Chapter 163
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 163
Chapter Title: Oedipus Operation
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For reference, Ares was currently disguised as a human youth named Marsius, while Poseidon was posing as Netisius, a seafarer from Egypt.
“But is there really any point to the disguises? It’s just tanned skin and some messed-up hair, that’s all.”
“Who else but you would even know what we actually look like?”
“Even so, here, my half-brother spotted you at a glance. Uncle.”
“This Heracles—how could he fail to recognize the ruler of the seas and the king of the battlefield, even if others might?”
Heracles and I had hit it off last night in a drinking contest, then knocked back sobering drinks this morning before the trio of muscleheads came looking for me.
I prided myself on not being some pushover martial artist, but next to these three hulking masses of rippling muscle, I looked downright scrawny.
“Feel good?”
Ares.
“Pardon?”
“I asked if it felt good.”
Heracles.
“Nephews. What kinda question is that? Had to be amazing.”
And finally, Poseidon.
-Kuhahaha!
...Damn it all.
The three giants’ synchronized morning vulgar banter made my head spin.
High-seated gods and eternal heroes in history, yet their antics were straight out of a construction site crew.
I couldn’t even tell anymore if the drink I’d grabbed was grape wine or rice brew.
As the perfectly in-sync trio passed hangover cures back and forth, Poseidon casually slung an arm over my shoulder and topped off my emptied glass.
“Hey, I get nagged nonstop by Amphi day in, day out, so here’s one piece of advice.”
He leaned in close and whispered,
“Don’t make Neri cry.”
If word got back that she’d cried again, he’d show me exactly what happened when his earthquake trident met flesh.
The Sea King, who adored his baby sister to death, glared fiercely and pressed for my answer.
“...Yes, sir.”
“Good, that’s all I needed to hear. Honestly, I’ve pissed off Amphi plenty myself.”
As if that lowered voice had been a joke, Poseidon threw back his head in a hearty laugh and gave my back a light pat.
“It’s an eternal truth: strong males claim beauties. But it’s also a male’s duty to look after every one he’s claimed.”
“Which is why poor warships and fishing boats end up slurped straight into our aunt’s belly.”
“...You know how much Big Bro chews me out over that. Can you shut it?”
They said Amphitrite swallowed four or five ships every time Poseidon’s philandering blew up—just to vent.
Probably referring to the storms her rage whipped up, but based on experiencing her temper firsthand, it felt like a joke with real bite.
“Ah, Amphi says thanks. First time in forever she’s seen her sisters that happy.
Now maybe I can finally get some rest.”
“Even the Sea God goes easy on his sisters-in-law?”
“Young demigod. Try getting hounded by sea nymphs for five hundred years every time you hitch your chariot for a wave ride, blocking your path—you’d feel the same...”
“Half-brother, everything alright with you?”
“We were drinking together up until a moment ago. Lord Ares.”
“Oh, right! More veggies over here!”
“Theseus got the short end...”
“Uncle, it wasn’t just anyone—our dad exiled him and slapped a gag order. Easier to forget if you don’t wanna get lightning-bolted. You guys too?”
“Noted!”
And with Heracles oddly deferential, Ares surprisingly indulgent toward the heckling, it all blended into something like a family sitcom.
‘Come to think of it, that kingly wild boar turned out surprisingly pious.’
Wherever Heracles went, he rose at dawn to pray to the sun, and after every task, he offered sacrifices diligently to the Supreme God and the deity of that domain.
He even played prayer captain, personally calling out anyone skipping their devotions.
And when it came to Ares, god of warriors, he ranked him second only to the Supreme God—so the guy had to be in dreamland right now.
Anyway, just as the grape wine they’d brought for morning sobering was running low, the divine deed quest suddenly popped into my head.
‘Oh yeah. These guys are gods, at least technically?’
I’d forgotten amid all the boozy uncle vibes.
These lushes were peak powerhouses in this world’s pantheon.
Mostly stat-dumped into martial prowess, sure...
Let’s test the waters.
“Um, you two?”
“Yeah? Glass empty?”
“What? More meat?”
“No, it’s not that...”
I casually brought up Oedipus.
Dionysus’s prophecy had him stuck to me, and Dionysus himself had hinted I should handle it well.
I skipped the divine deed part with Heracles there, but the explanation seemed enough.
“D-Dionysus?”
“Of all people...”
“Damn, reeled in a monster before even leaving the woods.”
The moment Dionysus’s prophecy came up, all three blanched and started eyeing me like a poor bastard.
Even god-revering Heracles shook his head—cluing me in on Dionysus’s reputation with them.
“Tough one?”
“Key is what ‘resolve’ even means here.”
Ares, grinning through his buzz, scowled and held up three fingers.
“In this Greece, only three gods issue true oracles. Little brother.”
Prometheus, the chained prophet silent on Caucasus Mountain.
Apollo, who slew Python and claimed the Delphic oracle.
Dionysus, glimpsing the future in drunken rapture.
"Huh? What about Athena and Hermes then, Lord Ares?"
"Good catch, half-brother. Those two? More like calculations or hunches than true prophecy."
"To be precise: Athena doesn’t read or foresee fate—she crunches every scenario in that brain to spit out the most likely outcome.
Hermes... he just picks."
Still, those abilities were genuine divine power, tied to their domains—way more accurate than your average shaman or seer.
“Anyway, our beloved priestly lyre-strummer Apollo’s the famous oracle god, as you know. Prometheus... well, he’s keeping mum right now, enduring our great father’s torment.”
“What the hell does he know that he’s clamming up like that...”
I already knew why Prometheus was silent—a spine-chilling topic—but thankfully, the two gods stayed fixated on Dionysus trouble and didn’t notice.
“Only real prophet god left is Prometheus. That twin bro or the drunk—they just peek over the fence.”
Even so, they did glimpse fixed fates, so while less precise, any prophecy from their lips inevitably came true.
“And Dionysus’s prophecies? Extra dangerous.”
“You bet. Horrific.”
...What’s that supposed to mean?
I knew Dionysus was risky, but this level of disgust?
Heracles looked just as baffled.
“Guy’s a riot when he’s just boozing and partying. But his prophecies? They’re twisted.”
“Twisted how?”
Poseidon rubbed his temple like the thought alone hurt.
“Feels like he sees more than Apollo, sure. But the ways they play out? Way more bizarre and convoluted than Apollo’s.”
“Most oracles are kinda like that...”
Even if warped beyond recognition, the end result somehow followed the prophecy.
Apollo’s at least had some clarity; Dionysus’s were scattershot chaos—yet they always manifested, driving gods and men alike insane.
“Take this: Some guy got a prophecy from Dionysus—‘Your head falls on a moonlit day.’ Happened exactly like that. Guess how?”
Not expecting an answer, Heracles and I just stared at Ares uneasily.
“Truth? Hunter stumbled into Artemis’s procession woods, woke the dozing huntresses—off went his head.”
“You will kill your father, and you will lie with your mother.”
⟨ Dionysus’s Oracle ⟩
That was a Dionysus prophecy.
Absurd. Ridiculous. But it happened anyway.
To me, it sounded like the classic “hang it on nose or ear” dodge, but since oracles worked that way, I had to accept it.
For reference, Apollo would’ve just said: “Don’t enter moonlit woods.”
“Still, Oedipus got lucky.”
“Huh?”
“Why so shocked? Dionysus said there’s a way out!”
If you’d seen that cosmic horror kid up close, you wouldn’t say that...
Anyway, per Poseidon, Dionysus straight-up naming a “solution” and dragging him here was unprecedented.
“If he explicitly mentions a solution, it means your involvement lets Oedipus dodge the oracle somehow—or at least minimize it.”
“Intervening’s your call... but I’d start by digging into the exact oracle he got.”
Oracles hinged on the tiniest words, subtlest metaphors—worlds apart depending on interpretation.
That sparked a faint clue for me.
‘...What if this actually works?’
Might unravel way easier than expected.
‘First things first: the oracle itself.’
“Pardon, but mind if I step out for a sec?”
“Struck gold, huh?”
“Yeah, go on. Gotta keep an eye on this nephew.”
“An honor! O gods!”
Leaving the two gods snapping to Heracles like drill sergeants whipping new recruits, I bolted.
Even at their worst, top-tier gods.
Their take had given me a solid lead.
“Hey! Cosmic horror!”
“Y-yes?! M-me?!”
Finding Oedipus wasn’t hard.
That grotesque cosmic horror skin stood out anywhere.
Passed out drunk from last night? He was slurping barley porridge with the others, so I grabbed him and hauled him to a quiet grove.
“Lemme see... perfect.”
I threw up a quick barrier to muffle sound, then finally put the question to the still-wobbly hungover Oedipus.
“That oracle you got. Recite it word for word.”
“Huh?! S-suddenly?”
Dragged out of nowhere and poked on a sore spot, Oedipus recoiled in shock, but my silent urging made him stammer it out eventually.
“It’s... Pythia passed on Dionysus’s oracle to me...”
"...Kuhk!"
"....."
The most infamous, brutal tragedy in human history—its origin.
Even recalling it horrified him; Oedipus hung his head.
But I just smiled quietly.
Maybe awakening this divine deed would be easier than I thought.