At the Temple of the Sun God, Russell and Prometheus sat around a large pot, drinking and chatting merrily. Pope Chiron sat with them, while A'e played the piano nearby.
Originally, Russell had thought that since Prometheus had honored them with his presence, they had to entertain him properly and not neglect proper etiquette.
He had asked Chiron to bring over two female Golden Saint Seiya to eat and drink with them, perhaps dance to the music as well. But Chiron stubbornly refused, declaring that he would smash his head against one of the temple pillars.
Russell had no choice but to drop the matter.
"Who are you trying to scare? Your soul is immortal. Even if you die, you'll just get a new body."
Russell muttered under his breath. Chiron's expression did not change; his old ailment had flared up, and his intermittent deafness meant he could not hear a thing.
"Russell, were all these ingredients taken from the demon race?"
Prometheus took bite after bite and praised, "They truly are great tonics. After only a few bites, my injuries have already improved considerably."
"They are indeed demon race flesh and blood, but the restorative effect has to do with the cooking method. Eating it directly might strengthen the body, but it would not have the same effect."
Russell did not conceal anything and told him the truth.
There was no need to hide it from Prometheus. He was a true gentleman; if treated sincerely, he would respond with sincerity.
"No wonder the Saint Seiya possess such outstanding physical qualities. Even without the bloodline of Half-human, Half-god, they still have limitless potential to uncover. So that's why." Prometheus thought even more highly of the Sanctuary.
"Prometheus, you said you were injured. What happened?"
"The eagle at my place of