Let Wisdom Guide the Hero

"Child, can you tell me your dream in your own words?" The purple-haired Goddess of Wisdom looked at Thaumas tenderly, her golden eyes shimmering.

After bidding farewell to Heracles, Athena had sought him out immediately.

No, looking at it this way, it seemed this goddess had been watching him all along.

"I truly wish to hear your dream from your own lips." Although Athena already knew his past, gods always seemed to care about this kind of ethereal sense of ritual.

"Respected Goddess of Wisdom Athena, I want to become a hero, even if I lose this life for it," Thaumas said solemnly.

After all, he wouldn't truly die, and having already become a Heroic Spirit, he was feeling a bit reckless now.

Not fearing death made one tough.

"Then why do you want to become a hero? Have you found the meaning of being a hero?" Athena asked curiously, then added:

"Wealth, power, glory, women—these are the things so many heroes pursue. What about you? Which one is it? Or is it all of them?"

A familiar question.

But this time, he had an answer; he would no longer be lost.

"None of them," Thaumas said slowly.

"None of them? Then what is it?" According to the records and data analysis of [heroes] in the gods' database, most heroes spent their entire lives willingly chasing these things.

But there were exceptions like Heracles, who sought "atonement."

"If it were before, I probably wouldn't have known either, but after experiencing some things... I think, if there must be a purpose, then it should be—to live." Thaumas was silent for a moment before speaking again.

"To live? Do you mean to avoid the event known as death?" Athena analyzed, then said with some uncertainty.

"Not at all. Death is not the end. If anything, I look forward to a unique death. Birth, aging, sickness, and death are all parts of being human. I want to live like a real person. To live happily, to live fully, and at the same time, I yearn to bring change to others, if they are willing. In short, why does there have to be a 'why'? I want to be my own hero! I want to be the real me. I want to change the destined fates of some people and bring them miracles! As for good and evil, let others judge that!" Thaumas said firmly.

"I see! So that's it! This is humanity! You, as an individual human, are truly different," Athena murmured, entering a state of recording and analysis. "Indeed, a contradictory hero, an unexplained phenomenon—worthy of the help of wisdom."

Then:

"Child, whether in thought or trial, you have passed! The Goddess of Wisdom shall favor you! From today on, wisdom will guide you and help you step onto this path called 'hero'!"

Golden light radiated from Athena's body, enveloping Thaumas.

To be precise, it enveloped his soul. He felt a sense of clarity, his mind feeling wonderfully refreshed.

It was as if he had been tightening screws all day and then came home to a comfortable bath.

Before long, Athena withdrew her power and sat playfully on a stone, looking at the stunned Thaumas.

"Goddess, this is?" Thaumas asked in surprise.

"I am very satisfied with your answer; this is my reward for you." Athena tucked her purple hair and smiled slightly. "By the way, since you want to be a hero, you cannot be weak."

"Then what should I do, Goddess of Wisdom?"

"You must first obtain a body that is impervious to blades and spears!"

"Impervious to blades and spears?" Thaumas wondered. Wasn't this Achilles' script?

"Yes, impervious! However, your body has already taken shape. If you soak in the Styx, I cannot protect you; the Styx will mistake you for a dead person and erode you. Therefore, we must use Heavenly Fire to burn your body, then reshape your flesh with divine ointment. Only then can you become impervious to blades and spears."

Hiss... Was she sure she didn't just want him to die? Actually, he felt it would be fine not to be this hero...

"Normally, you would also need to learn superb martial arts, but you have already studied for many years under the centaur sage Chiron. So, you only need a divine weapon! You must head to the Palace of the Fire God near Lemnos Island and ask Hephaestus to re-forge Hera's Bracelet so that it can contain the divine power of the gods! Coincidentally, she also has Heavenly Fire and ointment there. As for how to persuade her, that depends on your wisdom. If you cannot use your wisdom well, the Goddess of Wisdom will no longer shelter you," Athena said.

After all, gods do not give things away just because they like someone; otherwise, given their fondness for humanity, they would have remained in the "Golden Age" forever.

To receive, one must give—that is, offer a tribute to the gods.

This was to prevent humans from becoming dependent.

But sometimes, if a god is overly partial, they might even prepare the offering for you.

However, he is a devotee of Hera, and Hephaestus is Hera's own flesh and blood.

Legend has it that Hephaestus was born ugly, sickly, and with a lame foot, leading Hera to loathe her own child and cast her down from Olympus.

Yet in the Nasuverse, Hephaestus is a goddess rather than a one-eyed male deity.

At the same time, due to Hera's abandonment, she lost her other leg as well, forced to spend her days confined to a wheelchair.

Although the mother and daughter were forced to reconcile after the "throne" incident, their relationship did not improve; if anything, it grew even more wretched.

Athena has truly presented him with a difficult problem this time.

But if it goes like this, who knows, he might actually end up on the Throne of Heroes—a speedrun of Greece?

But time waits for no one.

While he was still lost in his wild thoughts, a young man flew in from the distance.

"Didn't expect that, did you? Little Thaumas! It's me again, Hermes! I've come to pick you up." Hermes looked excited, dancing happily in front of Thaumas.

Clearly, the trial of the Magic Lion had been a great source of entertainment for him.

Ah, how I loathe the God of Amusement. Just you wait! I suddenly don't want to die anymore; before I go, I must offer you, this God of Amusement, a "delicious" tribute.

I will personally turn you into the amusement, and we'll see if you're still laughing then. I'm going to beat you, you God of Amusement.

Nighttime.

Lemnos Island.

Inside the temple of the fire god Hephaestus.

The bright moonlight shone through the exquisite windows, illuminating the beautiful goddess resting on her bed.

She wore snow-white pajamas, her golden hair spread evenly across the circular wool bed, looking truly moving.

The moonlight bathed one half of her delicate face, which was so beautiful and refined.

But the other half was covered in bewitching, fiery red patterns, like a birthmark. If this were the modern era, some might find it interesting or beautiful.

Alas, this is Greece, where such things are considered imperfect—a symbol of ugliness, and a major reason why Hera detests her.

Her eyelashes trembled slightly, and she bit her lip, as if caught in a nightmare.

In fact, she was indeed having a nightmare.

In her dream, she had returned once more to many, many years ago, to the moment of her birth.

At the highest peak of the sacred Mount Olympus, her respected mother, Hera, had thrown her off the mountain without a shred of mercy.

That woman, her own mother, the wife of Zeus, the noblest goddess among all the gods.

Ah, she had been discarded just like trash.

And so, the goddess, jolted by the nightmare, woke up in a fright. She opened those divine eyes that were identical to Hera's and sat up abruptly in bed.

Unable to use her legs, she could not stand. Sitting on the bed, she gasped for air, her heart still racing.

After a long while, she used her soft, delicate hands to gently lift the blanket, staring blankly at her crippled legs.

Even though she was born with one lame leg, she had still possessed the chance to run like others and enjoy her freedom to the fullest.

But Hera had personally destroyed her other leg.

That is why she hates Hera so deeply.

Under the moonlight, those jade legs looked so petite and exquisite. Yet, at this moment, they appeared hateful in Hephaestus's eyes.

Even after attaining godhood, she could have used her divine power to repair them, but she chose not to, for she wanted to remember this pain.

She did not want to forget the suffering Hera had inflicted upon her, and she swore to make Hera receive the retribution she deserved.

That "throne" was far from enough.

Just then...

"Mistress Hephaestus, are you alright? I heard quite a commotion."

The late-arriving maid gently opened the door, looking at her with concern. This was an automaton crafted by the goddess of fire and smithing herself.

The maid looked around in a panic, and with the help of the moonlight, she saw that face which bore such a striking resemblance to Hera.

The maid knelt immediately. She saw Hephaestus, but unlike before, Hephaestus was now in a state of "ugliness."

"Who gave you permission to enter!" Hephaestus said coldly, then pointed her small hand toward the door. "Now, get out!"

"Go report to the scrap room yourself!"

The maid trembled, looking at Hephaestus in disbelief. Feeling the icy gaze of Hephaestus, she said in despair:

"Yes, my dear master Hephaestus."

They were all creations of the gods, miraculous things forged by Hephaestus. Unlike humans, they possessed no souls; they were merely existence akin to puppets.

Yet, even so, they remained grateful to Hephaestus for bringing them into this world.

Perhaps, in the eyes of Hephaestus, the only doll possessing "human rights" was her most perfect work—the super-divine creation crafted with the help of other gods: Pandora.

Things as dispensable as them knew from the day they were born that, one day, they would be discarded.

"Wait, besides you, are there any other dolls left?" Hephaestus asked suddenly.

"My dear master Hephaestus, I am the last one remaining from the previous batch you created," the maid replied tremblingly. She did not understand Hephaestus's intentions, but she could not defy her master's orders; that was something etched into their very construction.

"Then you don't need to go," Hephaestus said coldly, for she was willing to grant this servant a chance to live a few more days because of what was to come.

"Wh-what? Ah? I don't have to die?" the maid said, utterly shocked.

"What? Are you eager to be scrapped?" Hephaestus lay back down, covered herself with the quilt, turned away, and said indifferently.

"No, no. Thank you, Master," the maid said, feeling as though she had survived a catastrophe.

It must be because she had prayed to her master one extra time today! Yes, she would have to work harder in the future!

"By the way, has that follower of Hera arrived yet?"

Listening to the interrogation coming from the bed, the maid dared not show the slightest negligence and hurriedly replied:

"No... not yet. Lady Athena said he won't arrive until tomorrow; he should still be in the Nemean Forest right now."

"Hmph, get lost!"

The maid finally heard the words she most wanted to hear, so she left the room with a joyful face, gently pulling the door shut as she departed.

Survived another day! Tomorrow, this doll will continue to work hard to stay alive!

ps: The following is supplementary lore on the "Five Ages," not included in the main text; you may skip it directly. Excluding this, the word count for this chapter is 3507.

① According to legend, the first generation of humans was a blessed one. They lived on the bright Mount Olympus, created by the immortal gods.

This era is known as the Golden Age of humanity.

In that era, the second-generation King of Gods, Cronus, ruled the world from the heavens. People lived as carefree as the gods, never needing to labor.

The people of the Golden Age did not age, nor did they suffer from disease; their limbs remained strong and powerful forever. They spent their happy lives in leisurely feasting.

Only after they had lived on earth for many years did death descend, and death was like a peaceful, calm sleep.

While they lived, everything was abundant. The earth provided them with rich fruits, and humans did not need to toil to till the fields or tend the orchards.

They possessed countless livestock; the pastures were lush, and the herds grazed quietly. In this era, human life was comfortable, free from strife. The gods often consulted with them in person.

But the Golden Age eventually came to an end. All the people of the Golden Age passed away; after death, they became spirits, existing as guardian deities for the descendants of humanity.

They rode the clouds and mist, wandering the earth, upholding justice and punishing evil. Thus, they were rewarded by Zeus after death.

② The second generation of people, living in the second era, could no longer be as happy as the first.

The second era is known as the Silver Age. The strength and wisdom of humanity could not compare to the Golden Age.

Even after staying on Mount Olympus for a hundred years, they remained ignorant of reason, and upon reaching adulthood, they would immediately leave their mothers. At this time, they had only a very short lifespan, and because they were foolish, they encountered much misfortune and suffering in life.

The humans of this era were unruly; they neither obeyed the gods living on Mount Olympus nor were they willing to burn sacrifices on the altars for the gods.

The son of Cronus, the great Zeus, was therefore very angry with this generation on earth, wiped them out, and banished them to the dark underground kingdom.

He left them to live there without joy or sorrow, yet later generations still respected them.

③ Then, the Father of Heaven, Zeus, created the third generation of humans and established the third era—the Bronze Age.

The people of this era were different from the previous ones. They were created by Zeus from spear shafts and possessed terrifying, immense power.

They were arrogant, did not live off the grain produced by the earth—that is, the orchards and fields—but instead enjoyed the painful groans of war.

Zeus endowed them with strong bodies and irresistible power, giving them powerful, beating hearts and hands that could not be subdued.

At that time, there was no black iron; they forged weapons, houses, and labor tools out of bronze.

In this era, humans slaughtered one another and soon all sank into the terrifying underworld of Hades.

The black god of death overcame their great power, snatched them away, and they bid farewell to the bright sunlight forever.

Just as the people of the Bronze Age arrived at the dwelling of ghosts—the Underworld—Zeus, King of the Gods, created a new era. The people of this age lived by agriculture; they were more noble, more just, and were all demigod heroes who walked close to the divine.

This was also the era in which Thaumas lived.

Yet, in the legends of Ancient Greece, these men all eventually perished in cruel wars and bloody slaughter.

Some died in the land of Cadmus, beneath the seven-gated city of Thebes, where they fell one after another while fighting over the succession of Oedipus.

Others swore to reclaim the peerless Helen, sailing across the sea to Toroi, only to die beneath the walls of the city.

The demigod heroes all met their end under the silver sickle of Death, and Zeus sent them to the ends of the earth, far from the world of the living—to the Isle of the Blessed, situated upon the surging Oceanus.

From then on, they lived a life of carefree happiness. The land there was fertile, providing them with honey-sweet fruit three times a year.

The fifth era is the Iron Age, the generation in which the last of mankind lives.

This era has continued upon the earth to this very day. Whether by day or by night, people are constantly tormented by sorrow and heavy labor.

The gods brought painful troubles to the human world; although they mixed some good deeds among the evil, the acts were primarily wicked, and people endure endless suffering.

In this age, children do not honor their parents, friends lack loyalty, hosts lack hospitality, and even brothers no longer love one another.

They disregard their promises and do not pursue justice or kindness.

They worship violence, value honor and strength, and constantly invade and destroy each other's cities.

Conscience and the Goddess of Justice, draped in white robes, bid farewell to humanity and flew back to the towering Olympus, returning to the midst of the immortal gods, leaving behind for mankind only deep disasters against which they have no power to defend.