7.5, The Thirteenth Ordeal(?) - A Tale of Schemes
Let's take a moment to talk about Gaia. To understand the story of Adamantia—who is both a Neoia and Orea (an island and a mountain)—you must first know about the mother of the earth, Gaia. She was one of the first Protogenoi born from Chaos, emerging alongside Nyx and Erebos. She gave birth to the Protogenoi and the Titanides (the giant gods). Tracing back the bloodlines of nearly all gods leads to Gaia's kin; they were the children of her children. She could truly be called the goddess at the center of all divine power.
And this goddess had led an utterly wretched life. More precisely, she had been brutally mistreated by the male gods. She married Uranus and bore children, witnessing the age of the Titans. Then she was scorned for birthing monsters and sent her youngest son to cast him out—only to be backstabbed by that very son. To eliminate him, she sent her youngest grandson, but he betrayed her too. Now she keeps her remaining loyal children locked away once more in her womb, Tartarus, along with the Hecatoncheires and Cyclopes. On top of that, she suffered at the hands of Zeus, another sky god like Uranus, and even had to bear his child. Yet, as the supremely powerful earth goddess of such lofty stature, no god pitied Gaia. Who would dare pity the mother of all lands? They were lucky just to not fear her immense strength.
The only one who pitied her own mother was Gaia's beloved eldest daughter. Adamantia resembled her mother in many ways—she was wise and powerful, one of the Protogenoi Gaia had birthed herself, and her firstborn. Born with dominion over fire and forges, iron and volcanoes, and islands, she alone among Gaia's children still held the qualifications to seize power even now. That was why Gaia never refused anything her dear eldest daughter asked.
"……"
"Mom, can I lift my head now?"
"No, not yet. Keep it down."
"Oh, still gotta keep it down, huh? Kweeeek?!"
"See? I told you to keep it down."
Gaia stomped on the serpent head that had slyly tried to peek up, grinning warily. It was a mother's loving kick to her foolish son who was trying to weasel out(?).
Gaia seemed deeply displeased about something, but that didn't give her any reason to refuse her daughter's request this time either.
There was no reason to refuse.
"So, the goddess ascending to the throne alongside Heracles ends with Echidna? ……But from the looks of it, that's not the case?"
"Yeah, there's more. Exactly one more, to be precise."
"I see. Guess I have to hear about that too. Three goddesses clinging to one man—now that's going to be a sight. Who on earth are you thinking of?"
"Mom."
"Why??? My ears are wide open, so no need to call me."
"The goddess."
"……"
Gaia fell silent. A blink of stillness. Then silence again. Another blink. The quiet stretched on for quite a while, with no one speaking. Even Gaia, the goddess of wisdom and cunning, couldn't react quickly to her daughter's sudden bombshell.
"What are you saying, Adamantia? Me, of all people."
"That's right, sis. Even just you alone is a massive insult to Heracles right now. If Mother joins in too, it'll be a proper Tartarus…… Gaaah!!!!!"
Oh, right—Typhon was there for a sec.
"It's exactly as I said, Mom. Come with us."
"……"
"We need you, Mom."
"……Ha!!!!"
For the first time in front of Adamantia, Gaia showed signs of anger—no, she was on the verge of exploding. She was barely holding it back with the faint thread of reason that her beloved eldest daughter wouldn't disappoint her. But Adamantia, oblivious to her mother's superhuman patience, pressed on.
"Mom, we need you."
"Adamantia!"
A violent earthquake shook the island of Sicily. Trees and bushes screamed, rocks split, and the ground heaved. The forge teetered on the brink of collapse, cracks spiderwebbing through the furnaces. Even Mount Etna, Adamantia's very body, groaned as if ready to erupt. The quake raged on, as if it would smash everything on Sicily to pieces.
Yet Mount Etna did not erupt.
"Mom, we……"
"Adamantia, even you dare mock me?!"
"That's not it."
"Not it? What do you mean 'not it'?! You're telling me to marry Heracles alongside you? To become the new king of gods' wife again? You, who's seen how I've lived?!"
Gaia had never once been happy as a god-king's wife. Never happy as a god-king's mother, nor as a grandmother. The only joy she'd had was blessing their marriages, but even that had been trampled in an instant. Marriage was a curse to Gaia. She didn't want to bear that curse again. Thalassa understood. Tyrrhenus understood. Her most beloved eldest daughter, Adamantia, should have too—but an indescribable sense of betrayal made Gaia's body tremble. Sicily shook even harder. Typhon, who had passed out, screamed and fled, but on the island of Sicily, there was nowhere to run.
"Mom."
"……"
"Mom."
"……"
"I know what you're thinking, Mom."
"……"
"I'm not an idiot, Mom."
Adamantia was simply calm. Amid the earthquake that seemed ready to split Sicily in two, amid Gaia's unprecedented rage, Mount Etna remained serene. Gaia's beloved eldest daughter watched her mother with those bright, sparkling blue eyes. A warm gaze. An enigmatic look whose depths were unknowable, but in the end, Gaia quelled the tremors.
"……What's your angle? Tell me everything, no holding back."
"I will."
"……Fine. Speak. If it's nonsense, I won't let it slide. I'll kill that Heracles bastard, one way or another."
It was a chilling warning. Yet Mount Etna remained unchanged.
"Do what you want. I believe you'll accept this, Mom."
"Cut the crap, Adamantia. I'm furious right now."
"I know. But hear me out first."
"……Very well. Go on, then."
The battle of wills between Gaia and Adamantia ended with Gaia's defeat.
"I'm going to make Heracles the king of the gods, Mom."
"I heard that already. And that's no reason for me to marry. In fact, that's what bothers me most."
"No, Mom—you have to accept this."
"Why? For what? To become the new god-king's plaything again?"
"No, Mom. We're going to be queens. Rulers of the world, equal to Heracles."
"Ha!"
Gaia's anger surged once more to the brink of explosion. Queen of the gods—what a hollow title. It was the name held by the current queen of Olympus, Hera. But it was utterly useless. It guaranteed nothing. Hera's queenly title was nothing more than a fancy label for the king's spouse, respected only at the king's whim.
"You think I'd fall for that? 'Queen' is just empty words. I'd have to hand over real power to my husband and end up serving him! Just like Hera."
"I'm not asking for that kind of queen, Mom."
"You say that now. But once you're married, you'll have to serve your husband too."
"I am steel. I am iron. I am the forge. I will never be conquered."
"……"
Gaia knew Adamantia's nature well. Adamantia was the goddess of "iron" itself—Gaia's very bones. That's why she had honed the sickle in Tartarus for so long. That's why she was Gaia's firstborn. That's why she could forge weapons surpassing her brother Uranus.
Iron melts. Iron changes shape. Iron becomes a tool. But it does not die. It is not conquered. No matter how much you melt it or reshape it, iron remains iron. It is still Adamantia's body, still Gaia's bones. Heracles cannot kill iron. Adamantia would serve Heracles as his wife, but she would never be conquered.
"……Are you sure?"
"It's not about being sure or not, Mom. It's who I am."
"Husbands are always obsessive. You'll end up serving him in the end."
"I'll serve him. But we'll be equals."
"How can I believe that? What husband wants an equal wife?"
"……Heracles seems to. Sorry, I can't explain it well in words. You have to meet him."
"…Pfft."
In the midst of their serious exchange, Adamantia slipped back into her blunt, airheaded tone. Gaia couldn't help but laugh. A husband respects his wife, a wife respects her husband—they are equals. Fine words. But impossible ones. Even if Adamantia had an unconquerable nature, this was a different matter. Love is blind. Love clouds judgment. Even she, with her power of wisdom, had fallen to it—that magic was truly cruel. It brought unparalleled happiness, but bound her too tightly. Yet her innocent, loving eldest daughter seemed to trust Heracles completely. There was no helping it, then. She would have to trust and wait to see if the man her daughter loved—who was probably heading to the Black Sea by now—was truly that kind of man.