Chapter 114
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 114
Chapter Title: Father-in-Law(?) Poseidon.
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In the Greek mythology of this Mythic Corps, if you had to pick the three strongest gods, it would be the Three Great Gods of Olympus.
The three sons of the previous Titan King Cronus.
Ruler of the Underworld: Hades.
Lord of the Seas: Poseidon.
King of the Skies: Zeus.
The ruler of the underworld? Well, nine times out of ten when you cross paths with him, you're already dead, so there aren't any tales told about him in Pasos or the Heroes' Forest.
But Poseidon and Zeus? Their names never rested in Greece—endless praise and fear, overshadowed by their lecherous escapades that kept the land in constant turmoil.
If you ever caught the eye of the gods of sky and sea, the common wisdom was to assume you'd never sleep easy on Greek soil again.
Praise them or curse them, getting noticed was nothing but trouble. So just offer a modest prayer of thanks whenever you sailed the seas or had some stroke of luck.
That was the standard way to handle the Three Great Gods across Greece.
And there I was, facing one of those Three Great Gods.
The god of the sea and the deep abyss, raiser of white waves, father of horses. The dark-blue-bodied male deity Poseidon gazed down at me as I face-planted into the white sandy beach.
"So. You're confident in your stamina, huh?"
"No, sir!"
"Then what? The protector of sailors has blurry vision or something?"
"No, sir!"
Squatting before him like a drill instructor eyeing a recruit, the 2.5-meter-tall pirate captain—no, the Sea God Poseidon—still looked thoroughly pissed.
Not just pissed. His eyes burned like he might impale me with the trident propped beside him at the slightest slip, leaving my mouth parched.
"Roll left."
"Yes, sir!"
"Roll right."
"Yes, sir!"
"Head in the sand again."
"Yes, sir!"
It was straight out of some naval drill scene, evoking memories of marine boot camp.
How the hell was I doing these familiar rolls in ancient Greece? Utterly baffling.
But I followed the raging Poseidon sergeant's orders without a word. I had no choice.
This was on me. I was the bastard here.
"Huh? Form's slipping?"
"No, sir!"
—Splash!
Seawater sloshing back and forth across my forehead. Salty as hell.
* * *
Three hours earlier.
Sizing up the situation, I kicked off the air and landed on the shore faster than Poseidon's aura could react.
"Hoh...? You wanna go? Got some guts for a man."
He clearly hadn't expected me to shrug off his divine power and drop right in front of him. Poseidon glared as he unlocked his interlocked hands.
—Crack!
Just loosening his fists, and it sounded like rocks shattering.
Maybe I could talk my way out. In my haste, I spoke up.
"Uh, O God..."
[Shut that mouth!!!]
But the furious Sea God wasn't listening. He cloaked himself in massive energy and advanced step by step.
[How dare you! My wife Amphitrite's sister, youngest daughter of the ocean god Oceanus.
A treasure of the seas so precious that even offering all its riches might not earn a glimpse of her face, receiving love beyond her station. And you dare stray with one eye, make tears fall from those pretty eyes!?]
"...Pardon?!"
One eye? Me?
Atalanta, maybe?
No way—I'd bowed my head and apologized over and over. Neri and Atalanta had both accepted it and moved on.
[Huh... This punk really wants to push it. How dare you play dumb!!
Just yesterday at dawn's tide, my youngest sister-in-law came sobbing to Amphitrite's palace—not even her mother Tethys's!]
"Neri... cried?"
[When Amphitrite heard about you from Galatea and went berserk to thrash the scum hurting her baby girl, I held her back because I favored you! And you repay that kindness like this!? You're dying by my hand today!]
The 2.5-meter muscular behemoth surpassing Heracles, beard and hair whipping like waves, was downright terrifying.
But I couldn't dodge. Not after hearing Neri had cried. That one word sealed it.
'Damn...'
Totally unexpected.
Just hearing that tiny girl—barely reaching my waist—had cried hit me like a knife to the chest.
Water seeps into every crack, they say. That white girl trotting at my side in Pasos and the Heroes' Forest had become a bigger part of me than I'd realized.
"Last night... did she cry a lot?"
[You don't deserve to speak of that child to me.]
Last night brought back the fun adult time under the crescent moon with Artemis.
Come to think of it, after shedding my mortal shell yesterday, dueling Heracles, and then messing around with Artemis, I'd dozed off in the tub without properly cleaning up.
'Now it clicks...'
The puzzle fell into place.
Nymphs have that sharp intuition, like a sixth sense. I'd always bathed clean and changed clothes before seeing Neri.
But yesterday, exhaustion made me pass out mid-bath. If she'd come looking and picked up on something on me?
Misunderstanding or not, it was enough to send her crying into the sea.
"...Any last words?"
"..."
Poseidon was upon me now, hoisting a fist like an iron flail. He asked in a low voice.
His simple toga revealed brutal muscles etched with vivid scars, telling tales of his brutal life.
—Gulp.
This wasn't like that immature crescent-moon punk from last night.
Direct descendant of the mightiest Titan, the Great God ruling Greece's seas: Poseidon.
Just like my first encounter with Hera, his overwhelming presence and unfathomable divine power forced a dry swallow.
It felt like the sea itself.
Not calm waters, but the heart of a raging storm with howling winds and crashing tidal waves—an overwhelming force of nature.
Even after reaching unfathomable heights in my past life, nature's raw incarnation still awed me purely.
So this was a true god. I couldn't help but marvel.
"Haha..."
But what chilled me more than that?
The eyes of that natural force, the Sea Lord, blazed with pure fury.
Yeah... the look of a father—or much older brothers—staring down the bastard who made their precious youngest daughter cry.
If this were America instead of Greece, that hand would've held a shotgun, not a trident.
'...Honestly, this is on me.'
Even if I took the three heads and six arms form, flipped mountains with a gesture, drained rivers.
As long as I wasn't a total bastard or beast—but a sentient being with personality or divinity—I was the bastard here.
Dad pissed over his daughter? Brother over his sister?
And if she was my lover, crying her way back home because of me?
If I were the dad or brother, hell yeah, I'd grab the shotgun and finger-flick that bastard's skull.
Someone might ask why grovel to a father-in-law type over indulging in women, staying true to the demonic path.
The color demons who fled the church do exactly that—suck essences from women, calling it the true way.
But as High Priest of the Heavenly Demon Divine Church, incarnation of Asura, let me say this:
One of the church's three great scriptures, the Asura Sutra, states:
Whether taking a woman as wife or concubine, never let tears well in her eyes—the man who does so.
If you have a daughter, whether marrying her off or sending her away, never stand by while tears form in her eyes.
The Lord of Asura Lands sent his daughter, the Four Wisdoms Princess, to Shakra Heaven. But Shakra took her before the feast, bringing tears to her eyes.
Even swallowing the blood and fire of all Asura Lands, his heart tore a thousand shreds, and all spewed forth.
In short:
Demon or not, if you're an ascetic walking the demonic path, make a precious daughter cry, and blood tears will be yours.
Your patron god shed blood tears over his own daughter's tragedy, so you lowly mortal better cherish others' precious daughters.
That's why true demonic sect leaders had warmer marriages than the righteous hypocrites.
Demonic arts don't discriminate by gender—live or die captured by a stronger wife.
'And that goes for me too.'
That white sea spirit filling a corner of my heart pierced even a god-ranked demon with just the fact of her crying—over my carelessness.
"No words then..."
—Rumble!
Power built in his scar-riddled massive fist, the sea raging in response behind him. I made the resolve of a lifetime.
A huge one. Maybe staking my life.
As a demon, as a man, I couldn't atone for making his precious daughter—my sweet young lover—cry with mere words.
The massive fist summoning tsunami and storm blazed before me. I quietly closed my eyes and dropped my arms.
"Hah... Fine. You're not total scum."
Poseidon let out a slight admiring snort, his momentum easing a bit.
Was he letting it slide...?
I was just about to crack an eye hopefully.
"Won't kill you. My youngest sister-in-law would grieve."
"...Pardon?"
Before I could even retort inwardly, an overwhelming blow slammed into my gut.
—Boom!
"Guh?!"
It was a boom.
Not a thud or a bang—a full-on boom.
Not ringing in my ears, but a massive explosion hammering directly through bones and muscles into my skull.
Ah, what was this feeling again?
Right—that psycho Zhuge bastard's cannonball, tongue-lashed into action.
In the chaotic melee, a child-head-sized shot that nailed my gut dead-on.
No real damage then, but the direct explosion had me writhing in pain for the first time in ages.
Similar sensation, but the power? No comparison to a mere cannonball.
"Ex...plosion?"
Not a speck of wasted force. Immense power jammed precisely into my gut.
It rejected flying back to disperse the shock or spreading it into the ground. If not for reaching the extreme yesterday, it'd have burst my organs and shattered my frame.
"Hmph. Sturdy build."
"Urk... Urrgh..."
Felt like a tsunami swallowing my gut, an earthquake flipping the earth—all condensed into one direct hit.
Sinking with a kettle's boil, I met the dark-blue Sea God's glare. His eyes still rippled with rage, but far calmer now.
"Unlike most Greek bastards, you know responsibility."
Snorting, he squatted before my groaning form and met my eyes.
"But the sin of making a sea treasure cry runs deep. Think this squares it? Big mistake."
If his earlier rage was a crashing tsunami, this was the eerie quiet of an ebbing tide on the shore.
And so began the marine drill.
Any whiff of divine power or demonic arts to heal? That trident haunted like a ghost. No qi circulation—just raw body rolling on the beach.
About three hours in a trance.
"At ease."
"At ease!"
The calmer Sea God's voice quietly called me to stand.
Ah, three lifetimes reborn, yet boot camp days etched sharp in my soul.
Biting down on sweat-soaked body and throbbing gut, I stood before the massive Sea God.
"You know your sin is grave and deep?"
"Yes, sir!"
"But considering your lifelong reverence for gods, and your elegant spearwork offered faithfully to a trident-wielding one."
"I'll give you exactly 30 seconds now. Fail to convince me..."
—Huff...
Anger flaring again, he fiddled with his trident, steadying his breath. Then, resolute, he fixed me with a stare.
"I swear by the River Styx: no matter how much my youngest sister-in-law wails later, you'll never see Nesneria's face while alive."
Go.
With those words, I poured out the most desperate, sincere confession of my three lives—straight to the god.