The Lady of Night was so provoked by that barrage of words that her divinity reeled; the flames of her rage took on substance, becoming Ninefold Netherfire—formless and unseen within the night, yet enough to devour all.
In a war of tongues, she was indeed no match for this goddess of civilization.
But she was never a goddess who only fought with words!
Goddess Nyx clenched her silver teeth till they creaked. With a sweep of her jade arm, endless darkness surged like a rolling tide straight toward Mnemosyne.
Enough talk—fight!
"You shameless goddess! You're jealous that Zeus loves me! Jealous that Zeus has given all good things to me!"
Roaring, the Lady of Night charged. In an instant, the entire majestic peak—and the resplendent palace of the goddess of civilization and memory upon it—were ground to dust by pure night, reduced to the most primordial motes of element.
Her fury corroded and swallowed everything within the darkness, then hurled it straight to the deepest layer of the Underworld.
But such an attack did nothing to the goddess of civilization and memory; she slipped away from Nyx's dark erosion with ease.
A clear, melodious laugh rang out in the pitch-black where one could not see one's own hand—its tone nakedly mocking.
"Do your authorities compare to mine? Do you know what honors the children I bore with Zeus possess?"
"All the civilizations of every living being in this universe will be under my daughters' sway!"
No sooner had she spoken than, in the Lady of Night's mind, the memory she had forcibly deleted reappeared.
And this time, the imagery was clearer, more vivid—so real it was as if she herself were living it.
Enraged, Nyx deleted the memory once more—the very scene that nearly made her faint with fury.
But she could not erase it as quickly as Mnemosyne could send it again.
Very soon, Nyx's ruinous movements grew obscure and sluggish.
Her memory had been compromised.
Her instinct to fight and her logic of action began to fracture fatally; the core memories of "why to fight" and "how to fight" were being deleted, twisted, and remolded, plunging her divinity into a maelstrom of chaos.
If she hadn't prepared beforehand—backing up all her memories in the "Night" that was her own source so she could restore them at any time—
She would already have been toyed with at Mnemosyne's whim.
Even so, the continual edits, deletions, and insertions made her onslaught pointless.
Ordinarily, Mnemosyne need not act at all.
And the instant she did, she stood unassailable.
Had her opponent not been the equally mighty Lady of Night—had it been any ordinary god—she'd have played them like a trinket long ago.
The authority of "memory," unassuming on its face, is in truth near-invincible.
Moreover, the All-Knowing Goddess was showing considerable restraint—she was not running amok and rewriting memories at will, or else…
As it was, this poor Lady of Night had strength she could not bring to bear—and her humiliation only mounted.
She couldn't help but loose shrill screams in her unending rage.
Pure Night, furious and absolute, spread swiftly; it was now ruining more than Mnemosyne's peak.
Losing her reason in fury, the Lady of Night let her destructive power begin to mount over all of Mount Olympus.
But the goddess of memory had only meant to goad Nyx; to do her real harm was not on the table.
Zeus watched the commotion outside and felt an even sharper headache.
With such an uproar, there wasn't a single god on Olympus who didn't know.
Many gods watched from afar, faces alight with interest.
Even in their endless divine lives, scenes like this were far too rare!
Two supreme great goddesses, tangled in a brawl!
And over jealousy for the God-King!
It was too good not to watch!
As for peacemakers—there were none.
Either they dared not or did not care to; those who might have intervened had yet to arrive.
It was still daytime; Helios was mid-sky driving the sun.
But upon seeing the two goddesses trading blows from on high, he turned his chariot around to watch, tossing his sacred duty aside.
As for the three Astraeus brothers—they were at the boundary of the starry firmament, saw something amiss on Olympus, and raced back from beyond the stars to stand guard!
Only to discover it was two goddesses fighting.
So the three did not rush back to the firmament; they stood at a distance with the other gods, whispering and avidly taking in the spectacle.
After all, who doesn't like to watch goddesses fight?
Many goddesses even looked on with schadenfreude.
More than a few thought to themselves: Fight, fight—make a bigger mess! Best of all, enrage Zeus completely so he'll ignore you both forever!
Two little hussy-gods! The goddess of wisdom hasn't said a word, and you're already clawing at each other!
Shameless!
At the foot of Olympus, the gods and nymphs waiting for all the universe's deities to arrive—ready at any moment to pay court to the God-King and attend the coming Grand Convocation—beheld a terrifying sight.
A darkness absolute—the pure "Night"—suddenly veiled a mighty peak of Mount Olympus and, in a blink, leveled the peak and palace to flat ground.
And soon it began to spread over the entirety of Olympus.
From the sky, lances of dazzling starlight fell like meteors.
Even the sacred Sun, which should have hung high in the firmament, reversed course toward Olympus.
In an instant, the gods were in turmoil—divine hearts unsteady.
Some of the timid even considered fleeing at once.
They truly feared some unknown, terrible war was breaking out again—and with their frail frames, they were but leaves in the wind, candles in the rain.
Get swept in even a little, and there'd be no grave left for them!
Most had no law to shield them; death would be very real!
Zeus heaved a deep sigh—not only because the two goddesses were fighting; that was a trifle.
What exasperated him was the gods' reaction.
So many gods, abandoning their posts to gawk!
Look at the sky!
Even the sun turned around!
The example was awful!
His gaze pierced layer upon layer of obstruction to the nervous throngs gathering at the mountain's foot, and he felt truly weary.
The Heavenly Dao system had to be instituted at once!
The gods were far too willful—they still hadn't adapted to a stricter new order.
But this was also an opportunity.
When he judged the moment right—when the two had truly caught fire and the destruction was about to spin out of control—Zeus moved.
With a crack of thunder from a clear sky, Zeus arrived on the field, his face cold as carved jade, expressionless.
With a sweep of the God-King's hand, endless thunder became several ferocious golden lightning dragons, roaring into the deep night to bind fast the two goddesses—apparently in high spirits, but in truth bored.
The two, fighting hot and heavy, were numbed through by the sudden sacred thunder; the reason that rage and jealousy had smothered was forced back to wakefulness.
They looked up and saw Zeus's grim severity—an expression never before on his handsome, gentle face.
Their hearts jolted; taking in the wreckage around them, they began to panic.
Zeus really seemed angry.
For a moment, they could not help but feel a little afraid.
Both withdrew their divine might in haste, uneasy at heart.
At first, each wanted to fling herself into Zeus's arms and lodge her complaint first.
But when they saw Zeus's austere, emotionless face—and under so many watching eyes—they did not dare.
Mnemosyne, unable now to peer into Zeus's true thoughts, couldn't tell if Zeus was truly angry or merely making an example.
But she dared not gamble.
Zeus said nothing—only swept his majestic golden eyes coldly over the onlooking gods.
Some, sensing the shift in the air, tried to slip away, but under Zeus's sharp gaze they froze where they stood.
The deep night was swiftly receding, but in the sky that should have been clear, endless black clouds began to gather.
All the gods could see it: the great God-King was truly wroth this time.
In a voice cold to the extreme, Zeus issued his command: "All gods. To the council hall."
With that, his figure became a lance of blazing lightning, arriving first at the vast hall.
Zeus sat stern-faced upon the supreme God-King's throne; with an open hand the scepter of the God-King fell into his grip, flashing with the light of thunder. A killing chill pervaded the hall.
Though Zeus had departed, the clouds above did not disperse; they thickened, spreading until they veiled all Mount Olympus.
The gods on the scene looked at one another, uneasy at heart, then made their way to the council hall in turn.
(End of Chapter)
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