The Villain of Ancient Greece

On Ares Hill, inside Hestia’s new home.

After finishing the bland and perfunctory dinner conversation, Lorne carried a jug of newly brewed grape wine onto the balcony, then sat down at a small table and looked down at the interconnected courtyards below.

Familiar faces filled his view, some busy firing pottery, some focused on smelting metal, some carefully blending potions, others purchasing furniture for their new homes…

They were the survivors of Crete, the embers King Minos had entrusted to his two daughters.

Compared to those who had fled earlier, this final group that held out to the very end far surpassed the rest, whether in strength of will or loyalty to their civilization.

Thus, even after witnessing the destruction of their homeland with their own eyes, upon arriving in a new environment they did not waste their energy on meaningless grief.

Instead, they earnestly assumed new identities and immersed themselves in work as quickly as possible.

Busy labor made people forget to think, forget the passage of time—often the best remedy for the soul.

Watching their outstanding performance, Lorne, once the chief scribe of Crete, nodded quietly to himself.

The stone weighing on his heart finally fell away as he raised his brimming cup toward the south in silent salute, then gently poured the wine onto the ground as an offering.

At least for now, the sacrifices of King Minos and those elite warriors had been worth it.

They had not only defended their civilization to the death, but had also dragged their century-old nemesis—the Atlanteans, down into the Underworld with them.

Entering the game with their lives on the line, winning by half a move against fate...they had done it.

This battle, though a defeat, was glorious.

And beyond that, their sacrifice had yielded even greater results.

—More than seventy percent of Crete’s population had been preserved, along with nearly all the essence of Minoan civilization!

The gods’ gazes always loved to linger on dazzling individuals, while ignoring lives as insignificant as ants.

And it was precisely by relying on this arrogance of the gods that, through six days and six nights of extreme transport, Lorne and King Minos successfully sent away the vast majority of the Minoans, scattering them across Greece to take root and multiply.

Of course, such a massive plan could never be flawless.

If one investigated carefully, clues would eventually surface.

But this was where the benefits of the Santorini volcanic eruption at the end of the plan came in.

—Ash blotted out the sky, and raging waves swept over Crete inside and out, ravaging it twice over.

Even stone-built structures were left unrecognizable, let alone living people.

After that, no one could possibly know how many people had perished together on Crete during that catastrophe.

With this, the Minoans who had escaped earlier were completely safe.

And for this very reason, Athena and he had not gathered the remains of King Minos and those warriors, instead allowing them to rot within the ruins beneath the sea.

Of course, exchanging death for rebirth and the continuation of civilization had always been their wish.

With a trace of respect and guilt, Lorne poured out a second cup of wine onto the ground.

Then he raised his left hand, looking at the bronze emblem spinning deftly between his fingers, the corner of his lips lifting into a faint smile.

However, it wasn’t as if he had done nothing.

—Before the battle, he had given all the chips he had accumulated from the ”[Daily Instance]” and ”[Weekly Instance]” over the years, under the name of ”[Talismans],” to King Minos and those warriors.

Though there were only around a hundred, not enough for everyone, it was still his sincere intention.

Legend held that above the dark River Styx of Greek mythology, the ferryman Charon was responsible for transporting the souls of the dead, and only by bribing him could one cross safely.

Thus, when ancient Greeks held funerals, they would often place coins over the eyes of the deceased for use in the Underworld.

Additionally, legend said that the ferryman Charon, the god of death, and the god of sleep were all sons of the goddess Nyx.

And in some versions, Hecate was also Nyx’s daughter.

Based on this possible relationship, Lorne had spent nearly all the remaining chips he had earned from that die, hoping those emblems could help King Minos and his warriors bribe the ferryman of the River Styx.

And now, it seemed his investment had not been in vain.

Lorne lifted the third cup of wine on the table and drank it in one go, toasting himself.

Then he turned around and cast a quiet gaze toward the opposite side..toward the misty, illusory figure that had appeared on a chair at some unknown moment, who spoke with amusement.

”So, what should I call you? Persephone? Hecate? Or perhaps… the Night Goddess Nyx?”

”What?”

The goddess, appearing again after nearly a year, blinked, lifted her cup, and took a light sip, a look of approval appearing on her face.

”You brewed this? Not bad.”

Lorne watched Hecate’s performance in silence, not responding, and just sneered inwardly.

Still pretending!

To brazenly snatch dying souls from the River Styx and disrupt the order of the Underworld, being merely the godmother of the Queen of the Underworld was not enough.

Unless…

The entire Underworld was under her control.

And according to later studies of their prayers and imagery, triple-formed Hecate and triple-formed Nyx likely originated from the same source.

Only the goddess representing the primal darkness of the world had the qualifications to make Zeus so wary, and only she could command Charon, Thanatos, and Hypnos, the three brothers, to obey her every word, sidelining Hades, the lord of the Underworld.

Under Lorne’s cold gaze, Hecate finally conceded, responding with a shallow smile, still wearing that inscrutable expression.

”Names are nothing more than labels. Call me whatever you like.”

Lorne nodded, as if enlightened.

”Alright, Little Black.”

”…”

Hecate’s face stiffened, her smile freezing in place.

Her misty body trembled violently, and from between her tightly pressed lips came the faint sound of teeth grinding.

Seeing that she was about to erupt, Lorne quickly plastered on a smile and changed the subject.

”Haha, just joking. Goddess, what brings you here? Coming and going from the Underworld can’t be easy, I imagine?”

”Isn’t it because you dumped so many souls on me all at once?”

Hecate snorted coldly, her eyes deep as night and filled with clear displeasure, looking ready to call him to account.

Lorne smiled faintly, unconcerned.

”What, you’re not satisfied with this gift?”

”Gift?”

Hecate raised an eyebrow, scrutinizing the silver-tongued figure before her, interest sparking as she tilted her head slightly, ready to hear his explanation.

”Prizing open fate is no easy task.

The more fulcrums and assistance, the better. Don’t you think they’re quite suitable?”

Lorne’s voice was low, a bewitching smile on his face.

”In the sandbox of the ’[Gods]’, in a world of ’[Determinism]’, the rarest thing is a soul daring to break through destiny itself—and they just happen to be exactly that…”

Hecate’s expression remained calm as she asked lightly, ”Even if what you say sounds interesting, what do I need them for?”

Lorne smiled slightly. ”To assist the Lord of the Underworld in managing the realm of the dead, just like Charon, Thanatos, and Hypnos.”

Hecate naturally caught the implication, raising her brow with growing interest.

”Manage the Underworld? Go on…”

”Life on the surface keeps increasing, and births, aging, sickness, and death grow ever more frequent.

Piling such a massive workload onto Lord Hades alone seems far too exhausting.

Why not establish judges in the Underworld, to determine the destination and belonging of souls based on good and evil?”

”That makes sense.”

Hecate nodded, seemingly tempted.

Seizing the moment, Lorne continued.

”Then allow me to recommend King Minos. In life, he was renowned for establishing laws and upholding fairness, perfect for the role of judge.

His soldiers were brave and tireless, and could serve as underworld wardens, sharing the burden of governance for Lord Hades.”

”Singular justice?”

”Of course not. A triangle is stable.

I suggest a system of divided powers and balance, three judges: one to judge words, one to judge actions, and the last to judge the soul itself.

By voting, they would jointly decide the soul’s destination.”

”That’s… barely a decent idea.”

After hearing it all, Hecate gave only a lukewarm evaluation.

”Also, I’ve heard the gods love swearing oaths by the River Styx—and love breaking them just as much…” Lorne mentioned casually, then shook his head and sighed, as if worried for those blood relatives.

”Even the longest life has an end, and even the most prosperous order may not last forever.

What if one day they fall from grace and end up in the Underworld, facing judgment? Wouldn’t that be troublesome?”

In an instant, Hecate’s deep eyes lit up with intense interest.

Judging the gods? Interesting.

Soon, a delighted smile spread across the goddess’s face, and she nodded in agreement.

”I will advise Lord Hades to seriously consider this proposal.”

”Then it will be a blessing for the entire world.”

Lorne bowed slightly in respect. Locking eyes with Hecate, both revealed smiles equally laden with meaning.