Myth: The Ruler of Spirituality

Once Hestia had finished speaking, Prometheus couldn’t help but praise her. The gods nodded in agreement, recognizing it as a great idea, but Hades, who had been silent, expressed a different opinion.

“My sister, your idea is commendable, but how do we measure the proper degree here?”

“Unless mortals stand directly before us, we simply cannot judge to what extent a particular human is devout or faithless. Nowadays, the power of the deities on Earth has been limited.”

“Moreover, if a devout human is willing to sacrifice everything for the gods and asks for divinity to achieve eternal life, is that equivalent?”

“For mortals, he has given up everything. But to the gods, no matter how devout a person is, he could never equate to divinity.”

The great hall fell silent once again; it had to be admitted, the words of the King of the Underworld made sense.

The divinity that grants eternal life to a being is trivial to a god. But the divinity that grants eternity to a hundred people would injure even the Principal God’s mighty divine power.

“Lady Themis.”

In the silence, the Divine King spoke.

“You are the arbiter of justice, the overseer of righteousness, so I hope to invoke the power of the Golden Scales to make a judgment on this matter.”

“I have no objections,” said the Goddess of Justice, nodding. “But even the Golden Scales cannot measure the magnitude of faith, this wondrous power seems beyond the influence of a Divine Artifact.”

“Thus, if you wish to place ‘human devotion’ on one side of the Scales, you would need something more representative of devotion.”

The Divine King furrowed his brow, hesitating. If faith itself was immeasurable, and the gods could not personally sense it in the Mortal Realm one by one, how could they come to know the purity of a mortal’s faith?

“Then let’s measure it by the sacrifices they offer to the gods,” Prometheus suddenly proposed. “If a person is willing to offer more to the gods than what he keeps for himself, then such a person must be devout.”

“For such devout mortals, it is only natural for the gods to respond, to encourage more humans to learn from him.”

“Not bad.”

Zeus’s expression relaxed, finding the idea reasonable.

This was the gods’ first venture into the realm of faith. Lacking experience, they could only attempt to navigate it as best as they could.

“Let it be so. Those who believe in the gods shall be rewarded according to their level of devotion. The non-believers, meanwhile, shall be left to their own devices.”

“As the Divine King, I make my promise here first: for those who believe in me, there is little I cannot grant. What mortals can gain from me solely depends on the degree of their devotion.”

Zeus made his promise first, cautiously avoiding specific commitments. As the guardian of oaths, his words naturally held sway.

This deliberately vague phrasing was also to his benefit, allowing him to adjust his approach according to the situation.

“Then I shall permit the devout to kindle flames. The Authority of Guardianship shall henceforth accompany the fire, keeping the calamities of the world at bay.”

Hestia followed with her promise, and though her Authority of Fire concerned only the material act of burning, the Guardianship could endow it with additional meaning.

After her sister had spoken, Demeter also added,

“Then I shall grant them evergreen fruit trees, which will never wither, forever safeguarding them from hunger.”

Even if they could not exercise divine power in the Mortal Realm, such applications of authority on a grand scale could still be accomplished at Mount Olympus. Demeter believed that, compared to other things, mortals placed a greater significance on sustenance.

Seeing the three deities set an example, the other gods also made promises one by one to attract human worship. After all, just as the Forethinker had said, oppression only led to superficial obedience. If there was no genuine devotion from within, humans’ daily prayers would hardly generate the Power of Faith.

“Very well, let it be decided so.”

With a smile, as everything concluded, the Divine King looked around at the gods, and his gaze finally rested on Prometheus.

“Son of Iapetus, go. Return to the beings you have created, to proclaim the greatness of the gods to them. I believe you will do well in this endeavor.”

“I honor Your will.”

Prometheus was also satisfied; he had foreseen the bright future of humanity. As the gods bestowed their blessings one after another, humans were destined to become the leaders of all spirits. So, he left the Mount of the Gods and flew towards the mortal realm.

The gods dispersed, yet Zeus still lingered in the great hall.

Despite all he had done that day, the Divine King was simply going with the flow.

His concern for the faith of the Bronze Humanity was not as great as he had shown. Since it had caught the attention of the other deities, he might as well have called them together.

After all, among those present, only he, wielding the authority of the Divine King, had sensed the Forethinker’s strength growing almost every moment.

Although this was also related to his own weakness in divine power, such a rate of increase was still too fast.

“Prometheus… what you said is correct, true faith is like a child’s love for a mother, not born out of fear but of adoration. But tell me, what kind of gift would lead children to forsake their parents and turn to worship other beings?”

Muttering to himself, one who could betray their parents could easily betray others; such a person cannot truly hold faith. Perhaps immense benefits could compel them to believe, but Zeus was not willing to pay that price. Therefore, he did not bring up the creation of women until the meeting had concluded.

Because if even women were to be created, allowing the Bronze Humanity to continue on, who would be the greatest beneficiary of faith—him or Prometheus?

“In one or two hundred years, at most three hundred years, humans who cannot procreate are quite limited. Even if Prometheus has left behind some materials for creating more, he can at most make another round. After some years, I’ll find a reason to get him to finish it.”

“The next generation, I will let humans, with the help of gods, create themselves. That way, a creator who can die will no longer be a creator.”

Having made his decision in secret, and thinking of the next generation of humans, the Divine King suddenly had a brilliant idea.

He reached out and touched the space around him, and an invisible network emerged. Elements were bound by the network, moving along specific trajectories. By plucking the corresponding ‘strings,’ different elemental changes would unfold in the material world.

That was The Magic Web. In the past, out of curiosity for witchcraft, Zeus had already researched it, and indeed, The Magic Web had never refused anyone’s use.

But ultimately, the Divine King came to a regretful conclusion: These elements were of little use to gods. Even if divine power were combined with it, it would only become a weakened force—a diluted energy possessing only some characteristics of divine power.

However, in the current world, Zeus suddenly realized that being weaker than divine power might not necessarily be a bad thing.

“… There’s no rush.”

“There’s no need now. There are too few humans; it’s not yet time for the gods to carve out their domains among humans. Wait for the next generation. When they spread across the earth, that’s when they will really be needed.”

“Simple gifts are not enough. Those who believe in me should also be able to pick up swords and fight for my glory in the mortal realm.”

Gripping the armrest of his throne tightly, Zeus knew that so-called ‘shared’ faith could never last. Just as one who obeys several rulers is surely disloyal, unless humans were like the Golden Humanity of old, those who believe in several gods will likely not be very devout.

When that time comes, and the number of humans is sufficient, this division will inevitably occur. And as the Divine King, as long as Zeus did not strike first, the moral high ground would always be on his side.

If his followers could kill the followers of others, he could blame it on the spontaneous actions of mortals. If any deity sought to intervene, the Divine King could then stand on moral ground to stop them.

A sword in one hand, grace in the other, with the sword wielded by mortals and the grace bestowed by deities—that was Zeus’s ideal mortal realm.

“Soon.”

“In a few hundred years, Mother Earth should still not have awakened.”

Speaking softly, the Divine King was making plans in secret. Of course, the other gods present at the meeting also had various ideas of their own.

The Forethinker returned to the mortal realm, teaching the newly born humans all kinds of knowledge. Hades returned to the Underworld, watching the wraiths worship the Nether Moon in silence. Poseidon pondered deeply, trying to obtain some humans for himself in the future. Near the place where the Bronze Humanity was born, a silhouette slowly approached.

Perhaps for the current world, the succession of the Divine King signifies a change in the era. But for Chaos, maybe now is just the beginning of the third era.

All myths began from this moment, whether real or fabricated, left for posterity to discuss. And the even more distant past has been buried in the river of history by the disasters of the changing era, leaving behind only fragments of words, difficult to speculate and discern.