Even so, as an infant, Medusa couldn't absorb such vast, conflicting powers and thus split into two sisters: the eldest, Stheno, the Daughter of Strength, and the second, Euryale, the Daughter of Flight.
These two functioned like external reserve batteries with fixed capacity; once they reached their limit, they stopped growing or developing.
To fully inherit the powers of earth and the abyss, Medusa would have to devour both sisters and become the sole Gorgon.
As Samael gently brushed Ana's cheek, tenderness in his eyes, he snorted inwardly.
Fate really is rotten.
When Prometheus first created humanity, the gods of Olympus were enraged.
It was Gaia, Mother Earth, who bestowed her blessings upon them, offered shelter, provided abundance, and allowed them to continue under the laws of life.
With Pandora's Box opened, humanity—closest to the gods in the Golden Age—was destroyed by divine punishment and selfish desire.
The two surviving progenitors of the new human race rebuilt their kind by "throwing the bones of Mother Earth—that is, stones."
Those two rescues alone show how deeply the Earth Mother cherished humankind.
Yet as people advanced, they built cities, explored marshes, felled forests, and opened farmland. The ancient Age of Gods gradually waned.
Under Olympus's schemes, the Gorgon sisters—symbols of the Earth's divine authority—were driven overseas and left on a desolate island.
Wave after wave of Greek heroes eventually wiped out Typhon's offspring and even pushed the future Earth Mother Goddess into madness.
Thus, after four generations, the Earth Mother withdrew from the stage of history.
Perhaps his earlier discussion with Themis about the case of Orestes—where a son kills his mother in the name of justice to avenge his father—was one subtle reflection of the Earth Mother's fading power.
This sort of thing… it's a mess. A real mess.
Samael let out a long sigh, a dull ache pressing at his temples.
Greece was far more chaotic than Mesopotamia; trying to stir things up there would be a muddle from the start.
What's more, the gods' divinity and authority had been split and diluted generation by generation, and each human city-state had its own stance.
Hoping humans and gods could unite to resist Olympus's control? That sounded far-fetched.
Lost in thought, the ancient serpent noticed Ana had finished her milk. She instinctively licked her cherry-pink lips, looking reluctant to stop. Chuckling, he gathered his thoughts and handed her his own cup.
The purple-haired girl looked at the half-warm milk in her hands. Something seemed to occur to her, and her cheeks flushed. Like a kitten at a saucer, she flicked her tongue and took small sips.
From where he stood, Samael happened to notice how closely Ana's cheekbones matched Athena's.
Right—Athena!
And Metis!
When he first entered the Arima Cavern, he'd sensed the aura of the former Goddess of Wisdom on the egg nurturing Ana.
Clearly, Metis and the Mother of Serpents had cooperated for some purpose. Metis had once nourished Ana, the fourth-generation Earth Mother Goddess, with divine blood.
So what crucial connection tied these two children together?
Athena… emblem is the owl… scion of the God King… father Zeus… mother Metis…
Ana… Gorgon… serpent deity of earth and abyss… father Typhon… mother Echidna…
Wait!
The ancient serpent suddenly looked up, inspiration flashing through his mind. He lined up the key traits of both children side by side, in the order he'd been mulling them over.
After checking and cross-checking several times, Samael scribbled a string of characters.
His stylus paused on the final mark, then he burst into laughter and tossed it aside in delight.
Ana, still sipping her milk, glanced over at the ancient serpent's slightly manic state without worry.
Back in Uruk, he and Gilgamesh did the same: whenever a puzzle fell into place, they'd vent their excitement in all kinds of ways.
This reaction now was proof that Samael had made a major breakthrough.
Sure enough, he strode over, excitement held in check, flipped the clay tablet toward the purple-haired girl, and let out a relieved breath.
"Ana, I've figured out your connection to Athena!"
"Hmph, what's it to me? Who would want anything to do with her?"
The purple-haired girl still had no fondness for that annoying white-haired brat; her small face tightened as she let out a short huff.
"Don't you want to know why her future self is targeting you?"
Samael leaned in casually, smiling as he asked.
"Once you know the reason, countering her gets much easier. Wouldn't that give you more confidence to take revenge?"
Swayed, the little girl instinctively turned her head, her violet eyes sneaking a glance at the clay tablet. The moment her gaze fell on a few cuneiform signs, her pupils shrank sharply.
"They want to…"
"Mm. That should be it. It looks like only the final step remains now…"
Samael spoke slowly, his brow easing.
"So Athena and I are just their pawns?"
Ana pressed her lips together, her expression complicated as she asked. Realizing she'd been used as a tool to achieve someone else's goal.
The ancient serpent lowered his head and gently stroked the girl's hair. His eyes grew deep as he recalled Metis's parting whisper—sincere rather than feigned—and he shook his head with a small, wry smile.
"Don't be so pessimistic. It might be hope instead."
"After all, you two are the candidates those hidden powers have spent countless effort and time cultivating—the rulers of the gods."
Yes, Zeus was only one option, not the only option.
Compared to Olympus, swollen with selfish desire, those concealed forces had long since prepared another answer to guide the Greek world.
And that path wasn't to turn all Divine Spirits and living beings into spirit fuel to pour into themselves.
On the contrary, guided by the laws of life and believing that creation could bring miracles, Gaia likely chose an evolutionary road toward prosperity for Greece from out of primordial chaos.
In truth, the so-called "Chaos" was a jumbled mass—disordered and lacking any clear self-awareness.
After the earliest deities emerged one after another—Gaia, the Earth Goddess; Tartarus, Lord of the Abyss; and Pontus, the Ancient Sea God—the world began.
By then, Chaos had lost its divinity and become a concept that exists unseen to sustain all things, without a defined personality.
Thus, pantheons across the world evolved through inheritance and development, much like Greece's city-states: continually divided, scattered like stars, each thriving in its own way.
At the same time, with divine authority constantly splintering, shifting, and recombining, a supreme god like Marduk—who unifies all under one—would not be born.
Even so, the Greek world still had four primordial deities in the substantive sense, each holding one of the greatest domains of divine power:
Heavenly Father Uranus, Pontus the Ancient Sea, Earth Mother Gaia, and Tartarus, Lord of the Abyss…
Dispersion has its merits—it prevents a tyrant's centralized rule—but when life and death are on the line, unification is what enables swift decisions and command.
And now, Athena and Ana carry within them the four strongest divine authorities of sky, sea, earth, and abyss!
They are another possible future for Greece!