"If I only take a little peek, that doesn't count as opening it, does it?"
"I'll only take a little peek. I only need to lift a tiny corner; I don't need to open it all the way. Yes, I'm only taking a little peek..."
The whispers of nightmares echoed endlessly in Pandora's heart. Reason was gradually replaced by the desire born of curiosity. Looking at the box in her hands, she finally raised her hand.
At the same time, atop the sacred mountain of Olympus, Zeus's smile was no longer concealed. He looked smugly at Prometheus before him, the mockery in his eyes unmistakable.
Prometheus's expression was grave. His hands hanging at his sides clenched involuntarily, and his heart was completely on edge.
"Give up, Prometheus. You are destined to fail. It is written in fate."
Prometheus did not answer Zeus. He merely continued praying in his heart. At this moment of crisis, he had no choice but to ask Theron for help.
The connection between a chief god and his subordinate god was of great help, allowing him to convey his will to Theron. But he did not know whether Theron would help him.
Theron had said long ago that he would not interfere with humanity's own choices.
But time did not stop for Prometheus's sake. Pandora's hand still reached for that box. In the next moment, she would open the source of all these calamities.
Yet at that very instant, just as Zeus was smug and Prometheus despaired, a soft voice sounded, carrying a faint sigh.
"Put it down. This is not something you can touch."
Pandora suddenly woke from her daze. As though shocked by lightning, she snatched back her hand and looked toward the source of the voice.
It was a youth in white robes,