Chapter 230
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 230
Chapter Title: The Aesthetics of the Burning
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From time immemorial, what has been the greatest force behind the collapse of mighty nations?
A colossal enemy state? An unstoppable natural calamity?
Neither.
Any creature that forms a group will band together fiercely to overcome threats from outsiders.
No matter how devastating the disaster, it's impossible to shatter a nation of humans united under one banner unless the entire country is erased from the map.
Human collectives are that tenacious. Human lives, that resilient.
Yet from ancient times, one thing alone has toppled such gatherings of humanity in a single stroke.
Countless kings and emperors have racked their brains to conquer the world since antiquity. The Seven Sages of the Bamboo Grove and the hundreds of schools that followed delved into it.
Compared to that, enemy states and calamities are mere secondary causes.
It is the will of the people.
'The Demonic Cult fools never grasped it, so they rampaged wildly only to get beaten back every time.'
In his previous life, after ascending to the Heavenly Demon's throne, the biggest headache alongside the Guixian Scholar had been the demons' ingrained law-of-the-jungle mindset.
Under the creed that the strong devour the weak, plundering occupied lands and terrorizing the common folk felt utterly natural.
Public sentiment in those territories plummeted in an instant, collaborators with the righteous sects multiplied accordingly, and massive disasters ensued—like the Sichuan Occupation War and the Great Snow Mountains Massacre.
He was just a pathetic 21st-century reincarnator, graced by twelve years of public education, so he had a decent grasp of philosophy and world history trends. He'd torn his hair out over the demons' tendencies.
And sure enough.
Occupations dragged on endlessly, cooperation from locals plummeted day by day.
Then that psycho Jeon Jeon clan gleefully seized the pretext to incite and fabricate lies all the way to the imperial court, forcing them to contend with elite hunter squads like the Taehwang Cheonwi Army.
'After that, somehow brainwashed the Demonic Cult lot, and beforehand, the Guixian Scholar crammed The Prince down my throat until I was ready to drop dead.'
Ack, professor—that's too big, it won't go in.
No, really, it won't fit! No reports'll come out either!
Looking back, those might've been his most peaceful days.
Anyway, the big data amassed through the 21st century, force-fed into his skull by Korean public schooling.
And the rote indoctrination from the sharpest mind in ten millennia of Demonic Cult history, refined to advanced levels.
The fruits of those two educations were now unfolding in Greece's mythic age.
-Wow! Wow!
-Down with the incompetent king!
-Drag out the Olympus-backed sinner!!
A city ablaze with radiant fury.
Pitchforks and sickles thrust skyward.
The masses' roars echoing all the way to Olympus.
Beneath them, the fading screams of corrupt officials.
A textbook scene of popular uprising.
"Kekekekek! This booze hits the spot!"
The nectar from Eris was so damn sweet!
Slaughtering bastards with his own hands was fun enough.
But watching enemies crumble without lifting a finger—crumble through his wits alone—felt like savoring a meticulously crafted domino cascade. A sharp, exquisite thrill.
And the mastermind behind this elaborate setup? Jason.
"Man, that Jason's the real deal. Piecing together this whole play from just the hints I dropped."
A born tactician, heroic in strategy beyond peers.
Theseus had fallen short, but Jason had pierced his intentions, delivering results beyond expectation.
That thirst must've spiked pathologically after glimpsing the Manger Sword earlier.
Time to impart an advanced demonic art to slake it.
'Let's see... He's mastered the Wangryang Sword, so next...'
Ah, right.
His eyes had captured hell itself, his hands forged this infernal canvas.
Infusing the sword's edge with hell's farthest brink now? Plenty meaningful.
His adjutant Idas was outshining him lately, blurring the chain of command. Bridging that gap in one go would fire him up even more.
"Zeus almighty..."
"W-What's all this?"
Unlike him, blissfully downing drinks, Athena and Poseidon—unfamiliar with the sight—stared slack-jawed at the chaos below.
In an era ruled by gods, even a minor kingdom's revolt like this was unprecedented.
"H-Hey, brother. Don't tell me this is..."
Poseidon shot him a horrified glance as he sipped alone.
"Nah, like I'd orchestrate all that."
"Haha! R-Right?"
"I just soaked straw in oil."
"....."
Dried it just right, stacked it in a breezy spot.
That was it.
Jason, reading his intent perfectly, had primed the pyre and lit the blaze.
"Precisely that, brother."
"...Dianes, you?"
"Damn..."
Had he not upended Tegea, Iasos never would've wrecked the kingdom's coffers in terror.
Had he not swept Taygetos's forces bare and disbanded them, Thespian mercenaries would've never set foot in Tegea.
Yet Arcadia's folk would've endured longer, methodical oppression and starvation, forgetting even rage as they withered away.
"What's the point of not raging? What can the rage-less change?"
He loved things that burned like this.
No—living amid such infernos, how could he spare a thought for what refused to blaze?
As he himself had.
As the one he'd loved had.
Only when all ignited themselves, howling amid pandemonium, did his eyes truly gleam.
Thus, he'd forged that sword-wielding huntress beauty—one of the era's greatest heroes.
Thus, he'd set the demigods swarming this age upon the demonic path, unflagging.
In this gorgeous, scorching epoch, he'd stepped forth to ignite all that smoldered lukewarm toward extinction.
-Kaboom!
And in answer, a brilliant crimson halo rocketed skyward.
The mightiest blaze he'd kindled upon washing ashore in this world, wave-tossed.
Beautiful Atalanta's conflagration.
Fierce flames, radiant glory.
Sharing a drink atop the clouds against that backdrop.
"Inspiration flows unbidden."
What a pity he hadn't brought gold.
As he murmured, tilting his cup toward the fray, two gods stared back in shock beyond it.
"Toppling the castle like that? Kindling commoners as firewood for self-immolation... But without ages of festering resentment piled high, it'd be no easy feat..."
"....."
Athena muttered ceaselessly, eyes locked on Tegea's unfolding battle.
Poseidon, by contrast, silently nursed the wine he'd poured, gazing downward wordlessly.
'...What's this?'
Athena was the goddess of strategy; her fascination was understandable.
But Poseidon's gaze gave him pause.
Shock. Astonishment. And...
'Resolve?'
A general's steely determination to steel himself for battle.
And beneath, rage roiling like hellfire.
Such fierce emotion filling the sea god's once-unassailable eyes left him baffled.
'Damn, what depths is this fine sea god plumbing...'
"Here, brother."
"Huh? Oh, thanks."
"Guardian god, please have some."
"I accept with gratitude."
A discreet pour revealed Athena merely stunned by warfare millennia ahead of its time.
"If time permits someday, visit Athens's academy. My generals and scholars—we'd learn much from your knowledge and wisdom."
Her emotion-sparse face alight nonetheless, gray owl-like eyes sparkling as she clutched his hand.
"As expected of a Hyperborean. A wanderer from the sacred realm even Titans revered. Warfare like that lets enemies self-destruct with ally losses near zero. Though it demands prolonged machinations..."
"Enough, Athena. You're overwhelming the lad."
Poseidon patted his shoulder and rose.
"Young god. The pact sealed in Lethe's name shall be upheld rigorously. And Poseidon harbors no private grudge against you or yours from today's events. Should a ship bearing your emblem take to the seas, by my name, I vow peaceful voyages and bountiful passages."
His first impromptu big brother.
The doting father-in-law who'd cherished his youngest sister-in-law like a daughter.
Such had been his impressions of Poseidon thus far.
For all his colossal dominion and peerless martial divinity transcending realms.
Yet Poseidon had always felt less an awe-inspiring entity than a boisterous brother-in-law or easygoing elder.
So why now?
Why did Poseidon—hand on his shoulder, blessing his new realm—loom so vast and fearsome?
"....."
"And personally, I am grateful."
With those words, Poseidon vanished into thin air.
".....Damn."
A first.
Someone's enmity.
Someone's killing intent.
Not aimed at him in this moment—so profoundly grateful.
'Poseidon, what burdens have you carried through those millennia?'
Swallowing the question, he stared blankly at the empty space long after.