Velber... Stellar Core Fragment…
Altera... Sefar...
Inside the dim, sealed room, Samael sat at the edge of the bed, holding a crystal chip between his fingers. He raised it toward a sliver of sunlight filtering through the window lattice. Within the shard, an inverted galaxy shimmered faintly. His brow tightened and relaxed in turns as he stared at it, lost in thought.
If she truly is reclaiming her nature and tracing her origin, then perhaps the concept implanted at the very beginning will prove decisive when the moment comes.
The Ancient Serpent murmured under his breath. He rubbed his aching temple lightly, pausing for a moment before taking out a black scale engraved with cuneiform runes and channeling Ether into it.
The scale flickered several times between light and shadow.
Then it dimmed again.
No response at all.
So where exactly did Themis and the Mother Goddess go? What are they doing? Why is there still no way to contact them?
Another failed attempt.
Even though Samael had long grown used to this outcome, the frustration in his chest still refused to fade.
In truth, ever since he fell into the Norse world and awakened as Jörmungandr, he had never stopped trying to establish contact with the Mother Goddess Tiamat and the Goddess of Justice, Themis.
After all, whether it was the authority he shared with the Mother Goddess Tiamat or the snake-shed avatar he had left beside his former lover Themis, both should theoretically allow a certain level of communication.
Yet after hundreds and thousands of attempts, there had still been no progress.
The only thing Samael could confirm through a faint spiritual resonance was that everyone still seemed to be alive.
And this situation was not limited to Greece.
With the connection of World Eggs and the rapid decline of the Age of Gods, divine beings from Greece, Rome, Persia, Egypt, and other regions had scarcely appeared on earth in recent years.
As a result, wars carried out by the agents of the gods—nations and believers who spread divine will and faith—had grown increasingly intense.
The greatest matters of a nation lie in worship and warfare.
War and sacrifice were often inseparable.
War brought bloodshed and slaughter, but it was also a ritual meant to please and awaken the gods. Through the carnage, the spiritual particles of the dead were gathered, their immense power offered as sacrifice to the gods those people believed in.
A portion of that power could also be intercepted.
The gods might even return some of it, granting it to their followers to create artificial divine beings.
For example, the divine ancestor of the Roman Empire, the Pharaohs of Egypt, or Cyrus the Great of Persia.
Thus, wars between humans were both the prelude to divine war and its continuation.
If the situation of this war could be thoroughly unraveled, if the layers could be peeled back to expose the secrets buried beneath, perhaps there would be clues explaining why the gods had vanished.
Still, Samael could not shake the feeling that this war was far from simple.
After thinking it over again and again without finding an answer, his head throbbed with pain. In the end he gave up on the problem for now, pressing his fingers against his brow to ease the pressure.
Under the current circumstances, even rushing straight to Greece might not reveal anything.
Better to leave the early investigation to my old friend Scáthach. Once I arrive, I'll decide the next step.
As for now...
First, head to Rome and try to pry some information from Romulus and the Romanized Greek gods.
Second, if necessary, take a detour through Persia. There might be something worth discovering there.
After all, the land where Persia now stands was once Mesopotamia.
Even now he still didn't know whether Ishtar, Ere, Enkidu, Gilgamesh, and the others had stayed in Greece after the war with the Giants, or returned to Paradise Lost.
After that, depart from the Persian Gulf and retrace the sea route to Greece through the Chaotic Seas.
If the dragon body of the Mother Goddess Tiamat was still wandering in exile, there should be traces along that path.
Having settled on his plan, Samael carefully thought it through once more and nodded to himself while rubbing his brow.
After resting for a short while and calming his irritation, the Ancient Serpent judged that it was about time to eat and got up to head outside.
The moment he stepped through the door, he saw a certain figure on the slope.
The First Princess stood there with a basin balanced on her head, a bucket in one hand, and a stone pressed against her legs. Her body swayed precariously as she endured her punishment with a miserable expression. In front of her stood Boudica, radiating murderous pressure.
Samael immediately raised his brows and began grinning in gloating delight.
What is this? Maternal love as gentle as water... a flood bursting through the dam.
The Ancient Serpent chuckled darkly without the slightest sympathy. Carrying his food tray, he deliberately walked past the starving First Princess and even slowed his pace, making sure the aroma drifted right under her nose.
The First Princess lost focus for just a moment.
A stone slipped from her body.
The basin tipped over.
Boudica mercilessly raised her wooden stick and brought it down hard, striking the softest and most sensitive spots without hesitation. The normally lively and resilient girl howled miserably as the blows rained down.
What is this? Fatherly love as steady as a mountain... a landslide.
You wanted this, didn't you?
Your teacher will kindly give you a complimentary lesson in loving discipline.
Samael wore a teasing expression, his gaze gleaming with wicked amusement. The two elders of the First Princess exchanged a glance, nodded slightly, and smiled with quiet understanding.
...
Meanwhile, in the Persian Gulf.
The chaotic sea roared with violent waves.
Yet before a small solitary boat, the vast torrents of Ether surging across the ocean automatically split apart, flowing around it to both sides.
On the drifting boat sat a middle-aged man dressed in a moon-white coarse cloth robe. A faint yellow beard framed his face. He sat as steady as a mountain, tall and imposing. His skin was pale, his nose sharply bridged, and his features carried a sculpted depth, blending firmness with subtle softness.
His fair hands, smooth and without calluses, held the fishing rod with unshakable steadiness. In his deep-set eye sockets, a pair of dark brown eyes watched the gently trembling float, calm and focused, unmoved by the slightest distraction.
This was only the tentative probing before the bite. Patience was necessary to gain anything from it.
Still, judging by the habits of these creatures, the moment should be close.
Buzz.
Just as the experienced fisherman waited in complete concentration for his prey, a low vibration sounded from behind him.
The dark shadow that had been about to bite instantly shot away for hundreds of meters and vanished into the chaotic waves.
"I told you already. Do not disturb me unless there is something important. You had better give me a reasonable explanation."
The middle-aged man frowned coldly at the ripples spreading across the water.
The surrounding air dropped by dozens of degrees in an instant. Even the surface of the Chaotic Sea began to form a thin layer of pale blue ice crystals.
Behind him, two figures stepped out of a Magecraft array.
Whether it was Xerxes, whose appearance carried a refined and somewhat delicate beauty and whose eloquence was well known, or Darius I, tall and powerful, a conqueror on the battlefield, both lowered their heads. Cold sweat dripped down their foreheads.
They looked like children who had been caught doing something wrong and were now facing a strict parent.
After all, the man before them was the founder of the Persian Empire.
A living god.
"Y... Your Majesty... we received a message from that side... This is the reply meant for you..."
"Oh? Let me see."
Cyrus the Great's expression eased slightly, interest stirring in his eyes.
Standing at the front, Darius I respectfully presented the letter with both hands, not daring to make a single unnecessary movement.
Cyrus the Great casually opened the envelope.
As he read through the contents, his expression gradually relaxed. By the time he reached the final lines, the deified king raised an eyebrow, a trace of amusement appearing on his face.
Now this is becoming interesting.
As he murmured to himself, the letter slipped from his hand and fell onto the water.
On the back of the sealed paper, a golden rune shaped like an eye was clearly imprinted.
"Go make the preparations."
"Your Majesty means...?"
Seeing that he had not been punished, Darius I gathered some courage and cautiously asked.
"Take this. Go to the Vulture's Nest and summon those filthy shadows. It is time for them to be useful."
Cyrus the Great casually tossed out a token engraved with golden flames.
Xerxes hurriedly caught it, his eyes flickering.
"And this. It will allow you to mobilize the Undying Army. You understand what I mean."
Cyrus then pulled a gleaming curved blade from the Magecraft array. Its entire body shone with cold light, radiating a chilling aura.
Darius I immediately knelt on one knee and received it with both hands.
Holding the curved blade upright before his chest, he solemnly recited the golden Persian inscription upon it.
"As you command, Your Majesty. The true god Ahura shall grant me victory in every battle."
After receiving their orders, the two figures bowed and slowly withdrew, carefully stepping away from this stretch of sea.
At that moment, Cyrus the Great suddenly felt a heavy pull on the fishing line.
The float was violently dragged beneath the surface of the Chaotic Sea.
A cold smile formed at the corner of his lips. His eyes gleamed with the sharp predatory light of a hawk.
Got you, little mouse.
With a swift pull and lift of his rod, a massive shadow burst from the water.
A serpentine sea beast more than a hundred meters long twisted wildly in agony, its body writhing violently.
Bang.
Cyrus extended his left hand and suddenly clenched his fingers.
The giant sea serpent instantly exploded into a cloud of blood mist, its body shredded into chunks of flesh that scattered across the water.
How boring.
Cyrus frowned slightly and shook his head. Raising his hand forward, a crystal fragment no larger than a grain of rice flew out from the bloody mass and landed in his palm.
Clink.
When the crystal fragment dropped into a small container, he glanced down.
Inside, dozens of similar fragments had already accumulated, filling it nearly to the brim.