Cultivate Oneself, Regulate the Family, Govern the State, Bring Peace to the World
"Splendid work, Ares. Victory once again!"
Zeus, king of the gods, sat upon his golden throne. Receiving his praise, Ares bowed his head — and the corner of his mouth curled upward, just a little.
"Truly well done. My eldest son, after all. A blessing upon Olympus — and a blessing upon me."
"Thank you, Lord Zeus."
They had not met often since Ares's birth, yet whenever something of consequence arose, this man — his father — always made time to offer praise without stint. That alone was enough to lift Ares's spirits. Young as he still was, he never hesitated to march out to the battlefield; and this time, true to his name as the god of war, he had taken the vanguard and brought home the win.
And yet.
"...Haa."
There was one person who answered that triumph with nothing but a heavy sigh. Seated beside Zeus, her expression thoroughly unimpressed, was a goddess — Ares's mother, Hera.
Even as words of praise spilled from her husband's lips, she offered no reaction at all, as though the entire occasion were nothing but a nuisance.
"Hera, what are you doing? Our eldest has just earned a great merit. As his mother, you ought to praise him."
"Praise, you say?"
"..."
Hera's reply came in a hard, clipped tone, forced out only because Zeus had pressed her. Then she turned her gaze on her son, who had begun stealing nervous glances at her face, and delivered a single blunt remark.
"I am sorry, but I believe it is still far too early to speak of such things."
"Hah... Hera."
"Is that not the truth? You call it a victory, but all he did was drive back a few weak enemies who had crossed the border. He neither seized enemy territory nor took any prisoners of note. What, exactly, am I supposed to praise?"
"Even so, that is a little harsh—"
"Have I said anything untrue? I feel this every time — you are far too soft on the boy. If you keep inflating him over every trivial success, you will only spoil him. Do you not understand that?"
"Mmm..."
"..."
Under his mother's arrow-sharp words, Ares's face went rigid. He could not lift his head.
In the end, it was the same as always. Unlike his father, who never failed to praise him, his mother only scolded that father and looked down on Ares himself with a cold, unyielding gaze.
Though he still spent far more time with his mother than with his father, those hours left Ares feeling as though he could barely breathe. Hera never stopped telling him he was not enough; she never once offered a word of praise. The slightest mistake earned him a severe scolding — and even when everyone else was saying he had done well, as they were now, she alone remained rigid and poured out criticism dressed up as discipline.
All a young Ares could do in such moments was keep his head bowed and wait for his mother's frost-edged reprimand to end.
And then:
"Haa... Well. You did work hard, so go rest. And do not forget your training today."
"...Yes, Mother..."
Ares left the chamber with heavy steps. He had entered like a triumphant general, head high — and now he walked out looking for all the world like a defeated commander. Watching him go, Zeus spoke with open frustration.
"Hera. That was too much, even for you. How can you be so harsh toward a son who has just brought home a victory?"
"It pains me as well. But everything I do is for that child's sake. If we praise him and coddle him this early, how is he supposed to grow?"
"Is he not already doing more than enough? A child not even half a year old has already awakened the divinity of a war god and is swinging a sword—"
Even allowing for how quickly gods matured, Ares's ability was genuinely remarkable. He was still lower-ranked, yes — but he was already winning victories against Titans. From Zeus's point of view, that alone made him an excellent son.
But Hera was unmoved.
"If he were an ordinary child, that would be more than enough. But Ares is no ordinary child. He is your firstborn and mine — the heir who will one day lead Olympus. Should he not possess the finest qualities and achieve the greatest deeds?"
"How much better does he need to be? Is that not already sufficient?"
"It is not. You know this as well as I do, Zeus. That boy — Hephaestus — defeated Tartarus before he was even four years old. Someday Ares must reach at least that level, or neither of us will be able to hold our heads up."
"Haa... That again?"
The same tiresome refrain. Ever since Leto had brought that information a year ago, the subject had leapt from Hera's mouth at every opportunity — almost always as a point of comparison with their son Ares.
There was no denying it: that one's achievements were so staggering that even Zeus had to move past admiration into wariness. Because of them, Oceanus's faction — the power to which Hephaestus belonged — had become a force that neither Titan nor Olympian dared to touch lightly. Poseidon, god of the sea, had grown markedly ill-tempered for precisely that reason.
Even so, Zeus thought Hera's attitude was going too far.
"I understand your feelings, my wife. I know it is enough to make anyone anxious. But is Hephaestus your child? That boy is Eurynome's son. Pressuring our own son because of someone else's child does not look well."
"No! That child is—! ...Kh..."
"Hm?"
Hera's lips moved as though she meant to say something more. But she swallowed the words and answered in a heavy voice instead.
"No... it is nothing... Perhaps I have been... a little excessive. I shall try to be more careful from now on."
"Please do. He is our only son, after all. There is an age gap for now, but one day he will surely surpass that son of Eurynome."
"...I can only hope so."
With that weighty reply, Hera rose from her seat. Something complicated clung to her slightly unsteady figure as she walked away — but Zeus had no energy left to dwell on it.
"As expected... nothing about this is easy."
The war between Titans and gods was growing fiercer by the day. Yet both sides were immortal, and the balance between the two powers refused to break. Whenever one side seemed to be losing ground, the fallen would revive, reinforce the ranks, and push back again. On top of that, the world itself was growing more desolate with every battle — another problem Zeus could not ignore. His head ached from every direction at once.
And now even his wife was hounding their son as though she meant to devour him. With the situation so thoroughly chaotic both within and without, Zeus felt a dull throb behind his temples and rose from his seat.
"This will not do... I need to clear my head. Time to work off some steam for once."
Come to think of it, it would not hurt to deliver that "seed" he had promised Leto. With that thought, Zeus set off — only for a woman to catch his eye by chance.
"Oh my, Zeus. Is something the matter?"
"..."
His sister, Demeter. She looked as though she had just finished bathing. For a moment, Zeus's expression went blank.
And then:
"...Sister. A moment."
"!?"
Her damp hair, the water droplets trailing down the nape of her neck — today, of all days, the sight of his sister struck him as thoroughly appealing. He seized her wrist.
"Ah... what is this—"
"Stay still. I will make you feel good soon enough."
"Th-this is wrong... Mmph!"
Zeus began doing something that, had Hephaestus witnessed it, would have made him spit a stream of curses while recalling the phrase cultivate oneself, regulate the family, govern the state, bring peace to the world.
"Kuhuhuhuhu! Khehehehehehe!!! I finally killed Hephaestus!"
Keres, goddess of violent death, shrieked with manic laughter. At her side, wicked smiles began to curl across the faces of Moros and Thanatos.
"At last, victory is yours, elder sister!"
"In the end, fate has taken our side."
"Ugh..."
"Damn it..."
"Th-this cannot be... You lot... how could you do such a thing...!"
Thetis, Nerites, and Aphrodite could not hide their frustration at those words. Meanwhile, I — Hephaestus, the deceased party in question — let out a heavy sigh and said:
"...I lost."
With that, I flipped over the card lying face-down on the floor. On it was the figure of a man in black, and beneath him, a single word:
— Thief.
"Kehehehehet! Thus did the Archon, with overwhelming power, sweep away the filthy thieves and bring peace to the polis!"
"As expected of you, elder sister!"
"Justice prevails. That is fate."
"Damn it... If only Thetis hadn't stabbed us in the back right there."
"Sorry, brother. That was the traitor's role, after all."
Keres crowed with genuine, unfiltered delight over her victory at the card game, while Thanatos and Moros diligently fussed over her from either side. The remaining three gods, for their part, could not hide their bitterness at their first defeat. The whole scene was thoroughly bizarre — and yet, as the one who had "copy-created" a board game I used to play in my previous life, I had to admit I felt a small swell of pride.
One thing and another had led to this: the gods of death, having somehow escaped Tartarus, had ended up as something like freeloaders under our roof. They still left from time to time to collect the souls of fairies or humans, but they spent most of their hours here. From our perspective, they had become the kind of friends you always find sprawled around the clubroom whenever you walk in — the ones who fill out the player count for every board game, the ones whose absence would make the place feel oddly dull.
At any rate, leaving them behind with their satisfied post-beta-test expressions, I rose from my seat.
"Hm? Where are you going?"
"I have work. I need to deliver the weapons the Titans requested the other day."
War was a great tragedy in itself — but it was also an opportunity. Over the past year, the Cyclopes and I had devoted ourselves to weapons production and succeeded in fully arming Oceanus's legions. And now, drawing on the know-how we had built up, we were selling weapons to both Olympus and the Titans.
The material was bronze, one grade below the steel weapons our own forces used. Even so, that alone was more than enough for their purposes, and the efficiency was solid — purchase requests still poured in without end. In return we received precious metals, minerals, various foodstuffs, and the occasional batch of prisoners. It was a shame that the concept of currency was still so thin that barter was the best we could manage — but thanks to it, Lemnos Island and our official patron, Oceanus's faction, were enjoying an unexpected wartime boom and an unseasonable abundance.
Besides, whether in my previous life or this one, my true calling had always been blacksmithing. Simply being able to throw myself into my proper trade for once was a pleasure in its own right.
"I will be back."
"I... if anything should go amiss, I could accompany you this time as well, I say."
"It is fine. The delivery point is near the battlefield this time, so it is a bit dangerous. Stay here."
"Hmph... very well, then."
Aphrodite made no secret of her disappointment as she headed back toward the board game still in progress. Lately she had been volunteering to come along more and more often — but even so, taking her somewhere that close to a war zone felt like too much of a burden.
Just as I finished packing and prepared to leave—
"Hmm~ Now this is something I cannot miss."
"..."
Keres suddenly unfurled her wings and flew over. Aphrodite, who had been about to sit back down, scowled and cried out.
"What do you think you are doing? Hephaestus is going to work!"
"I am going to work too, little miss. The souls who die horribly on the battlefield — sending them on to the underworld is this Lady Keres's job, is it not?"
"Kh..."
Aphrodite ground her teeth. Keres casually sidled up beside me. I considered sending her back the way Aphrodite wanted — then thought better of it.
Unlike the almost childlike figure who had been playing board games a moment ago, the woman standing here now held a scythe in one hand, and on her face was the expression of an adult who had just begun her work... the solemn smile of a goddess of brutal death.
"Heheh. Busy day today. You and me, darling. Both of us. Just. The. Same."
"Why, you little—"
"..."
...Or maybe not.