"You kissed Medusa and the others during the day, didn't you?"
"Of course not!"
Samael flatly denied it. Athena's gaze darkened as she tilted her head up to scrutinize him, frowning with a soft snort.
"Stheno and the others already boasted about it. They even mocked me, saying you like them more than me..."
"Slander! Absolute slander! You are my most important—and right now, my only—child!"
The ancient serpent excused himself with a half-truth, half-lie, while quietly jotting down the names of Stheno and Euryale—those two little brats who never stopped stirring up trouble—into his mental notebook.
In the heavy silence that followed, Samael looked at the little Goddess of Wisdom, her face written all over with displeasure, and asked carefully,
"So... you came to me tonight because..."
Athena lifted her chin slightly, her expression full of self-righteousness, hands planted firmly on her hips.
"So what if she's my sister? If she gets it, then I, as the elder sister, deserve it even more!"
"If you refuse out of favoritism, then I'll just take it myself!"
Samael looked at her serious little face, puffed up with pride, and pressed a hand to his forehead helplessly. He knew if he didn't give her an answer tonight, this sharp and competitive little Goddess of Wisdom wouldn't let it go so easily.
The ancient serpent crouched down, gently brushing aside the strands of hair falling over Athena's forehead, and placed a soft kiss there.
At the touch of skin, the young goddess froze slightly, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks.
When Samael's lips parted from her forehead, Athena's eyes flickered. One small hand clutched his arm tightly, while the other pointed to her own cheeks.
"There are two more..."
Stheno! Euryale! What nonsense did you spread this time? Feeling itchy again, huh? Just wait until we're back—then we'll see!
Samael silently added their names to his notebook again. Seeing the hopeful seriousness in Athena's pretty face, he knew words would be useless. With a sigh, he gave in.
"Fine. But once I'm done, you go back to bed, and no more nonsense like this."
"Mm-hmm!"
Her wish granted, the little Goddess of Wisdom nodded with a bright smile, suddenly so well-behaved.
"Then... let this be a kiss to soothe your soul."
Samael slowly lowered his head, brushing his lips gently against both of her soft cheeks.
The sensation was different from a kiss on the forehead—tender, warm, like touching two pieces of sweet jelly.
I am not a lolicon! I am not a lolicon! I…
Ahem, I am not a lolicon!
Only by repeating this mantra to himself again and again did the ancient serpent manage to stop worrying.
The two soul-soothing kisses ended with just a fleeting taste, carrying a blessing to the young Athena.
Even after his lips left her skin, Samael called her name several times. Athena, still pressing her hand against her cheek, didn't respond, frozen in place as if dazed.
"Happy now? Go back to sleep."
It wasn't until the ancient serpent shook her shoulder that the little Goddess of Wisdom snapped out of it. Even then, her delicate hand clutched tightly at his arm, refusing to let go.
Her bright eyes blinked as though she'd discovered something new, and her free hand pointed toward her lips, her gaze brimming with expectation.
"Stheno and the others said—"
"Not a chance!"
Seeing the little girl pushing her luck, Samael's face darkened. He flicked her forehead with his finger, then grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and carried her to the small bed.
Only when little Athena drifted into sleep, a sweet and satisfied smile still on her face, did the ancient serpent yawn, climb back into his own bed, and resume his nap.
These little troublemakers really had nothing better to do all day than stir up chaos. Once the Oceanus affair was settled, their education truly needed to be put on the schedule.
Homework and school are the surest way to keep unruly brats in line. The ancient serpent grumbled inwardly as he lay on his side. His gaze drifted to the figure sleeping soundly beside him, her cherry-red lips so tempting they made his mouth water. Kisses, he decided, should be given fairly and without favoritism. With righteous conviction, Samael lowered his head, eyes gleaming, and pressed his half-parted lips to those cherry lips. In the quiet, a ribbon of sultry color seemed to tint the air with something suggestive...
Two days later, in the dense forest near the Oceanus. Samael, having trekked a long way, rinsed a handful of olives at the riverside and tossed them into his mouth one by one. His gaze, cast toward the sea, was dark and deep; even as he stretched his limbs, a touch of languor lingered. He really should have shown more restraint before setting out. The ancient serpent rubbed his forehead and silently berated himself, though it looked like solemn self-reflection. Yet his mind drifted back to Tina's innocent, bewildered kiss and Themis's reluctant yet eager "study sessions."
After savoring the memory for a moment, Samael—already looking forward to life after the return journey—made a quick calculation, cut off the daydream, and wrote a name in the sand. Aphrodite...
During his "in-depth study" with that goddess of justice, Themis had passed along a veiled warning from Metis, the Queen of the Gods, sent from Mount Olympus. Be careful of Aphrodite! The goddess of love and beauty seemed to have taken an interest in a certain youngster who had conquered the goddess of justice.
At that name, Samael was even more on guard than Metis and Themis. As he understood it, in the Greek world, aside from the four ancient deities with concrete, substantial existence—Earth, Sky, Sea, and Abyss—the remaining primordial concept gods, such as Fate and Time, had largely merged with the workings of the Greek world itself and no longer possessed distinct personalities. Yet Eros, the fifth primordial god at the dawn of the world—the basic drive that creates all things, the symbol of love and desire—flickered in and out of view, running through the entire development of the Greek pantheon. Her presence gave the primordial Divine Spirits basic emotion and the urge to procreate; thus Gaia split off Uranus, leading to the union where the Sky Father overpowered the Earth Mother and creation proceeded.
You could say the growth and prosperity of the Greek pantheon were closely tied to Eros, the god of love, though most records about Eros are vague and lack concrete deeds from the Age of Myth. Stroking his chin, Samael recalled more of what Metis had shared, his eyes narrowing. On the earlier Oceanus expedition, it seemed Zeus, the God King, had conquered three goddesses with Aphrodite's help—one of them an exceptionally powerful Titaness. Intriguingly, Aphrodite was born not only from the authority of Sky Father Uranus and a certain "treasure," but in the future would have a child named "Eros," the so-called Little God of Love, known in ancient Rome as "Cupid." Eros again—interesting...
Perhaps the reason Uranus—created by Gaia, the Earth Mother—could wield power surpassing his creator is closely tied to that god of love. But after Kronos's fateful stroke, the authority that had fused Uranus and Eros was severed, and they split apart once more. That seemingly delicate goddess of love and beauty, Aphrodite, is likely a downgraded incarnation of Eros. Her combat strength may be lacking, but she isn't someone to trifle with. Remember, most of Olympus's future messes are directly or indirectly connected to her or her authority. Samael strongly suspected Uranus had ulterior motives in sending this goddess of love and beauty to Olympus.
His smile turned oddly gleeful at the thought, tinged with schadenfreude. Tsk, tsk—did he really think the grudge over losing his "manhood" would be so easily forgotten? Uranus's resentment wasn't limited to the Twelve Titans; it extended to the bloodlines that betrayed him. As Kronos's own son, did Zeus really believe Uranus would indulge some notion of "grandfatherly affection"? Guilt by association is the norm, isn't it?
Besides, as things stood, Metis's pathological love seemed entangled with Zeus's current, unrestrained philandering. Knowing her fate, the Queen of the Gods still chose to dwell within her lover Zeus's mind, merging with him spiritually. It was likely an escape from reality—a possessive, obsessive love that sought to claim her husband on another plane.
In short, ever since Aphrodite appeared, Mount Olympus hasn't had a moment's peace. How many hidden truths lie behind it all remains unknown. Forget it—best to steer clear of that love goddess. Let Olympus's domestic melodrama be prime-time, after-dinner gossip; just snack on the headlines and don't get involved.
Alright then—rest over. Prepare to dive! Samael cut off his thoughts, went to the cliff's edge, and leapt toward the sea, plunging dozens of meters below the surface. At once, the ancient serpent's bones crackled as his muscles contracted and reformed. Under the extreme twist of his body, thin crimson trails washed through the waves until they faded without a trace. After a few dozen breaths, a half-meter-long, pitch-black sea fish flicked its tail toward the ether-laden surface, its blood-red vertical pupils winking with sly intent.