The Villain of Ancient Greece

The night was as calm as water, and a dark meteor streaked across the sky, quietly landing in the palace of the Moirai, the Fates.

As the flickering lightning struck the ground, the three Fates residing within opened their eyes one after another, their deep pupils shining like a sea of stars.

They were the daughters of Erebus, the god of darkness, and Nyx, the goddess of night.

They were responsible for spinning and weaving the fates of the gods and even the world itself.

The youngest sister, Clotho, was the spinner of fate, the goddess who presided over the moment of birth.

Her duty was to take the threads of fate from the spinning wheel of destiny and hand them to her second sister, Lachesis.

Lachesis, the decider of fate, would measure the threads of fate with her ruler and assign the varying lengths of destiny to the eldest sister—Atropos, the goddess of fate’s end.

Finally, Atropos would use her sharp shears to cut the threads of fate, completing the destiny of a living being.

These faintly visible threads of fate intertwined and coiled across the star-lit dome of the temple, forming an incredibly complex network that connected the beginnings and ends of all things in the world.

At a glance, even Zeus, the King of the Gods, couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe in the face of such vast and profound information, as well as the obscure divine power.

”Son of Cronus, why have you come to our temple in the dead of night, instead of consolidating your divine authority on Olympus?”

The voices, ranging from aged to youthful, echoed in unison from the darkness. The three Fates, illuminated by starlight, looked down upon the ruler of the Greek divine era.

Zeus, the King of the Gods, showed no displeasure. Instead, he humbly bowed slightly, placing a hand over his chest, and asked in a solemn voice.

”Respected Moirai, I wish to know—does the curse of the Titans still exist?”

”You have asked us this question more than once, but no matter how many times you repeat it, the answer remains the same.”

The three voices, ranging from aged to youthful, responded calmly in unison. The three faces, youthful, mature, and aged, showed not a ripple of emotion.

”Son of Cronus, even you cannot eradicate this curse within your bloodline. Do not waste your energy on this futile endeavor.”

Hearing this, Zeus’s expression darkened.

The origin of the Titans was a nickname given by Ouranos, the Sky Father, to his children.

It meant ”the fearful ones” and ”the rebels,” for they were destined to raise their blades against their fathers, completing the transfer of divine authority through rebellion.

This curse had not spared (Uranus) Ouranos, nor had it spared Cronus.

And now, it was his turn.

Zeus’s face shifted between gloom and uncertainty, his eyes flickering.

”But you are the destined king, who will lead this world to glorious splendor!”

The voices, solemnly declared as six arms manipulated the threads of fate, sketching the shape of a crown on the dome.

”Follow the arrangement of fate. It will not hinder you.”

Zeus nodded lightly, preparing to turn and leave, when he seemed to recall something as if by accident as he turned back to the three Fates under the starlight and asked.

”By the way, Semele, the princess of Thebes, my beloved, has just conceived my child. I wish to know their fate.”

”Their fate... their... fate... fate...”

The previously harmonious voices became slightly discordant, repeating the question over and over, as if stuck in some kind of malfunction.

After being stuck for a long time, the three goddesses of fate slowly answered, pulling the broken afterimages of two fate threads from the void.

”They... are already dead...”

Shocked by the tragic news, Zeus’s expression changed instantly as he transformed into a bolt of lightning and shot out of the palace of the Fates, racing toward the direction of Thebes, his panic as a husband and father fully on display.

However, after flying a distance away from the Temple of Fate, the King of the Gods abruptly turned around and headed back to Olympus.

In the vast, empty hall of the gods, the sacred flame had already been extinguished.

The noise was gone, and everything had settled.

Standing at the entrance, Zeus glanced at the towering throne that belonged solely to him.

The tension on his face gradually eased as he casually closed the doors of the grand hall and made his way back to his private chambers.

Creak~~

A gentle breeze slipped through the cracks of the door, filling the room.

The pale ashes in the torch crumbled away, revealing faint embers glowing beneath.

Flicker~~

A small flame leaped up, and the dead ashes reignited in the darkness.

At the same time, on the desolate plains filled with the aura of death, the purple-haired goddess with a veil over her face seemed to sense something as her thin, cherry lips curved into a faint smile.

”Compared to the unchanging fate, a game with uncertain outcomes is far more interesting. In a game, there must be both wins and losses...”

Her jade-like fingers released the twelve-sided serpentinite dice, which traced a graceful arc through the air before falling to the ground.

~~~

As the stars shifted and the sun and moon alternated, sixteen years passed in the blink of an eye.

On the island of Aeaea, in the Oceanus Sea.

The salty sea breeze swept through the lush forest in the mountain hollow, causing the verdant leaves to rustle.

Three monstrous heads—black and green—instinctively stopped tearing at their prey and snapped their heads up, their snake-like vertical pupils scanning the surroundings with vigilance.

”Baa~~”

The two dying goats on the ground, writhing in pain under the monsters’ claws, let out mournful cries as blood spurted from their deep, bone-exposing wounds.

The strong scent of blood quickly drew the attention of the lake-dwelling monsters back.

Their heads turned, colliding and growling as they began to feast on the prey.

The screams soon ceased.

Their bodies were dragon-like but smaller, measuring between 10 to 20 meters in length.

They had only two legs, with cla

wed toes like those of birds of prey. Their wings were covered in scales and feathers, and their tails were adorned with barbs.

They bore the bloodlines of both dragons and griffins.

—They were purebred wyverns.

In the shadows of the dense forest, a pair of purple eyes peered through the gaps in the leaves, silently observing the three lower-tier dragon-like creatures by the lake.

As time passed, the corners of his lips gradually curled upward.

Snap!

Half an hour later, with a crisp snap of his fingers, the wyverns by the lake, foaming at the mouth, collapsed to the ground with a thunderous crash.

Their massive bodies twitched uncontrollably, their legs and wings spasming like skinned frogs.

”Hmm, the numbing and hallucinogenic effects of mandrake are quite effective, significantly delaying the target’s reaction time.

But the dosage of coniine seems a bit insufficient. I underestimated the wyverns’ poison resistance. I should have fed those goats more poison...”

As the air twisted and distorted, a low murmur followed.

A handsome young man with silver hair and purple eyes strolled casually toward the scene of the crime, jotting down notes in his notebook.

The strokes of his writing were square and precise, starkly different from the linear letters of Greek.

”Roar~!”

The sudden appearance of an intruder in their territory triggered the wyverns’ instincts.

Despite their groggy state, they raised their heads and spewed globs of dark green venom.

Typically, as hybrid subspecies, wyverns couldn’t unleash the powerful breath attacks of pure-blooded dragons.

However, they could spit highly corrosive venom thanks to their biological traits.

The globs of dark green venom splattered forward, sizzling as they landed on nearby shrubs and grass, leaving behind patches of scorched and withered vegetation.

The figure at the forefront of the attack was riddled with holes and disintegrated into nothingness.

An illusion!

In their dazed state, the three wyverns stared at the shattered mist before them, their sluggish minds suddenly jolting awake as they realized something was wrong.

”Thud! Thud! Thud!”

But before they could react, a brilliant purple arc of light exploded, and sharp pain shot through the back of their necks.

The three dark green heads tumbled to the ground, their eyes filled with confusion and anger even in death.

”Despicable” was perhaps the only word that came to their minds in their final moments.

As their massive bodies lost support and crashed to the ground, golden-red blood gushed from their severed necks.

The crimson ”raindrops” scattered through the air, and a nearly transparent humanoid figure solidified from the void.

Done.

Looking at the headless wyverns scattered across the ground, the handsome silver-haired youth, wel.

the Protagonist Lorne .who had now grown-up, smiled with satisfaction as he flipped the bronze short sword in his hand and swiftly stabbed each wyvern’s head, ensuring they were truly dead.

Wyverns shared traits with snakes, and snake-like magical creatures were notorious for their tenacious vitality.

Even after being decapitated, their heads could remain active for a time, maintaining their biting ability with a drastically reduced metabolic rate.

Rather than risk being bitten by these heads jumping up for a final strike, it was safer to stab them a few more times.

After confirming that the three wyverns were thoroughly dead, the silver-haired, purple-eyed youth finally relaxed and turned his attention to the spoils of the hunt.

Wyvern teeth could be used as materials for witchcraft and alchemy, their scales for armor, and their venom sacs had obvious medicinal and toxic value.

The more precious wyvern heart and dragon crystal were valuable magical crystals and excellent offerings... In short, these creatures were treasure troves.

It had to be said, even as hybrid subspecies, members of the dragon family held significant value.

Of course, this was only true if you were sure you were the one feasting, not the one being served.

After calming his thoughts, Lorne gripped his bronze short sword and prepared to collect the rare materials dropped by the three wyverns.

But suddenly, the sky above darkened, and the gentle breeze was replaced by a fierce, howling wind.

There’s more?!

Lorne’s purple pupils contracted sharply, and without looking up, he leaped backward dozens of meters.

Boom!

In an instant, the area where he had just stood was struck as if by a high-speed meteor, sending up a thick cloud of dust.

At the same time, Lorne, having landed safely, didn’t hesitate as he flung his hand forward, and the bronze short sword in his palm, wrapped in a purple-red arc of light, shot toward the massive figure emerging from the dust.

Crack—!

But what followed was the crisp sound of metal shattering.

So tough!

Realizing that his attack hadn’t penetrated the enemy’s defenses, Lorne’s heart sank.

He immediately raised his right hand, biting the tip of his index finger to draw streaks of crimson Hermetic script in the air.

Instantly, the etheric magic in the air gathered before Lorne, forming blood-red spears that shot forward at lightning speed toward the figure in the dust.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

However, the air was filled with sharp cracking sounds as the massive figure burst out of the dust, revealing its full form under the sunlight.

Scales... horns... wings... four legs...

—A true dragon!

Boom!

The shadow that blotted out the sky descended rapidly, and the ground shook violently.

Lorne, caught in the direct impact, was pinned under a pair of dark red claws in a deep crater several meters deep, unable to move an inch.

A ferocious head slowly lowered toward the trapped prey, its gaping maw opening wide.

But the prey, about to be swallowed, frowned, sniffed the air, and rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh.

”Had enough fun yet... Teacher?”

Instantly, the dragon’s head froze mid-air, its massive eyes blinking in confusion.

”My transformation spell is nearly perfect. How do you always see through it so easily?”

A clear, melodious female voice came from the dragon’s mouth, filled with confusion and curiosity.

—And a strong sense of dissonance.

”Use your brain! Red dragons are solitary creatures with strong territorial instincts. They prefer hot environments. Why would one live on a damp island with a bunch of wyverns as neighbors?”

Lorne, who was still pinned to the ground, pushed against the claws pressing on his chest and added sarcastically.

”Besides, what kind of magical beast reeks of incense and herbs?”

As their bodies made contact, the majestic and fearsome dragon shattered like a bubble, its massive form shrinking rapidly into a petite girl with pointed ears, pink hair, rainbow-like eyes, and eagle wings on her back.

Circe, the Eagle Witch, a demigoddess of the moon and love, and the ruler of Aeaea.

—And the foster mother and teacher who had picked Lorne up from the beach sixteen years ago and raised him.

At this moment, under the continuous criticism of her disciple, Circe’s face was obviously a little embarrassed as she immediately folded her hands in front of her chest and raised her head and snorted coldly.

”Hmph, so what if you’re a little clever? If that had been a real dragon, you’d have been torn to shreds by now. This test is a failure. Zero points!”

”Yeah, yeah, sure.”

Facing Circe, who was clearly putting on her teacher’s airs, Lorne adopted a lazy, indifferent attitude, nodding

perfunctorily as he glanced at the weight still pressing on him.

”So, can you get off me now, Teacher?”

Whether intentional or not, after dispelling the transformation spell, the witch had ended up straddling Lorne’s stomach.

Time flies, and in the blink of sixteen years, the once-infant had grown into a young man.

Now, the great witch Circe, who had stubbornly remained under five feet tall, stood in stark contrast to Lorne, who had grown to a height of five feet nine.

The scene looked less like a teacher disciplining her student and more like a ”daughter” throwing a tantrum at her ”father.”

Realizing the awkwardness of the situation, Circe awkwardly got up, turned her head away, and lightly commanded.

”Alright, the wyverns nesting on the island have been dealt with. Let’s head back.”

Lorne climbed to his feet, rubbing his stomach as he complained.

”By the way, Teacher, can I make a suggestion?”

”What?”

Circe instinctively stopped and turned her head, tilting it slightly as she looked back.

A certain disciple lowered his head, his disdainful gaze falling on the barren and pitiful ”land” before him.

Then, with a sigh, he closed his eyes and spoke with a tone of earnest advice.

”That just now... it hurt everywhere. Maybe you should eat more and put on some weight...”

”...”

After a moment of silence, the great witch finally caught the meaning behind his words.

Her head snapped up, and her expression twisted into something dark and sinister as she watched the back of her rebellious student fleeing into the distance.

A series of cracking sounds came from her sleeves.

Her fists clenched. Hard.

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