The Aegean Sea, the waters off Salamis.
As far as the eye could see, the coast was strewn with overturned prows and broken planks. The lingering smell of blood had drawn in schools of fish and sea beasts, which gathered there to begin a new round of slaughter and hunting. The waters churned and surged, and streaks of blood welled up from beneath the sea, gradually spreading into blotches of red.
As the strong wind blew, the hazy white mist was swept aside, revealing a towering sea fortress built of timber, its surface traced with shifting bands of light.
Nearly a thousand warships bearing the scars of battle were linked bow to stern in a great ring, forming a city upon the sea. With Salamis Island at its center, along with numerous large and small islets and reefs protected within, the whole structure created a network of connected footholds.
On the islands, the conquered inhabitants went about their lives in fear, whether willingly or not. Slaves plundered from every direction obediently hauled supplies, maintained armor and weapons, and repaired ships.
The entire floating fortress was thick with the signs of a bustling human settlement.
But the Persian main camp, built atop a mountain and overlooking the surrounding waters, was steeped in gloom.
They had lost.
A full two hundred warships, gone…
Inside the lavish command tent, the broad, towering Darius I drained a cup of strong liquor in one gulp, casually wiped the drink from his beard, then lowered the cup heavily onto the short table as his eyes flickered toward the man across from him.
"Xerxes, you're the commander now. Come up with something. If we can't give an explanation, my father-in-law won't let either of us off once he gets here."
If the old man wants to settle accounts, he ought to start with you. What the hell does that have to do with me?
Damn it, the Battle of Salamis was your operation from start to finish. You lose the battle, I become commander, and now you want me to take the blame? What kind of father does that?
Xerxes, handsome-faced, with shoulder-length dark brown curls and an almost delicate elegance, kept his expression steady on the surface while inwardly cursing the father who had shoved him straight onto the fire.
Since Cyrus the Great had already ascended to godhood, enjoyed a long lifespan, and occupied his position for so many years, most of his sons had lived in his shadow, with few ever standing out.
After all, the ones who showed promise too early were mostly dead.
By contrast, the talented young Darius I, who had married Atossa, daughter of Cyrus the Great, had gradually been elevated and eventually became the new King of Persia. Xerxes was born of that union, a hero of divine blood with impeccable lineage.
Perhaps because affection ran deeper across generations, the brilliant and far-sighted Cyrus the Great had always thought highly of this grandson of his.
But that still wasn't any reason to make him carry the blame…
Xerxes shot his old father a resentful glance, bitterness filling his chest.
Cyrus the Great might be generous and benevolent, but when it came to military matters, he was never soft. Now they had somehow suffered a defeat like this, and the old man had already sent word several days ago that he would come in person. If they ran straight into his wrath now, forget the son-in-law, even his own grandson would get no mercy.
But judging by the time, the old man was almost here. If he couldn't produce some kind of explanation now, Xerxes had no doubt that his dear father would immediately make him experience the paternal love he had missed all these years.
"Father, the Greeks' strength lies in nothing more than their large number of divine-blooded heroes. As long as we find a way to counter that force, then instead of tangling with the Athenian navy, we can shift to land and use our superior numbers to conquer the Greek city-states one by one!"
Left with no choice, the handsome young man had to step up and patch things over. Rising to his feet, he placed his right fist over his chest, bowed respectfully to Darius I, and answered in a low voice, his gaze flickering.
"And by fortunate chance, I recently encountered three foreign heroes who crossed the seas to come here. After sincerely befriending them, they agreed to lend their strength to Persia.
I guarantee that with their help, Greece's so-called unfallen fortresses will collapse into ruin!"
As Darius I fell into thought, Xerxes clapped his hands and revealed the trump card that might spare him from blame.
A moment later, guided by a maid, three invited guests entered the command tent one after another.
The young man at the front was tall and lean, with white hair falling loosely around him. A crimson jewel was set into his chest, and the magnificent golden armor on his body seemed fused with his flesh. In his hand was a gold-and-red spear-wheel radiating a brilliance like the sun itself. On his handsome face, one green eye and one red eye stared out with deep, detached indifference, like a god looking down on mere insects.
Thunk!
But the moment the white-haired, heterochromatic-eyed young man stopped, the girl behind him, brown-haired and brown-eyed, dressed in loose orange-and-blue clothes and wearing a ridiculous elephant hat, with "exhaustion" and "listlessness" written all over her from head to toe, sleepily bumped right into the small of his back.
The burst of strength that erupted from her in that dazed moment made even the white-haired, heterochromatic-eyed man stumble, ruining his composure completely.
The tight expression on the white-haired man's face loosened slightly. The corner of his mouth twitched. He grabbed the brown-haired girl behind him, hauled her off to the side, then gave a slight bow to the third arrival in a show of respect.
As the curtain was drawn aside, a red-haired, red-eyed youth stepped into the tent. He wore light armor, golden gauntlets, a brown-red curved greatsword at his waist, and a longbow across his back. Though calm on the surface, he carried a faintly repressed tension with him.
The three foreign guests exchanged glances and nodded. At the warm invitation of Darius I and Xerxes, they took their seats one after another.
After several rounds of wine and a full spread of dishes, and with Xerxes bridging the conversation and making introductions, Darius I gradually formed a rough understanding of the three travelers before him.
Of the three foreigners, the white-haired young man with heterochromatic eyes was named Karna, son of the Indian sun god.
The girl was named Jinako, said to have received the blessing of Ganesha, the Indian god who presides over commerce and obstacles.
And the last of them, that red-haired youth, was the ruler of Kosala among the kingdoms of India.
For various reasons, the three had ended up traveling together, riding the light-borne vessel Vimana in a journey of self-imposed exile. By chance, they had arrived in the Sea of Chaos and met Xerxes there.
As Darius I repeatedly raised his cup and felt them out, shock churned in his heart.
Three divine-blooded heroes!
No, beings on the verge of godhood!
Aside from that one little girl, who didn't look especially reliable, the other two were stronger than any hero he had ever seen in Persia.
Perhaps only his divine father-in-law, Cyrus, could stand against them.
That boy Xerxes had really stumbled onto treasure, and not just one piece, but two!
"With the aid of you three, our army will be unstoppable wherever it advances. Raise your cups and drink with me!"
Having gained such powerful reinforcements, Darius I was in excellent spirits. He immediately lifted his cup in salute and laughed aloud, blazing battle intent rekindling in his eyes.
"You have treated me with sincerity, and I will repay sincerity with sincerity. To help a friend solve his troubles is only proper."
Karna raised his cup and drank, then nodded toward Xerxes, the King of Persia. After that, he closed his eyes once more and returned to his quiet, composed silence.
"Right, right. If you need anything, just ask Karna. I can help guard the base."
When it was Jinako's turn to speak, the little girl, who had been enthusiastically stuffing herself at the table, lifted a lamb leg, wiped the grease from the corner of her mouth, and answered casually without even taking her eyes off the feast, fully embodying the spirit of a deadbeat slacker.
At last, Rama stood and raised his cup, his eyes burning bright.
"I can serve you and help Persia obtain that thing. But as agreed, once it is done, I want to see my wife Sita.
Sita, alive."
Hearing the implication in those words, Darius I immediately turned his head and cast a dark look at Xerxes beside him.
So the news about the planet's Great Source had already leaked…
...
At the same time, dozens of ships broke through the sea fog and sailed toward Salamis Island.
At the bow of the flagship, Cyrus the Great held an ornate golden cup in his hand, slowly swirling the clear, fragrant barley wine inside as he gazed out over the sea and at the faint outline of all Greece in the distance.
Behind him stood seven figures, four men and three women. Some stood by the rail, some leaned against the pillars, some had climbed to the lookout platform. They were scattered across the ship at varying heights, and the sheer weight of their Ether warped the surrounding air in ways visible to the naked eye.
...
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