Cadmus couldn't fathom what had just happened, but Suren understood it perfectly.
Or rather, it was through his encounters with the gods that he had come to understand the true nature of these divine beings and how they differed from humans.
Because "offense"—
This was merely a superficial understanding of the world from a human's perspective. What a human king might consider unforgivable defiance, a rebellion deserving of death—
To the gods, it was trivial.
Gods were unbothered.
But there was also a deeper reason, one that Suren was not aware of.
The gods, possessing everything, yearned only for the unknown.
And within Suren was embodied a unique, unprecedented mystery—a mode of action beyond the reach of even Zeus's unmatched wisdom.
How could this provoke wrath in a deity who often operated as a god ex machina? Zeus was more intrigued than angry.
Though the Twelve Olympians had long abandoned the cold precision of machine gods and were now embodied through the faith of humanity, their emotions still fell short of those of true sentient beings.
As king of the gods and protector of humanity, Zeus desired above all to guide humankind. Yet his boundless wisdom left him all too aware that the Age of Gods would inevitably end.
And humanity, as they were, had no future.
But now, in Suren, a different possibility had revealed itself.
So, rather than smiting him, Zeus shared this event with the other Olympians without mentioning any punishment for Suren.
He would wait and watch as events continued to unfold.
"Well, Lady Hera has proven herself a proper patron," Suren remarked, chuckling to Cadmus as the thunder in the heavens finally faded. "It's worth the trouble I've gotten into on her behalf."
After all, Zeus hadn't even hurled a single thunderbolt at him. Suren had been fully prepared to face off against the god-king—at worst, he'd have braced himself for a comeback through the resurrection games of the Underworld.
In this age, the concept of "death" didn't quite exist. Anyone who died would find themselves in the Underworld, though even the living could enter if they dared, and those strong enough to conquer its trials could earn their way back to life.
Winning the resurrection games wasn't seen as a great feat. Anyone who couldn't manage it wasn't worthy of the title of "great Greek hero."
Yet Zeus had refrained from obliterating him with a bolt of lightning, neither to punish his audacity nor to reassert his divine authority.
To Suren, this leniency might just be Hera's doing.
"...Please, my lord," Cadmus stammered. "Say no more."
He didn't know what Suren's words truly meant, but whatever Suren dared to say, he dared not listen.
He feared death. He feared the gods who ruled over everything in this era.
"Your business is settled, and now you have your own adventure ahead of you. Go where you must," Suren nodded, preparing ample provisions for Cadmus and escorting him out of the perilous forest of the divine age. Only then did he pick up Aurum Altissimum, ready to receive Hera's guidance and fulfill this quest for true love.
"O Lady Hera, Queen of the Heavens, I humbly ask you to guide my path."
Suren offered tribute once again to each of the goddesses…
Of course, he didn't mind making sacrifices to the gods over and over again; he found it anything but tedious. In this age, cultivating good relations with the goddesses was the mark of a true life of bliss.
On the other hand, if you somehow incurred their wrath, your life would undoubtedly be plagued by misfortune, with adversities waiting at every turn.
Suren didn't know where Zeus had taken Europa, but he guessed it was somewhere between the Aegean and the Mediterranean Seas.
The legend of Europa was well known, even to Suren.
And so, setting off on this adventure guided by faint and unclear signs, he felt no impatience. He departed from Athens and headed southward, moving eastward, passing through various city-states and even tribes along the way.
Just as he was about to leave the Greek mainland and enter the open sea, he encountered his first "hero."
A Greek hero, in all their infamous splendor.
Suren, preparing to sail, needed a boat. Though he had Aurum Altissimum, this was supposed to be an adventure, not just travel, so he didn't want to rely on his golden bow.
Buying a small boat and drifting with the currents would make for an interesting experience, after all.
It was then that he saw the hero.
Peleus.
Grandson of Zeus, son of Aeacus, the famed demigod hero.
As one of Greece's renowned demigods, Peleus possessed great strength, a proud, heroic spirit, and a devotion to honor above all else.
The city he found himself in worshipped Artemis, goddess of the moon and the hunt. Recently, it had suffered under a fearsome beast, with many citizens killed in the battle to repel it.
Guided by Artemis, Peleus had come to drive away the beast, and he succeeded in chasing it far from the city.
Up to this point, everything seemed normal, hardly enough to catch Suren's attention.
But—
The city's king, pointing toward distant fields and villages, said to Peleus, "O son of Aeacus, grandson of Zeus, great hero Peleus, we are grateful to you for all you have done for our city."
"As a token of my gratitude, I offer you the wealth of that land over there. Take whatever you desire."
Laughing, Peleus ran toward the village, snatching up the most beautiful woman he could find and completely disregarding her family and betrothed. Turning to the village elder, he proclaimed, "I've driven away the beast that tormented you. So now—"
"Bring me all your wealth as tribute!"
Some resisted. After all, how was this behavior any different from the beast he'd driven away?
The king had freely given him all the land's villages as a gift of thanks, but did he ever consider the villagers' wishes?
Peleus ignored them, tearing at the woman's clothes with no regard. As a hero, he saw the common folk as little more than ants.
To bear the child of a demigod would be her honor.
Maybe no one cared about this woman's plight. No one cared that she already had someone she loved, and no one cared about this helpless village, its people powerless to resist.
This was Greece. In seeking a hero's aid, you accepted the hero's demands.
But Suren cared.
Peleus, looking utterly disheveled, staggered out from the ruins of a toppled building. The powerful kick Suren had delivered had nearly ripped his godly bloodline apart. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he roared, "Who are you?"
Such an impressive attack could only come from another hero.
As the grandson of Zeus, Peleus was imbued with high divine power; ordinary magic and physical attacks could not pierce his skin, suffused as it was with divine essence.
"I am Suren, an ordinary man."
Suren's face was impassive as he drew Aurum Altissimum from his back. Those who knew him could tell he was livid.
Even facing down Zeus had not provoked Suren's wrath like this.
It wasn't only Peleus's actions that enraged him—it was the spirit of the era itself.
Why were these people brave enough to resist beasts, yet helpless against so-called heroes?
What was the reason?
"I came here at the behest of the goddess of the moon and the hunt, the Mistress of the Wild, the great Artemis!" Peleus shouted in fury. "I'll ask you again—who exactly are you?"
Suren held his silence. He understood all too well.
The people could resist beasts because a beast was simply a beast.
They couldn't resist a hero because each heroic deed came with the gods' blessing.
As Suren held his tongue, Peleus started to understand.
"?!"
The blow had left Peleus reeling, but now he focused his divine gaze, his god-gifted vision revealing the layers of blessings shimmering around Suren.
Brilliant, blinding blessings.
"...Forgive me, my lord, for my offense," Peleus said, kneeling in an instant—not because of the kick, but because, as a Greek and a child of the gods, he held the gods in utmost reverence.
Though Peleus was tall, towering over Suren's 1.85 meters, he bent his two-meter frame as low as he could.
Suren even found himself wondering, if he were only 1.6 meters tall, how low this giant would have to bow to match him?
"My lord?" Peleus ventured, looking up. But Suren placed the bow back on his back; there was no point anymore.
"You say you were sent here by Lady Artemis's command?"
"Yes," Peleus replied respectfully. "The people here prayed to her to save them from the beast, and I came under her guidance."
Suren nodded. "Then, I won't keep you. I have my own tribute to make to Lady Artemis."
But before he could begin, a familiar voice whispered into his ear.
"S-Suren… my… follower."
It was a voice, feminine and heavy with barely restrained anger. "Was it this man who angered you? If so, I'll turn him into a stag and let him wander the wilds until he withers away."
To transform someone into a deer…
This was the divine power of Artemis.
Even without declaring herself, Suren knew the voice belonged to none other than Artemis, goddess of the moon and the hunt.
Legend told of Actaeon, grandson of Cadmus—a hunter who once strayed upon Artemis's bathing place. In her fury, she transformed him into a stag, and he was soon torn apart by his own fifty hunting dogs.
The goddess had once been offended by a mere mortal's gaze, yet had punished him only by transforming him into a stag. But now, enraged on Suren's behalf, she would readily reduce Peleus to an animal.
If it's for you, I will help.
Suren should have felt honored by her unbridled anger.
It meant he had a place in her heart. And yet…
All he felt was bitterness and helplessness.
He was helpless in the face of Greece, disillusioned by the gods who ruled it.
Suren dismissed Peleus without a word. After all, even the gods didn't see anything wrong with his behavior. What meaning would there be in killing him?
Artemis was willing to punish Peleus, not for his crimes, but simply because he had angered Suren.
Suren understood this, which was why he refused her "kindness."
Handing the woman a piece of linen from his satchel, he said, "You're safe now. Go back to the one you love."
She gazed at him in awe, entranced by his beauty, but quickly understood he was far beyond her reach and returned to her beloved.
But to his surprise, her beloved did not look happy; rather, he seemed somewhat ashamed.
Not just him, either—all around, the villagers looked on, their eyes shadowed by hesitant worry and a quiet discontent.
Dissatisfaction…
An elderly villager, the oldest among them, stepped forward, sighing as he spoke to Suren. "O righteous one, I believe you are a man of true compassion."
"But you shouldn't have done this; you shouldn't have driven Lord Peleus away."
"…"
Suren remained silent, but perhaps it was his kindness that gave the villagers courage to say what they hadn't dared say to Peleus.
"Yes, the hero took our wealth, but he did drive away the beast that terrorized us…"
"But how are his actions any different from the beast's?" Suren asked. "Is it simply because he is the gods' chosen?"
"If we meet their demands, the heroes won't kill us."
The villager replied, "As for the heroes' desires, we can only do our best to satisfy them…"
"You drove away Lord Peleus this time, but if the beasts return, who will save us then?"
"O righteous one, noble hero… has it not always been this way?"
Has it not always been this way…
At that moment, Suren finally understood.
Peleus was not the problem, nor were the villagers.
The flaw was in the world itself.
Previously, Suren's challenge to Zeus had been a defiant response to a god's whimsy, but now, seeing the twisted workings of the Age of Gods, he realized something.
This world needed to be restructured, if only so he could live comfortably—so he would no longer have to witness such vile injustices.
The strong governed the weak; it was a truth woven into the fabric of the world.
The gods ruled over humankind, and heroes lorded over mortals.
But if Suren became the strongest of all, could he not create a world where strength and weakness coexisted in harmony, even in this beautiful Age of the Gods?
"This world is so beautiful," Suren murmured to himself, "but it is marred by flaws."
"I will carve and shape it until it is truly pure."
"They do not understand me, for they have never stood on their own…"
Turning away from the villagers, Suren knew what he had to do.
And now, he was going to do it.
---
In the heavens, Artemis wasn't the only god keeping an eye on Suren.
What he might not realize was that ever since he'd confronted Zeus and declared his intent to hold the gods accountable, he'd become something of a celebrity in Greece.
Sometimes, the gods really were this idle.
They had nothing to do. Their lives stretched eternally, and they had already obtained everything they desired.
And so, with Suren—whose values clashed so starkly with the Greeks'—now on the scene, the gods took immense interest in him.
From their vantage in the clouds, they watched his journey, endlessly entertained.
Some of them even wagered on whether Suren would accept Europa as his "true love," as Hera had arranged.
The unexpected turn of events in the mortal world only heightened their interest. Suren certainly seemed to carry his fair share of surprises—and gods delighted in surprises.
Athena watched him in silence. She knew Artemis had quietly approached Suren, yet she herself did nothing.
Because she, too, was curious.
Yes, Athena, the goddess of wisdom, was curious about Suren.
Why had he shown such intense aversion to Peleus?
Peleus hadn't directly offended him, hadn't tarnished his honor, and hadn't challenged his strength. Yet Suren had been furious enough to take up Aurum Altissimum, the golden bow that held the full blessing of Athena.
Suren had once sworn to Athena that he would not wield this bow lightly; he would hold it as a symbol of the goddess herself…
Not even Hera's guidance had tempted him to soar through the skies with that golden weapon.
But now, faced with someone as insignificant as Peleus, Suren had raised his bow, and had Peleus not groveled quickly enough, he would've been on his way to the Underworld for a revival match.
It was this mystery that kept Athena from showing herself as freely as Artemis had.
As the goddess of wisdom, she wasn't foolish enough to reveal her stance without understanding the situation fully.
She decided to speak with Suren, to understand what had driven him to act this way.
Suren, what has made you so angry? —
The gods discussed Suren's odd display of anger among themselves, all just as perplexed. Even Poseidon, the indulgent and lewd god of the seas, gave a slap to his knee and said, "Well, he must have set his eyes on that woman too and wanted her all to himself!"
This line of thought, driven by baser instincts, was not one the gods accepted, and soon enough, the unfolding events proved that Suren's motives were unrelated to any rivalry with Peleus over a woman.
None of the gods saw anything wrong with a hero demanding whatever he pleased after saving a city-state from peril.
This was the very source of Suren's rage and helplessness.
And as for the king of all gods, seated at the pinnacle of Mount Olympus, he only watched in silence.
Zeus was the most powerful, the strongest, and the wisest of all the gods.
No god could fathom his thoughts, and nobody knew why he hadn't punished Suren.
Privately, Apollo even speculated, Perhaps Zeus has taken a liking to Suren!
The gods didn't understand Zeus, nor did they understand Suren.
Silent as the heavens, the king of the gods remained watchful, never voicing his thoughts.
Suren—rebellious mortal, seeking to bind the gods to his own law…
Observe, then—
This is the world you must contend with.
Do you still cling to your foolish ambitions?
Do you still stand firm in your ideals?
You've seen the truth of this world, haven't you?
And you—
Do you possess the will to hold to your convictions, even if no one else will ever understand you?
---
Suren moved on, putting the incident behind him.
He understood that this wasn't a one-off. If you spotted one roach, there were bound to be more.
Suren was a good man, but he wasn't one to let sorrow or pity weigh down his spirit. He kept his feelings within, not letting them show on his face.
Life, after all, went on.
But one thing was clear—Suren would not let anything or anyone twist his resolve or sway him from his path.
What he set his mind to do, nothing could stop.
As long as the injustices were in front of him, he would do his part. But for those beyond his reach, all he could do was accept his limits and keep moving forward.
Sailing alone across the vast ocean, Suren hadn't followed the custom of offering Poseidon a ritual before heading out to sea.
According to Poseidon's rules, Suren's offense should have sparked a mighty storm that would toss his boat to a deserted island, teaching him a lesson on respecting the gods.
But instead, Poseidon did… nothing.
Suren stared in bemusement at the large fish that suddenly leapt out of the water, landing directly in his boat. Scratching his head, he pressed his hands together in thanks. "Thank you, Nature…no, thank you, Lord Poseidon, for the gift."
A fish from the sea, offering itself as food.
No need to wonder—it was certainly Poseidon's doing.
Soon after, more fish leapt onto his boat and flopped around helplessly, needing no help from Suren to finish the job.
"Enough, enough!" Suren said quickly, overwhelmed. "Thank you for the favor, but I really can't eat this much!"
As he voiced his thanks, the fish finally stopped, sparing him from being buried in seafood.
And Suren couldn't help but wonder—
Why was Poseidon being so kind to him?
After all, when Atalanta was racing, Poseidon's grandchild had died in part because of Suren's intervention.
Yet here was Poseidon, showing him goodwill.
Unable to make sense of it, Suren laughed and let it go. The gods were capricious, after all; they could be kind one moment and wrathful the next.
Who knew what they thought of him?
Once more, Suren called upon Hestia for her sacred fire.
If he wanted a hot meal out here in the middle of the ocean, he'd need a flame—and with the boat as his only source of wood, he didn't much feel like risking it. Was he meant to swim the rest of the way?
So he'd turned to the gods. Hestia's sacred fire, after all, could ignite without wood, bringing heat from the air itself.
Soon enough, a warm, otherworldly flame flickered into being before him, a reminder that Hestia was watching over him.
After a meal, Suren made his customary offerings to the goddesses, but only Athena's gift remained untouched.
Before he could wonder aloud about this, a sudden, glorious light engulfed his boat.
The goddess of wisdom, war, and victory, Athena herself, had descended.
Athena smiled as she reached for the grilled fish he had offered. While the gods had access to the finest of all mortal offerings, nothing earthly could usually tempt her palate.
Yet here, this radiant goddess lifted the simple, rustic meal, and took a bite with her perfect lips, the whiteness of her teeth catching the light as she tasted the fish. She nodded with pleasure.
"Suren, it's quite good!"
"But," she added playfully, "your technique could use some refinement. Would you like me to show you how it's done?"
Looking at Athena's radiant smile, Suren suddenly understood why, besides tales of her strength, the Greek myths and histories praised her beauty endlessly.
Athena was the goddess of crafts, after all. She excelled in all things that required skill and technique.
Under her skilled touch, the fish she prepared was nothing short of sublime, a perfect tribute to Hestia's sacred fire.
With Poseidon providing the food, Hestia the flame, and Athena the preparation—Suren found himself receiving a meal unlike any other.
Only Suren could claim such an honor in all of Greece.
This alone was a prize beyond any recognition the Greek heroes might seek.
As he bit into the fish, he praised the goddess's skill with complete sincerity, showing none of the restraint mortals typically displayed before gods.
He had followed Greek customs, kneeling and offering ritual bows to the gods as was appropriate, but it wasn't as if he couldn't rise above these rituals.
His body might bow, but his spirit did not.
Watching him, Athena tilted her head thoughtfully, her eyes softening. Then she said, "Suren, from now on, when you honor me, there's no need to bow. Merely call my name."
"…Don't ask why, beautiful Suren. This is a privilege that only you shall have."
Suren raised his eyebrows but said nothing. Athena had given her word, and he would respect it.
After they'd eaten, Suren leaned back against the bow of the boat, stretching out in the sun, allowing the gentle currents to carry him. In an age of gods, he knew that all paths were guided by the will of the divine.
Hera had asked him to find Europa, and so he trusted the boat to carry him to the island on its own.
You're a grown boat now, he thought whimsically. Go ahead, find my adventure.
Athena, observing him with a lazy smile, leaned back against the stern of the boat and closed her eyes, saying, "Suren, aren't you curious why I came to you in person?"
Without opening his eyes, Suren replied, "Curious, of course. But I know you'll tell me, Athena, so there's no need to ask."
"Oh, you…" Athena replied with a laugh, a hint of fondness in her tone. "It seems the gods really have spoiled you."
"But I forgive you."
Because I, too, wish to bestow upon you my favor, noble hero.
For the first time, Athena was drawn to Suren not because of his beauty, but because of his character and spirit.
A godlike face was rare indeed, but beauty could only go so deep.
A noble soul, unyielding determination, and resolute will—such things held the curiosity of even the king of gods.
---
Thanks for reading! Let me know if you spot any mistakes or inconsistencies!
(IN THE STORY)
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