If he had not met Hercules, the secret of the scepter's true owner might have remained buried deep in history forever.
The person who had personally crafted the scepter had lost his memories of that period. Ninety percent of those who knew about the matter had died in the Demon Hunter's purge, and every written record concerning the scepter had been destroyed by war—Hercules was the only person who knew the truth.
Yet what exactly had happened before and after Vivian created that scepter? What had she known back then? And what had been her purpose in making it? All of it was shrouded in layers of mystery. From Hercules's account, Vivian had clearly been in a frenzied state on the eve of her slumber, but she had still barely maintained her reason. She must have sensed something when the scepter's core fell into Zeus's hands, which was why she had forced herself to cause that uproar on Mount Olympus. Every time Vivian fell asleep, she lost a great deal of power and knowledge. Conversely, she became stronger and more learned before each slumber, which meant that she had known the true nature of the scepter's core in the past.
She had even known how it should be dealt with.
A faint, brittle crack, like shattering glass, came from somewhere. Then unstable winds swept across the world, making the wild grass on the wasteland sway. At the edge of the horizon, the towering Mount Olympus gradually blurred.
"It's almost time." Hercules looked up at the sky, relief on his face. "I can finally rest my feet."
Hao Ren's pupils contracted. He knew what Hercules meant by "almost time."
Yet he soon realized that he had no way to save the ancient hero before him. Hercules's body had been completely twisted