The Sage of the Deep Forest (3)
“So, you came back here believing that nonsense?”
“Hah, but... if that’s not it, I can’t make sense of why the ancient gods have vanished!”
“Maybe they’ve got their own troubles keeping them busy! How is it that a guy with a quick wit like you has such thin ears for rumors?”
Hermes had no choice but to bow his head under Zeus’s sharp rebuke.
The sage’s words had sounded plausible enough at the time, but the only concrete evidence he’d offered was the absence of the ancient gods. There was nothing else to back it up.
Or perhaps Hermes had simply been overwhelmed by the sage’s enigmatic appearance and aura, letting himself be swayed.
“But it’s still a fact that the ancient gods have gone into hiding, isn’t it? If what that sage said is true, wouldn’t the Aesir or the Ennead show some kind of movement by now? Father?”
“You...!”
Just as Zeus opened his mouth to bellow at Hermes’s excuse, a young goddess standing beside him spoke up.
“Father, please calm your anger. Hermes’s words do hold some possibility.”
“Hmph... Athena. What do you think?”
“It’s too early to draw conclusions with the clues we have... but something about that sage raises suspicions.”
“Suspicions?”
When Zeus pressed her, Athena nodded.
“Yes. From what you told us before about the incident at Baal’s temple...”
“Athena. Don’t bring that up.”
At Zeus’s firm command, Athena paused for a moment before continuing.
“I investigated the god who did that deed. There was only one deity matching that level of power and description.”
“You mean...”
“Yes. The Life Goddess.”
Zeus rubbed his neck. On what should have been flawless skin, a scar from being decapitated remained etched there.
He’d reattached his severed head, but there was no erasing such a mark.
“A god who could slice the neck of Father—you, one of the mightiest among us—in a single strike... Aside from the Life Goddess, said to be the pinnacle among the ancient gods, who else could it be?”
The Olympian gods who bore names granted by her nodded in agreement. Those born in the 300 years since her disappearance merely tilted their heads, unfamiliar with her.
“I can’t say why a goddess who’d secluded herself in her temple for 300 years appeared at that exact moment... but if the sage’s words are true, it all fits together.”
“Hmm...”
“So, let’s assume the sage’s words are true and proceed from there.”
Zeus nodded at Athena’s suggestion.
“The Life Goddess may be greatly weakened now, but her inherent strength is undeniable. If she were to punish the gods... they’d have no choice but to submit helplessly. Her power alone overwhelms them, and besides, 300 years ago, she was the one who named them.”
“Names... I see.”
The gods she had named nodded again. A true name for a god was proof of their existence, a word brimming with immense power.
If the Life Goddess used those names to threaten them... those who bore them would be unable to resist her.
“But on the flip side, these rumors and the sage’s existence... might suggest she’s granting us a brief reprieve through the sage.”
“A reprieve?”
“Yes. With the king of the gods she appointed gone, she wants the others to take responsibility and restore him to his throne. Something like that, perhaps.”
Zeus sank into deep thought at Athena’s words.
A reprieve. Why would the Life Goddess give the gods any leeway?
Why had she sliced off his head right there in front of Baal’s temple amid their scuffle?
Why go through this roundabout trouble instead of punishing them directly?
“Indeed... the key lies with the king of the gods, Baal, and life itself.”
“Yes. She’s the one who crowned the king of the gods, after all.”
Zeus and Athena nodded in unison, as if reaching the same conclusion.
“She has more than enough power to punish the gods directly, but doing so might sacrifice countless lives...”
“So she hopes the gods holding Baal’s fragments will kill each other to revive the king of the gods.”
As Zeus and Athena spoke, the expressions of the other Olympians grew tense.
It wasn’t total annihilation—they could avoid that much, at least—but it meant war with the other gods.
“Still... there’s something that bothers me.”
Athena spoke up again.
“What bothers you?”
“Yes. The other gods... especially Odin.”
At the mention of Odin, Zeus clicked his tongue briefly.
That one-eyed braggart who lived off his own cleverness. Always spouting cryptic nonsense and acting superior.
If not for his equal power... Zeus would have found any excuse to blast him with lightning.
“Odin is a wise god. He couldn’t have failed to reach the same conclusion as us.”
“True. The bastard’s got a sharp mind. But the rumors say he’s despaired and holed himself up?”
The Aesir were trying to suppress the rumors as best they could, but what could a bunch of muscle-headed fools do without Odin?
The news had already spread to any god with half-decent ears.
“That’s what concerns me most. Odin... I hate to admit it, but his wisdom is the greatest among all gods.”
Athena’s worry was well-founded.
Odin. The wisest god. He’d sacrificed an eye for knowledge so vast no ordinary god could endure it.
Without that wisdom, the Aesir would never have united as a faction—they’d have torn each other apart and vanished.
“For even Odin to despair and shut himself away... means there might be something we haven’t considered.”
“Something we’re missing...”
Zeus stroked his chin, lost in thought.
What had they overlooked?
What had driven Odin to despair?
What was the shut-in Odin plotting?
“Hermes.”
“Yes, Father.”
“Go to the Aesir. We need to find out why Odin’s holed up.”
“I can get there easily, but... they won’t tell me anything.”
“Then relay this: Zeus himself will come.”
The Olympians gasped in shock.
Zeus visiting the Aesir? It had never happened before.
And if a chief god like Zeus showed up, the Aesir would have to send one of their own rank.
The shut-in Odin would have no choice but to emerge.
“Understood. I’ll head to the Aesir. But what about the Ennead and Lokapala?”
“We’ll watch their movements for now. The Lokapala’s intentions are inscrutable, and the Ennead are always scheming to swallow us whole...”
Zeus recalled Amun, the Ennead’s leader.
They’d clashed constantly, being relatively close.
If war was inevitable, as the Life Goddess desired... Amun would be the first to fall.
“Just in case, Athena, you go see that sage separately and talk to her. Unlike Hermes, your wisdom might draw out more useful information.”
“Yes. Understood.”
With that, Zeus watched Hermes and Athena leave the Olympian council chamber.
“Now, no matter which way it goes... troubled times lie ahead. Everyone, prepare yourselves. Especially you, Hephaestus. Your role is crucial. Forge enough weapons to arm all the gods.”
“Ah, got it. But what about materials?”
“Handle that yourself. Don’t you have suppliers? If you need more faith, just say so.”
“Th-that’s... the materials came through the dwarves, but trade stopped when the ancient gods vanished.”
Zeus tsked in irritation at Hephaestus’s words.
“Then make do with what you have, or confiscate from other gods. Or melt down all those bronze statues!”
“Ah, understood.”
Hephaestus limped away, and Zeus waved the others off before clutching his throbbing head.
War. War, is it?
Olympus had plenty of gods and several war deities—they wouldn’t be overrun easily.
But the losses would be immense.
What was that sage, to cause such headaches?
If the Life Goddess truly lurked behind him, plotting the downfall of all gods... could Olympus endure?
Could he protect the sky’s power and authority that made him who he was?
Zeus rubbed his aching head and sighed.
Why was the Life Goddess stirring up such trouble?
Was she still resentful of the other gods who’d abandoned their king?
She’d done nothing for 300 years—why now?
Zeus sighed again, his fingers tracing the throbbing scar on his neck.
