Truth be told, even Prometheus, the God of Forethought, couldn't fathom the source of Persephone's unshakable confidence.
It was overwhelming, as if nothing mattered to her.
The moment she ascended to God-King, she stood in opposition to Apollo.
No amount of avoidance could change that.
As the saying goes, two tigers cannot share one mountain—unless they're mates, which, unfortunately, didn't apply to God-Kings.
Why not eliminate the rival and claim all the rewards? That was the way of God-Kings.
For them, mercy was a foreign concept. They struck hard and decisively.
Prometheus could see that Persephone was utterly unconcerned.
"What lies behind her?" he wondered silently. "Or rather…"
He didn't dwell on it, instead saying calmly, "Zeus wields the God-Slaying Thunder, akin to the God-Slaying Power. Crafted by the Titan Twelve, only a thunder god can wield it."
"Now, Zeus holds this power. In the War of the Three Kings, he vanquished Hades and Poseidon, even sealing Cronus."
Persephone merely watched, seemingly indifferent.
God-Slaying Power. God-Slaying Thunder.
Undeniably, these were like Noble Phantasms from the Nasuverse, devastating against gods.
Yet, for Persephone, as long as her divine power grew swiftly or her rank ascended high enough, such threats were trivial.
"I hold the God-Slaying Fire," Prometheus continued. "I can offer its method."
"I propose a trade."
He revealed his trump card, knowing further talk was futile. Persephone wouldn't care otherwise.
"Additionally," he added, "I've developed deeper system paths during my imprisonment. I can provide those too."
Persephone regarded him calmly. "Speak, Prometheus. What's your trade?"
Fire of Civilization, God-Slaying Fire, advanced system codices—these were enough to pique her interest.
Prometheus exhaled softly, relieved to have earned a chance to continue. "I seek to free the Titan Twelve."
"But my current power can't achieve that."
He stated his request.
"Free the Titan Twelve…" Persephone mused. "You aim to unleash chaos to aid Athena's ascent to God-King, freeing Metis. So, Metis lives."
She deduced much in an instant.
Prometheus neither confirmed nor denied, saying, "Lady Underworld, what say you?"
Persephone hesitated briefly. "It's feasible. But we'll set it for three years hence."
"Three years…" Prometheus considered, guessing her intent.
She likely planned to act after the Holy War, perhaps after securing Earth's divine artifacts.
That wasn't his concern. Her agreement sufficed.
"Very well, Lady Underworld," he said. "Three years it is."
"Before then…" He raised his hand, two radiant orbs emerging. "The Fire of Civilization and system codices, I entrust to you."
Persephone replied evenly, "Prometheus, you have no choice but to agree or end this."
"I understand." Without hesitation, he nodded, producing a third orb.
As she'd said, he had no leverage against a God-King.
He left the items and departed.
Persephone examined them thoughtfully. "Transforming the Fire of Civilization is simple. The codices are impressive. But the God-Slaying Fire? Dust, it requires vast divine artifacts and unique divine power. We can't forge it yet."
She shook her head as Alistair emerged from the shadows.
"Your Majesty!" Albedo bowed.
Alistair nodded, gesturing for her to rise. "If there's no issue, send the codices to the Dark World Tree. As for the Fire of Civilization, is it troublesome?"
"Not at all. Mother can handle it," Persephone said with a smile, noting Demeter's slide into carefree idleness. Best to keep her occupied.
"Good." Alistair didn't comment on her scheming, instead saying, "Since we're away from the Dark World Tree, let's continue our sea journey. It's not over yet."
"Agreed." Persephone stood, arranging everything.
Alistair turned. "Albedo, join us."
"Yes! Thank you, Your Majesty!" Albedo's eyes sparkled with excitement.
He smiled, shaking his head, and led Persephone and Albedo out of Underworld City.
From there, they reached Death Queen Island, heading onward.
This trip had no fixed destination, merely a continuation of their sea adventure.
Meanwhile, in Elysium, Demeter sighed at the tasks her daughter assigned. Retired, she'd hoped to relax, yet here she was, working again.
Only she, Alistair, or Persephone could handle this, and with them touring, the burden fell to her.
On the sea, Alistair and the two women wandered leisurely.
They lingered on beautiful islands, sightseeing or relaxing.
Notably, beyond Mermaid Island and Death Queen Island, they encountered three more Sanctuary islands, each nurturing Cloths.
Alistair claimed them. Group Eagle Island once fostered the Aquila Silver Cloth and Dove Bronze Cloth. Legend Ship Island housed the Puppis, Carina, and Vela Cloths. Waterlight Island, steeped in water's divine power, had no clear Cloth association.
If they belonged to the Sanctuary, Alistair took them.
Truthfully, these islands held little value to him—he could create better. But there was a thrill in claiming what was another's.
A month passed swiftly.
As they prepared to return, Alistair spotted a dark-hued island. "There's an unyielding soul there," he mused.
"Devil Island," Albedo explained. "Your Majesty, it once exiled rule-breaking Saints, like Death Queen Island. It housed Phantom Saints, though they've perished."
Her knowledge was effortless, befitting her goal as an omniscient, elegant steward.
"Devil Island…" Alistair considered, intrigued. "Let's check it out. I think I know who that soul is."
He'd guessed: Aeste, sister of Ophiuchus Silver Saint Shaina.
Aeste's talent was remarkable, mastering the Sixth Sense at a young age. With training, she could've easily become a Silver Saint.
But her arrogance led to her downfall. As the Sanctuary managed Earth, Aeste's forceful removal of obstructing ships violated its principles of justice and peace.
She was exiled to Devil Island, where she formed the Phantom Saints to steal Gold Cloths, only to fail repeatedly and perish.
Though the original story didn't confirm her death, Shaina's vengeance against Seiya implied it.
Alistair, Persephone, and Albedo landed on Devil Island.
"Such intense resentment," Persephone noted, sensing the soul's unyielding bitterness.
"This child's soul, fueled by regret and rage, resists entering the Underworld or Hades' domain."
"But she's nearing her limit. Without intervention, her soul will corrode into a wraith."
Alistair nodded. "Let's go see."
They reached the island's center, a bleak landscape of black and dark purple, nearly barren save for a castle-like structure.
Alistair surveyed it. "Persephone, claim Devil Island. It's a waste here. It could nurture Dark Cloths if they break their limits."
"Fine," she agreed, seeing it as a trinket. If Dust wanted it, so be it.
Her divine power enveloped the island.
The Sanctuary noticed but could do nothing.
A woman whispered, "Aeste…"
Alistair, unaware and uninterested, mused, "How's Jani doing?"
Among his kin, Jani had the least presence, living quietly in Elysium, training her small cosmos daily.
"She's deeply hurt," Persephone said. "Abandoned by all, even her Cloth."
Persephone cared for each kin like a gentle elder sister, guiding them beyond her role as Underworld Queen.
Alistair shook his head. "Let her train. Once the Dark Cloths break their limits, give her the Dark Chameleon Cloth. It might heal her."
Jani was like a sealed-off warrior, capable but emotionally closed. The Chameleon Cloth's abandonment was her breaking point. Alistair was her anchor, but not enough to open her heart.
"And Marin?" he asked.
Albedo replied softly, "Your Majesty, Marin's imprisoned in Hell, still defiant. Should we…?"
She implied sending Marin through Hell's trials to break her.
"No need," Alistair waved dismissively. "Let her stay locked up. Hell can afford one prisoner."
His interest in Marin stemmed from his collector's instinct, not necessity. If she refused, she'd remain confined.
***
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