In the Arima Caverns, Samael bid farewell to the Mother of Serpents and her Typhon offspring. Holding Tina by one hand and carrying Athena in the other, he headed home.
Before leaving, the ancient serpent enthusiastically suggested that once he returned, he would organize lessons for the Typhon offspring—gathering them together for proper education.
The Mother of Serpents, who had been troubled over how to teach her children, gladly agreed.
After all, after so much time together, Echidna had developed a natural fondness for Tina and was deeply impressed by the wisdom and intellect Samael displayed. Entrusting her children to a man who was close to the goddess of justice, Themis, and whose intellect rivaled the goddess of wisdom, Metis, was far better than leaving them for Typhon to exploit—or letting them grow wild, succumbing to their beastly instincts.
The Hydra, whose intellect had advanced greatly and whose emotional expression had grown richer, and Cerberus, the three-headed hellhound, were two fine examples of successful guidance.
The Mother of Serpents felt both joy and relief, but the Typhon offspring—who were constantly fed frightening tales of Samael by Little Nine and the dumb dog—wilted like frost-struck eggplants.
Meanwhile, the Gorgon sisters Stheno and Euryale, who had just been planning to tease Samael, froze the moment they caught the ancient serpent's cold, meaningful smile as he turned back. A chill ran through their bodies.
It seemed they had already landed on his blacklist, firmly marked in his memory.
Tsk. What a petty man. Hugging their arms against the goosebumps on their skin, the two goddesses exchanged a glance and nodded.
Forget it. Better to go back and keep tormenting Medusa instead...
...
Night fell at Samael's home.
Tina, full and satisfied, was on all fours chasing the rabbit around to help her digestion.
The ancient serpent and Athena, who both preferred mental challenges, sat across from each other at a stone table, absorbed in a strategy game derived from chess.
Move after move, they pressed each other relentlessly.
While maintaining the board's balance, Samael asked with a smile, "So, how was it playing with that bunch?"
"Terrible. They're hopelessly stupid!"
Athena rolled her eyes, grumbling about the Typhon offspring.
Cerberus, the hellhound, was a perpetually cheerful fool. Aside from eating, sleeping, and tearing the house apart, he had no other pursuits.
Hydra, the nine-headed serpent, was a gloomy, solitary little girl with a fierce grudge.
The hundred-headed dragon Ladon and the Colchian Dragon had inherited every flaw of their kind—hoarding treasure and sleeping endlessly.
The Chimera, though it had three distinct heads—the wise ram, the cunning serpent, and the brave lion—meant for balanced offense and defense, spent most of its time bickering and fighting among itself.
The Nemean Lion might be invulnerable to weapons, but it was also a bouncing, brainless brute. She had caught it in her traps several times already. The bigger it grew, the less fun it became—mostly because it ate too much, gained weight too fast, and became impossible to carry.
The Sphinx was indeed clever, but it was a show-off with useless tricks. It spent all day coming up with pointless riddles, flaunting its so-called wisdom through childish antics.
The Harpy was a noisy chatterbox who couldn't read the room. Sometimes she really wanted to find a way to shut that girl up.
But the most, most, most unbearable of all were the Gorgon sisters. Stheno and Euryale always worked in tandem, excelling at sarcastic teasing.
And the youngest, Medusa—for some reason, she always clung to other people's fathers. All she ever did was act sweet and pitiful. Honestly, she was impossible to handle.
...
When Athena finished her lofty critique, tearing the gods and monsters to pieces with her condescending tone, Samael picked up a chess piece, shook his head, and chuckled.
"So, you hate them now?"
"Then maybe don't go to the Arima Caverns anymore. Just let Tina play with you instead."
The little Goddess of Wisdom instinctively shook her head at that. She bit her lip lightly, her gaze flickering as she mumbled hesitantly.
"Well… it's not that I completely dislike them."
"That dumb dog still sticks by me with a happy grin even after I bully him so badly. Hydra tells me everything and actually trusts me..."
"The Sphinx admires me the most—she always brings her riddles to me first so I can refine them. Harpy may be a chatterbox, but she's really warm-hearted, sincere, and loves making friends..."
"Even the Gorgon sisters, the ones I find most annoying, only like bickering with me. Of course, they lose every time..."
"In short, everyone has plenty of flaws, but none of them have ever really hurt me."
"If they weren't around, life would be unbearably boring."
Samael smiled knowingly, nodding in quiet satisfaction.
Under his, Tina's, and the Mother of Serpents' shared care and guidance, the Typhon offspring had already grown close to this young Goddess of Wisdom. The two sides were like family.
The creatures who grew up alongside her naturally treated Athena as one of their own, revealing a pure and genuine side to their nature.
No matter how clever the Goddess of Wisdom became in the future, these childhood bonds—untainted by interest or ulterior motive—would remain a precious memory worth cherishing.
At that moment, Athena seemed to pick up on the meaning behind Samael's gaze. Folding her arms, she lifted her smooth chin with pride, showing off the arrogance of one so confident in her own brilliance.
"Of course. Mainly because the Mother of Serpents has been so kind to me, I'm willing to play with them."
That sidelong glance, full of haughty pride, carried the aura of someone proclaiming, "The heroes of the world? Who else but me?"
The ancient serpent looked at the childish Athena, finding it amusing. He even felt the mischievous urge to record this image, keeping it as future blackmail material.
After all, it was hard to connect this spoiled, arrogant little brat with the legendary Athena—the wise, elegant goddess who leapt fully formed from Zeus's head.
"What? Samael, you don't believe me?"
The white-haired girl grew impatient, stubbornly raising her neck in defiance.
"Believe? Of course I believe!"
"It's only right that the Mother of Serpents treats you well. And it's only right that you spend time with them."
"After all, you're practically the Mother of Serpents' daughter—and the big sister to those three little Gorgon girls."
Samael put away his smile and nodded solemnly.
Athena froze for a moment, her expression turning strange. She glanced over at Tina, who was happily hugging the rabbit and stroking its fur. For a second, it felt like the Earth's Touch above Tina's head was glowing suspiciously green.
The white-haired girl quickly turned back, arms crossed, and looked at Samael with a contemptuous glare.
"Heh. No wonder that little brat always clings to you. So it's because you and the Mother of Serpents..."
"Bang! What nonsense are you spouting?! The Mother of Serpents has nothing to do with me—it's you she's connected to!"
The ancient serpent's face darkened as he snapped back irritably.