In theory, only the ferryman could bring people across the river. However, nothing in the world was absolute—everything had two sides. Absolutes didn't exist.
The Sea King had held back for so many years. Now was his time to shine. His subordinates quickly constructed a ship a thousand meters long and a hundred meters wide, ready to ferry everyone across.
Thea pulled her companions aboard. The highly scientifically curious Flash also wanted to study the Styx water's composition, but fortunately Thea was quick enough to drag him onto the ship.
Everyone began boarding one after another. Just then, several deities simultaneously noticed a small boat approaching from the distance.
Thea immediately grinned. The gods and demigods who knew the Styx's inside story all wore schadenfreude expressions.
Rowing a small boat toward them was naturally the Styx ferryman Charon. Hades had already contracted this river out to him—Charon paid a fixed annual amount and was responsible for his own profits and losses. Today, sensing large numbers of living beings entering the Styx, he naturally came to investigate.
Halfway there, he realized things were bad. The gods' divine power wasn't concealed at all. So many deities brazenly carrying weapons definitely weren't here to comfort this lonely old man...
But duty was duty—he couldn't just turn around and leave. The old man looked thin and withered, with beady triangular eyes and a thoroughly weaselly appearance. Actually, his seniority was quite high—he was a deity himself!
Thea watched the old man slowly row toward the gods, feeling somewhat wistful. The Styx ferryman Charon—in her memory, he was just low-tier among the Specters. But in this world, this guy was no simple matter. He was the son of Nyx and Erebus, the primordial deities of Night and Darkness, and shared the same generation as the three Fates.
Unfortunately, his era had long passed—or rather, had never arrived. Before overwhelming divine power, high seniority still meant bowing your head. He could grovel to his junior, Hades, so naturally he wouldn't dare offend Poseidon or Hera.
To the Greek gods, Thea was a New God. Hera and the others were similarly usurpers to the descendants of the primordial gods—each wave toppling the last. This was why gods feared the future.
As the small boat approached, who would deal with this guy? The gods exchanged glances.
Thea, who'd originally planned to watch from the sidelines, felt her fate thread twitch slightly. After numerous private experiments, she could now barely utilize a tiny function of this thread: if she followed fate's arrangement, the thread would cling tightly to her hair.
If she wanted to do something outside fate's plan, the thread would stick out awkwardly—very typical defiance of natural growth. Fortunately, the fate thread now had some connection with her and was slowly accepting her. Even big shots far above her level couldn't see this suddenly upright strand of hair.
Regarding Charon's issue, fate gave her two choices: go with the flow and watch the show, or get involved.
The world's momentum had its own inertia. Swimming upstream against fate's river was too difficult. But to break fate's bonds and reach a position higher than Highfather or Darkseid, she couldn't follow fate's predetermined path.
Start from the details, gradually break free from fate. Keep the general trend unchanged, but tinker with the small stuff—this was Thea's current policy.
"I'll handle this guy." She directly volunteered to negotiate with Charon rowing his small boat.
Seeing someone step forward, the gods naturally wouldn't object. Thea leaped directly onto the small boat.
Really weaselly... Looking at the thin, withered old man before her with his murky triangular eyes and shifty gaze, this guy collected money from everyone who crossed, making him one of the three realms' rare tycoons. Yet he dressed in rags like a scavenger.
She studied him while Charon likewise assessed her.
Today, because she was participating in the Greek god war, Thea had changed into the silver-blue skirted battle armor Zeus had forged. To match Diana's red cape, she'd had Yaramani sew a thick blue cloak, lining the collar and edges with the Golden Fleece she'd obtained earlier.
The thick cloak wrapped around her, Holy Sword in hand—she cut an impressive, majestic figure. Though Diana couldn't understand why her lover called the cloak a "comforter."
"Are you... prepared to pay the crossing fee?" Charon mustered his courage to ask, especially seeing Heracles in the distance sharpening his axe. In his view, this was just going through the motions—they'd say no, he'd go home and rest. Whether Hades lived or died was none of his damn business.
Charon was already prepared to row back. He didn't expect Thea's light response to freeze him in place.
"We'll pay. How much?"
Cold sweat immediately beaded on his forehead. Charon cursed these people who didn't play by the rules. With such a massive army, shouldn't you bully this lonely old man and just sail past without a word? Why waste time talking to me?!
Poseidon, Hera, Hades—fight each other all you want, one less big shot is one less problem. Old man Charon just wanted to avoid trouble. His murky old eyes began rolling around, figuring out how to brush Thea off.
"Oh? Fixed prices? Old man, you've got quite the customer-service mindset." He was playing dumb and scheming, but Thea wasn't letting him off. Thea's eyes flashed with the gleam of wealth. Curious, she pulled a signboard of neither gold, silver, nor copper from beneath the floorboards.
She recognized the text—ancient Greek. She read it aloud immediately: "Mortals ten, demigods ten thousand, deities one million! Old man, you've got a real business sense!"
Next, under the old man's horrified gaze, Thea used her wealth divine power to transform an astronomical amount of Underworld currency and handed it to Charon. The quantity was truly substantial—it consumed a full fifth of her divine power.
Mountains of Underworld coins piled before Charon. In the old days, this much money would have made the weaselly old man jump for joy. Now he wouldn't think that way.
Old Gods had to follow the rules. Even though this crossing fee was something he'd added himself, it was still part of the rules—he had to acknowledge it!
Charon sourly accepted the crossing fee. Thea's face looked somewhat pale as she stared at Charon with a half-smile. Anyone who wanted to earn her money needed to be prepared to lose their pants in the process.
Thea had paid according to regulations, meaning their transaction had begun. He had to follow his own rules and ferry these people across.
"You can cross on your own! Why drag me into this? I don't have any combat ability!" The old man cried out in injustice. He couldn't help it—he began complaining to Thea incessantly.
His rules were clear: "ferry people across." Now, although Poseidon had a giant ship, to embody this "ferry" character, Charon had to row his small boat ahead to lead the way. From a distance, he looked like a collaborator. Using his ass to think, if Poseidon won it'd be fine, but if Hades won, his future treatment as a collaborator was worth pondering.
Others made wrong turns or boarded the wrong ship by mistake—he'd gone and become a collaborator leading the enemy! Throughout history, these types were the most hated by rulers.