Knife Holder

At the Peak of Divine Mountain, another seven years had passed, and the union of heaven and earth had temporarily ceased.

The great God King, having sated his desires, began to wander aimlessly across the earth once more. At this moment, he found himself bored, for there were no more children left to serve as his playthings.

Helpless, Uranus could only use his divine power to indiscriminately blast everything in sight, finding a sliver of amusement in destruction.

After he left, Gaia still lay motionless atop the Peak of Divine Mountain. She tried her best to conserve her energy, but it was futile. Visibly, her immortal divine body began to age.

She knew she had to do something, so within her body, in the place where her twelve children dwelled, the Earth Mother made her plea.

"You have seen this—this is your father, the God King of Khaos. He has harmed me and imprisoned you. If things continue like this, when I fall into eternal slumber, you will remain here forever, trapped in a state between life and death."

The Earth Mother's calm tone carried a deep-seated hatred. Every second, she could feel her power draining away. Her spirit watched over the twelve gods—her last hope.

"I need a warrior," Gaia said. "I need one among you to find the courage to resist your father."

"This is also part of the prophecy—the Sky Father's throne will be shaken by his own offspring, and you are destined to succeed."

A silence fell. In the stillness, Rhea's voice hesitantly rang out.

"Mother, we wish to share your burden, but 'the Firstborn, yet not the eldest'—none of us meet this condition."

The other Titans thought the same. Thousands of years had passed, and they still could not grasp the meaning of those words.

"No, you do."

Unlike the Titans, just moments ago, as the God King's atrocities ended, the Earth Mother suddenly understood the prophecy's true meaning. The Firstborn, but not the eldest—now was the time for him to appear.

"Whoever answers my call will be the first to leave my body. Since you were conceived again by the God King's command, the position of Firstborn will be reordered."

As the Earth Mother's voice fell, the gods were stunned. Only now did they deeply feel the power of fate.

As early as the banquet two thousand five hundred years ago, everything had been foretold—they would be conceived again, so the Firstborn would not be the eldest.

"But we have no weapons."

Hyperion seemed to have some thoughts, but also some hesitation.

As the sole sun at present, his divine office yet undivided, he was no less than his elder brother or younger sibling. If he could become the god who defeated Uranus, perhaps he too might inherit the God King's Throne.

"The blade of prophecy? It is already prepared," the Earth Mother said again. "The God King decreed that all weapons in the world be sensed by him, so I forged a sickle from flint. It has never appeared in the world; its original purpose was to harvest plants, so it is not a weapon."

"It was never forged, but naturally formed, so it has no maker—it is a product of nature."

The gods fell silent again. They had not expected that the 'kin' who would aid the rebellion in the prophecy was actually Gaia. Not one of their brothers, not their uncle who had transformed into mountains and seas, but the mother who had borne them.

Yes, nothing fit the term 'kin' better than husband and wife.

"But we swore an oath."

Before Hyperion could speak, Theia pointed out the crux of the issue. Among the Twelve Titans, she and Hyperion were the closest. Thus, she did not wish to see her brother seduced by the God King's Throne into making a wrong decision.

At the truth Theia spoke, the Earth Mother was also left speechless.

At this time, the guardian of oaths had not yet appeared, the Styx River had not yet been born, and the world had not yet delegated the authority to uphold vows. In this era, breaking an oath was a terrifying thing.

If the prophecy decreed that the one who held the blade was destined to become the next God King, the Twelve Titans would not hesitate—they would fight for the right to wield it. But since the God King's Throne was uncertain, no one was willing to bear the consequences of breaking their vow.

After all, becoming God King meant supreme divine authority could compensate for a damaged divine office. But if the wielder was merely a pawn for another, the gods were unwilling to take that risk.

And most crucially, what the Earth Mother had not yet mentioned was that 'shaking the throne' did not necessarily mean 'overthrowing the throne.'

If not for the Seer repeatedly uttering titles like 'the first God King,' the gods might not have dared to believe that their majestic, powerful father could also be defeated.

A thousand years of fear had long since sunk into their bones.

"Let me do it." As the silence stretched on, in the Earth Mother's gradually despairing wait, Cronus spoke.

Unlike before, his voice was now steady and magnetic, with none of the cowering he had shown before the God King.

Until today, he had always been the most timid and least noticeable of the Twelve Titans.

Because of his unique authority, he was never used as a toy by his father. As the youngest child, Uranus did not hold much suspicion toward him. Despite possessing the strongest divine power among the Titans, he had always been overlooked by his elder siblings.

But at this moment, as he spoke, the gods finally recalled his premeditated oath.

As the first to swear, he had declared he was not an accomplice, but he had not said he was not the wielder of the blade.

As if he had planned it all along, Cronus would only swing the blade for himself—never become a blade in another's hand.

"Yes, my youngest brother." Hyperion sneered, as if seeing him for the first time. "I never imagined you were so far-sighted."

"Indeed, Cronus. Perhaps in wisdom, you are not far behind the Seer."

Okeanos also spoke. He still remembered his own embarrassment when the first half of the prophecy was uttered.

But Cronus was different. Faced with his father's oppression, he still dared to play such linguistic tricks. If Uranus had not been paying attention, he would have already been celebrating his two-thousand-five-hundredth birthday in Tartarus.

"Enough!" the Earth Mother coldly interrupted, her voice carrying a mix of disappointment and a hint of surprise.

"Since none of you are willing to wield the blade for me, do not mock your brave younger brother."

"Cronus, my youngest child." After scolding her other two sons, Gaia's voice finally carried a trace of life. "So you are willing to take up the sickle—for me, for your brothers and sisters, and for yourself—to end this calamity?"

"Yes, I am willing," Cronus said.

"I am willing to wield the blade, but I need more specific guidance. The prophecy must have a more crucial part—a single blade cannot let me contend with the Father God."

"...You are right. I will. I will find the Seer and ask him for the true meaning of the prophecy."

"But he once said he was merely an observer of fate," Hyperion suddenly spoke up.

"That was just him having other motives. I see that more clearly now."

The repeatedly tormented Earth Mother seemed to have finally regained some wisdom. Facing her only chance to resist, she calmly recalled every meeting with Ryan.

No one who could peer into fate could resist using that power for their own gain. The God of Prophecy definitely knew more, but he hadn't spoken up. Just as he had demanded the flow of time from the God King, he surely had his own agenda.

"He is now in the underworld, between me and Tartarus, waiting for me. He will make demands of me. I am already prepared, but you must be prepared as well."

The Earth Mother spoke calmly, then lay quietly on the ground.

Now was not the time. She had to wait for the right moment. When Uranus found a new toy, that would be when she went to the underworld.

For now, she chose to endure the pain.