Myth: The Ruler of Spirituality

Translator: 549690339

Having traversed The Earth, Iapetus arrived in the Underworld.

Although, strictly speaking, the Underworld at this time is also a part of The Earth, it feels like a world unto itself, perhaps because it is tightly enveloped by the four Primordial Gods.

No matter where one enters the Underworld, whether from beneath the sea or the center of The Earth, unless they leap through dimensions like ‘spirit realm traversal’, everyone first appears at the edge of the Underworld, a place later guarded by the three-headed hound Cerberus.

Behind the gate lies the River of Sorrow, Acheron, with the Land of Eternal Night and the Realm of Lightness on either side. For anyone wishing to enter the Underworld, crossing the river is the only way.

Of course, at this time, the Underworld had neither gates, nor had the River of Sorrow come into existence.

Carefully avoiding the domains of the two Primordial Gods, the God of Speech stepped onto the gray plains. Of the five great rivers of the later Underworld, only one existed now—the River Styx, which conceptually ‘circled the Underworld seven times’, but in reality stretched from the present world all the way into Tartarus.

Iapetus stopped here, nodding slightly towards the direction of the River of Vows and then waited for a moment.

As expected, after some time, he received no response. But the God of Speech was not angered; he simply continued flying towards the center of the Underworld.

As the goddess who presided over Chaos’ “Prophecy” Law, Styx had been alone in the Underworld since her birth. Even her father, the Ocean Deity Sovereign Oceanus, rarely saw her, so she was among the few deities who had not participated in the ‘legislation’ process.

Despite this, the God of Speech still dared not take her lightly. Once Styx took over the World’s delegated authority over “Vows”, she became one of the rare deities under Chaos capable of increasing the strength of her Godhood on her own.

Witnessing the vows of gods brought her an influx of Source Power from the world, and punishing those who broke their vows provided an additional boost. This strengthening might have its limits, and it might be slow, but at least so far, Iapetus hadn’t seen where its upper limit lay.

Feeling some envy, the God of Speech quickly swept across the gray plains, flying straight toward the Nether Moon in the sky.

As a deity of Weak Divine Power, Iapetus was not fast in flight.

But before he set out, Cronus and the four Wind Gods had given him a temporary blessing, enabling him to travel swiftly between Mount Othrys and the Underworld. So, on the third day after leaving Mount Othrys, he arrived before the Nether Moon.

According to the Goddess of Justice, the Nether Moon was the official gateway to the abode of the Lord of the Spirit Realm. As long as one called out to him here, he would receive the visiting deity.

“Respected Prince Laine, I am the God of Speech, Iapetus.”

“By the Divine King’s command, I bring with me the petitions of the gods, hoping you would grant me an audience.”

Speaking respectfully toward the Nether Moon, which seemed close at hand yet untouchable, Iapetus said.

Unlike the other Titans, the God of Speech had no airs about him. He now placed himself entirely in the role of a ‘messenger’, not planning to utter a word more than necessary.

To convey the will of the gods as it is, and then to return to Mount of the Gods with the reply, that was all he intended to do. The idea of using his Godhood to influence Laine’s decision—such a thing was out of the question.

He had come for the benefit of all gods, not just for himself. When he becomes the Divine King, then he can come ‘to serve the gods’.

“God of Speech?”

After a short wait, a strange female voice came from beside the Nether Moon.

Iapetus turned towards the voice and saw a goddess in a black dress silently appear before him.

The goddess in front of him had wings on her back, and her silver-white wings shimmered with seven different colors of light. A faint aura of divine power surrounded her, indicating that she was a deity close to the limit of weak divine power.

In his heart, the God of Speech knew that according to the Goddess of Justice’s instructions, this must be Liana, the goddess appointed by the Lord of the Spirit Realm to oversee the Nether Moon.

Themis had advised Iapetus not to underestimate the other party, even if she often claimed to be Laine’s servant, but the God of Speech felt that the Goddess of Justice’s reminder was completely unnecessary.

After all, contempt presupposes a sense of superiority, but the reality was that without even fighting, Iapetus knew he couldn’t possibly defeat his opponent—though their divine powers were not much different, the Nether Moon was not something Speech could compare with.

Thus, the next moment, he expressed his reverence without hesitation.

“Respected Princess Liana, Goddess of the Nether Moon that eternally illuminates the Underworld, your beauty is astonishing.”

“I have come here at the request of the deities to visit the Lord of the Spirit Realm and to seek his wisdom about the secrets of creation. Please, would you guide me on my way?”

Liana nodded in acknowledgment of the deity’s greeting, but she showed no intention of opening the gates to the Spirit Realm.

The current Laine was not the same as the one who could not make any prophecies before; shortly after returning to the Spirit Realm, he had already felt the rhythm of fate.

Although he never actively observed his own fate, as the symbol of indeterminate destiny and the observer of what was destined, Laine could always gain some inspiration from fate. The more closely related a matter was to him and the lower the level of power involved, the higher the probability and clarity with which insights appeared.

Undoubtedly, in the trajectory of fate, the birth of creatures on The Earth was extremely important, and the ‘soul’ was involved to a significant degree; therefore, it was only natural that Laine foresaw the visit from Iapetus.

“Regarding your purpose, the master has already been made aware,” Liana calmly said, facing the eyes of the God of Speech: “Merely creating a shell is not enough for a sentient being to possess wisdom. Sentient beings also need souls to carry thoughts and memories.”

“The master can grant souls to the mundane, but as for shaping bodies, that will be something you must figure out for yourselves.”

As her words ended, Liana quietly awaited a response. As she said, Laine had no interest in participating in the preparations for creation. Although he, too, looked forward to life, he would only bestow souls and at most would personally witness the birth of Golden Humanity.

After all, the first generation of life had no ability to reproduce and would eventually die. The gods only wanted to create servants and pets, not a species capable of self-perpetuation.

Even in creating humanity, his intention was more to verify a hypothesis, for the humans of the Golden Age differed greatly from the ‘people’ he understood.

Lifespan of thousands of years, born as adults, an unchanging appearance even in death, and minds seemingly imprinted with only devout faith and positive emotions—apart from their appearance, Laine couldn’t see how such beings were like people at all.

Even from the perspective of ‘human nature’, the deities of Chaos were far closer to ‘humankind’ as Laine understood it than the mortals of the Golden and Silver Ages.