thebusnovel Chapter 339, Section 338: The Slavery of the Gods
Chapter 339, Section 338: The Slavery of the Gods
Chapter 339, Section 338: The Slavery of the Gods
It wasn't just the sun god's fear that was of the raven.
Zeus's fear was also that of the raven.
of course.
Although he could empathize with the sun god, Zeus still felt somewhat embarrassed to admit it, so even though he had already compromised in his heart.
But on the surface, they still have to put on a show.
Lightning swirled beneath their feet, while the stars watched silently from afar.
"Don't challenge my authority."
Already suspicious of Kratos and the prophecy of Ragnarok, Zeus grabbed the sun god tightly, glared at him with his white-glowing eyes, and whispered a warning in the sun god's ear.
In this regard.
The Sun God was somewhat worried, but still offered a word of advice.
"You know, he never truly leaves," the sun god whispered. "If we slaughter these mortals, he will surely seize the opportunity to fly back."
"And this time, we don't even know what he wants. He may very well use this opportunity to launch another attack on us, and perhaps those civilians are just tools he's using to lure us into giving him a reason to attack."
have to say.
The sun god's analysis did indeed pinpoint Zeus's suspicions.
His concerns were the same concerns of Zeus.
Silence spread between the God-King and the Sun God. In the distance, the surviving humans helped each other to their feet. Some began to build makeshift shelters with rubble, while others wiped the daggers they had found on the corpses—there were no prayers, no weeping, only a silent resolve unfamiliar to the gods.
"You're right, we can't let the ravens succeed."
After much deliberation and finding a way out, Zeus finally loosened his grip on each finger. The phantom of the Sword of Olympus dissipated into golden specks of light.
"My child, you seem to have become cowardly," he finally said coldly, turning away as his white robes billowed like thunderclouds. "But today,"
I allow your cowardice.
This is just the final act, a final show of bravado.
"As long as Olympus exists, we will forever hold the reins of power." Zeus's voice was deep yet firm. After he finished speaking, he said no more, and with a tremor, he transformed into a giant eagle that blotted out the sky.
Its wings spread, whipping up a gale, lightning flashing between its feathers. A long cry pierced the night sky, and the giant eagle soared into the heavens, piercing through the clouds.
They sped off toward Mount Olympus in the distance.
"We control the rules, but we've controlled them for far too long."
The sun god watched the departing figure, the sun's light dimming slightly. He knew this wasn't a compromise, but a weighing of options—the fear of the raven ultimately outweighed the tyrant's rage.
High in the sky, beyond the reach of the clouds, a jet-black raven circled silently, its silvery-gray right eye reflecting the ant-like busy humans on the ground, and... the hastily receding thunderclouds on the horizon.
It tilted its head.
It let out a clear, mocking cry. Ian was also flying, following Zeus, and he was tailing him, but his target was not the island girl but the king of the gods.
In this regard.
Zeus felt a chill run down his spine.
He increasingly felt that the Sun God's speculation made sense, but he dared not turn around to question him. He could only hope that the other party still needed his help, so he pretended not to notice and flew all the way back to his lair.
The abode of the gods.
Mount Olympus.
Raven wings swept across the clouds, and Ian circled high in the sky, his silver-grey right eye reflecting the magnificent palace atop Mount Olympus. He knew that behind that dazzling golden light, countless eyes were fixed on him—the thunderous eye of Zeus, the jealous gaze of Hera, and the cunning watchful eye of Athena.
"How enthusiastic," Ian chuckled, tilting his wings slightly as he glided towards the north side of the mountain range. He knew his every move was under the watchful eyes of the gods, but as long as he didn't directly trespass on the sacred mountain, Zeus wouldn't openly provoke him for the time being. After all, that eagle knew better than anyone that pushing a raven too far would come at a price.
"What are they afraid of?" Ian deliberately slowed his pace, a hint of amusement flashing in his silver-grey eyes. "Afraid I'll steal their Golden Apple? Or... afraid I'll destroy their lair again?"
Ian is not a demolition team leader.
Therefore, he was no different from frightening the gods and destroying their new home.
"I have my own purpose in coming here."
A cold wind howled, and Ian's thoughts raced.
He needed the heart of a god, but living Greek gods obviously wouldn't donate voluntarily, so he was actually just planning to look around Mount Olympus to see if there were any dead gods.
Ian could dig up a corpse and get the heart of a god—Zeus would definitely not give it to him, as it would touch a nerve with Zeus, so Ian would have to find it himself.
What?
Kratos dead?
Kratos? He was no longer a god. Even though he had killed countless gods, even annihilating the Olympian gods, his divinity vanished when Zeus stripped him of his divine power and reduced him to mortal.
Therefore, Kratos's body, having lost its divine power, can no longer be considered a divine body, so Ian naturally could not possibly rip the heart of a god from Kratos's body.
"I need to find out where the tomb of the god is."
He flew around Mount Olympus, looking down upon this sacred land from high above. The wind blew from all directions, carrying the lingering scent of the burning temple.
This is where the gods live, so the environment is naturally beautiful. However, Ian isn't the type to appreciate scenery; in this ancient world, he's just a heartless task machine.
I want to go home as soon as possible.
We need to get female Tyrannosaurus Lyle as soon as possible.
Ian flew and flew and flew, circling around Mount Olympus. Seeing that Ian had not violated Mount Olympus, Zeus, who had returned to his dwelling, finally breathed a slight sigh of relief.
"What exactly is he looking for?"
At the summit of Mount Olympus, all the gods gathered.
They stood atop the mist-shrouded temple, looking down at the solitary and eerie figure below—a raven—circling among the mountains in the night.
Sometimes it flies low, sometimes it stops; anyone with eyes can see what it's looking for.
"What is that?" Hephaestus spoke first, his voice filled with doubt and wariness. "It's been flying around here for quite some time."
"It's Ian," Athena replied softly. "He's disguised as a raven, searching for something."
"What is he looking for?" Hera frowned. "Is another war of gods about to break out?"
"It doesn't seem like it." Apollo shook his head. "He has no intention of attacking; he's just—wandering around."
"What exactly is he trying to do?" Dionysus muttered, "wandering around like a carrion crow."
After these words were spoken, everyone fell silent for a moment.
Athena's eyes suddenly lit up, as if she had caught some crucial clue.
"Perhaps—to put it bluntly, he's just a crow," she said slowly. "Crows are scavengers, aren't they?"
"What do you mean?" Hermes asked.
"He's looking for a dead god," Athena said firmly. "He's looking for a grave."
Upon hearing this, the gods' expressions changed drastically.
"You mean—" Poseidon's voice trembled slightly, "he's looking for Ares's grave?"
"If I'm not mistaken, he has already sensed the existence of that sealed place." Athena nodded. "There is the oldest seal there, and it is also the only place where the God of War who truly died rests."
"But that's a forbidden place!" Hera roared. "Even we rarely mention it!"
"But he's different." Athena gazed at the raven in the distance. "He can sense the traces of fate and find forgotten corners."
Zeus, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke: "Why are you helping him?"
Athena glanced at him and said calmly, "I didn't help him; I just helped him avoid some detours."
She raised her hand and gently touched it. An invisible divine power quietly descended, like the first ray of light in the morning, guiding the raven to fly towards that forgotten valley.
From Ian's perspective.
Suddenly, a gentle breeze brushed against his wings. The breeze came unexpectedly, carrying the fragrance of olive leaves, and gently guided him toward the southeast.
Ian narrowed his eyes—it was Athena's divine power.
"Interesting." He flew off following the wind's guidance. "Is the goddess of wisdom showing me the way?"
A gentle breeze carried him to a secluded valley.
Here lie the fools of war.
Not a blade of grass grows here; the black rocks are covered with scorch marks from lightning strikes. And in the center of the valley, stands a giant stone coffin bound by chains.
A line of faded divine script was inscribed on the coffin lid. The raven seemed to sense something, and suddenly swooped down, disappearing into the darkness.
The gods' gazes followed.
Ares?
Ian landed on the ground and returned to human form.
The black robe stood out starkly in the desolate valley.
He walked slowly toward the stone coffin, his fingertips lightly tracing the rusty iron chains. "Ah... my dear warmonger, it seems your family couldn't even be bothered to give you a decent tombstone."
These words were spoken.
Zeus changes his expression.
However, it did not flare up.
The chains turned to dust the moment they touched Ian's fingers. With a heavy thud, the coffin lid slid open, revealing what was inside.
Ares's body was remarkably well-preserved. The former god of war was scarred, but at least he wasn't missing any bones or limbs, and when Ian transformed into a raven and used his beak to poke open the corpse's chest, he saw a fresh heart—although it was unknown how long he had been dead, a god's corpse was still a god's corpse.
"Zeus is truly ruthless." Ian crouched down to examine him closely. "He not only killed his son, but he even wants to seal away his divine essence..."
Are these blood crystals preventing his resurrection?
He reached out and touched the crystals, immediately sensing a familiar, tyrannical aura—it was Kratos! These crystals contained the rage of that Spartan ghost; no wonder they could suppress the god of war's divinity.
"The product of fathers and sons killing each other...?" Ian said thoughtfully, "But that's not what I want."
His palm plunged directly into Ares's chest cavity.
The heart was removed.
At the same time, a crimson light rose in the valley—the remnants of divinity. The gods who had been watching the raven were, of course, already aware of this.
"He's found him," Athena whispered.
"He took the heart," Apollo murmured.
Zeus pondered for a long time, and finally sighed, "It seems we underestimated this mortal."
"What exactly does he want to do with these materials?" Hermes couldn't help but ask.
"Alchemy," Zeus said slowly, "or something even more ancient. He's gathering items needed for some kind of ritual."
"Should we stop him?" Hera pressed.
"No need," Zeus shook his head. "He's not here to destroy us. At least not yet."
He looked at Athena, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes.
"You're smarter than them," he said calmly. "Complete his demands sooner rather than later, see what he's really up to, and we must get rid of this plague."
Athena nodded slightly.
"I will."
She made a promise to the great God-King.
Under the watchful eyes of the gods.
The raven took flight again from the valley, its wings outstretched, cutting through the night. It didn't linger, but flew straight into the distance, disappearing among the stars.
On Mount Olympus, the gods still stood, silent.
The wind rises, the clouds surge.
The storm has not yet arrived, but the gears of fate have already quietly begun to turn—Ragnarok has long since begun, and a civilization will fall when its leader loses the qualities it should have.
The night was as dark as ink, and the stars hung low.
Ian transformed into a raven and soared into the distance. He knew he had entered the sights of the gods, and Zeus would not easily let his attention pass. However, all he could do now was wait—wait for the king of the gods to fulfill his promise and deliver the remaining two items to him.
Before that, he needed a place to stay.
So he chose Thebes.
This city is one of the oldest and most glorious city-states in ancient Greece, situated on the fertile plains of central Greece, and blessed by the gods.
This place is not only the center of mortal civilization, but also a place where extraordinary power and secular life intersect.
A raven landed on the spire of a temple, folded its wings, and silently surveyed the bustling city. The first rays of morning sunlight pierced the air, and the streets began to awaken. The sounds of carriage wheels rolling over cobblestones, vendors' shouts, children's laughter, and the clanging of metal in the blacksmith's shop mingled together.
It creates a vibrant and lively scene.
The streets were filled with the aroma of olive oil and roasted meat, and the marble roads gleamed softly in the sunlight. The prosperity here was completely different from the ruins of Port Rhodes—the shouts of vendors rose and fell, nobles in colorful robes rode slowly by in gilded carriages, and the most eye-catching thing was...
They are those "extraordinary beings" who walk among mortals.
wizard.
There were many hidden wizards in the city. A man clad in a long, golden robe walked past him, his steps steady, each one seemingly in step with the rhythm of destiny. Ian keenly sensed that he was a priest of Hermes, a faint yet real divine aura flowing through him.
Not far away, a young girl stood by the pool, reaching out to touch the water's surface. The water droplets floated up and transformed into a blooming lotus flower. Her eyes shone with a light that was not of this mortal descent.
This is an avatar of Athena.
They hid among ordinary people, quietly spreading their faith in their own existence and service—in other words, even in ancient times, there were wars of public opinion.
The gods manipulate public opinion to control faith in a simple and unpretentious way.
Make way! The holy water wheel of the Temple of Apollo is here to bestow its blessings!
The crowd suddenly parted, and a crystal waterwheel drawn by four pure white horses slowly passed by. The priest on the wheel held a golden branch and sprinkled shimmering water droplets to both sides. An old beggar with a tumor on his leg hurriedly crawled to the roadside, and as the holy water fell on his leg, his shrunken muscles visibly began to swell again.
Ian raised an eyebrow, observing everything discreetly. Such "miracles" weren't uncommon in ancient Greece, but their sheer frequency in the marketplace still surprised him. It seemed Zeus had indeed put effort into maintaining faith—after all, a race accustomed to divine favor.
They certainly wouldn't think about becoming self-reliant.