"What?"
Of course, Zeus reacted sensitively to Hermes' words.
What did it mean that Selene's soul, which had fled to the dream world, had now vanished?
"My son Hermes. Tell me that story in detail."
"Just as I reported, Father. Selene's soul fled to the dream world and endured years of torment. But now that it's gone, doesn't that mean the foundation for a resurgence has been laid? Sister Artemis knew this all along yet slacked on her surveillance, leading to today's disaster. If she was going to keep her mouth shut, she should have at least kept a tight leash on Selene. But she lost Endymion and doesn't even know Selene's whereabouts. Truly regrettable, Sister."
Hermes' words rang true, point by point. Combined with his eloquence, they sounded utterly convincing. So it was only natural that the hot-tempered Zeus wouldn't allow Artemis any excuses and issued his stern command first.
"The more I hear, the more pathetic it gets!"
"Father, please!"
"Please what! Fine. I'm curious myself what excuses you have. Speak if you have something to say."
There was nothing to say. Hermes' points were pure fact. Artemis realized that lying her way out of this crisis would be pointless. She might buy a moment's time, but fooling her father for long was impossible. If her stopgap lie was exposed, the consequences would be truly unbearable.
Artemis bit her lip and begged for mercy.
"Father, forgive me."
"I don't want to hear it!"
Zeus' attitude was firm and cold. The father who once smiled fondly at his daughter's charms was nowhere to be seen. Artemis newly realized how arrogant she'd been to think she could control him. He was a king of the gods before he was her father.
And naturally, Zeus valued his position as king far more.
"Your negligence allowed this to happen—your responsibility is immeasurable. I'll temporarily revoke your domains and reassign them to other gods. Reflect on your actions!"
"Father, even so, you can't—!"
Artemis paled. She was the goddess of the hunt, the moon, virginity, and more. The more domains a god held, the greater their authority. For Zeus to split them off temporarily and hand them to others—how could she not protest?
Temporary or not, her divine status would plummet in the meantime.
"Silence!"
When Zeus hurled a brass goblet at the floor, Artemis finally shut her mouth. She realized his fury exceeded her expectations. At this point, he was no longer her father—just the supreme god.
Soon, Zeus sighed and made a request to Olympus' elder.
"Demeter, I'm ashamed of my foolish daughter's disgrace. For the time being, take charge of the forests, the hunt, and the nymphs."
The goddess of grain and harvest, Demeter, held a rank even Zeus couldn't ignore. She'd borne him a daughter, Persephone, so despite his anger, the supreme god observed protocol in his words.
Demeter, aware of this, nodded without argument.
"I'll manage them well."
"Thank you, Demeter."
Watching from the side, Artemis' expression soured to its limit. Countless nymphs in the forests had instantly become Demeter's subordinates. Temporary measure or not, reclaiming them would take immense effort—it was obvious. Even if Zeus revoked the order later, Demeter would drag her feet and refuse to return them without a hefty price. Artemis seethed with rage.
And with the hunt domain gone too, hunters would no longer light fires at her temples.
But Zeus' measures didn't end there.
"Hermes."
"Yes, Father."
"Tell Hestia that she should temporarily take over Artemis' domain of virginity."
"Father!"
Artemis, overhearing, shrieked. Her face was now on the verge of tears. But Zeus merely regarded her with icy coldness, even clicking his tongue as if she were useless.
"I'll relay that, Father."
Since stepping down from the Twelve Olympians, Hestia had been half-reclusive. She wouldn't even attend banquets when called, leaving Zeus no choice but to send Hermes. He disliked how her actions undermined his authority, but as his sister, he couldn't press her personally. Besides, her dazzling beauty made the male gods neglect their duties whenever she appeared—better out of sight, he thought.
Zeus declared to those around him.
"My sister Hestia was originally the famous virgin goddess. But when she yielded her Olympian seat to Dionysus and departed, she gifted her virginity domain to Artemis as well. Since it was originally my sister's, there's no issue with this measure."
Deprived of virginity's domain, Artemis would lose the support of young girls. The foundation of her idolization by all women seeking independence crumbled utterly.
"Ahh."
Artemis now stared ahead with a dazed, half-lost expression. Demeter was one thing, but Hestia was far tougher. As daughter of the former king of gods, Cronus, she was intimidating in herself. And as the original famed virgin goddess, Artemis suspected she might never reclaim that domain.
"Artemis."
"...Yes, Supreme God."
Half out of her wits, Artemis couldn't even call him Father anymore. To her, Zeus gestured coldly, as if to say get lost.
"I won't take your moon domain. Return to your palace and diligently ensure the moon's path doesn't deviate. That means don't set one foot outside. Understood?!"
Watching from nearby, Apollo finally stepped in.
"Father, this punishment is too harsh..."
But even to Apollo, Zeus unleashed a terrifying tirade.
"Shut that trap before I smash your lyre to pieces!"
Overawed by Zeus' momentum, Apollo fell silent. Excluding fellow Big Three Poseidon and Hades, no Olympian—even all together—could defeat him. When the king roared in fury, even the sun god tucked tail.
Looking at his son, Zeus inwardly tsked.
'Cunning little bastard! Waiting to gauge the situation until his ally sister stood to lose too much before butting in? Insolent whelp. If you're going to intervene, do it from the start.'
He knew his son Apollo was like that. But his eldest, the war god Ares, had disappointed him time and again, so he'd favored the others. Seeing Apollo cower made Ares look better by comparison.
He'd skipped the banquet because his subordinate was injured, but now it seemed loyal.
'That guy's got a sense of duty.'
Ares, whose war goddess subordinate Enyo was badly hurt and couldn't attend. He didn't care about losing favor with his father—he valued his people.
'Stubborn fool, that Ares.'
He always grated nerves with talk of Titans returning, but otherwise an excellent son. Zeus realized Ares had never lied to him once. And how inept the son he'd hated had been. Suddenly, Ares seemed pitiful.
'Been too distant from my own boy. Time to meet.'
He felt the need for father-son talk over drinks.
Zeus announced the banquet's end and rose.
"Hermes, go fetch Ares."
"Understood, Father."
What seemed an ordinary banquet ended amid tremendous scandal. The gods who secretly despised the haughty Artemis smirked inwardly at her utter humiliation. But given the parties involved, they gossiped in small groups—not everyone, though.
"Hermes!"
The goddess of love and beauty, Aphrodite, flashed a smile that seemed to flaunt her charms and called out to the messenger god Hermes.
Hermes paused with his usual affable grin. So radiant was it that he almost seemed to harbor special feelings for her. But anyone who knew him realized he smiled like that to everyone, always.
"Cousin-aunt."
Aphrodite was born from Uranus, Hermes' great-grandfather, making her his cousin-aunt. But she, who always called herself a blooming maiden, hated such titles.
"Hey! I told you not to call me that! Makes me sound old, kiddo."
"Hahaha..."
Hermes inwardly tsked that at least he wasn't calling her grandma, but kept a straight face.
"What else should I call you, Cousin-aunt?"
"Hmm... Sis? Yeah, sis sounds good. Call me Sis, Hermes!"
"......"
Even the brazen Hermes was speechless for a moment. Gods might be a debauched lot, but she was Uranus' daughter—his great-grandfather's daughter. Father's father's father's daughter.
But Aphrodite's whims were the worst on Olympus, and her grudges legendary. He surrendered.
"...S-Sis?"
Hermes forced it out, his mouth twisting.
"Kyaaahaha!"
Only then did Aphrodite clap delightedly. Fitting the goddess of beauty, it was heavenly allure itself.
She cozied up, linking arms with Hermes, and began spilling about Artemis' confinement.
"I wish I'd snagged that girl's virginity domain."
"...The goddess on the opposite end of virginity saying what now?"
"What? Kyahaha! Hermes, you say the funniest things! Gnash!"
"You just ground your teeth, right?"
Aphrodite laughed long at her own joke. But Hermes didn't buy her flighty act. Lately, he'd dimly sensed her true nature differed from appearances.
And sure enough, once out of other gods' sight in a secluded spot, she unlinked arms and asked.
"Where you headed?"
Her tone was sweet, laced with chill. Only then did Hermes realize she'd naturally guided him here via arm-link.
Gulp.
He swallowed dryly. Confident in his skills, but she was an unknown. No Olympian knew the true power of Aphrodite, born from castrated Uranus' semen. Her carefree laughs and frivolity lulled vigilance.
"Just some light business. Heading out."
Hermes played it casual, but Aphrodite smiled languidly, half-lidding her eyes. Her lingering gaze suddenly unnerved him.
"Light business... Hehe."
"No need to worry, Cousin-aunt. It's really nothing."
"Hmm? But it nags at me, kiddo."
"Truly nothing. Haha."
Aphrodite stepped close, whispering in his ear.
"Fine, go today. But next time, introduce him to me too. That human you, Hestia, and Dionysus are interested in."
"No, he's—"
"Sparta's Basileus, right?"
Somehow, Aphrodite knew Peleus' identity precisely—even things Artemis, freshly humiliated, didn't. How did this love-obsessed goddess know?
Hermes felt his hackles rise.
"If Cousin-aunt wishes, of course."
"Kiddo, it's Sis, not Cousin-aunt?"
"...Yes, Sis."
Aphrodite kissed his forehead and vanished like wind. Stunned, Hermes shook it off and gazed at the sun. Appointment time neared.
Exact punctuality was his motto—even gods shouldn't be late.
"Peleus must be waiting."
He'd arranged the meeting with Sparta's Basileus Peleus via rainbow god Iris. To keep it casual, he'd descend not in true body but avatar.
Today's meet was to praise Peleus. The young hero always drew interest; Hermes wanted drinks too.
"Quite the man."
Harboring rare feelings for a mortal, Hermes descended. And met Peleus, Sparta's king, who always watched from afar.
"Peleus."
The man, clearly waiting, knelt on one knee.
"Lord Hermes. What boundless honor to behold your visage."
A courteous fellow. Pleasantries followed. The born storyteller Hermes vividly recounted the divine banquet—like watching footage just from words.
Yet oddly, Peleus' expression soured. Puzzled, Hermes had to ask.
"What's dissatisfied you, friend?"
"Not sure if I should speak frankly."
"Say it freely."
But Peleus' words exceeded Hermes' expectations—staggeringly so.
"Artemis loses a few domains and that's it? Lackluster results."
"Confined to her palace. For a god, unparalleled heavy punishment."
To Hermes, Peleus insolently wagged a finger. But it suited him more than rudeness.
"Heavy? If I'd been there, I could've obliterated Artemis entirely."
Such audacity. But what followed topped it.
"With your cooperation, Lord Hermes, I have a scheme to banish Artemis far away. Will you help?"
"Well......"
Hermes gaped, utterly floored.