The Villain of Ancient Greece

On the Ocean of Oceanos, several Dragon-Tooth Soldiers grasped oars, lined up on both sides of the ship, rowing swiftly and mechanically.

Behind them, a magic formation inscribed in Hermes Script stirred up a gust of wind, forcefully propelling the cedarwood ship forward.

”Are you sure you’re heading in the right direction?”

The Moon Goddess of the Underworld, who had somehow smuggled herself aboard, leaned lazily against the ship’s side, smiling as she offered a reminder.

”It’s not too late to turn back now.”

”Turn back? To Aeaea Island? And count on that dumb bird?”

Lorne, who was busy writing Hermes and constructing a wind field, glanced at Hecate and sneered at the corner of his mouth.

”Or what? Will you stand up and take the bullet for me?”

True, there are differences even among demigods.

Circe, being the daughter of Helios, the sun god, and the fire nymph Perse, had long since become a demigod.

In addition, as the prized disciple of Hecate, goddess of magic and witchcraft, two or three ordinary demigods posed no threat to her.

This team of Atlantean Royal Guard might not be enough to break into Aeaea Island and take someone by force.

But if they’re not enough, there are still the Ten Kings of Atlantis. And if the Kings aren’t enough, there’s still the Sea God’s Temple—and Poseidon himself.

On the vast Ocean of Oceanos, a mere demigod was far too insignificant, after all.

Unless, of course, Hecate herself was willing to take action…

But based on his understanding of this woman, the odds of that were practically zero.

And sure enough—

Hecate leaned casually against the cabin wall, and shook her head with a smile.

”A gambler who sits down at the table should be prepared to pay the price of their choices.”

”Then what the hell are you talking about! Since you’re already on the boat, might as well paddle a bit and earn your keep!”

Lorne snorted coldly without any surprise, and shoved an oar into the hands of the lofty goddess with no ounce of courtesy.

Hecate didn’t mind the rudeness at all. She dipped the oar into the sea and lazily paddled along, all while keeping her eyes on Lorne with playful curiosity.

”You seem pretty concerned about her safety?”

Lorne, who was too focused on keeping himself alive, paused for a moment before answering flatly without turning his head: ”I just don’t want to waste effort on something pointless.”

Hecate smiled, her tone laced with hidden meaning.

”So you cut off your own retreat the moment you left the island?”

”…”

Lorne frowned, but didn’t answer, and simply poured more magic into the wind array—trying to open up as much distance as possible before the Atlantean Royal Guard completely closed in.

”Head west…”

The Underworld Moon Goddess spoke suddenly, letting the oar slip from her hand as she gracefully stood up and brushed off her palms.

”Think of it as a parting gift. Perhaps, what you seek lies in that direction...”

The ethereal and pleasant female voice turned from high to low, and gradually disappeared.

And the elegant figure by the ship’s edge vanished without a trace.

Trust it? Or not?

Lorne hesitated.

But after a brief moment of inner struggle, he made up his mind, gritted his teeth, and ordered the Dragon-Tooth Soldiers to steer the ship at full speed toward the blood-red setting sun on the sea’s horizon.

The sun sank westward.

The watery dusk spilled across the sky, flooding down onto Aeaea Island.

As the temperature difference between day and night changed, the Eagle Witch, who was sitting on the bed with a quilt and had a very bad sleeping posture, sneezed heavily, groggily rubbing her sleepy eyes as she woke from a hangover.

”Little piggy...? Lorne?”

Circe muttered a few words instinctively as her slurred voice echoed through the quiet treehouse.

Where did he go?

Stretching with a groan, the witch stepped barefoot out of bed and walked into the living room.

There was no sign of the usual mess of cups and plates on the dining table.

The kitchen had been scrubbed clean.

Every utensil and tool neatly returned to where her hand would most naturally reach.

In the center of the room sat a chair, upon which was placed a half-human-sized pink piglet doll, made of velvet and stuffed with feathers, looking quiet adorable.

Small and squishy!

Circe let out an excited squeal, quickly rushed forward, and scooped the pink pig into her arms, squeezing it tightly with glee.

At that moment, a sheet of papyrus slipped out from behind the doll and fluttered softly to the floor.

Circe’s eyes fell on the writing, and she suddenly froze in place, staring blankly at the now-empty room.

Half her face was shadowed in the dark of night creeping in from the window; the other half buried in the plush of the doll in her arms and her expression could not be seen clearly.

Her pearly teeth unconsciously bit her cherry lips below.

Outside the window, the deepening night spread out like ink, swallowing that petite figure into an endless silence and loneliness.

High above, in the silver glow of moonlight, a violet-haired goddess sat upon a tree branch, gazing down at the garden scene below.

In her dim, bottomless eyes flickered a glimmer of tenderness.

Her lips, pressed tight, finally released a silent sigh.

Though the [Dice of Chance] has twisted the [Gears of Inevitability], whether this outcome is truly better… or worse… for you—who’s to say…

Just then, the goddess shook her head, and a pleasant smile appeared on her face.

At the very least, this world now held more possibilities.

.

.

.

At the same time, on Olympus—

In front of the flower-filled Temple of Aphrodite, a towering figure, brimming with blood-boiling energy, stormed into the goddess of love and beauty’s private chambers, shouting at the top of his lungs:

”Aphrodite, my love, come out! Come see me, now!”

At that moment, the goddess of beauty, napping beneath a pink gauze canopy, was awakened by the noise.

She extended a pale arm to lift the drapes and glanced lazily at her former lover with drowsy, beautiful eyes, her brows lightly furrowing in displeasure.

”What now?”

”I’ve got it back! I’m back in action!”

Ares grabbed her hand with excitement, proudly declaring the news.

At that moment, freshly roused from sleep, the goddess of beauty was scantily dressed, wearing only a thin piece of gauze over her body, making her look tempting.

That seductive and enchanting figure, shrouded in misty light, appeared even more alluring.

Looking at such breathtaking sight in front of him, Ares felt his mouth go dry.

The blood in his body surged wildly toward a certain point, like a wildfire igniting inside him.

Aphrodite, who moments ago had seemed bored and indifferent, suddenly arched a brow.

Her eyes shimmered with a strange gleam, and as her pink tongue slowly licked over her moist cherry lips, she spoke with a languid smile:

”Then let me test, O my most valiant war god, whether your treasured sword is still as sharp as before…”

As her honeyed voice faded into the air, Aphrodite’s serpentine waist twisted gracefully, her upper body arching backward over the edge of the bed, offering the king of warriors a trial from bottom to top.

Such a soul-stirring scene completely shattered Ares’ restraint,

Like an enraged bull, he let out a low growl and pounced.

And so, yet another round of fierce battle began, just as it always did.

But this time, something was different.

In a shadowy corner near the path beside the temple, a pair of flame-colored eyes was fixed on the chambers from which the rhythmic sounds of impact echoed.

At this moment, blood veins crept across the whites of those eyes.

Two burly, muscular arms clenched tightly, fists trembling with rage.

Shame. Fury. Humiliation—all written clearly on a face that was normally dull and honest.

Hermes was right.

Those two filthy dogs!

One masterstroke, and how many gods did they just screw over?

Poseidon… Ares… Aphrodite?