrons of this, and I will personally inform Lord Hades."
The divine spirit, pale as death, bowed once more and vanished to carry out her orders.
Alone again, Hera exhaled softly, though her fists trembled at her sides.
"Bunch of kids..."
*
*
*
Overworld, Athena’s temple.
The scent of incense still lingered in the temple, faint and holy, when Poseidon’s laughter rolled across its marble halls like a storm.
His sea-green eyes glittered with cruelty as he pressed his hand against the shimmering barrier that wrapped itself protectively around Medusa.
Every push of his fingers made the barrier quiver, the divine wards trembling with each strike.
And every time it shook, Medusa’s heart hammered harder in her chest.
She clutched her hands to her breast, kneeling before the statue of her goddess, purple hair spilling like silk across her shoulders as her lips trembled in whispered prayers.
Poseidon’s grin widened. He enjoyed that look in her eyes—the delicate mixture of fear and defiance.
Mortal beauty resisting a god’s will. How delightful.
Finally, with a chuckle, he whispered, "Enough play."
He pressed a single finger against the barrier— crack.
With a sharp sound, the divine protection shattered like glass. Shards of light fell across the floor, fading into nothing.
Medusa gasped, immediately leaping to her feet, but Poseidon was faster.
His large hand clamped around her delicate wrists, forcing them above her head.
She struggled desperately, kicking, writhing, her breath ragged.
"Let me go!" she cried, her voice sharp with fear.
Her resistance only amused him. His grin broadened, teeth gleaming like a predator’s. "You should be grateful, mortal. Few are worthy of catching the eye of a god. To carry my touch is an honor you can never dream of."
Medusa’s eyes blazed with fury and desperation.
In a last attempt, she seized a burning candle from the altar, thrusting it into his face with all her strength.
The flames licked across his skin, and though he remained unharmed, it only angered the God of the Seas more.
Poseidon’s grin vanished. His expression darkened into rage. "You dare..."
With a violent motion, he slammed her to the marble floor, the sound echoing across the temple.
Medusa cried out, pain and terror intertwining, but she did not bow her head.
Poseidon raised his trident, its prongs gleaming with otherworldly light as he pointed it at her trembling body.
His voice thundered with disdain.
"How dare you resist me! Foolish mortal! Do you not realize what honor it is to be chosen by a god? If you will not submit willingly, then you shall live as a reflection of your insolence."
His eyes glowed, divine power surging through the trident. "I curse you! May your beauty rot into horror, and may all who meet your gaze know nothing but death!"
The words burned like iron. Power surged, striking Medusa’s body in a wave of agony.
Her scream tore through the temple. She clawed at her face as pain ripped her apart from the inside.
Her soft purple hair writhed, twisting, elongating, until strands of silk hardened into hissing serpents.
Her smooth, radiant skin cracked, warped, reshaping into something grotesque.
Her tears fell, but they only hissed as the snakes coiled and spat venom. Her beauty, once whispered of as divine, was gone—twisted into a monstrous visage too terrible to behold.
"NO!" Medusa shrieked, covering her face with trembling hands, her body wracked with horror and anguish.
And then—
"POSEIDON!"
The heavens shook.
The name, screamed with divine wrath, rolled across earth and sky alike. The temple’s stone trembled beneath its force.
Light as blinding as the sun burst into the sanctum. From above descended Athena, her armor gleaming like dawn forged into steel, her spear radiating divine fury.
Her gray eyes blazed, colder than winter, sharper than any blade, as they locked onto Poseidon.
"How dare you!? Do you wish to go to war with me!?"
Her voice was thunder, and the weight of Olympus itself seemed to press down on the god of the sea.
But Poseidon stood tall amidst the fury that bore down on him, the temple walls quaking, the marble floor fracturing under the sheer pressure of Athena’s divine wrath.
And yet, he only smiled. A slow, mocking curl of his lips, as though Athena’s rage was nothing but entertainment to him.
"Athena," he said smoothly, his voice like the tide, calm yet dangerous, "you always take things far too seriously."
But Athena ignored him, instead, her gray eyes shifted past him.
He followed her gaze.
There, behind him, crumpled against the altar, was the pitiful figure of Medusa.
No longer the radiant priestess, but a wretched monster curled into herself, her beautiful hair now a nest of writhing serpents.
Her hands pressed desperately over her eyes, tears spilling through trembling fingers as she sobbed, voice breaking as she cried out.
"Lady Athena...! Help me... please...!’
Athena’s heart clenched at the sound, her fury doubling, no—tripling.
The air thickened with her killing intent.
Her divine aura surged outward like a tidal wave, ripping through the temple’s pillars, shattering stained glass, tearing cracks into the very foundation of the earth.
Rubbles rose, weightless in the air, as though gravity itself bowed to her rage.
Her voice shook the heavens.
"POSEIDON! YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS!"
With a battle cry that echoed through realms, Athena lunged, her spear flashing with a brilliance brighter than starlight.
Her speed was beyond mortal comprehension—faster than the blink of an eye, faster than light itself.
Poseidon’s grin faded. He barely raised his trident in time, divine steel meeting divine steel with a shattering clang that rang like a thunderclap across the cosmos.
The impact split the ground beneath them, cracks spider-webbing outward as if the very world protested their clash.
Poseidon skidded back a step, his brows furrowed. "Hmph... stronger than I thought."
Athena did not relent. She pressed forward with relentless fury, her spear a blur, each thrust carrying the weight of justice, of vengeance, of divine wrath.
Poseidon met each strike with his trident, but even he was pushed onto the defensive, his grin replaced by a clenched jaw.
Sparks of divine energy lit the temple like a storm of stars.
"You dare defile my temple, harm my priestess, and think you will walk away unscathed?!" Athena’s voice was both wrath and command, a decree of judgment.
Poseidon’s laughter finally returned, though strained as he caught her next blow.
"You speak as though you can defeat me, little niece." His eyes gleamed with defiance. "When I clashed with titans, when I conquered the seas...you weren’t even born!"
But Athena’s gaze was steel, unwavering.
"I don’t give a rat’s ass about your past!" She spat out, "I will make you pay for trying to defile my priestess!"
The heavens trembled. Olympus itself began to stir.
*
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*
High upon Olympus, the marble palaces glistened in the golden sunlight. The halls echoed with laughter and music, perfumed by ambrosia and nectar.
Within his grand pavilion, Zeus lounged comfortably, his wife Metis by his side.
The Titaness giggled softly as she plucked a ripe grape from the golden tray and teasingly pressed it against his lips.
Zeus chuckled, his beard glistening with droplets of wine, and leaned forward to nip playfully at her fingers.
For a moment, all was serene.
Then the sky trembled.
A clash of divine auras shook the air, splitting the clouds and sending waves of power across the realm.
Athena’s wrathful light and Poseidon’s oceanic might collided, sending shockwaves strong enough to rattle even the thrones of Olympus.
Zeus froze, the grape slipping from his mouth. His smile vanished instantly.
"Oh no... no, no, no." His booming voice dropped into a low growl, muttering under his breath like a man facing his taxes. "Not again."
The ground quivered under his throne, the pulse of two furious gods tearing into each other like storms.
He could already sense the mortals screaming, the temples shaking, the cities trembling.
If this continued, if the clash spilled further, mortals would perish—and if mortals perished under divine crossfire, Hades would have no choice but to intervene.
Zeus shuddered. The thought of his grim, cold, self-righteous brother storming up from the Underworld was enough to sour all his wine.
And no matter how much he hated Hades, no matter how much he envied his control and quiet dignity... there was no way he was going to fight him over a mess he had nothing to do with.
"Metis." His voice snapped, sharp and commanding.
The Titaness blinked at him, still holding the tray of fruit. "Yes, my king?"
Zeus stood abruptly, brushing his robe straight as though to erase all signs of leisure.
"Go inside the temple. Close the doors. Bolt them if you must. From this moment forth, we know nothing, we saw nothing, and we heard nothing."
Metis tilted her head, hiding her amused smile behind her delicate hand.
"So the King of Olympus flees from battle?" she teased softly.
Zeus scowled. "It’s not fleeing, it’s called wisdom. Let those two children tear each other apart if they wish. As long as Olympus stays intact, I am not lifting a finger."
Metis only nodded gracefully, rising to her feet. "As you command, my husband."
With the calm poise only a Titaness could maintain in the face of chaos, she glided into the grand temple, the doors closing silently behind her.
Zeus sank back onto his throne, a storm cloud gathering in his hand as he muttered bitterly to himself:
"Damn Poseidon. And Athena as well. Why can’t those brats just talk it out and leave me out of it?"
And high above, thunder rolled not in anger, but in weary frustration.