Python's Shaking Eyes
Python's pupils shook without focus. No, it wasn't just her eyes. The finger she was pointing at me trembled faintly too.
"What in the world are you?"
"...Peleus, obviously?"
"Argh! That's not what I'm asking!"
In the end, Python scurried over and pinched my arm furiously.
"How did you acquire the divinity of the Great One? This can't be! It just can't!"
I got that she was shocked, but listening to her made me feel a bit hurt.
"Hey, couldn't I be one of the permitted ones or something?"
Only then did it seem to dawn on Python, and she jumped in surprise.
"Gasp! You mean you really are?"
Flustered, she backed away a few steps, her brain clearly working overtime. She looked like she was on the verge of panic. Watching her for a moment, she suddenly smacked her palm with her tiny fist.
"Right! Of course! You really are the permitted one. I always thought you'd show up before me someday, but I never imagined it'd be today. You little punk! Don't just pop up out of nowhere like that! You scared me!"
For some reason, Python started getting annoyed. Her cheeks flushed slightly, probably embarrassed about her fluster. She was trying to play it off with anger, but her tricks were so shallow.
"So, when exactly did the Great One choose you?"
"It's still hard to explain properly."
Regression was tough to put into words. I emphasized that the story with the Burning Nameless One had to stay secret for now.
"The moment it's spoken aloud, secrets cease to exist in this world. You're the Great One's mountain guardian, so it's not that I don't trust you, but I've been strictly warned to be cautious. I think it'll be safe to reveal when the time comes."
"Oh... I see. Then I'll understand."
Framing it as the Great One's will worked surprisingly well—Python accepted it easily. This could be useful. In the future, if things got tricky, I could slither out by invoking "the Great One's will" or whatever.
"Heh heh..."
"Why are you laughing like that? It's creepy."
Caught off guard, I flinched, and Python grumbled.
"You have such an honest face, but sometimes you laugh in this unsettling way. Are you some black-hearted bastard deep down?"
"Hahaha, no way. My character is so pure it's practically transparent."
"Hmm, doesn't that mean you have no character at all?"
I jolted. Python had stabbed right where it hurt, and cold sweat trickled down. Dropping the character talk, I suggested we deal with Zeus's divinity first.
"Right, that's sensible. But can you really pull it off? Just wielding the Great One's power properly will be burden enough."
"True enough. I've only acquired it so far."
She had a point—I was still barely crawling, yet talking about something even gods didn't know. Python tilted her head, understandably. Without the Secret Book's knowledge, I wouldn't have dreamed of it either. I felt grateful anew for Harpocrates's hidden power. Thanks. Even if you went off to America, you left me quite the foundation.
"But I know a way."
"What the hell have you been up to? Chosen by the Great One and you know methods like that? The more I learn, the more absurd you seem. Where did this monster even come from?"
"Help me out first, Python. I really need your assistance."
"Fine!"
Python nodded eagerly. She was cooperative as my benefactor before, but now that I'd claimed to be chosen by her master, she looked ready to give me her liver if asked.
"So, what exactly are you planning?"
"Something simple yet difficult: fusion."
"Fusion?"
Back when I skimmed the Secret Book's entry on Divine Fusion, it seemed too complex. But I'd read it carefully, never expecting to apply it like this.
"Yes. Fuse Zeus's divinity with the Great One's into one. That changes its fundamental nature. Even if Zeus tries to reclaim it later, it won't be easy since it's altered."
"Such a method exists!"
Python was astonished but pondered carefully. Soon, she voiced her thoughts.
"I get the outline. But can you do it quietly, without Zeus noticing?"
"Yes, with your help, Python."
"Impressive... I have no idea how you know this. No one's ever researched it. Will fusion really prevent Zeus from reclaiming it later?"
"I can't be certain. For a normal god, yes, but he's the king of gods."
"Still, it'll have some effect?"
"Of course. Even for Zeus, it won't be simple. If my power grows stronger, I might resist his reclamation. Especially if circumstances align."
"Circumstances?"
"For example, if Zeus is too busy to notice."
"Ah! If he's caught up in a fight!"
This was a masterstroke brewed in secret from Zeus. From his perspective—playing generous by granting the divinity, believing he could reclaim it anytime—it'd be like a baseball bat to the back of the head. Heh heh. Thinking of Zeus's future rage made my lips curl up. Betrayal is all about timing, after all.
—You've made a killing from the Secret Book, huh. Fusion like that? This could win my bet with the First Scribe for sure.
Yeah. Time's the issue, though. The one-year deadline is tighter than expected. And Heracles's jewel needs solving too.
—Deal with the jewel after fusion. It's relatively easy anyway. Succeed, and you'll wield immense power. Might even absorb Heracles's jewel effortlessly.
Good. I couldn't wait to see the First Scribe's face when they lost the bet in a year. Would they really accept becoming my slave? Or forfeit the divinity out of pride? Either way, I won. The moment I succeeded, they'd be in the worst mood anyway. Time to show that smug bastard who underestimated humans.
"Python, can I stay in this cave for a while with your help? Fusing divinities won't be easy."
"Of course! I'll support you fully—let's do it! Get stronger quick, Peleus. Strong enough to give that Artemis a thrashing."
"You bet."
Music to my ears. I couldn't wait to see that goddess's face twist in agony.
The goddess Artemis was humiliated once more. She couldn't trace the leak, but word had spread that her hunt for the mountain guardian Python had failed.
'Three months since then. No clue where it leaked, but it's about what I expected.'
Artemis never thought she could hide her shame forever. Stubborn enemies kept eyes on her every move.
'At least Father, lost in his womanizing, hasn't heard yet. What a pathetic man.'
Outwardly respectful to Zeus the king of gods, Artemis despised her father. He ravaged countless women, dooming their fates. She couldn't bring herself to like him.
Yet she never showed even a sliver of bitterness. As his favored daughter, she knew he could discard her anytime. The king of gods was crueler than anyone when he chose.
'Or maybe it's fortunate I'm his daughter...'
Zeus at least played the father to Athena and Artemis. Kind, even. The notorious philanderer acted the perfect family man at home—it baffled her. Sometimes his love felt genuine, making his duality hard to swallow.
But father-daughter ties meant nothing now. Zeus was just a foe she'd eventually stab in the back. Her father had slain his own; she could do the same.
'Handle this before rumors reach Father's ears.'
Her plan: prod Ares. Olympus's stubborn prince, fixated on Titans, constantly irking his father—the god of war.
Among mortals, Ares was painted a dim-witted brute: hot-tempered, shortsighted, fleeing heroes in tears. The worst image; even warriors prayed to Athena, ignoring Ares.
But it was all propaganda by those belittling him. A quick guess revealed the culprits. Everyone knew Ares was the rightful heir. Ambitious young gods refused to accept it, uniting to tarnish him into "that pathetic Ares."
Some raged at this. Hermes often reported to Ares, ignored each time.
'Hmph, petty tricks. Olympus must prepare for the Titans' return.'
Dismissing it, Ares pursued his duty silently. Rumors grew until even Zeus and Hera scorned him. No one could sway the war god's stubbornness.
Artemis knew this well—easy to manipulate.
"Brother."
Resolved, she sought Ares. Even as his prickly sister—rarely visiting—approached smiling, he showed no flicker. Just oiling his massive hammer.
Ares nodded curtly and refocused. Artemis feigned interest.
"Oiling with chimera fat? Nothing better for Hephaestus's weapons."
"Obviously."
Ares nodded silently, mouth shut. No pleasantries. Artemis inwardly clicked her tongue at his denseness.
'No wonder he's like this—doesn't even grasp basic politics.'
She'd chuckled at tales of him fleeing heroes weeping. Absurd. Yet with his reputation in the underworld, people bought it.
'Ridiculous.'
Ares could shatter the moon if he wished. No mortal scarred his perfect body. His strength defied mortal logic—raw, unreasonable power.
But politics? Zero. Reputation? Negative hundred. Might alone didn't win thrones.
"I have a favor to ask."
"Speak."
Ares replied curtly, as if expecting it.
"You've heard the rumors."
"......"
He knew, yet said nothing. Irritated, Artemis cut to the chase—proud as she was, faking expressions had limits.
"I've long hunted Python. But it's beyond me now; I admit it."
"Hm?"
Ares finally showed interest. His mission: Titan traces. The biggest was nearby—Python's cave. Hard to enter, and with Artemis's grudge, all stayed back. She never forgave poachers.
Ares respected her, holding off, but watched closely. Something he sought might lurk inside.
"Yielding Python to me?"
"Yes."
Artemis admitted plainly, declaring she'd quit the hunt.
"What's changed?"
"Can't afford more failures. Father would say it's wiser to quit. Might even forgive me then."
Not wrong—Ares nodded. He knew Zeus hated stubborn obsessions.
"Leave it to me."
"Thanks, brother."
Rare smile flashing, Artemis departed like a breeze.
As she left, Enyo, Ares's aide and war goddess, appeared. Lower Olympian, she served as his lieutenant.
"Obvious ploy, isn't it?"
Ares smirked at Enyo's point.
"Let it be. It's cute."
"Please don't fall for such tricks, Lord Ares."
"Shouldn't you stop nagging by now?"
"Sigh."
Enyo sighed deeply. Knowing her lord's nature, it still pained her. Shaking her head, she offered practical advice.
"Even you can't breach Python's cave easily. The moon goddess failed for a reason."
"Don't worry. I'm no fool. I saw this coming."
"You knew?"
Ares smiled wryly. His eyes gleamed sharply, unlike rumors.
"That prickly sister dumps her work on the easiest mark when cornered—me."
"Lord! You knew and still...!"
Enyo exploded, but Ares pulled out an item: a lantern, clearly divine.
"What's this?"
"Hephaestus's masterpiece. Detects ancient Titan traps."
"Heavens!"
Not just Artemis obsessed with Python's cave—Hephaestus hated it too. Titan craftsmanship defied even him. Prideful top artisan, he sought countermeasures obsessively. This magic lantern was the result.
"Artemis doesn't know. Only I do."
Ares wasn't dim—just fixated. Enyo marveled.
"Lord! With this, the cave is as good as ours!"
Python was strong but alone. No traps? Easy pickings.
For Peleus and Python researching fusion in the cave, this spelled doom.
"No need for gods. Blow it up, and backlash follows."
"Right. Karma's law."
Gods draw counter-gods. For a Titan minion like Python, send heroes—wiser, smaller ripples.
Ares chose his champion.
"Summon Anguillifer Namimensis."
The hulking black warrior from southern savannas. Unmatched physical might—slew giants in one blow. Pharaoh's treasured "son of god," sent as friendship token. Ares reciprocated.
Pride demanded the best; Anguillifer shone instantly.
"You called?"
The hero arrived. Enyo whispered, shaking her head.
"No matter how I look, that's no human..."
Even to gods, he was freakishly outsized.