Several days later, Samael's wounds had completely healed. The trio traveled swiftly and soon arrived at a vassal city-state near the border of the Calydon Kingdom.
After a quick calculation, Atalanta realized that because of their fast pace, there was still some time before Prince Meleager of Calydon would summon the Greek heroes to join forces in hunting the Calydonian Boar.
Outside the city walls, the three discussed their next move and ultimately decided to stay temporarily in a nearby city-state close to the royal capital. They would rest and make preparations while waiting for the time of the Calydonian Hunt to draw near before making further plans.
Atalanta readily agreed. After all, arriving early with no achievements to their name would make her feel uneasy accepting the host's hospitality.
Once the decision was made, the group divided their tasks. Atalanta took it upon herself to find lodging, while Samael and Circe were all but pushed out to buy supplies and gather information about the Calydonian Boar.
At the street corner, Samael watched Atalanta stride out of the inn with a large pack on her back, moving with brisk efficiency. He chuckled softly and shook his head.
Though Atalanta's eagerness to handle the most troublesome task partly stemmed from guilt and pride, it also showed how this capable, clear-eyed huntress had naturally taken on the role of a leader. She had become used to looking after the two "weaker" members—himself and Circe.
Only after Atalanta's figure disappeared from view did the ancient serpent withdraw his gaze. Waving for Circe to follow, he strolled through the city streets, subtly gathering information.
Of course, news of the Calydonian Boar was merely a side concern. Samael's true goal was to investigate and piece together the blank stretch of history that followed his removal of Pandora's Box.
By noon, after a morning of inquiries, the ancient serpent noticed Circe growing visibly tired and listless. He decided to take her to a restaurant for a break and a meal.
The food, though not as refined as Samael's own cooking, was made from rich land ingredients, and the Greeks' fondness for sweet-and-sour flavors suited Circe perfectly. The great witch of Aeaea ate with clear delight.
Across from her, the ancient serpent leaned into the corner of the booth, resting his elbow on the table as his fingers tapped in a steady rhythm.
That habit again. He must be thinking. So, if he's that deep in thought, leaving the food to get cold won't bother him.
Circe cast him a quick glance, then quietly slid a plate of pastries—crispy on the outside, soft and sweet inside, fried from wheat flour and grape jam—closer to herself.
Samael, however, didn't notice the witch's small act. His mind was occupied with organizing the fragments of that forgotten history.
Centuries ago, Pandora's Box had appeared, bringing disaster and near extinction upon humanity.
In that desperate moment, he had taken on his primordial form, swallowing Pandora's Box and all the evils it contained, then casting them into the Oceanus Sea to preserve mankind's survival.
Athena, Themis, and Medusa had risen together to resist the power of Olympus.
When humanity offered a great sacrifice to awaken Gaia, the Earth Mother, the tide of fate turned.
The conflict ended with Gaia seizing Zeus's weakness, scolding him severely, and forcing him to swear an oath before Styx, the goddess of oaths, to renounce vengeance and accept humanity's continued existence.
Thus, the affair of Pandora's Box came to a close.
After that, the gods—whose power had long been tied to human faith—found their loyalties divided.
With his interest in humanity waning, Zeus lost the will to meddle further. His old habits returned; his passion turned to indulgence. Disguised as a white bull, he seduced the beautiful Europa and hid her on Crete, the island where he had been raised. There, he lost himself in pleasure and forgot the world.
But at that very moment, Typhon, the long-scheming king of monsters, seized the opportunity to rise from the abyss. He rallied rebellious monsters and Titans to launch an assault on Olympus.
Without Zeus's leadership, and with the gods divided by their struggle for mortal worship, Olympus was left without direction. Defeat followed defeat, and countless Divine Spirits fell in battle.
Even the Main Gods began to falter, considering transforming into animals to escape and lie low.
Just as Olympus—the very heart of divine authority—teetered on the verge of collapse, three goddesses appeared out of nowhere. They turned the tide of battle, becoming the central pillars of resistance against Typhon's advancing forces.
With the arrival of reinforcements, the gods finally gained a moment's respite. Inspired by the three, they steadied their positions and fought back with renewed determination while dispatching Hermes, the god of speed, to search for Zeus.
At last, word reached them. Awakened to the crisis, the King of Olympus tore through the perception-distorting black mist that shrouded Crete. Using a frail human as a decoy to get close to Typhon, he reclaimed the Thunderbolt. Working in tandem with the gods of Olympus, Zeus led them to final victory.
That battle reunited the once-fractured Olympian pantheon. And those three goddesses who had stepped forward to take a stand—and ultimately saved Olympus—rose to lasting fame.
They were Themis, Athena, and Medusa.
During Typhon's invasion, it had been Athena who persuaded the other two to join her cause.
After the war, Zeus distributed rewards according to merit. Upon discovering Athena's true identity, he generously offered to share his divine authority with his daughter. Olympus officially bestowed upon her the titles of Goddess of Wisdom and War Goddess, elevating her among the Twelve Olympians.
As for Themis and Medusa, their rewards were far more modest.
Persuasion and division, huh? To offer half your authority as a reward—quite the bold move, Zeus.
But that's only because you think she's a daughter who can't inherit, isn't it?
Samael rubbed his chin, seeing through the Olympian King's intentions completely.
What he could infer, the Goddess of Wisdom surely saw even more clearly. Yet knowing and acting are two different things.
In the end, Athena accepted only the divine offices of wisdom and war, swearing an oath to become the guardian deity of Athens.
After the war, she refused to remain on Olympus and even relinquished her place among the Twelve Olympians.
With little choice, Zeus elevated Dionysus—the god of wine who had also distinguished himself during the Olympian War—to the ranks of the Twelve to fill the vacancy.
Soon after, Athena returned to the mortal world. On the peak northwest of the Acropolis, she established the [Council] together with Themis, the goddess of justice, and Medusa, the goddess of vengeance, vowing to maintain order between gods and mortals.
Unwilling to accept the division of war's divine authority, Ares, the god of war, and Poseidon, the sea god who coveted Athens, each came to challenge her.
Both were defeated in turn—Ares by Athena, Goddess of Wisdom, and Poseidon by Themis, Goddess of Justice.
From then on, those who had cast greedy eyes upon Athens learned that the [Council] of goddesses was not to be provoked. Peace followed, and Athens entered a period of thriving prosperity.