Chapter 72
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 72
Chapter Title: That... The Goddess of Marriage and Family?
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That...
The goddess of marriage and family?
Hera.
Honestly, now that I was living on Greek soil under the name of the Little Hero, she was the one target I had to be more wary of and avoid than any other goddess.
And for good reason. In Greek myths, half of the tragedies and trials befalling the heroes were her doing, with the rest split between the other malicious gods and the heroes' own flawed personalities.
According to Hermes, for some reason, she held quite a favorable view of me. And per Atalanta's account, after my clash with Heracles left me groggy and collapsed...
It was Hera who had dressed Atalanta up like a flower and sent her with an elixir to save my life.
Whether it was a blessing or a grudge, if I'd received something, etiquette demanded I return the favor.
Clearing debts and enmities decisively was a lesson I'd learned deeply over long years—no loose ends.
Once Apollo's business was done, I planned to visit her temple, offering the item I was preparing now as a gratitude sacrifice.
But for the goddess herself—not even a messenger from her temple—to appear like this...
'...Did she come to chew me out for being late with my thanks?'
She'd saved me once and, for whatever reason, actively paired me with Atalanta.
Yet even with such a goddess arriving in person, I hadn't turned around. I'd even launched a preemptive soundwave attack, challenging her to a duel.
And crucially, after my blunder ruined the music and I threw a tantrum, I'd ended up healed by her hand.
'Ughhh...'
Honestly, if there was a rat hole nearby, I'd have crawled into it.
No matter how much this youthful, hormone-fueled teenage body influenced me with its overflowing vigor, this was a bit much.
Going wild with Atalanta in broad daylight was one thing, but since arriving on the island, I'd been subtly swayed by this young form more than I'd like.
And this? This was prime black history material.
Regardless of whether she was a goddess or not, I wasn't some chaste young scholar.
To my benefactor—no, my patron goddess—who'd saved me and personally pushed a fine maiden my way, I'd blatantly unleashed deadly sound arts.
As a human, didn't this cross a line? Self-loathing welled up uncontrollably.
Thankfully, though her face was stern, her eyes held no killing intent or rage.
They seemed closer to admiration or curiosity. I inwardly sighed in relief.
Still, there was reason I couldn't relax my awe and caution.
Having dealt with Artemis and Eris, I couldn't help but think: these Greek gods from myth were just that.
Powerful kids who couldn't fully handle their strength, living a bit longer than humans. That was my impression.
Of course, Nemesis and Hermes were examples that made you think, "Yeah, they're gods."
Even so, they didn't feel like utterly transcendent, insurmountable walls.
But Goddess Hera was on another level entirely.
Queen of the gods. Leader of the goddesses.
The one who openly clashed with the myth's top dog, hurling insults and fury—that explained why she caused so many heroes' woes.
Even Zeus, king of gods and mythical playboy, put up with her barbs yet elevated her as queen and doted on her endlessly. Now I got it.
The moment I turned to face Goddess Hera, what struck me was...
A beautiful noblewoman draped in an aura of elegance and grace, reclining obliquely on clouds as she gazed down at me. And surrounding her flawlessly, pulsing like living beings: enigmatic spells.
'That... just the protector of marriage and family?'
Damn, was it the mythic age?
Were marriage and family some unimaginable high-level magical order or mystic rite?
The Demonic Cult's grand archives boasting ten thousand years of history. All the world's martial secrets.
Even Podalab of the outer sects, the Southern Beast Palace, Northern Sea Ice Palace, Western esoteric Buddhism, European wizards and alchemists' lore.
My realm transcended flesh, reaching soul—etching all those memories into my spirit. Every secret intact in my mind.
Yet even marshaling all that wisdom, logic, and insight, Hera's spells? I couldn't comprehend them; barely trace their principles visually.
Yeah.
Mythic age indeed.
Marriage and wedded life must be some fantastic magic I didn't know—'cause I'd never married.
Definitely.
Otherwise, how could a goddess wielding such monstrous divine power and wisdom casually be just the goddess of plain marriage and home?
Like the shock a biblical prophet felt facing a holy yet bizarre angel atop a high mountain.
That's why angels reassure "fear not" on first sight.
And gods disguise as humans, sneaking up to startle mortals and heroes.
I got it bodily.
'Popping out openly like that would scare most folks half to death.'
As I grew accustomed to that immense presence and my thoughts settled...
A surge of ecstasy and awe from my heart's depths left me prostrating fully before the goddess.
Heaven beyond heaven, earth beyond earth.
The realm my martial brethren and cultists always praised me for reaching—I finally beheld it today.
The pinnacle atop the peak, where all acclaimed no higher climb possible.
Yet in my past life, I couldn't declare it the absolute end.
No matter how I delved, meditated, wandered, learned, cultivated—I grasped neither fully. "This must be it," I thought, beyond lay the next world.
Now, a being from that beyond gazed down at me, manifest before my eyes.
And her very existence proved that world attainable, existent—no matter the time it'd take.
A mythic realm I'd deemed illusory, ungraspable.
For a warrior, a demon such as I, how could I not thrill at its reality?
Even Artemis showed this goddess wasn't born with such power.
Undoubtedly, in primeval times beyond myth or record, something forged her now.
That charisma, pressure, achievement.
Things no naturally "great-born" idiot could possess.
Medals I'd earned through eons of toil myself.
So I bowed deeply, offering utmost respect.
"Queen of the gods. Your disciple, graced by the great sorceress, greets you."
Not blind faith of mortal to god.
As warrior and cultivator, to a senior who'd reached higher realms—for the first time as a junior, I expressed true reverence.
A new type of child, facing her across endless ages.
Fools like Ixion burned with lust for her beauty.
Sycophants knelt before the queen of gods' glory.
Couples sought her blessings for harmonious marriage and home.
Heroes, broken by trials tied to her bloodline, cursed her name.
Yet across endless ages, none...
Gazed at her with longing and respect, envy brimming endless desire. None, assuredly.
Even "great sorceress"?
A cherished title from dim ancient memory, uttered by this black-haired disciple as he prostrated.
"Indeed, there was a time when I, unbound as mere wife, pursued endlessly."
Not that she disdained her current divine station and deeds.
Still, this young hero's worship, evoking free past days, softened her stern face with a spring breeze smile. Inevitable.
"Ahem, strange words, impudent Little Hero. Yet even so, know you aimed Hyperborean sorcery at a goddess—an unforgivable sin?"
Her gut-wrenching, grandfather-chasing husband vanished in dawn winds again.
Fury boiling, she wandered Greece naturally, ending atop Taygetus peak overlooking Heroes' Forest.
Olympus? Just nagging spouse or gods' adultery uproar.
So, airing grievances, she checked her picked young bride and hero-pair from the mountaintop. Incidentally scolded the brash bastard child.
Lazing, peering into Heroes' Forest.
Then, her watched son of night suddenly emerged at midnight with strange instrument, playing under moonlight.
She'd long known his soul unbound to this land.
Melody rivaling Apollo and nine muses—bizarre, beautiful. Hera deeply moved.
Such versatile Little Hero.
Indeed, no playboy husband's blood; Protogenoi-crafted otherworld hero—profound culture. She'd admired.
Startled by her reveal and presence, he attacked with sound-magic. A brow-furrow offense.
Artists rage at interruptions mid-focus—she knew well.
Current Hera had mercy enough to forgive ignorant rudeness.
But the child's boldness knew no end.
Never turning, continuing play: pig or sheep for him?
Nyx's child, perhaps mere madness mercy?
Yet that beautiful, cruel, mystic melody and accompanying otherworld spells filling her breast: not rage, but intrigue and curiosity.
Many forgot, but...
As he'd praised, she birthed all modern mages', witches', alchemists' arts and lore.
If Zeus symbolized might and rule, she held forgotten ancient wisdom, primeval sorcery.
Even yielding that station to focus current duties...
As old witch-mystic heir, curiosity stirred long dormant. With heart once indulging young Ares' whines, she endearingly watched the young heir's tantrum.
Situation calming, Dianes recognizing her—lingering annoyance vanished.
Hera gazed fondly at the young priest, words stern contrary.