Nairmis walked down the slope. Mountain streams converged into a clear pool, its surface as still as a mirror, reflecting the azure sky.
Under the God King's will, there was only blue sky and no white clouds. No deity dared encroach upon the domain of the sky.
He approached the water and looked down.
A face appeared on the surface. He froze, then bent down for a closer look. His long golden hair fell forward, its tips dipping into the water and sending tiny ripples across the surface.
When the water grew still again, the face emerged clearly once more. The face reflected there was so exquisite that it brought to mind moonlight crystallized on ice, beautiful to the point of seeming unreal.
Every detail of this face seemed like a finished work that Chaos had carved and polished over and over for hundreds of millions of years before finally consenting to release it. Nairmis blinked, and his reflection blinked too.
He tilted his face to one side, and the reflection followed.
Beautiful. Far too beautiful. So beautiful it was almost excessive.
Chaos had spent hundreds of millions of years holding back, only to produce a face like this, lavishing all its care on this one outward shell.
He stared at the water for a long while, even reaching up to touch his own cheek. Warm and real, the sensation beneath his fingertips confirmed that this really was him, not an illusion.
He could not resist taking a few more looks. He was so beautiful that even he could stare at his own reflection for ages. Then he abruptly came to his senses, and a chill shot up into his head.
Wait. This was the world of Greek mythology.
He knew all too well what the gods of this world were like. Morality, ethics, taboos-none of those existed.
When those gods were seized by lust, gender could not stop them, species could not stop them, blood ties could not stop them, and not even whether the other party was alive could stop them.
With looks like his in a place like this, possessing beauty without the strength to protect it, the consequences were all too foreseeable.
Images flashed through his mind: being pursued, abducted, locked in some palace as a collection piece for some unspeakable purpose. He shuddered and dared not dwell on it.
No. He had to grow stronger, and quickly.
There was still time. That tyrannical God King, Uranus, was holding all things in heaven and earth beneath his oppression. Every god feared for their own safety, and for now, no one had the inclination to covet a newly born lesser deity like him.
But this was no long-term solution. He had to use this relatively safe period to increase his divine power as quickly as possible.
He glanced down and only then realized that he was not wearing a single thing. He had been too busy admiring his face earlier, and a belated sense of shame welled up in him.
He hurried over to a nearby thicket, searched through the grass for a while, pulled out a few supple vines, and picked some broad leaves, then clumsily began weaving them together.
His fingers were not particularly nimble, and the vines slipped several times, but he finally managed to make a grass skirt that could just barely cover his private parts.
He tied it around his waist and tugged at it, only breathing a sigh of relief after making sure he would not expose himself.
Walking barefoot back into the mountains, he spotted a fallen, dead tree. Its trunk was thick and hollow, its grain distinct and dry.
A thought suddenly flashed through his mind: a lyre.
Using the power of music to soothe the sorrow of all beings-wasn't that precisely what a god of emotions ought to do?
He crouched and touched the dead tree's surface. Its cracked bark pressed against his palm, and the wood was still fairly solid. But his current divine power had no offensive capabilities at all, and he had no tools with which to carve this wood into an instrument.
What should he do?
"Noble and beautiful Lord Nairmis, great being who remembers all emotions, a nymph offers you her greetings."
A sweet voice came from behind him, and Nairmis whipped his head around.
A slender figure emerged from the shadows of the trees. She was petite but well proportioned, her long hair falling to her waist like dark green waterweed, droplets still clinging to its ends.
Her features were delicate, and her light amber eyes were bright, clear, and innocent.
An unfamiliar name surfaced in Nairmis's mind: a water spirit, a nymph.
His inherited memories offered a vague explanation. Nymphs were among the most common natural spirits, born naturally from mountain springs, streams, deep pools, and forests.
They were beautiful and immortal, weak in power yet each possessing their own strengths. They usually attached themselves to a particular water source or mountain forest and were gentle and harmless by nature.
They were the earth's most ancient guardians, and among the purest spiritual beings in this world.
His gaze lingered on her for a moment. She was naked too, something that apparently no one thought much of in this age when heaven and earth had only just begun.
Except for an anomaly like him, who carried memories of a past life. He quickly averted his eyes and returned her greeting in as proper a tone as he could manage.
"Beautiful nymph, may your waters remain forever clear. Where do you come from?"
Nairmis then asked tentatively. He recalled Oceanus and Tethys, that ancient ocean couple. According to legend, they had given birth to three thousand ocean goddesses, each of noble blood.
If the one before him happened to be among them, he would have to deal with her even more cautiously.
"You are too kind, my lord."
A gleam of delighted surprise flashed through the nymph's eyes. She had not expected such a formal response. She bent her knees slightly, her hands folded before her in a respectful posture.
"I am the guardian spirit born from that deep pool just now. When you came down the mountain, I saw you from the water."
She tilted her head. "You seem troubled. Is there anything I can help you with?"
Nairmis relaxed a little. Like him, she was a nymph with no backing.
He opened his mouth, intending to say there was no need. This nymph's aura was even weaker than his; she would not be able to help much.
But on second thought, she had been born earlier than he had and had always been rooted in this mountain. She ought to know more about this land than he did.
He considered his wording. "I want to find some tools. Do you know if there is anything sharp nearby, such as sharp stones?"
The nymph blinked her amber eyes and thought seriously for a moment. Then her eyes lit up. "I think there are stones like that at the bottom of my pool. I'll go find some for you right now."
As soon as she finished speaking, she turned and leaped into the deep pool.
Nairmis froze for a moment, not even having had time to thank her. He shook his head helplessly. What an enthusiastic, kindhearted spirit.
After quite a while, she returned, carrying a pile of stones of various sizes in both hands, and dumped them all onto the grass by the bank with a clatter.
Nairmis walked over, thanking her repeatedly, then crouched down and began sorting through the stones.
Some were round, some were flat, and some had broken into small granules. After searching for a long time, he finally found a palm-sized black stone flake with a thin, sharp edge, its natural shape close to that of a knife.
He picked up another stone, fist-sized and rough-surfaced, to use as a whetstone, then walked over to the dead tree, crouched down, and began honing the edge of the stone flake.
The nymph sat by the water not far away, her legs submerged, watching curiously as he ground the stone stroke by stroke, remaining quiet so as not to disturb him.