Chapter 166
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 166
Chapter Title: Apollo's Scheme
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All banquets are said to begin at night.
Around the time the drunks staggering from yesterday's hangover were slowly recovering under the protection of Karyklo, the forest's mistress.
Hestia's banquet hall shook with fervor surpassing yesterday's frenzy.
-Kyaaaaah!
-Apoooolooooon!
A resplendent stage, no one knew when it had been built.
Marble pillars and platforms rose high, crossed by golden vines and the sun itself, shining brightly at the center where a god basked in the public's adoration.
"Hahaha! Yes, yes, delighted to meet you. Thank you for coming!"
His hair gleamed like sunlight under the lights, untainted golden blond.
Golden eyes shimmering bewitchingly with passion and rapture.
A beauty that could melt men and women alike in an instant.
The sun chariot's charioteer, leader of the gods' dancers Horae and the Olympian arts troupe Muses, the prophet who slew Python and claimed Delphi's oracle.
And lo, Greece's most popular pretty-boy god!
Beaming benevolently at his fanatic worshippers, he spread his arms dramatically like an actor. That god's name was Apollo.
'Heh heh heh, as expected of the heroes' forest. So many children worthy of my favor.'
The heroes' forest, where thick divine blood made every soul a beauty without exception.
A place where not a single man or woman lacked charm—this was the perfect banquet hall for Apollo, who pursued beauty above all.
'Hmm... Atalanta, was it? I don't see her...'
That beautiful warrior woman who had left such an impression just the other day. Atalanta.
Her red hair, glistening with sweat and passion, would surely entwine most beautifully with his own golden locks.
He'd heard rumors she was lovers with that Dianes fellow, but what obstacle was that?
'Above all, when Greece's most beautiful god offers his grace, what woman would refuse?'
From little girls to grown warriors, married women to beautiful youths.
Apollo brimmed with confidence, having seduced and embraced countless women and men before.
'Her Majesty's watchful eye is a bit concerning... but once she's in my grasp, even Hera won't interfere.'
More than that, seeing that vile Dianes weep as his lover was stolen would soothe his sister, shamed by that wretch twice over.
'Ehehehehe...'
This place was his hunting ground for revenge, glory, and beautiful women.
He'd been mildly surprised by the thug under Ares and Poseidon's protection showing talent in music, but Apollo inwardly sneered at those frivolous, low-class lyrics.
'Shallow! Far too shallow! Why waste your voice on pathetic losers?'
Song should resound for glory and victory.
How could one forget that music's purpose was to perfectly capture it in refined, elegant melodies?
His talent was impressive, sure, but those flighty tunes and vulgar words made Apollo shake his head.
'Don't think me too cruel, young and arrogant demigod.'
His martial prowess aside, that artistic soul had far to go. Guiding him through heartbreak and repentance to the righteous path...
That was surely his divine duty. Hiding such dark intentions behind a radiant smile, Apollo surveyed the crowd.
The mood was perfectly heated—now was his time to shine.
Savoring his devotees' cheers, Apollo bellowed.
"Come! Let us begin! In the name of this Apollo, those who would offer beautiful melodies to the gods and heroes, ascend the stage at once!"
First came the obvious: his son Orpheus.
Silver hair swaying calmly against his father's gold, he stepped onstage and bowed politely to Apollo, his father and guardian god.
"It's been a while. Apollo."
"Who is this? My proud son, Orpheus!"
Word was, his son—rival to that ugly satyr Marsyas and famed across Greece as the next great musician—would share the opening stage with him.
Born of the beautiful Muse Calliope, Apollo had long eyed his musical gifts. To meet him grown like this...
"No more words needed. Let's play."
"Yes!"
Overjoyed, Apollo sat with his son and plucked the lyre. His melody shone like clear sunlight, joined by the duo's performance like golden waves dancing beneath it.
The boisterous crowd below fell utterly silent, remaining so until father and son finished.
-𝆕𝅘𝅥𝅮...
How long did the performance last?
Olympus's glory and Greece's radiant vistas unfolded before their eyes. Silent rapture toward the music god and Orpheus, now a master musician, soon erupted.
-Woooow!
-Clap clap clap clap!
Gods drifting amid trees and winds cheered wildly, the crowd below roared.
Even gods and goddesses in mortal guise couldn't hold back admiration. Dionysus, yielding the spotlight to his brother and stepping back, joined the cheers, passing wine around.
"I've cleared a throne in my golden temple for you!"
Apollo's golden temple on Olympus.
Clearing its throne for Orpheus meant Apollo vowed to prepare him a seat among the gods when he shed his mortal coil.
Moved by his bloodkin's growth, Apollo praised him thus. Orpheus bowed deeply in gratitude, as many celebrated the new maestro passionately.
Performers and dancers followed, showcasing before the god of arts, but none drew cheers like Orpheus's opener. All acclaim returned to Apollo.
'Yes, this is it!'
He took all the cheers, devotees their frenzy for him, the lacking their lessons from him.
The rightful center of worship, glory, praise, attention, and fervor.
That was midday's sun warming Greece, the foremost charioteer of the golden chariot—Apollo's place.
Intoxicated by the rare adulation from so many beauties, Apollo smirked at the next participant.
'Oh, a satyr again, you?'
Satyr Marsyas.
How vulgar and lowly a race.
Not even qualifying as human, lacking centaurs' brute strength, sirens' or harpies' flight or beauty.
Just ugly creatures trailing Dionysus, screeching tuneless howls and stumbling in drunkenness.
To Apollo, who craved only beauty for eyes and ears, satyrs were unforgivable abominations by mere existence.
'And yet, you dare judge music against this Apollo?'
That such a loathsome satyr had built fame rivaling his own, teaching young demigods in this forest?
'Even after kindly warning you to know your place and never utter my name again.'
His mercy had taught gently until now.
Yet here it reared its head once more.
'But your folly ends today.'
The sun god's golden eyes didn't miss the black flute in the satyr's hand—far too exquisite for those grubby fingers.
"Now, introduce the next participant, Marsyas! My dear friend! Come onstage."
"Yes, Lord Apollo! An honor!"
Apollo's mood twisted at the filthy-haired satyr climbing onstage.
Yet he stifled a sneer, eyeing the obsidian flute in the clown's grasp.
'Keh heh heh, fool. Figured a "musician" like you would snatch it up.'
Recently, he'd seduced a nymph at the heroes' forest instrument shop to hand over that obsidian flute.
Beautiful outside, ridiculously cursed within—the flute reaching Marsyas was all Apollo's scheme.
"Shall we begin? Will you lead?"
"If Apollo permits."
Lead.
Meaning he'd direct this duet.
The crowd cheered in surprise at what seemed Apollo's endorsement. He smiled in feigned admiration, inwardly scorning the ugly monster soon to be shamed into suicide.
'...Insolent goat. When the music ends, you'll weep blood and rue your hubris.'
Next up: that irritating Dianes.
With the scheming sun god's lyre in accompaniment, beautiful notes flowed from Marsyas's flute.
-𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝆕~
Unlike Pan's rustic syrinx tones, this divine instrument born of a goddess produced fantastical sounds.
Like scorching midday sun blazing crimson into beautifully descending dusk.
As if depicting the sun chariot's journey in music, the crowd hushed like with Orpheus. Only flute and lyre echoed.
"...Whew."
"Hm..."
The performance ended. As all assumed Marsyas the duet's star.
Apollo's eyes bulged.
"Such blasphemy!"
-Crash!
"Huh?"
In lightning speed, Apollo's sword shattered Marsyas's flute.
Marsyas's eyes filled with horror. Others gasped in shock. Apollo raged at the crowd.
"Behold! The insolent sinner! Who dares profane this musical contest with Athena's divine instrument, not his own power—this vile beast! Let this trash be a warning to all artists' souls..."
-Thwack!
Fury incarnate as Apollo denounced Marsyas.
But that rage was cut short by a fist slamming into the sun god's perfect face.
"Guh?! Who dares...!"
"......"
Fierce god of malice.
That four-letter summary: pitch-black fury, glaring at the sun with unrivaled wrath.