The Ex-God Turned Dung Carrier
As soon as the order dropped, Sparta's warriors seized Choros.
"Let go, let me go! What is this!"
The once-great being, now reduced to a mortal, was visibly flustered at being so easily subdued. I could kinda understand his mindset—if I suddenly turned into an ant and got tossed into an ant colony one day, I'd probably lose my shit too.
Crack!
One of the Spartan warriors slapped Choros across the cheek. His head snapped around with a sharp, satisfying smack.
"Argh!"
With a short cry, Choros tumbled to the dirt. But remnants of his divine pride lingered, and he screamed defiantly.
"You think this will make me submit?!"
"Eh, go ahead and try. But there's no beating a good thrashing."
Oh, and suicide won't work either. If his human body dies and he reverts to divine form, I'll just command another Divine Incarnation.
"Aaaagh! Ack! Ack!"
As the rough Spartan warriors' kicks rained down, Choros curled up and wailed. Realizing this wasn't the way, he quickly surrendered.
"Spare me, please. I was wrong."
"There we go, that's the smart choice. Why cling to pride when it's already gone? Tsk tsk."
Choros, battered all over, crawled to me and bowed his head.
"Just give me your orders. Use this slave as you will."
"Now we're getting somewhere."
I waved the Spartan warriors off dismissively, then poured a cup of wine and held it out to him.
"Down it in one go. Now that you're a frail human, you'll need booze to lean on. Us humans can't survive this harsh world without stuff like this."
"...Th-thank you. This thick purple liquid... is wine?"
"What? You don't even know wine?"
Well, why would a great god bother knowing some cheap drink mortals guzzle?
"I'm sorry."
"This won't do. Won't do at all."
I'd hoped to put him to work right away, but in this state, he was no good. Physically human, but his mindset was worlds away from one.
"I'm sorry... Anyway, what orders do you have for me? I'll make up for it with merits, however lacking I am..."
What could I even task a guy who doesn't know wine? Ridiculous.
Time to teach him the bitter taste of life first. He's gotta eat some tear-soaked bread before he becomes human.
"What nonsense. Just tend the farm."
"Pardon?"
Choros blinked in confusion for a moment. I repeated myself.
"Go spread manure on the farm. What, did I need to nail it into your ears? Why can't you understand plain speech?"
"N-no... To use a former god for mere farming..."
"You're useless anyway. Quit with the god talk."
Due to the Divine Incarnation's backlash, Choros had lost most of his knowledge from his First Scribe days or was bound by seals preventing him from speaking without cost. No special abilities either, and nothing useful yet. Sure, he probably had talents worth exploiting, but first, I'd teach him human life from the ground up.
-Peleus, using a god for farm work? Even the Secret Book sounds shocked.
-Not a god, a pig. Just one more piglet. Time to teach him humility. Farming'll show him the joy of harvest and the nobility of labor.
This'll be tough to humanize him.
-Huh... The Secret Book fell silent at my plan to drain every last drop of his divine arrogance.
-You calling me a demon or something? If it shocks the Book, how's the man himself faring?
He was utterly dumbfounded. I pointed to the nearby farm and patted his bald head.
"Work hard, and hair might even grow back. Now, look around. It's barren this season, but this is a vineyard. Vital to humans—we harvest the grapes for wine. So get to it with a happy heart."
"I can't do that."
"Can't? Keep saying that. Your attitude's still all wrong. Why so stubborn? Accept your lot and give up already. Being human has its humble charms too. Tsk tsk."
I smugly surveyed the farm. This vast estate, originally royal property, was a gift from Helen after I became Basileus and handled the state religion issue smoothly. She even threw in a mansion in the city. From temple scribe to instant millionaire—this was power.
"A-alright. Entrust me with it, and I'll manage this farm properly."
"Manage? There's already a manager. You're just the grunt doing odd jobs. Stick to hauling shit diligently from now on."
"Guhk..."
Choros was speechless. No mercy from me, though. I'd remake his spirit to the bone, turn him fully human. Burn away every divine habit like purifying with fire.
Behold—the sacred sweat of labor cleansing you. Choros.
"More importantly, Choros. Did you handle the task I gave you?"
"Ah? Yes, of course."
Before incarnating him as human and bringing him earthside, I'd tasked him with intel—for a price, uncover a secret.
"Spill it."
"Well... sorry, but the price wasn't high enough for specifics."
Being able to perform offerings was great, but lacking worthy sacrifices was the issue. I'd meant to offer the cannibal giant Thematos, but binding him with the Tightening Ring as a subordinate ruled that out. So I substituted a chicken and the massive tusk from Calydon's boar. That tusk, a divine beast relic, had versatile uses, but fell short for offerings. Live sacrifices were best, after all.
"Can't be helped. How much did you get?"
I'd asked him to find Endymion's location as the offering price.
"Not the exact spot. But there was progress. Endymion's currently on Naxos Island."
"Naxos, huh?"
No precise location due to insufficient price, but that narrowed it down nicely.
-Peleus. Just offer Thematos. Problem solved easily.
The Secret Book tempted me eagerly, but I refused.
-Promised I'd free him someday. Can't just sacrifice him on a whim.
-Strange guy. Don't you live for deceiving others?
-What do you take me for? I have standards. Trick in battle, not deals.
I'd forced Thematos with the ring, but he'd helped plenty. He'd be useful ahead too. No wasting him like trash.
-Naxos it is. We can search there.
-Fine, do as you like.
Decision made, I stood.
"I'm heading out."
At my command, Spartan warriors brought horses. I'd inform Helen I was stepping away, then head to Naxos with Atalante. I was personally hyped for this.
"Choros."
"Yes, my lord."
"There's a saying in farming: A bundle of grass at dawn equals a bundle of rice in fall. Work diligently for bountiful harvest."
Choros wore a profoundly complicated expression. A lofty god, now slaving for next year's grape harvest. What a cosmic joke.
"...I'll keep it in mind."
"Good. Hang in there. Looking forward to wine from your grapes. Hahaha!"
Turning a god into a farmer? Chef's kiss. Once he grasps humanity, maybe I'd use him. Not before. I hoped tilling the soil would teach him mortals' gritty struggles.
Watching Choros trudge off with farm tools, I muttered,
"Gotta turn Artemis into a farmer someday too. Cocky bitch."
Artemis was in a foul mood lately.
Crash!
A ornate pottery jar of wine shattered noisily in her palace. She was so pissed off, hurling anything had become habit. Her maids froze in shock, and the harpist mid-performance halted stiffly.
"Haa..."
With a long sigh, Artemis flicked her hand. Everyone scattered like roaches. They knew her temper well.
Until recently, Artemis hadn't been too down. Python hunt flop embarrassed her, but Ares's epic blunder buried it. She'd even felt smug about her scheme working.
But Sparta's state religion mess clashed her cult with Apollo's, sparking mockery everywhere. Gods were openly sneering.
'Hermes... I'll rip that bastard's head off someday.'
Thinking of Hermes prying nosily about Sparta made her want to tear her hair out.
But the most infuriating wasn't a god—it was a human.
"Peleus, was it."
An unforgettable name. Hero who'd unleashed Calydon's boar out of grudge. She'd meant to punish him, but busyness delayed it. When he fled Mycenae with the princes, Orion nearly sniped him—failure. Tough bastard.
Missing that chance let him shine in Sparta, screwing her cult over. Especially seizing it temporarily as Basileus—she'd nearly unleashed disaster blindly. But justification lacked, and other gods watched. Especially Iris; meddling in Sparta risked backlash.
Iris couldn't match her power, but was untouchable—Zeus's herald. Snitching to Zeus would leave Artemis exposed, her cult guilty of thug-like tactics.
"Wanna wipe 'em all out. Humans are so damn annoying."
Muttering her true feelings low, a voice replied.
"That's quite hurtful. Do you hate me too?"
A calm, beautiful voice. Lost in gloom, Artemis turned eagerly.
"Oh! Penthesilea!"
She scorned humans, but greeted this woman with rare genuine warmth.
"Goddess. I came at your call."
"Well come, Penthesilea. Fairest and noblest warrior."
The woman before Artemis was Penthesilea, Amazon queen. Born of war god Ares and previous queen Otrera, famed strongest woman on earth. Ares's daughter, yet she ignored her father to follow Artemis devoutly.
"Hm..."
"Some trouble, Goddess?"
Penthesilea was puzzled as Artemis brooded despite summoning her. Understandable—Artemis had planned to sic her on assassinating Peleus. Direct intervention tricky, so a fellow human seemed fitting. But cooling off, she hesitated to dirty her favorite with filth.
'Everything about that guy twists up. Bad luck. Better to watch for now.'
Artemis knew from experience: don't force it when things sour.
Peleus still grated, but laying low felt wise. Opportunity will come.
She switched to another vital task for Penthesilea.
"Queen of the Amazons."
"Speak, Goddess Artemis."
"I have a mission for you. Our cult's long pursuit, yet unfruited."
"What is it?"
"Finding Endymion, lover of Goddess Selene."
Artemis unrolled a parchment summarizing scout reports. Not fruitless—they'd narrowed spots.
"From believers' searches, Endymion's surely in the Cyclades isles: Ios, Paros, Seriphos, Naxos cluster."
"Not on the mainland, as expected."
"Sorry for vagueness. But he's somewhere there. Will you undertake for the cult?"
Deeply loyal, Penthesilea accepted gladly.
"Leave it to me. I'll find Endymion for sure."