The gods looked up blankly. They could not understand why Uranus had seized that young god and taken him into the sky just to listen to music. Did that brutal, capricious Lord of the Sky have such a hobby?
In the Earth Divine Domain, Gaia's tense body slowly relaxed. Her hand slipped from the armrest of her divine throne, and she finally released the breath in her chest.
He wasn't going to kill him. Good. He was still alive. But then she frowned. Nairmis's music had almost no healing effect on gods at her and Uranus's level, so Uranus really had only wanted to hear him play.
The corner of Gaia's mouth twitched, forming a complicated expression that even she did not know what to call. Her brutal husband, who had stuffed their twelve children back into her belly, was now sitting on his throne listening to a young god play music. For a moment, she did not know what to make of the scene.
At the entrance to the Underworld, Hemera also heard that thread of music. She rose onto her tiptoes and looked up toward the Sky Divine Domain, the anxiety and anger in her eyes easing a little. He was still playing, which meant he was not dead yet.
But her fists remained tightly clenched. Her intuition told her that Uranus definitely meant him no good.
"No, I have to see Mother."
At the foot of Mount Proeon, the twenty-odd spirits all sat where they were, their heads tilted toward the Sky Divine Domain that blocked their view, waiting for news of Nairmis.
In the Sky Divine Domain, Nairmis finished an entire piece. His fingers left the strings as he waited for Uranus's reaction. The eyes of the god on the throne remained closed, his chest rising and falling as steadily as before, with no sign that he had heard enough.
He played a second piece, changing to a slightly livelier melody.
When the second piece ended, his fingers stopped above the strings, because Uranus had opened his eyes.
Nairmis's breath caught. Though he sensed no malice, that did not rule out the possibility of anything happening.
Uranus looked at him, no clear emotion in his eyes. Then he raised a hand toward Nairmis.
Nairmis did not know what the gesture meant, but judging by his few encounters with this God King, any movement of his hand was hardly a good omen.
He instinctively shifted his body slightly to one side, trying to dodge something, but Uranus merely flicked his fingers.
An invisible force enveloped Nairmis's body, swifter than the one that had brought him there. The golden beam appeared again, wrapped around his waist, and abruptly hurled him outward.
Nairmis's body shot out through the Sky Divine Domain, rapidly approaching Proeon.
The world spun before his eyes. He clutched the lyre tightly, and then the force propelling him suddenly vanished.
Nairmis: "..."
His body hung still in the air for a moment, and then a sense of weightlessness struck him. Wind rushed up from below, his robes billowing and his long golden hair scattering in the currents.
Proeon's outline grew clearer in his vision: green forests, silver streams, brown ridges, and the spirits looking up at the sky. Their figures were rapidly growing larger.
Partway through his fall, Nairmis finally steadied himself. He summoned the divine power within him to support his body, slowing his descent until he stopped roughly a hundred meters above the ground.
He hovered there, his clothes still swaying slightly with the momentum, the lyre held in his arms.
Still some distance above the ground, he looked down at his feet, then raised his head to gaze into the distance. Proeon's ridges stretched across his field of vision.
Third-Class Gods could already fly, but everything had been so chaotic that he had never had the chance to truly try it.
Now, he was flying.
Nairmis's eyes brightened slightly. He tentatively leaned forward, and his body began moving ahead. He turned right, and his body turned with him, the motion smoother and more natural than he had expected.
He rose a little higher, his view rising with him until the whole of Proeon unfolded before his eyes. In the distance, gray-blue ridges traced a gentle scene along the horizon. Farther still, he could faintly see an expanse of deep blue sea glittering.
Nairmis stopped high in the air. Looking at the scene before him, he momentarily forgot the frustration and anger of being thrown out of the Sky Divine Domain.
So beautiful. The natural beauty of this world of Greek mythology was unlike the embellished landscapes he had seen in picture books and films in his previous life. The mountains here were more majestic, the water clearer, the sky a richer blue, the treetops a fuller green.
He hovered there, looking for a long time.
"Your Highness!"
An anxious shout rose from the ground. Nairmis looked down to see Acenoe waving at him, the twenty-odd spirits staring up with their eyes fixed firmly on him.
Their lips moved as they called his name, their voices filled with worry and lingering fear.
Nairmis was pulled from his reverie. He adjusted his angle and slowly descended toward the ground. When his feet touched the soil again, the solid sensation beneath his soles made him breathe a sigh of relief.
"I'm fine." He smiled at the spirits. "It was just... my first time flying, so I spent a little longer enjoying the view."
Acenoe was the first to rush over. More spirits crowded around him, repeatedly inspecting his arms and legs to make sure he was not missing any parts, then bursting into lively cheers.
"His Highness is back!"
"I told you His Highness would be fine!"
"This is the second time His Highness has come back from the God King!"
"When I saw His Highness flying in the sky just now, I thought I was dreaming!"
Surrounded by them, Nairmis listened to their overlapping voices. Some spirits wiped away tears, some grinned foolishly, and some patted one another's shoulders in comfort.
His smile slowly spread from the corners of his mouth to his eyes, as though something had filled his empty chest. He had drifted in Chaos for so long, watched the world come into being, and witnessed the gods fighting, yet never once had he felt that he belonged anywhere.
But now, here, surrounded by a group of spirits of all different forms, he watched them rejoice at his safe return and listened to them express their joy in sincere voices.
For the first time, he felt that he belonged.
"All right, all right." He waved a hand, pretending not to care, and made no mention of Uranus. "Am I really that weak? All I did was fly a little."
Acenoe sniffled, her voice still a little nasal. "Your Highness, don't fly so high next time. Our hearts were in our throats watching you."
Nairmis smiled. He did not argue, merely raising a hand to gently pat the water Nymph's head.
"All right, I won't fly that high again. But first, I have to turn this pile of stones into a palace. Come on, there's still work to do."
Joy was one thing, but the things that needed doing still had to be done.
Nairmis walked toward the pile of stone and timber the spirits had brought over. He took the tools and plans from the water Nymph, crouched to measure the stone, then began instructing the stone men on how to chisel the blocks into regular rectangular prisms.
Though he avoided thinking about that morning's events, he yearned to grow stronger. After these repeated incidents, he said nothing aloud, but a fierce resolve had been building inside him.
But he did not dare act rashly. He knew very well that one major reason he was still alive was his weakness.
A Third-Class God without a single threatening divinity was no different from a chirping bird in Uranus's eyes. Once he showed any sign of potentially posing a threat, the God King would no longer deal with him by hauling him up to play music and then tossing him back down.
So he had to stay steady and follow the plan. Build the palace, gather divinities, and wait for the moment when the Titan war arrived. That tyrant's rule would not last much longer anyway. From what he knew, Cronus would raise his sickle sooner or later.
As he chiseled the stone, he thought, It should be soon, right?