Myth: The Ruler of Spirituality

Chapter 791: Chapter 289 Line_2

A roar that seemed full of mockery echoed, and after yet another day, the Nomas Lion finally showed signs of retreat.

This human possessed some ability; it couldn’t kill him, so it simply decided not to.

After all, in the end, he was just a tasty morsel.

And for it, the forest always had plenty of food.

“Whoosh—”

Panting heavily, the young hero gradually began to feel exhausted.

...

He discerned the lion’s thoughts, but he truly had no means to stop them.

How could one defeat such an impenetrable body, when as long as it breathed, no one could harm it…

“Hmm?”

With a flicker in his eyes, the young hero suddenly seemed to remember something.

Every being in the world was composed of body and soul, just like the person he wished to resurrect.

And for wise beings, the soul was even more important, as it was the vessel carrying thoughts and reasoning.

Yet there were exceptions in this world, like the deities and monsters on par with them.

A god’s soul and body were two halves of a whole, or “divinity” was an expression of this duality.

Mortals could extract a radiant substance from the extremities of spirit and body, then endure a baptism of rules, transforming into immortal beings.

As for these monsters, they were somewhat different.

Though Heracles did not fully understand, he perhaps could try to approach it from another angle.

“Bang—”

He put thought into action, and when the lion clashed with him once more, Heracles leapt up and seized its neck.

As if moving a mountain, the young hero surveyed the surroundings, then selected a spot near a river.

Dragging the demon, Heracles pulled it step by step into the water, pressing its head down.

The Nomas Lion struggled desperately, but the young hero’s strength seemed limitless.

In this struggle, it still fell on the losing side.

“Glug…”

“Glug…”

“Glug…”

Pressed beneath the water, the lion finally felt panic.

It struggled valiantly, but its strength waned.

If not for Laine’s arrival, in the original myth, Athena had granted humans breath, thus gifting them with wisdom.

Though the myth was somewhat biased, for Chaos’s demon, it indeed had a connection of sorts.

Time ticked by, and the lion’s struggles grew weaker.

Until a certain moment came when it lost all movement.

Yet Heracles knew it was not dead.

For such a demon, losing breath did not mean losing life.

It merely temporarily lacked the ability to think, its mind shrouded in chaos.

“But that’s enough.”

“I can’t kill you, so I’ll let you bring about your own end.”

Dragging the lion’s head out of the river, Heracles finally revealed a hint of fatigue, yet also a glimmer of triumphant joy.

Though the Nomas Lion’s hide was impenetrable, this didn’t mean it couldn’t harm itself.

Only if it was still conscious, with the ability to think, could it prevent self-injury.

But now, unconscious as it was, it could no longer stop Heracles.

“Slash—”

Gripping the lion’s claw, Heracles drew it across its neck.

This time, the impervious hide was rendered useless.

Its claws cut through, and immediately, blood spurted forth like a fountain, drenching the young hero.

Heracles hesitated briefly, ultimately not avoiding it.

Because, as the old man had mentioned earlier, he could indeed feel the power contained within this blood.

It was absorbed by Heracles, becoming a part of his own strength.

Although he had long since reached a certain limit, this was still a meaningful act.

“Whew—I’ve done it.”

With the blood drained and the lion’s claw flaying its own hide, Heracles finally breathed a sigh of relief.

The rampant demon was slain; he had fulfilled the divine mandate.

If nothing unforeseen occurred, a deity might soon commend his deeds, and he would receive his next task.

But…

“But where is the god?”

Waiting by the riverbank clearing for three days, Heracles had even begun to process the giant lion’s hide.

His original clothes had been badly eroded during the demon battle, and now he had a fresh set to wear.

With new gear and invigorated strength, Heracles unexpectedly discovered, unlike his last departure from Eryxis, that the God of West Wind seemed in no hurry to appear.

Finally, after three days, seeing that no one arrived, Heracles had to rise.

“Perhaps the deity has his own affairs?”

“…Well then, it seems the death of the Nomas Lion isn’t that significant.”

Shrugging his shoulders, the young hero felt there was no need to waste any more time.

He intended to follow the position the old man had left him to visit the forest tribe.

After all, the God of West Wind had mentioned the Nomas Lion was under the control of an Evil God.

Yet he had slain it, so… where was the Evil God now?

He did not know, but Heracles was eager to find out.

The tribe lived nearby, perhaps they would know something.

······

“Damn it!”

“Where in the world has Heracles gone, and this forest… isn’t it a bit too vast?”

Invisible winds swept across the earth, bringing with them a rustling sound.

Shortly after Heracles had slain the lion, Zephyrus had just passed by a riverbank.

There lay a clearing as if borne of destruction, appearing as though some battle had transpired.

However, at this moment, the God of West Wind was clearly not in the mood to concern himself with these matters, caring only about the lost Heracles.

In the beginning, the God of West Wind had paid no mind to this.

After all, although he was still the “God of West Wind,” Zephyrus had long been the leader of the four great wind gods for many epochs.

With the All-Father in eternal slumber and the Titan God Crius fallen into the abyss, he was the master of the winds on earth, contending only with Poseidon, the so-called lord of storms, on the seas.

To find a mere mortal, this should pose no challenge…

Thus, a day later, upon finally realizing the gravity of the situation, Zephyrus began to panic.

Yet reality was harsh, and the God of West Wind’s search bore no fruit.

After two days, he was compelled to accept that he might have indeed gotten himself into a pickle, and decided to seek help from someone else.

However, seeking help required some consideration: first, he couldn’t go directly to Zeus, for that would make him appear too incompetent.

Secondly, he should try not to create a big stir; it was best not to disturb the gods who were currently at war.

Fortunately, in the northern part of the continent, there was still a place that might resolve these troubles, and that was Mount Nysa with the Fates.

In any case, Zephyrus had no intention of peering into destinies; he merely sought to find someone, which should be no big deal… Yet, to his surprise once more, he found himself lost.

A god lost… it sounded like a joke.

Yet it was true, as Zephyrus could not find his way out of the forest.

He had tried flying persistently in one direction, only to realize that no matter what he did, he couldn’t leave the forest.

It was as if different directions had been pieced together, and all efforts were futile.

“Damn it, could this be a relic left from a clash of great divine powers from a past epoch? I remember the former Divine King was the ‘King of Temporal.'”

“But it can’t be certain, after all…”

The voice soon faded, his expression a bit troubled, and Zephyrus fell silent.

Though he had followed the former Divine King for quite some time, in the God of West Wind’s memory, the former king seemed to rarely showcase his “Time” and “Space” authority.

Encountering such powers unexpectedly, Zephyrus was a bit unsure.

Yet though he couldn’t be certain, even until the end of last epoch, the second Divine King Cronus never displayed grand authorities of time and space, but this seemed the most viable possibility.

And only if this were true would his predicament make sense.

A great divine power of temporal strength was fearsome indeed, and perhaps as a mortal, Heraclas had long since inadvertently left, while he, as a deity, was trapped due to his authority.

A divine remnant affecting only deities, this was quite reasonable… But if this were the case, then what should he do?

…

“Guess what he’s thinking right now?”

In a vibrant yet ancient small city, everything appeared orderly.

Streets were lined with buildings, with residents bustling to and fro… The young man, watching the figure circling endlessly in the distant sky, casually asked the person beside him.

The God of West Wind… he had only seen his statue in the temple before, never in person.

Now he beheld him, but found him somewhat contrary to the tales.

When he was still an ordinary child, he had heard that this was a god renowned for his stealth.

He had completed many impressive tasks and often returned safely.

Even the successive Divine Kings esteemed him highly, marking him as an exceptional deity.

But legends were legends, and seeing him now, it seemed a bit overblown.

“He should be panicking.”

“After all, in your theater, even though he is a true god of Olympus, he cannot escape your grasp.”

Unlike the young man’s casual demeanor, the elder was much more tense.

Kolon angrily cursed Olympus internally, criticizing their tendency to unleash floods upon ordinary mortals while ignoring real threats; outwardly, he appeared solemn, like a devout priest.

Over the years, Kolon understood well that death was not truly frightening.

“Perhaps… a panicking god… Ha, but I must keep him here a while longer.”

With a somewhat dismissive tone, the young man lightly flicked his finger as if plucking an invisible string.

Though Kolon was full of lies, at least one statement was true.

Within this theater he had managed for a millennium, built painstakingly by hand, tantamount to a terrestrial divine kingdom, no one could escape his control.

The God of West Wind was no exception.

“Prepare to welcome our guest.”

“Slaying a lion doesn’t prove much… If that’s all he can manage, he needn’t roam any further and may as well stay here with me.”

“Of course, should he truly demonstrate his capability, I will gift him something.”

“Though it is not the original city, this city of Oroa, personally established by me, holds some significance.”

Oroa, not Aurora, the former merely a replacement for the latter.

But as Kolon departed silently, he understood that even a replacement depended on what it replaced.

He knew what the young man’s gift was, something drawn from the “past,” an astounding “miracle.”

It was a “false immortality,” for in the past, a great being had promised it to the mortals of this city, who did thereby survive the seven-day flood. Thus, this power had materialized, becoming genuine.

However…

“Immortality… If I too could be immortal, how would I have ended up here…”

Eyes shadowed, Kolon had no plans.

Unless he found a way to escape the other’s control, he knew he could do nothing.

In the city at Zeus’s temple, there stood a replica statue, which Kolon had seen more than once.

It depicted a figure in priestly robes, yet devoid of any piety.

He too had attempted to negotiate with the god, and the consequences… every bronze human knew well.

Certainly, one could deceive the gods, people had always done so… provided they never feigned piety.

For this alone, the gods truly could see all.