In a tall and radiant palace, which, when viewed by a mortal, exuded a sense of Power and Eternity, inside sat a throne room with four thrones that were currently in silence.
Each of the thrones was specially crafted for the "Gorgon" family: the two eternal and perfect goddess sisters, the younger sister now deceased, and of course, Crisaor Gorgon, the giant god of earth, power, and earthquakes.
At this moment, only one throne was being used—the throne of Crisaor, occupied by its rightful owner who wore a pensive expression.
The throne where he sat was heavily enchanted. The sorcery of the era of the gods was so potent that not even Ares could break it with his spear.
However, that wasn't Crisaor's current train of thought. His mind was pondering how to venture into the Underworld.
"Medea has a mentor known to reside in the Inferno... Perhaps asking for her help to open a passage to the Underworld isn't a bad idea."
Unfortunately, while he was mumbling his thoughts, the doors to the throne room swung open abruptly, and a serious-looking Medea entered.
"Crisaor... I need something from you."
Hearing Medea's voice, Crisaor's eyes swiftly moved to focus on her. A small human was truly small in his eyes, but despite their size difference, Crisaor had respect for Medea, so he listened.
"What do you need?"
Medea looked at the giant before her with a certain fondness, the kind a mother might have for the child she gave birth to. After all, Crisaor was essentially a newborn, and he had saved her from a god's enchantment.
"I need your blood... a lot of it."
Crisaor's eyes narrowed, but he didn't say anything, understanding something that Medea didn't need to explain. She knew she had to clarify why she was making such a request.
"This island is too vast, and the two Gorgon sisters wreak havoc with their powers. That's why I'm planning to create several Homunculi. But I don't want just ordinary Homunculi. If I make them the usual way, their lifespan will be merely 30 years. So, I plan to use the blood of the two Gorgon sisters to harness their concept of Eternal Youth and Beauty, and your blood as a Giant to create a new race accepted by the mystery and, of course, by the world itself."
Crisaor blinked. Creating a new race was no joke. Few entities could claim that they had truly created an entirely new race from scratch.
After all, Homunculi were created based on the myths of humanity's creation from clay. Though mages use the mystery behind this legend to give "life" to their creations, they're merely poorly made copies for the mystery.
These copies either have short lifespans or lack the necessary wisdom for a new race. That's why they're mostly referred to as "Golems."
"Although a new life I have..."
It would indeed be good to have some servants on this island. Having more people walking through the halls would bring more life to the place.
"Very well, you have my blood."
Medea was delighted as she watched Crisaor create a wound on his finger, and drops of golden blood began to emerge and float before her.
The pure power of mystery within this drop of blood was simply incredible, but that was to be expected; the blood came from a mythical creature like a Giant.
"Haha! Great! When I'm done, I'll bring my creations to you. I hope you'll appreciate my work, young Crisaor."
After saying that, Medea left the throne room, leaving Crisaor alone and contemplative.
"This could be good. Not only can they function as servants, but they can also protect this place when I go to seek my mother's soul."
In some ways, Crisaor had always been a simple man. If it weren't for the fact that he genuinely developed affection for his two aunts, he probably wouldn't bother searching for a mother he barely knew, aside from a mere anime."
But well, Pegasus can't stay in one place for too long, making it pointless to leave him as a guard, and Medea was his guide to the Underworld. So, until now, he was concerned about how to solve this. Initially, he was thinking about creating Golems and surrounding the entire island. But in the end, Medea's idea was much better—a race born from the authority of the Gorgon sisters, Medea's sorcery, and the blood of a giant god. It simply couldn't be weak.
[Nicolas] (Victory of the People)
Nicolas was just another soldier from the city of Athens. His status wasn't high, never had been, but he never cared either. His mind had always been on one thing since his birth—perhaps driven by his name and its meaning, or maybe just because he wanted it that way. He always sought to improve the social status of commoners in the face of the great nobles.
It's not for nothing that his name literally means "Victory of the People." He first worked as a guard on the walls of Athens. He was the one sent to fetch Icarus and his father, to bring them to the royal court. After that act, he was promoted and became the head of the city gate guards.
"Perhaps it was in that moment..."
If only in that moment, he had decided to be content with what he already had, perhaps he wouldn't have to suffer what he was suffering now. The waves that seemed to cover the sky, the black clouds that prevented Apollo's gaze from falling upon this land and sea, the thunderous wind that seemed to want to shred any ship that ventured without proper protection. It was hell incarnate, the embodiment of the sea's fury, and now him.
Like the almost 100 crew members on this ship, not counting the nearly 50 large ships around them, they were deeply caught in this storm.
"Crash!"
A serpentine, like an enraged dragon, danced among the black clouds. Its light illuminated the sea and, with it, the terrifying monsters nearby—almost all, for some reason, giant snakes.
"Wind!" "Rain!"
"My lord! Take cover in the cabin! It's dangerous to be outside!"
The voice, struggling against the wind and rain to reach him, woke Nicolas from his lost state. It was true; it wasn't safe to be outside during this storm.
Turning his head, he looked at the soldier under his command. In reality, this entire ship was under his command. Their lives were the weight he was obligated to bear on this voyage if he wanted to gain more status for commoners based on his accomplishments.
Remaining silent for a moment, Nicolas eventually sighed.
"You don't need to worry about me. If my soldiers are enduring the wind, the cold, and the rain like I am, the captain can bear leaving everything in their hands and hide in my cabin."
The soldier nodded at his captain's declaration. As a crew member, it was truly motivating to see that the one in charge of their lives wasn't an incompetent fool who would hide behind them at the slightest hint of danger.
"I understand, my lord. But I really hope you'll go to the cabin! With this storm, it wouldn't be surprising if you slipped and fell into the sea. And if you fall, the ship will be lost even before it reaches land."