The Father Who Loved Humans More Than Anyone
“I shall confirm the quantity. Please wait a moment.”
“Got it.”
As always, Prometheus wore that thin smile while counting the spears and swords packed into the sacks. Through the narrow slits of his eyes, his gaze drifted toward the man checking the empty cart before departure—Hephaestus.
Still… nothing.
This was the third time he had faced the man. Yet neither in the past nor now could he see even a fragment of that one’s future. And it was not only him. The woman called Aphrodite he had glimpsed before, the one named Keres he had encountered by chance on the battlefield… (for the record, when she had laughed, “If you can see the future, you must’ve known this would happen, right?” and yanked his liver out three times)… even Leto, whom he had just seen. Anyone entangled with this man simply vanished from the threads of fate, as though the very corridor of predetermined endings had been smashed to pieces.
Prometheus felt the weight of that mystery, yet for now he kept silent and focused on packing the goods. Curiosity, questions, even the faint possibility of future usefulness—all of it was real. But the uncertain was as dangerous as it was wondrous. In a crisis like the present, an unforeseen variable was worse than none at all. He had no intention of dragging such a risk upon himself, so he resolved to let the moment pass with nothing more than businesslike courtesy.
“Confirmed. Everything is in order.”
“Good.”
With that brief exchange, Prometheus slung the sacks over his shoulder. Then—
“Going well, is it? The work for your ‘children’?”
“!”
A quiet voice brushed his ear. The question carried no particular emotion, yet the mask of perpetual smiles on Prometheus’s face nearly cracked.
“…Haha. Children? Whatever do you mean? I have not even taken a wife.”
“Not that kind. The children you shaped with your own hands. The humans.”
“!”
The words landed like a finishing blow. Cold sweat began to slide down Prometheus’s back, yet he forced his expression into place and let out a light laugh.
“Ha… haha. I truly do not understand what you are saying. Humans…? Yes, by Lord Cronus’s command I fashioned them, but they are no more than livestock—mere creations. In the midst of this war, what possible business would I have concerning them?”
He drew a firm line. Hephaestus finished adjusting the cart and answered quietly.
“Quite a lot, actually. Small things like secretly teaching them to use fire without the high ones’ permission… and large things like this entire war.”
“!”
The man’s words were chilling. Prometheus could no longer hold his usual face.
“D-don’t tell me… you can see the future as well?”
His voice trembled as he offered the best question he could manage. Hephaestus replied in a tone that sounded almost bored.
“Not really. I just thought about it a little.”
“Pardon?”
“Cronus’s closest aide is stirring up war, and at the same time he’s quietly extending a hand toward Olympus. A fellow with no particular grudge—why pull something like this?”
“Th-that is…”
“Only one answer made sense. For the children he made. To open a breathing space for those human kids crushed between the two great pillars of gods and Titans. Am I wrong?”
“…”
He called it simple speculation, yet it struck the exact heart of the matter. Prometheus could only shut his mouth. The secret he alone had known, the one he had guarded so carefully, now lay bare before this man. If the fellow simply told the other “high ones”… of course the boulder already rolling could not be stopped. But a complete overhaul of the plan would become unavoidable—
“Hey. Don’t look so worried.”
“W-what?”
Hephaestus spoke while watching the cold sweat bead on Prometheus’s skin. On his face was a smile Prometheus had never seen before.
“I’ve got no intention of getting in the way of your plan at this point. If anything, I’m rooting for you.”
“W-what do you mean…?”
The unexpected words left Prometheus reeling for an entirely different reason. Hephaestus continued in a calm voice.
“Do everything you can. If you ever need help later, just say the word.”
“W-wait a moment. Why would you…?”
Prometheus was steering gods and Titans toward mutual loss—possibly mutual annihilation. Yet this man, knowing full well, was offering encouragement. Hephaestus met his bewildered gaze and spoke quietly.
“I like humans quite a bit myself.”
“!…”
“Well then. Good luck.”
With that, Hephaestus gave a casual wave and walked away. Staring after him, Prometheus muttered under the lingering haze of confusion.
…Help, he says…
A man of power enough to overturn any number of things, whose future was utterly blank, with whom he had never shared a single meaningful connection in the past. And yet, in that moment, Prometheus felt from those words something that contradicted the harsh reality around them—something that could only be called trust.
Even so, he had no intention of asking the man for aid in this particular matter. According to the arrangements he himself had laid while still able to see the future, the fierce war between gods and Titans would continue for at least another seven or eight years. The inevitable end would be Zeus’s victory. Until then, no other help was needed; simply not interfering was already more than enough. That was Prometheus’s thought.
And then—
“Zeus has fallen.”
“…!?”
Exactly three days later, an emergency summons. The first words he heard there painted shock across Prometheus’s face.
“If Leto’s words are true, there is no reason to hesitate. We begin the full assault on Olympus at once.”
“A-ah, Lord Cronus, what do you mean…?”
The sudden claim from Leto—another being whose future had gone dark—sent the threads of fate twisting violently. Watching the future warp before his eyes, Prometheus’s mind sank into thick confusion.
I may… need help after all… that man’s help…
Prometheus.
Honestly, I hadn’t expected him to show up in person for this deal, but if the chance ever came, I’d always wanted to talk with him at least once. The classic narrow-eyed schemer type—always wearing that slimy little smile that made him look thoroughly unpleasant. Yet separate from all that, he was, together with Epimetheus, another “father” of humanity, and the one being in all of Greek myth who had loved humans more than any god.
So when I pieced together that Prometheus was the true black hand behind this great war, I found myself quietly rooting for him. Father Prometheus, who threw everything away for his “children.” Who cast aside status, endured humiliation, and even while his liver was torn out countless times across endless years, never once broke his resolve to protect humanity to the very end. As someone who had once been human in a previous life—and who, in a way, had benefited from that very love—it was only natural to pay respect to that pure, manly stance.
And with Leto’s information still nagging at the back of my mind, I offered him a measure of goodwill: if anything happened, if he ever needed it, I would lend a hand. Of course I didn’t share his all-consuming determination to protect humanity with every ounce of strength, but I did want to be of some use.
That, however, was as far as my thoughts on humans and Prometheus went. The moment I left Mount Othrys, my mind locked onto one thing only—the story Leto had told me.
Zeus has fallen… what the hell does that even mean…
The king of the gods, the strongest among them. The idea that an immortal like him could be laid low was as absurd as the sun rising in the west. Still, I couldn’t simply dismiss it. If the words were true—and if the Titans learned of it—then in the worst case, the ending of the Titanomachy I knew might be rewritten. The odds were low, but if it came to that, we would have no choice but to prepare.
It might just be empty talk and baseless worry… but I’d better get some contingencies ready.
I was half-skeptical, yet caution never hurt. Besides, Oceanus’s army was due for an inspection anyway; combining training with heightened alertness made perfect sense.
The instant I returned to Lemnos Island, I gathered everyone, explained the situation, and began preparations for the worst.
“War? Is it war? Are those bastards finally going to throw down for real and try to kill each other?”
“Sister, he said it isn’t confirmed yet…”
Keres’s eyes sparkled as she fired off questions; Thanatos tried to rein her in. Their reactions were exactly what I’d expected, so no surprise there. But my little brother Ares’s face clouded with deep worry.
“Worried?”
“Ah… no… I’m… fine, big brother…”
After the spectacular mess he’d caused with Hera, hearing that his father had collapsed as well clearly left him unsettled. He threw himself into the so-called “war preparations” with even greater fervor because of it, yet as his older brother I couldn’t help feeling concerned.
But that concern—
“U-uncle…?”
“Lord Hades?”
“…”
—became reality a few days later when a certain figure arrived on Lemnos Island in person.
“…What brings you here?”
My great-uncle, the king of the underworld, whom I was meeting face-to-face for the first time. He glanced around, hesitating for a moment. Then—
Thud!
“!”