"Speaking of which," Alistair said, curiosity piqued, "Persephone, what's Prometheus been up to lately?"
His initial release of Prometheus was partly for a deal, but mostly to stir chaos and make the game more entertaining.
A true agent of mischief.
With most tasks wrapped up and his divine power recovering, Alistair planned to search for new worlds via the Dimensional Galaxy Chart. Only now did he recall Prometheus.
Persephone paused, then sighed. "Prometheus has caused quite a stir."
"Heaven, Sea, Underworld, Earth."
"With his divine power restored and his wisdom as the God of Forethought, he's wreaked havoc in short order, seizing numerous divine artifacts."
"Their purpose? Unknown."
She recounted Prometheus's recent exploits.
Alistair blinked, stunned. "Earth, Underworld, Sea—I get those. But Heaven? He stirred trouble there and walked away unscathed?"
Earth was no surprise. Athena wouldn't interfere, and Prometheus had a cooperative tie with her.
The Underworld, managing life and death, was overseen by a slumbering Tartarus, a Primordial God. As long as Prometheus avoided the sealed Titan Twelve, he'd go unnoticed.
The Sea? Poseidon's divine body was destroyed, his soul in eternal slumber.
But Heaven was different.
Teeming with power and guarded by Apollo, how did Prometheus raid it and escape?
"Dust," Persephone explained, "Heaven and Olympus are distinct."
"Heaven's vast, rich in divine artifacts."
"But it's controlled by Olympus, much like the Titans' Othrys Mountain."
"Olympus, Othrys, Atlantis, the Sanctuary, the Underworld—all are unique small worlds."
Alistair nodded, understanding.
"Still," he pressed, "Prometheus is causing this much chaos. What's his goal?"
"Who knows?" Persephone replied.
Demeter sauntered in, still groggy from the previous day's battle. "There's a possibility," she mused. "Prometheus, alone, can't shift the current stalemate. He has three options."
Alistair raised a brow. "Which are?"
"First, revive Poseidon's divine body to rejoin the game."
"Second, release the Titan Twelve."
"Third, awaken all slumbering Primordial Gods."
Persephone listed them calmly.
Alistair's brow twitched. "Is he mad? Poseidon, the Titans, Primordial Gods—does he think he can control them?"
He shrugged. If chaos erupted, he'd seal Underworld City and bide his time, returning when ready.
But Prometheus? What was he thinking?
"Speaking of which," Alistair turned to Demeter, "is Metis dead?"
Persephone might not know such secrets, but Demeter likely would.
Demeter pondered, then shook her head. "Uncertain. Theoretically, Metis lives. If she didn't, and Athena lacked that connection, she wouldn't be Olympus's obedient watchdog."
"In the mythic era, Athena was a fierce war goddess, not the delicate wisdom deity of today."
Alistair nodded. "Makes sense. So, Prometheus, the loyal devotee, wants to free Metis."
"To do that, he'd need to become a God-King."
"He's proven he can't. So, he's banking on Athena."
Rubbing his brow, Alistair marveled at Prometheus's schemes.
Demeter leaned on his shoulder, yawning. "Chaos benefits him. Only through chaos can he help Athena ascend to God-King."
"If she does, she becomes a key player, freeing Metis."
"A solid plan," Alistair admitted.
The current stalemate served Prometheus poorly. Neither side could overpower the other, and it could drag on for millennia.
Chaos was his best move.
"Prometheus just wants everything to spiral," Alistair concluded. "But that's fine. We'll watch the show."
He spread his hands, unbothered. Let Prometheus do as he pleased.
"But," he added with a grin, "seems he's come knocking. Interesting. Let's see."
Persephone smiled, sensing something too.
At Underworld City, Prometheus gazed at the towering fortress, pausing briefly before stepping inside.
Instantly, his divine power dwindled by eighty percent.
The Underworld Barrier weakened all who entered, save God-Kings, by that margin.
Prometheus didn't care, ascending the spiral staircase to the city's heart.
No one hindered him.
He reached the summit, knowing Persephone—or the one behind her—permitted this. Otherwise, he'd never have made it, dead or not.
Theoretically, he wouldn't die. His release was to make the game more chaotic, more amusing.
"Such confidence," he murmured. "Releasing an unpredictable factor just for fun."
Before him stood Albedo, calm and elegant, yet distant. "Mr. Prometheus, this way."
Prometheus followed silently.
A succubus? Her aura was weak, lacking even a small cosmos. An insult?
No. Her demeanor suggested otherwise.
Prometheus grew curious. What changes had swept the Underworld?
No one could enter to find out.
Inside Underworld City, he followed Albedo to the throne room, where Persephone sat, regal and imposing.
"Lady Underworld, the guest has arrived," Albedo said, bowing.
"Thank you, Albedo," Persephone replied, smiling. "Rise."
"Yes." Albedo stood beside her.
"Lady Underworld," Prometheus bowed, knowing propriety was vital with higher beings.
Gods were sticklers for decorum.
"What brings you, Prometheus?" Persephone asked.
He opened his mouth, hesitating. His instincts screamed that speaking his true intent would mean death. This God-King would strike without mercy.
Exhaling, he said calmly, "I seek cooperation with the Underworld."
"Cooperation?" Persephone smiled. "What can you offer?"
She seemed less concerned with the purpose and more with the benefits.
Her divine will, bolstered by world and faith power, was advancing rapidly.
At this rate, conquering ten worlds—roughly two and a half years—would elevate her to Primordial God status.
For gods, that was a blink.
Moreover, she wielded the Helm of Invisibility and Underworld Sword, her world artifact fused with them. As she ascended, they'd become Great Treasures.
She feared little.
Worst case, she'd seal the Underworld and return in a decade to settle scores.
"Benefits…" Prometheus mused, unnerved. "She's so confident, she doesn't care about my plan to awaken Primordial Gods. Is the Underworld's depth beyond my reckoning?"
His expression remained neutral. "The Fire of Humanity records all civilizations' progress."
"As humanity thrives, it burns brighter."
"But it's not true Fire of Humanity. It should guide humanity's advance."
"That's the Fire of Civilization."
"I can transform it into that."
Persephone tilted her head. "Fire of Civilization…"
Alistair, listening, pondered. Prometheus's system codices had already benefited the Dark World Tree. Developing them from scratch was possible but time-consuming.
The Fire of Civilization could save crucial time.
"Not enough," Persephone said dismissively. "With your wisdom, you can guess much, but it means little to me. Given time, I can handle those matters easily."
Prometheus pressed on. "The Pegasus Saint of the Sanctuary, reincarnation of the horse god Pallas, wields God-Slaying Power. Below God-King, any being struck is gravely wounded or dead."
"If a God-King wields it, no peer can stand against them."
Persephone smiled, waiting for his next offer.
Prometheus met her gaze. This Underworld Queen was formidable, her confidence unshakable. His proposals were mere enhancements, not necessities.
Her assurance was daunting.
***
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