Divine Constructs are ranked by tier.
The Tablet of Destinies is a supreme artifact, a world-class treasure naturally born from a World Egg, carrying the rare authority of Fate.
Even the two great Mesopotamian creator gods, Apsu and Tiamat, are bound by it and deeply wary of its power.
And yet, after sneaking into Greece with Tina and stirring up chaos for so long, nothing had happened. The fate-revealing oracles of the Greek prophets grew increasingly muddled, and not one suspected the vile serpent hiding within the Waterside Treehouse.
He had even abducted Themis, mother of the Moirai and goddess of justice, and deceived Metis, goddess of wisdom, into a premature birth and entrusting her child. Still, neither the old gods nor the new laid the blame at his feet. Everything pointed to the Tablet of Destinies being concealed with near-perfect secrecy.
Of course, his freedom in stealth was also tied to the constant fragmentation and reshuffling of Greek divine authority. This world had no Marduk-like tyrant who ruled over fate. The so-called power of destiny lingered in the background, overarching yet splintered and diffuse.
The Moirai, Apollo the Sun God, the seer Prometheus, Themis the Goddess of Justice—among the gods alone, those holding the divine essence of fate were already too numerous to count on both hands. Add in mortals like Laocoön, priest of Troy, the orthodox Delphic Oracle, and the Sibyl, and "favorites of destiny" were practically everywhere.
Samael even suspected that fate in the Greek world was either a wanton sower scattering seed in every direction, or a streaker with nothing covering beneath. As long as one had a bit of sensitivity, they could glimpse fragments of what was to come. Thus, prophecies in Greece were as common as clouds in the sky.
Yet precisely because of this, even just one-third of the Tablet of Destinies made Samael's authority stand out like a king among the countless scattered sparks of fate in Greece. To truly catch him, it would likely take beings on the level of Gaia, Uranus, Pontus, or Tartarus—the four primordial gods—watching him directly.
As the saying goes, the bold feast while the timid starve. Fully aware of his maxed-out stealth advantage, Samael dared to stir the waters of Oceanus, profiting under the very eyes of the Greek gods. And as expected, he not only feasted, but even snatched away the Scythe of Time that Kronos had dropped into the abyss.
The Scythe of Time, the Thunderbolt, the Helm of Invisibility, Poseidon's Trident—all weapons born in the war of old and new gods—were merely Main God-level artifacts carrying partial divine authority. With a world-class Tablet of Destinies concealing his presence, the theft was flawless.
Of course, though the Scythe of Time looked overwhelming, it was little more than dead weight for Zeus and his six siblings, the only ones qualified to wield it. Olympus already had three Cyclopes craftsmen; every god had a weapon crafted to match their attributes, none lacking arms. Those below, itching to covet the Scythe of Time, would have to be suicidal to dare touch the spoils of the new king.
In short—those with the strength to claim it had no interest; those tempted didn't dare. In the end, Samael was the one who cut in and escaped with it.
Even if Zeus had obtained it, he most likely would have set it aside. After all, he already held the Thunderbolt, both offensive and defensive, and the Aegis Shield. The Scythe of Time simply didn't suit his hand.
Worse, if he divided it among his siblings, the "Kronos Blade" and its royal authority could easily be misinterpreted, stirring dangerous ambitions against his throne.
Besides, even if he passed it down to his subordinates, wouldn't the feat of severing the Heavenly Father's reproductive authority only leave a lingering thorn in everyone's side?
He was, after all, the new Sky God now...
Thus, in the future history of the Greek Age of Myths, Samael scarcely ever heard of the Scythe of Kronos appearing again.
Such a fine weapon, and it simply vanished without a trace.
Vanished without a trace—better that way.
The Scythe of Kronos? As far as I'm concerned, I've never seen the thing.
As the ancient serpent whispered, a twisted smile spread across his lips. With a flick of his fingers, he conjured a pitch-black spear, its shaft patterned with delicate serpentine scales.
When his fingertip brushed along it, thick venom seeped down the spiral engravings, gathering in the groove at the spear's tip.
"Samael, Angel of Death, wields a spear tipped with bile. He stands before the hellhound that howls in the night, spreading death with every step he takes..."
Spear in hand. Hound accounted for.
Hmm, he was starting to resemble that serpent from Eden more and more—the one that symbolized mankind's original sin.
Samael gave the dark spear a light toss in his palm, recalling the passages of the Greek Apocalypse of Baruch. A smirk tugged at his lips.
He wondered how the war between "God" and "Devil" would play out in the end.
But in the next breath, the ancient serpent shook off those thoughts and focused on the weapon in his hand—a construct reshaped from the Tablet of Destinies. The longer he looked at it, the more satisfied he became.
The weapon had changed so thoroughly it now bore almost no resemblance to the Scythe of Kronos. With the Tablet's concealment of fate's power cloaking it, even Kronos himself would have trouble recognizing it.
At last, he could revisit the spear techniques that Ereshkigal and Leonidas had taught him.
As for that "Lancer with Luck E" nonsense? That curse won't touch me.
Samael muttered in triumph as his fingertips brushed over the serpentine scales along the spear's shaft. The divine essence of fate dispersed.
Gray-black power, the force of time's ruin, flared into dark flames, reshaping the spear in an instant.
Before long, a sinister weapon took shape—a black scythe blade locked into a serpentine shaft, solid in Samael's grip. A heavy aura of death spread outward.
Surprised? I've still got the scythe's second form!
During his recovery, the ancient serpent, bored and restless, toyed with the artifact like a child with a new plaything, constantly probing its hidden mysteries.
But this was, after all, the house of the sage Chiron. To steal the father's artifact, accept the son's aid, and then flaunt it right in front of him—it was hardly proper.
So whenever Samael sensed Chiron entering his range of perception, he wisely dissolved the spear into nothingness, obediently playing the role of a recovering patient.
Even so, lying in bed did not keep the ancient serpent idle. His thoughts wandered to another "Fate" he had inadvertently inscribed alongside his name Samael.
The Ouroboros—the serpent devouring its own tail.
The term "Ouroboros" came from ancient Greece, meaning the infinite devourer. Its form—head biting into tail—was a symbol of "immortality," "wholeness," "infinity," "the world," "wisdom," and countless other meanings.
Indeed, in the ancient myths of Egypt, India, the Maya, West Africa, the Norse, and many others, stories circulated of a serpent that survived by consuming itself. Its image spanned the world.
In medieval Europe, magi—particularly alchemists—revered it as the king of magic.
In a flash of inspiration, Samael carved that name of profound significance into the Tablet of Destinies. Through the blessing of the Mandate of Heaven, he gained, for a short time, the properties of balanced life and death and endless cycle.
That dormant-like state was the perfect way to digest the chaotic powers within his body and reconcile clashing authorities.
But Ouroboros was still only a symbolic definition, not a true god's name. Its essence was drifting further from concrete existence, becoming a mere emblem.
Thus, the idea of seizing infinite power in one step was impossible.
Yet with the qualities of the Ouroboros granted by the Mandate of Heaven, Samael now possessed the potential for ceaseless evolution.
A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. The future remains unknown.