The other gods in the world had far more complicated feelings than Nairmis did at that moment.
The gods who had been watching the Sky Divine Domain from the very beginning collectively fell silent when they saw Nairmis tossed out of it safe and sound.
"This is already the second time. Surviving the God King twice-just where did this God of Emotions come from?"
"A third-class god was caught by the God King twice, played the lyre for two nights, and came back completely unharmed. Either he's unfathomable, or he's simply lucky to be alive."
"Either way, he's worth a visit."
Similar conversations took place in corners all across the world. The ancient beings who had originally dismissed Nairmis, this new god, began to reassess his significance.
Someone who had escaped the God King unscathed multiple times had to have something special about him, regardless of his actual strength.
Perhaps some higher power protected him, or perhaps he had a secret connection to one of the primordial gods.
In any case, this was enough to spark some interest in befriending him, and Nairmis's name once again spread throughout the world.
Nairmis himself knew nothing of this. He was busy leading the spirits in a flurry of construction.
Time flowed slowly, alternating between construction and lyre playing. Every day, when daylight arrived, that golden pillar of light descended from the sky and locked precisely onto Nairmis.
He held his lyre securely and calmly accepted being dragged into the sky. The first time, he had been nervous. The second time, he had still been uneasy. By the third, fourth, and fifth times, he had grown used to it.
He would even wake before the golden light descended. It felt rather like being woken by an alarm clock.
The spirits grew used to it too. They no longer panicked, merely watching him quietly as he was dragged into the sky before returning to their work.
Some carried stones, some mixed mud, some smoothed timber, and some assigned the newly arrived spirits to work teams.
The time Nairmis returned to the ground varied from day to day, depending on Uranus's mood and the length of that day's pieces. Sometimes he was tossed down after three pieces; sometimes he had to play seven or eight.
At night, he led the spirits in lighting a bonfire. Flames danced in the darkness, their warm glow driving back the shadows at the foot of the mountain.
He taught them to hum a song he had simplified into a simple melody. It had only rising and falling notes, with no actual words, but it was enough to excite the spirits, who were hearing choral singing for the first time.
The spirits, each with their different talents, hummed along in a jumble of voices. Their pitches varied wildly, yet in the end, they slowly merged into a strange, natural harmony.
Amid their humming, Nairmis's divinity of singing spontaneously took shape, and a subordinate divinity quietly appeared within him.
Meanwhile, during construction, he also gradually obtained other subordinate divinities-dance, carving, sculpture, measurement, and more. He was getting closer and closer to the divinity he wanted.
As those days accumulated, the palace's main hall took shape little by little. The wall foundations had been laid, four columns stood upright, and the roof frame was being erected.
Though it was not yet finished, the outline of the building was enough to fill every spirit who passed it with boundless anticipation.
Those days were a rare period of peace in the world. No new conflicts erupted in the sky, no new wails came from deep within the earth, and even the ocean was remarkably quiet.
Between playing pieces, Nairmis would even think that, if not for the coming war of the gods, life like this would be quite good.
Until that day, when, just after Uranus tossed him back to the ground, a powerful fluctuation of laws suddenly came from the far horizon.
Nairmis narrowed his eyes slightly. The fluctuation came from the Underworld, and he recognized its form. Laws were trembling, essence was condensing, and a new, independent consciousness was separating from its gestation, about to reach the threshold of birth.
Nairmis frowned. According to the timeline of Greek mythology he remembered, no new god should have been born at this point.
The Titans had only just been stuffed back into Gaia's belly, the war of the gods had yet to erupt, and the entire world was in a period of stagnation under the sky's rule.
Moreover, judging by the intensity of the fluctuation, the god about to be born would not be weak. The aura of essence contained within those tremors was dense and ancient.
Nairmis set down his lyre and looked up at the sky.
He recalled his own birth: the laws trembling, the world acknowledging him, followed immediately by Uranus's killing intent and fury. If Nyx had not intervened then, he would long since have been crushed on the ground of the Sky Divine Domain.
Afterward, his survival had largely depended on his weakness. A third-class god with no threatening power whatsoever, unable to withstand even a single finger of the God King.
Such a being was not worth making a special effort to eliminate.
Later still, he had accidentally developed the skill of music. Though Uranus was brutal, he did not seem averse to those melodies. He had even turned it into a kind of routine, hauling Nairmis up to play the lyre before tossing him back down.
That one skill had become the talisman keeping him alive.
As for the few subordinate divinities he had bestowed, Uranus paid those women no heed. There was no difference between ants and slightly larger ants; in the God of the Sky's eyes, they could probably be disregarded.
But the god about to be born in the Underworld was different. The strength of the fluctuations was enough to draw the attention of the entire Greek world. Even through the barrier of the earth, that aura remained clearly discernible.
Once such a being was born, Uranus could not possibly pretend not to see it.
Openly defying the God King's decree forbidding the birth of any more gods was practically another slap in the sky's face.
"The Underworld... has two primordial gods holding the fort. They should be able to withstand him, right? With Nyx and Erebus joining forces, however strong Uranus is, he couldn't possibly..."
Before he could finish, the sky exploded.
A savage surge of divine power, carrying unmistakable killing intent, poured out from the direction of the Sky Divine Domain, staining the entire sky with an intense glow. Uranus's aura surged from within it, searing and heavy.
Nairmis's lips parted, then closed again. He saw a golden flash descend from the vault of heaven. At its center, a golden humanoid figure hurtled toward the Underworld at astonishing speed, its destination clear and its killing intent raging.
Nairmis's expression stiffened. "How many days of peace did we even get?"
Then, without much hesitation, he turned and flew back to Proeon. He grabbed a fresh roll of parchment, a few pens, and a small jar of ground pigment, stuffed them into a hastily tied sheepskin bag, and slung it over his shoulder.
"Stay here," he told the spirits behind him, who were looking up at the sky. "Whatever you see or hear, don't leave Proeon."
"Your Highness!" The water nymph wanted to follow, but his gaze stopped her.
"I'll just take a look and come back."
He channeled his divine power, and his body rose from the ground. Then he turned and flew toward the Underworld.
He did not fly too fast. A third-class god's flying speed was limited, and he also needed to observe as he flew.