Myth: The Ruler of Spirituality

Chapter 89: Chapter 66: The Golden Apple, the Seer, and the Afterthought (+1 Moon Vote)

Translator: 549690339

The Divine King fathered a child, and regardless of their attitudes, all the gods sent envoys bearing congratulatory gifts.

Essences and gemstones from the sea, star cores left after celestial bodies shattered, and unique minerals nurtured in the Underworld—some delivered personally by deities, others by nymphs. All in all, they were transported to the Mount of the Gods, becoming part of the Divine King’s collection.

However, for the gods, these trinkets only seemed useful. They contained potent energy, but the gods did not know how to utilize them.

Or, to be more precise, even if they did, there was no need to use them. In the presence of divine power, such meager energies were hardly noteworthy.

Atop Mount Othrys, it was uncertain whether the gods’ envoys felt disappointment while watching the harmonious Divine King and Queen of Gods, as usual. The attendance of Moanda, the servant of Mother Earth, only made the banquet livelier.

Previously, Mother Earth’s attitude had been an enigma, but now it was clear: at least on the surface, Gaia did not yet intend to make an enemy of the Divine King.

“Your Majesty, I am here following the command of the Mother of All Gods to congratulate the birth of the two goddesses,” Moanda said with neither subservience nor arrogance, standing in the middle of the great hall under the gaze of numerous deities.

“Welcome, envoy of Mother Earth,” Cronus nodded with a smile, “Please take a seat. Today, I permit you to join the assembly of gods.”

Other envoys who had come to offer congratulations were seated in a side hall, but as the messenger of Mother Earth who also brought information Cronus desired, Moanda was made an exception.

Despite some gods feeling dissatisfied, believing that the nymph had no right to sit amongst them, they held their tongues due to the presence of the two most powerful beings—the Divine King and Mother Earth.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Your Majesty. But before I take my seat, I have a gift for the respected Queen of Gods, the keeper of elapsed time, to convey Mother Earth’s greetings,” Moanda said.

With a modest bow and upon receiving permission, Moanda extended her hand. The gods’ eyes were drawn to her, for they saw something both familiar and unfamiliar.

Familiar, because many had seen it before. Unfamiliar, because they had never possessed it.

The fruit, imbued with pure life force, stirred a profound longing in them, as it was a rare treasure that could help deities quickly accumulate divine power and heal their losses.

“A Golden Apple?”

Rhea recognized it too. Some surprise flickered across the Queen of Gods’ face as she stepped forward and personally received the legendary Divine Artifact. Her breach of etiquette was overlooked because of the charm of the Golden Apple.

As the world’s first created being, the Divine Tree growing from the Seed of All Things, the fruit of the Golden Apple Tree was, to a certain degree, a manifestation of the Law of Life.

Had the Golden Apple Tree possessed wisdom, then the Life Vase might not have become a Divine Artifact belong to Gaia. For in comparison to Mother Earth, the Seed of All Things was intrinsically bound to the vase from the start.

“Yes, Your Majesty has borne offspring, for which Mother Earth has sent me with this treasure,” Moanda said with a slight smile, offering the Golden Apple with both hands.

If it weren’t for the fact that it had little effect on beings of great divine power, Gaia wouldn’t have given away such a precious item.

But since it was of no use to her, it was merely an ordinary treasure. Over the years, there had been more than one occasion when the Golden Apple Tree bore fruit; this apple was just one among them.

“Please convey my gratitude to Mother Earth.”

Rhea was excited but more ashamed. She thought that after diluting Mother Earth’s power with the birth of her daughters, Gaia would not show her a friendly face.

Yet, contrary to her expectations, Mother Earth not only did not hold a grudge but also sent a Golden Apple as a gift.

By consuming it, the vital essence lost during childbirth would be replenished, and even divine power could see a rise. But Rhea intended to keep it, believing that such a precious treasure should not be used so casually and that it also served as a token of reconciliation between Mother Earth and the Divine King.

“I shall.”

After giving a respectful response, Moanda followed the Queen of Gods to the long table designated for deities. Rhea had intended for her to sit at her side, but Moanda declined the offer.

“To sit with the gods is already an honor for me. How could I dare to take a place by your side and cause gods to sit beneath me?” she said.

Facing Moanda’s polite refusal, Rhea had no choice but to accept. After all, there were indeed many in attendance who felt the same way.

So, Rhea let her go, watching the nymph take her place at the end of the long table, next to the God of Speech, Iapetus, and his son, the dull-witted Afterthinker, Epimetheus.

This weakest original Titan was somewhat surprised but nonetheless welcomed her. The seat beside him was typically reserved for his wife, the Goddess of Renown, Clymene. However, in such gatherings of the gods, Clymene often chose not to be beside him.

This was because, at times like these, the Goddess of Renown became all the more aware of her husband’s lack of strength and status among the gods, which was undeniably unbecoming for the Goddess of Renown.

Moanda finding her seat signified that the final powerful deity’s envoy had arrived, and the banquet commenced. The Divine King, from his principal seat, gave thanks to the guests, followed by the custom of nymphs singing in the hall and gods and goddesses occasionally stepping out.

The gods were not surprised. Although the mores among deities were not as liberal as in Olympus, a few had started to abandon the fine traditions since the time of Heavenly Father and Mother Earth.

Some deities disapproved of this behavior, but most were indifferent. After all, morality among the gods at that time was unlike in later times; if they had abstained from such actions previously, it was merely for lack of desire.

In the blink of an eye, three months passed. Some divine beings left the great hall while others joined. When the Divine King and Queen of Gods left as well, Moanda held back her attachment and turned to look at the deities beside her.

It was time for her to attend to important matters. This was her first time participating in the deity’s banquet as a guest rather than a servant. She savored this experience but sadly knew that a second opportunity was unlikely.

“Your Highness, Iapetus,” Moanda began.

With a slight lift of her cheeks, Moanda noticed that the wife of the God of Speech, the Goddess of Renown, Clymene, had vanished without a trace.

Although she did not know where she had gone, it was clear that she was no longer in the great hall.

“As an Ancient Titan God, you really are modest.”

In a gentle tone, Moanda tried her best to appear like an ordinary Nymph who yearned for the True God.

“Ha ha, the servant of Mother Earth, that is not what I wish for. It’s just that compared to my brothers, I simply do not possess their Great Divine Power,”

Shaking his head, Iapetus laughed helplessly.

Ever since humans were created, he often lived among the Golden Humanity with his two children.

Prometheus was interested in learning the skills from the Lord of the Spirit Realm, mastering them and creating new variations. He enjoyed this process immensely; for him, imparting knowledge to mortals was a joy in itself.

By contrast, Epimetheus was much more silent. He would often sit to one side, silently watching his elder brother. He kept his opinions to himself, appearing puppet-like, so unlike Prometheus’s Wisdom.

However, if tasked to do something, Epimetheus often managed to do it well. Hence, the God of Speech did not demean his second child as some other deities might, referring to him as the ‘God of Dullness.’ He preferred to call him the ‘Afterthinker,’ because it seemed Epimetheus did not enjoy creating or thinking, only learning and executing.

“And then there’s Atlas, I can hardly fathom how Clymene and I could have brought such a powerful deity into being.”

A sigh resounded in his heart; in comparison with his first two sons, the God of Speech’s third child was not particularly close to him. The God of Strength, Atlas, as his Godhood suggested, only respected strength, which Iapetus lacked.

In the eyes of Atlas, he himself was a second-generation Titan to whom the Divine King had great expectations, endowed with strong Divine Power, while his father Iapetus was simply unworthy of the title of first-generation Titan. Consequently, he seldom stayed with his father and brothers.

“Regardless, you are a mighty True God.”

His thoughts fleeting, when the God of Speech returned to his senses, the beautiful nymph across from him was raising her cup, smiling at him with words of praise.

“I am left with only the title of a True God.”

Shaking his head, although he self-deprecated with his words, the God of Speech was still pleased. In the past, apart from the humans on Earth, few lives had so praised him. And so, he and the nymph serving Mother Earth, a guest invited by the Divine King, engaged in back-and-forth conversation.

Due to his own lack of strength, Iapetus’s relationship with his niece and wife, the Goddess of Renown, Clymene, had grown increasingly distant. Influenced by her Godhood, Clymene did not fancy modesty or silence, and the God of Speech had not been without quarrels with her in the past.

But now, he felt that the nymph before him truly understood his thoughts, every word striking at his heart.

After an unknown stretch of time, as the two left the Temple together, Epimetheus, who was at the side, picked up a cup and poured himself some nectar.

He drank alone for a while and then turned to look beside him at Prometheus.

“Brother.”

“Hmm?”

Called by Epimetheus, Prometheus turned with a puzzled expression.

His younger brother seldom spoke, so when he did, the Forethinker always listened to what he had to say.

Although most of the time Epimetheus would say some strange things, pose unnecessary questions, Prometheus was still willing to listen.

“If you encountered a situation where turning a blind eye could avoid disaster, but would leave an existence you value worried and disconcerted; attempting to change it not only has uncertain outcomes but also requires a price to be paid, would you still go through with it?”

Seeing his brother turn towards him, Epimetheus asked earnestly.

“… Probably, with my abilities, I can always think of a way to solve the problem,”

Although he didn’t know why his brother suddenly asked such a question, Prometheus still answered.

He was always proud of his intelligence, and even if he fell short in strength, he believed his superior wisdom would secure him a position in the future.

“Is that so,” Epimetheus nodded thoughtfully, “but I wouldn’t.”

“My abilities are limited, and I know there are many things in this world that I cannot change with my strength. Since I cannot change them, I’d rather be an observer.”

“It’s okay, you still have me,” Prometheus assured, though puzzled as to why his brother suddenly pondered such questions.

“There’s no problem in this world without a solution; if there is, it’s just that the right method hasn’t been found yet. Even the so-called destiny from legends can’t necessarily be unchangeable.”

Perhaps he heard, or perhaps he did not, but Epimetheus returned to his former, dazed appearance.

In this world, the only two known destinies are the succession of the Divine King and the birth of Silver Humanity.

Epimetheus felt that, for both these predicaments, Prometheus’s much-prided Wisdom couldn’t change either.