Hestia's Orphanage

Temples of the Hearth stood scattered across the human world. And at every one of them, a single high priestess served as a direct line of contact with Hestia herself.

I was led before that high priestess.

Holy shit!

You've got to be kidding me.

Why was this woman gorgeous too?

What the hell had the last ten-plus years of slave life been for — stuck rubbing shoulders with ugly masters and male slaves day in and day out?

She couldn't hold a candle to Hera, of course — that queenly dignity, rank, and beauty all rolled into one.

This woman was a goddess. A goddess.

Not a human.

But among humans, she was easily top-tier — the kind of face you could say that about without hesitation.

Huh?

Wait — what?

I snapped my head up. The window that floated into view left me reeling.

The Status Window was telling me three things.

First: the being standing in front of me was an avatar of Hestia.

Which meant this probably wasn't her true appearance.

Greek gods showed themselves to humans in all kinds of forms, faces, and even species. Mortals simply weren't meant to look upon a divine essence so freely. The fact that I'd faced Hera in person put me in the unusual minority.

And Hephaestus? Who knew. Whether that had been his true body was anyone's guess.

Second.

So Hestia had seeded her avatars across every Temple of the Hearth and governed them herself — not dumping the whole job on humans and washing her hands of it, but taking personal charge. No wonder she was called the greatest of the benevolent gods, the finest soul in all of Greece. That reputation wasn't empty praise.

And third.

Hera's conquest difficulty was High. The avatar's is Low.

In other words, avatars were relatively easier to conquer than the main body.

So the real question is whether conquering an avatar carries over to the original…

I didn't know yet.

For now, I kept my head bowed.

"Let me see."

Phylotera, High Priestess and avatar ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of Hestia, approached me slowly. She brushed her fingers across my face, studying me with a soft, lingering gaze.

Ah — my heart was melting.

That cinched waist, those full breasts, the gentle flare of her hips and the thick, swaying curve of her ass. Her body held a raw, heart-stopping allure that hit you right in the gut.

"Who exactly is hunting you?"

I went rigid.

What do I do?

Tell her? Or keep quiet?

I sank into a deep, grinding deliberation.

"It's all right."

Hhk—!

Phylotera suddenly leaned in and whispered against my ear. That caressing tone nearly made me jump out of my skin. She was radiating pure, unfiltered sensuality without the slightest awareness of it — what the hell was I supposed to do with that?

"No one can touch you here. Everything rests under the protection of Hestia, Goddess of the Hearth."

I snuck a glance from the corner of my eye.

It had dropped, no question.

But the odds were still nearly half.

I can't fully relax.

Exactly what the Status Window had calculated from the start. Crossing into the human world had only shaved off one percent.

"It's Lord Zeus."

In the end, I came clean.

"H-he… Lady Hera said he was trying to force himself on me, and she got me out of there…"

I covered my eyes with my arm and started sniffling. Phylotera watched me in silence.

"You poor thing."

She pulled me into her arms without the slightest hesitation.

Ah… that feels good…

The scent of incense flooded my nose. My cock was rock-hard, and holding it back was agony.

Endure it. Just endure!

If I touched her now, everything would go up in smoke!

The Status Window had said it too — difficulty still rated Low!

I had no idea how that scale actually worked, but she was still an avatar of Hestia and a high priestess. I absolutely could not make a reckless move!

"So that man is running wild again…"

Phylotera murmured under her breath. She probably thought it was too quiet for me to catch — but I heard every word.

Her breathing. Her scent.

All of it.

It was as if every one of my five senses had locked onto her and gone razor-sharp.

Son of a bitch…

Always showing up late like this. As if it got off on screwing with me.

"There, there."

At last Phylotera eased me out of her embrace. She cupped my face and looked at me with genuine tenderness.

"You must have been through so much. Stay here and rest easy."

"W-will that be all right?"

High Priestess Phylotera smiled softly.

"Of course it will."

The odds said otherwise, though?

"This is Hestia's temple."

Phylotera stroked my forehead with gentle affection, her smile warm and unwavering.

"I will protect you with everything I have."

Not as High Priestess Phylotera.

As Hestia, Goddess of the Hearth.

That firm tone carried real conviction — her iron resolve was unmistakable. And so I quietly nodded.

"Thank you."

To Hestia.

Crack! Thwack!

"Ghk!"

"Argh!"

"Ugh — damn, he's strong!"

The Temple of the Hearth.

Its other name: Hestia's Orphanage.

Plenty of children lived here, and most of them dreamed of growing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠up to roam the world as heroes. In this ancient Greek world, a hero was essentially the fantasy equivalent of an adventurer or mercenary — someone who traveled far and wide, slew monsters, and carved out great deeds. Found ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a kingdom as a king, or earn recognition from the gods and ascend to divinity yourself. With advantages like that on the table, everyone wanted to become a hero.

"Haaah!"

And among them, the ones nearly grown — or already adults — came at me in droves. Over the past month they'd figured out that I had the biggest frame and the most raw power in the place. To the kids, I was the benchmark for what a hero should look like.

Thwack!

"Gah—!"

Alcyone, the orphanage's strongest fighter, hit the dirt from a single clean blow. He wasn't even an adult yet, but the boy was impressively quick on his feet. From what I could tell, he carried divine blood — and not just any divine blood. Something from the Twelve Olympians. Every now and then, when his emotions ran high, his eyes would flash with a light that looked straight out of a god.

"Come on."

I rested the wooden sword on my shoulder and clicked my tongue.

"Charging in like a berserker gets you nothing. You have to stay sharp and look for openings."

Ten years of clawing for any way out of slavery had left me with a sharper eye than most. The days had been filthy and brutal, but all that hard labor had toughened my body into something decent, too.

"Damn it — I really can't beat you, can I?"

Alcyone scrambled up into a sitting position and looked up at me.

"You're the real deal, Hyung Homeron. Seriously amazing."

Flattery will get you everywhere.

I snorted a quiet laugh and held out my hand. Alcyone grabbed it and pulled himself up.

"You all saw that, right? If you can't even manage this much, you'll never stand a chance against real monsters!"

At ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my shout, every kid clenched a fist.

"I'm no Chiron — I can't turn you into proper warriors! So you've got to put in the work yourselves!"

But I could still watch over them. I could gauge how far they'd come, how strong they'd gotten. At least within these walls, no one had a better eye for that than I did — even if I'd never actually met a true hero.

"You little brats!"

That was when the priestesses came running from the far side of the grounds. Alcyone and the kids scrambled to snatch up their wooden swords.

"Aaaah!"

"We're caught!"

"Hyung! Run!"

I grabbed a wooden sword off the ground and started after the kids who'd already bolted.

"Homeron!"

I froze mid-step.

Slowly, I turned my head.

High Priestess Phylotera.

Mistress of this Temple of the Hearth. Avatar of Hestia.

"M-Mother…"

The one every orphan here called Mother.

She'd called my name, so I had no choice but to stop.

"Filling the children's heads with nonsense again, were you?"

"N-nonsense? Me?"

I casually hid the wooden sword behind my back and stood before her.

"I was only trying to give them dreams and hope…"

"Homeron."

Phylotera stepped close, her voice low. Her hand settled gently on my head, and she drew me into her arms. Nestled against a mother's breast, I soaked in that warm embrace.

Ah. I was going to get hard.

"Some of those children are being hunted, just like you. What if something goes wrong? I worry so much I can barely sleep."

She wasn't wrong. The world outside the Temple of the Hearth was more dangerous than most people imagined. Kids living in comfort here couldn't even begin to picture it.

"Mother."

But I spoke firmly.

"Of course we have to face reality. But we also can't shut the door on the possibility of growth."

I raised the wooden sword still in my grip.

"I want to give those children a real chance to grow the right way."

Growing alone had its limits. If I was going to stand against Zeus, I wanted every ally I could gather.

"I understand what you mean."

Phylotera lowered her head.

"But they are still so very young. I hope you'll keep that in mind."

"I will. I promise."

Only then did Phylotera smile. She rolled her shoulders as she turned away.

"Mother?"

I asked carefully.

"Are your shoulders stiff?"

"More and more these days, yes."

Well — carrying a chest that size, how could they not be?

"Then…"

I let a quiet, carefully veiled suggestion slip out.

"Would you let me massage them for you?"

"Hm?"

Phylotera turned back. I shrugged as if it were nothing.

"I'm fairly good at massages. I'd like to help you, Mother."

Innocent as she was, she never caught the ulterior motive. She simply smiled, warm and bright.

"I'd be grateful if you would."

It had been a full month since I'd arrived at this Temple of the Hearth.

I'd held out long enough.

Tonight, I would conquer her.

To stay alive.