Ambush of the Sun God's Son
"We've arrived."
Before I knew it, we stood before a massive iron gate, sealed shut with utmost precision. Not the tiniest gap marred its seams or hinges—it was a masterpiece of craftsmanship at first glance.
"A sturdy door indeed."
"Sturdy or not, it's mortal work. It won't hold long against a god's power."
Inside lay a chamber brimming with intricate mechanisms designed to thwart intruders and safeguard the treasure within.
Woooong! Whirrr!
A mechanical hum filled the air, emanating from the room's center. The device resembled a celestial globe from the Joseon dynasty—massive interlocking metal rings spinning in layers, cradling something precious at its core. Force your way in, and it'd crush you flat, no doubt.
"Is that book floating in the machine's heart the Secret Book?"
"Precisely, Scribe. Only those granted permission can halt this contraption."
"But it's still mortal craftsmanship, right? A god could smash it to bits without issue."
"You learn quickly, Scribe."
The High Priest murmured an arcane incantation in a tongue of divine secrets, extending his glowing staff toward the machine. The whirling metal rings began to slow, their motor-like drone fading. Still, it would take time to grind fully to a halt.
The Secret Book inside was enormous—over a meter long, by the look of it. Its iron-reinforced cover was thick and undoubtedly heavy as hell. Chains linked the cover, rigged like a backpack for easy carrying.
Curious, though. This world had no books like that. We recorded on scrolls here—bound codices with paper pages hadn't been invented yet. And paper? That didn't exist in this realm at all.
"Scribe, you must take it and depart."
"...Where to?"
How the hell do you hide from a god?
"Ahem..."
The High Priest cleared his throat, clearly stumped. Instead of words, he pointed his staff beyond the rings toward the chamber's far wall. A hidden door slid open.
"A path to the mountains behind the temple."
"Hiding in the hills won't shake a god, I imagine..."
"The Secret God commanded only that you take the book and leave. The rest will unfold naturally."
In other words, no concrete plan whatsoever. What a hands-off deity. But what choice did I have? Orders were orders.
"Understood."
By now, the spinning rings had slowed enough that we could soon extract the Secret Book. The High Priest gazed at it pensively before speaking.
"We have a moment. Allow me to explain the Secret Book."
His voice carried a newfound edge of anxiety.
"This tome concerns the end times..."
BOOM!
An explosion rocked the chamber. In that instant, chaos overwhelmed my senses—deafening roar, choking dust, spinning vision, ringing ears. My poor brain couldn't process a thing. I just tumbled helplessly.
"Grrraaagh..."
Pain like shattered bones wracked my body as I gritted my teeth. Some massive blast, clearly. I'd be dead from the shock alone without Heracles' Jewel keeping me alive. My skin burned; I swept back what hair remained, and it crumbled away, scorched crisp.
"H-High... Priest..."
No answer. My mouth was shredded, flooded with blood.
The once-meticulous room was wrecked. Shattered rings littered the floor amid the dust cloud. Only the Secret Book hovered serenely in midair.
"Urgh..."
As I struggled upright, footsteps echoed from ahead.
Thud. Thud.
A towering silhouette emerged.
"Who...?"
No time to ask. One of the scattered metal rings floated up and hurled straight at my face.
BOOM!
I dodged by a hair's breadth.
"Hah!"
I dropped low, barely evading. Panting against the wall in a crouch, I stared up: a massive iron ring embedded above my head, wider than my outstretched arms. Dust sifted down, but terror rooted me. I'd nearly died—really felt death brush me.
Pure fear choked my voice.
"Missed? Heh heh heh."
A mocking voice from ahead. A gust scattered the dust, revealing its owner: a handsome man of magnificent build, draped in ornate golden adornments. Vulgar yet noble. Base yet exalted. His cruel smile held an innocent gleam. Clad in a one-shouldered garb that showcased his sculpted physique, with long, sun-bright golden hair—a tall vision of perfection.
I knew instantly: a god.
But I had to ask.
"Wh-who... are you?"
The answer came elsewhere.
"Flee, Scribe!"
The High Priest. Only now did I notice him crumpled on the floor—mesmerized by the god's aura before.
He tried rising with his staff's aid, but the god stomped his face flat.
"Asked for my name, did you?"
Ignoring the High Priest like dirt, the god flashed me a dazzling smile.
"I am Cycnus, son of the great god Apollo. And for your information..."
He pointed at us both with one finger.
"...I'm here to kill you two right now. Heh heh heh."
What?
Cycnus? A minor Olympian god, infamous for his obsessive devotion to his father Apollo. Undying loyalty, no questions asked. So this raid was Apollo's will.
"How dare a god's son—a noble being—wreak havoc in a temple!"
Fear gripped me, but ingrained habits from ten years here demanded protest. The golden tomes spoke of Apollo as just... but was that his true face?
"Havoc? Did you say havoc, mortal?"
"Y-yes! This is the temple of Harpocrates, god of secrets and silence. Cease your villainy at once!"
I mustered courage, but he burst into laughter.
"What? Bwahahaha! Who calls whom villainous? You slimy worms!"
"What the—!"
Outrage silenced me. I'd never harmed a soul in my life here, nor had our temple. The priests served quietly, beloved by the village. Slimy?
Cycnus bellowed triumphantly, ignoring my shock.
"I know you're the masterminds behind the world's end! Shameless to the last!"
"Huh?"
"Harpocrates the Secret God is Olympus's public enemy! That sly bastard woke the colossal serpent my father slew, turning Delphi to flames! Don't pretend ignorance!"
What? Harpocrates unleashed the Burning Nameless One?
"Lies! Don't believe him!"
The High Priest cried from underfoot. Cycnus ground his heel in rage.
"You seeds of evil! Your wicked plot is laid bare in that Secret Book! I'll take it to Olympus's sacred halls and lay it all before Zeus!"
I nearly laughed at the absurdity. A lifetime temple scribe, obscure as dust, now a top apocalypse villain?
"I know you two are key lieutenants! Perfect chance for a clean sweep!"
Lieutenant? I'm just a scribe. Never ended the world, though I did accidentally bankrupt the temple ledgers once—demoted half a year for that.
Utter nonsense from our side, but Cycnus brimmed with conviction. Utter faith in his righteousness. That fanatic gleam? I'd seen it before: a zealot.
Spotting zealotry eroded his credibility instantly.
"Scribe! Don't fall for it!"
The High Priest, sensing doubt, shouted urgently.
"They want the Secret Book for another reason!"
Cycnus reacted first, intrigued—lips curling.
"Oh? Speak, then. What excuse spills from that foul mouth."
He oozed premature victory, indulging the villain's plea before smiting evil. This hot-blooded, slightly dim young god reveled in his heroic role.
The cunning High Priest seized the opening, words tumbling fast.
"The Secret Book details the end times precisely. Apollo seeks it first to avert the apocalypse! He asked Harpocrates directly but was refused—so now he hunts the book!"
Something felt off; I countered.
"Wouldn't it be good if the gods stopped the end?"
Cycnus snorted in disbelief.
"See? Even your minion doubts! Priest of darkness!"
Ignoring the mockery, the High Priest pressed on.
"Because it's not humanity's end!"
"What?"
"The apocalypse targets the gods! Humans will suffer losses, but we'll endure. The gods' world ends. Apollo fights to stop it!"
The end times meant gods' downfall? Unthinkable.
Even Cycnus's shock showed. That was the High Priest's cue.
"Hah!"
A burst of light hurled Cycnus back. The veteran leaped, snatched the hovering Secret Book, and thrust it to me.
"Take it! I wanted time for you to decide freely, Scribe—but no luxury now. Open the book!"
Conflicting tales left truth murky. Some vast conspiracy dwarfed us mortals, no doubt. Opening this tome screamed "grand adventure"—the last thing I wanted.
So, what to do? Simple: Who'd helped me? Harpocrates, god of secrets and silence. Ten years employed here meant steady meals, no street-sleeping dew. Loyalty? Gratitude? A debt I couldn't ignore. Without this temple, who knows my fate in this alien world.
Cycnus? Asshole from the start.
Enough to decide. Whatever fate this book unleashed, I'd roll the dice.
"Got it!"
I seized and flung it open without hesitation.