Chapter 239: Chapter 83
In the sun-drenched lands of the Overworld, where clouds floated like drifting islands over silver rivers and golden fields, a particular city gleamed beneath the afternoon light — a thriving center of commerce and myth, and now, the latest foothold of the Grand Order.
At the very top floor of a grand marble building that overlooked the entire city, three figures sat around a wide table scattered with maps, scrolls, and half-empty cups of nectar wine.
Herios, tall and quiet, his eyes sharp as tempered steel, sat with his arms crossed, lost in thought.
To his right, Athena, radiant and poised as always, leaned over the map, her gray eyes sparkling with both intellect and impatience.
On the other side, Medusa, whose once-terrifying visage had softened over time, rested her chin in her palm.
The three of them had come a long way.
From the ashes of fallen empires and forgotten temples, they had built something new, an organization that welcomed adventurers, demigods, and even mortals brave enough to face the unknown.
The Grand Order was still young, a name spoken mostly in whispers or songs carried through taverns, but already it had taken root across several cities.
In each town, Herios and his companions would meet with local lords, forge alliances, and plant the seeds of their guils—a network of brave souls bound by honor, purpose, and curiosity.
The ranks were clear and precise, devised by Athena herself after long nights of discussion: from Epsilon, the novice adventurer’s beginning, up through Delta, Gamma, Beta, Alpha, and Omega.
Omega rank is already the absolute limits of power that a mortal can possess, only those great heroes and demigods actually has the chance to reach this height.
To surpass Omega was to transcend mortality—to touch upon the divine spark, and enter the domain of the gods themselves and becoming a Divine Spirit.
It was a system that inspired the mortals, challenging them to reach ever higher, and secretly, Athena knew that Herios had designed it that way: to give mortals a reason to strive, to rise, and to stand proud under heaven’s gaze.
At this moment, however, their thoughts were not on ranks or governance, but on their next journey.
After all, their main purpose of building the Grand Order was to fund their journey to see the world.
Athena, eyes alight with curiosity, broke the quiet hum of parchment and wind.
"I’ve been hearing stories," she began, her tone soft but full of excitement. "Of a lake that glows gold beneath the full moon — they say it reflects not the moonlight, but the light of creation itself. I’d like to see it."
Medusa chuckled, brushing a strand of her purple hair behind her ear.
"That sounds so lovely, my lady." she sighed dreamily. "But I, on the other hand, want to see Herion, the cradle of civilization. They say the old temples there still hum with ancient energy, and that the tomb of the Hero King remains untouched. Perhaps the past still whispers there."
Herios almost choked.
Athena smiled knowingly and turned toward Herios.
"What do you think, my hero?" she asked lightly, her tone playful but her gaze curious.
Herios said nothing. His expression returning go calm as a still pond, gave nothing away, but beneath the surface, his heart stirred with something old, something like remembrance.
Herion. The city named after him. The place where his mortal life ended, and his legend began.
The Hero King whose name had shaped the word hero itself.
"Well, it’d be awkward to go back there." He said, sighing.
Medusa stared at him, and through her blindfold, he can see her eyes brightening. "Herios, have you been to Herion before? How is it like?"
"Uh... well..." He hesitated, but before he could answer, a sudden flutter of wings broke the quiet.
A pure white dove descended from the open window, landing gracefully upon Athena’s shoulder.
Its feathers shimmered faintly with divine energy, and tied to its leg was a small scroll sealed with obsidian wax.
Athena frowned, unfastened the scroll, and began to read. Her gray eyes widened almost immediately.
"What—?! What?!" she gasped, her composure vanishing entirely.
Medusa nearly fell from her chair. "My lady, you startled me. May I ask what made you so flustered?"
Athena looked up, still stunned.
"It’s from the Underworld," she said breathlessly. "Lord Hades — he’s... he’s getting married!"
For a long moment, there was only silence. The sound of wind against the marble windowpanes filled the room as all three of them tried to process what they’d just heard.
Then, slowly, Herios’ expression changed, from stillness to disbelief, then to something almost reverent.
His voice came out quiet but firm. "He’s... getting married? Lord Hades is?"
He stood up suddenly, his chair scraping the marble floor. To anyone else, it might have seemed like mere curiosity, but to Athena and Medusa, who had been beside him for a quite awhile, it was clear, the shock ran deep.
For Herios, Hades was not merely a god. He was the one who had saved him, uplifted him, shaped him into what he had become.
The title Hero itself had been born from Hades’ lips, taken from his name "Herios," the first champion of the Underworld.
The god who ruled the dead had given mortals hope in life through that title.
For him, who worshipped Hades, hearing that he was getting married... How could he not witness it?
Herios turned toward Athena, his eyes steady, the decision already made. "We’re heading to Herion."
Athena blinked, surprised.
"Herion?" she echoed, before nodding.
"Herion," Herios said, his tone carrying the weight of both memory and purpose. "That city has always honored Lord Hades more than any other. If his wedding is coming, they’ll be the first to celebrate, and if there’s anything to prepare, we’ll help."
Medusa exhaled through her nose, half-smiling. "Well, I already plan on going there so it doesn’t matter to me. But it seems like you’re more excited about this marriage than others, Herios."
Herios didn’t deny it. His expression softened slightly.
"Perhaps," he said quietly. "Lord Hades is my patron god, so isn’t it natural for me to go to the city that worshipped him the most and celebrate with them?"
Medusa smiled, not saying anything.
Athena sighed — not out of exasperation, but with a fond, helpless smile tugging at her lips.
"It seems like your heroic heart and will wasn’t the only one to remain the same. Even your devotion to Lord Hades remained unshakable."
Herios glanced at her, and for a brief moment, his expression softened. "Would you rather have me change?"
Athena’s cheeks warmed, and she looked away with a small huff.
"No," she admitted, then glanced toward the distant horizon. "Then it’s settled. We’ll head for Herion."
Medusa stretched her arms and smiled gently, her long purple hair swinging with each movements.
"Herion, thr birthplace of civilization. I wonder what it’s like? Do you think it’s full of brutes who thinks of fighting all day? Or tacticians?"
Herios chuckled quietly at that, a rare, genuine sound that made both Athena and Medusa turned towards him.
"I haven’t been there in a long time, but I believe you won’t be disappointed Medusa."
"Hm, I look forward to it."
As the golden sun began to sink below the horizon, the three stood by the open balcony.
The city beneath them glowed with lantern lights, alive with the bustle of adventurers returning from quests. Somewhere, the faint sound of laughter echoed — the laughter of mortals whose dreams the Grand Order had helped build.
And above it all, Herios gazed toward the distant east, where the sacred city of Herion waited, his birthplace, his resting place, and soon, perhaps, the place where the world would celebrate the union of the God who had once changed his destiny.
With a calm but resolute voice, Herios said, "Let’s go. The age of heroes began with him. It’s only right that we honor his new beginning."
Athena and Medusa exchanged a smile and nodded. The Grand Order would move once again — this time, not for conquest or expansion, but for reverence, loyalty, and love that transcended even death.