Chapter 53: 49 Training in Progress
"You're telling me, he has been lying here for almost half a month!"
Speaking of this matter, Hestia, who was forced to clean up this mess for her grandniece, couldn't help but feel a surge of irritation.
"Don't worry, it's about time," Athena reassured with a light laugh while shaking her empty cup, signaling to her aunt.
Hestia gave her grandniece a glare, took out a jug of her own fruit brew from the cupboard, and filled the cup before her to the brim.
She also poured a cup for the eager Nike sitting beside her.
As the mistress and servant both took a gulp of the sour and sweet fruit brew, savoring the delightful taste colliding on their tongues, Hestia put down the pottery jug and sat across from her, furrowing her brows at her grandniece.
"Speaking of which, why did you suddenly go so harsh on the lad? It doesn't seem like your usual practice."
"I happened to come across a promising seedling and took the opportunity to temper his sharpness and give him some training," Athena replied nonchalantly, pouring herself another cup from the jug and glancing at the backyard.
"Surely there's more to it?" Hestia raised an eyebrow and hummed lightly, "You've come knocking twice for this youngster. You don't seem like someone who would do so without good reason."
The Goddess of the Hearth sitting across from her looked at Athena with a face full of skepticism.
When it came to cunning, she couldn't quite match her grandniece who bore the title "Goddess of Wisdom," but after interacting for several millennia, she had come to understand some of her grandniece's temperaments and habits.
Seeing Hestia growing suspicious, Athena simply stopped hiding her thoughts, set down the pottery cup, and pondered leisurely.
"I appreciate his talents and would like to keep him here to cultivate him into one of my lesser deities."
"How come you suddenly had this idea?"
Hestia sounded surprised and puzzled.
Ordinarily, each lesser deity is intimately linked with their chief god, their authority intertwined, sharing both glory and disgrace, which necessitates extreme caution in their selection.
Not choosing from the select half-gods of Olympus but instead fixing her sights on a youngster she happened upon in Knossos City, Athena's intentions were truly baffling to Hestia.
"It wasn't sudden but rather a thought I've had for a while. I simply hadn't found the right candidate until now," Athena said, swirling the cup in her hand and looking out towards the marketplace, sighing softly.
"Last time, I met with King Minos and urged him to be patient and to resume the sacrifices to my father and uncle, but he was adamant in his refusal to serve the few chief deities of Olympus..."
At this, Hestia also fell into silence.
In a world created by the gods, the consequences of offending the deities hardly need to be spelled out.
The old humanity drowned in the Great Flood is the best testament to this.
Hestia wanted to suggest to Athena that she persuade King Minos once more, but she opened her mouth and, in the end, said nothing.
As a husband, his wife was violated by a beast;
As a monarch, his dignity trampled by the gods;
Any man with a spirit would hardly tolerate such affronts lightly.
If this well-regarded wise king weren't concerned about his subjects and the survival of the entire island of Crete, perhaps he would have already drawn his sword against the God of the Sea, defending his dignity as a man.
Although part of the pantheon, Hestia had been living among humans for a long time and had almost assimilated into worldly life; she could not blame King Minos for his decisions.
Moreover, King Minos, who distinguished clearly between gratitude and grudges, had cut off sacrifices only to male gods like Zeus and Poseidon while continuing the offerings to Athena, Demeter, and to her, the Goddess of the Hearth, without change.
This made it all the more difficult for Hestia to speak up.
However, if the deliberate slights were noticed by the gods, they could provoke a severe outcome.
For both King Minos and the Minosians.
Hestia envisioned that almost foreseeable ending in her mind, bit her lip softly, and felt some distress.
"Isn't there another way?"
"I don't know. All we can do is try, but I can't defy the authority of the Father God."
Athena glanced pensively at Nike, who was heading toward the backyard and engaging in cheerful conversation with Little Medusa, then spoke in a lowered voice.
"—At least, not now."
As if she hadn't heard her niece's rebellious words, Hestia turned her head to look pensively at a certain corpse lying in the backyard.
"So, you want to keep him in Knossos City, just in case?"
Athena nodded slightly and spoke calmly.
"Since this is the fate the humans have chosen for themselves, when it's time to let go, we should let go and allow them to find their own way."
The Goddess of Wisdom gazed out the window at the vast and majestic sky, her eyes deep and distant.
"Even children grow up one day and will eventually leave the cradle..."
"That's easy to say, but if we can't change the situation, what can they do?"
Hestia shook her head, her face full of concern.
"It's not necessarily so..." Athena smiled, her thin cherry lips curving slightly, "The last great flood already displeased our ancient grandmother enormously. Furthermore, the new humanity born from adversity has received her blessing. Some of those from Olympus will likely be a bit more restrained because of this, and even if they wanted to take action, they most likely wouldn't dare to be as brazen as before."
Hestia's face brightened at these words.
In the Bronze Age, the original humans created by Prometheus and Athena grew increasingly corrupt due to the opening of Pandora's Box.
The gods, in the name of maintaining the purity of the world, unleashed a great flood to exterminate the old humanity deemed "impure."
The earth was instantly transformed into a vast ocean, and countless lives were extinguished in a moment, a move that brought the dissatisfaction of Mother Earth Gaia.
As the Earth Goddess and Mother of the Gods, Gaia's divinity affords hope and blessing to all life on earth.
Using a flood to cleanse life on earth was a grave offense to her.
Therefore, Mother Earth Gaia protected the descendants of Prometheus, Deucalion, and his wife, Pyrrha, in a temple on Mount Parnassus, where she conveyed an oracle to them, guiding them to continue the spark of humanity.
"The earth is the seed mother of all things, and stones are my bones. Clothe yourselves in veils, remove your clothing, pick up the mud and stones from the ground, and scatter them outside the temple."
Thus, the pair followed Mother Earth Gaia's will and cast the mud and stones onto the ground behind them.
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Soon after, the mud behind them gradually took shape, becoming flesh, while the stones turned into soft bones, and the patterns on the stones became veins.
The mud thrown by Deucalion turned into men, and that cast by Pyrrha became women.
A new race of humans was thereby conceived.
So, in a certain sense, the current humans are also descendants of Mother Earth Gaia.
This ancient grandmother, although she has been dormant for years in the temple of Mount Parnassus, her influence still lingers.
Even the Divine King Zeus would have to consider the consequences of angering the ancient grandmother if he wanted to unleash another great flood.
"I will do my best to mediate in Olympus, to avoid their direct intervention..."
Athena spoke resolutely and then her solemn gaze turned to the backyard.
"But in the end, whether they can break the pattern is up to them."
"Are you sure he is the one you're looking for?"
Hestia pursed her lips, a bit worried.
"How can we know without trying?"
Athena spoke lightly, admiration apparent in her tone for a certain young one in the backyard.
"Besides, don't underestimate him. It's rare to find someone who could take so many of my strikes and still be alive."
At that moment, as she recalled the scene of their first encounter, the Goddess of Wisdom's face revealed a meaningful expression.
After all, a brat daring enough to steal her offerings was stronger than those half-breeds in Olympus who trembled at the mere sight of the gods, not daring to harbor a thought of rebellion.