Chapter 260 – The Council of Petty Jealousy
The Council Chamber of Heavenly Accord was built for times of universal crisis:
When pantheons clashed.When apocalyptic beasts stirred.When the stars themselves wept.
Today, however?
It was occupied for a crisis of a far more personal nature.
Inside the radiant, silver-domed chamber sat five of the most powerful — and most competitive — goddesses in existence.
Ishtar, reclining on a throne of molten obsidian veined with ruby, twirled a lock of hair around her finger and smirked.
Amaterasu, draped in soft white and crimson silk, pretended not to be invested as she peeked at the glowing gossip scroll in her lap.
Nuwa, half-serpent and wholly regal, sipped celestial nectar with amused detachment, her eyes betraying quiet curiosity.
Bastet, tail flicking lazily, lounged on a floating moonstone slab while purring softly.
And at the center, swirling her goblet of wine like it held the fate of nations, was Aphrodite.
She stood dramatically and let out a luxurious sigh.
"So," she purred. "Let's talk about him."
Every goddess looked up instantly — like predators catching a divine scent.
"Which him?" Bastet asked, ears twitching. "The one who humiliated Apollo at the wedding?"
"Or the one who beat Fenrir in one strike?" Nuwa added.
Amaterasu looked up quickly. "And the dragon princess—Zevathra's heir. He made her step down."
Ishtar chuckled. "Apparently, she kissed him voluntarily after he punched the sky off the island."
"Mid-battle," Bastet noted.
Aphrodite's smile deepened. "Yes… that man."
They all leaned forward.
Nuwa swirled her drink. "Do we have a name?"
"None," Aphrodite said, her voice silken. "Not even a title. The witnesses described him as black-haired, calm… and not divine. But when I saw him—"
She paused.
And for the first time in centuries… looked genuinely affected.
"—he was handsome. Not just mortal handsome. Not charming. Not rugged. I mean... terrifyingly perfect. He hit Apollo so hard I forgot to blink."
Ishtar grinned. "That was you screaming in the background?"
Aphrodite flicked her hair. "A measured gasp."
She sipped her wine and then groaned. "And don't even get me started on the bet with Hermes."
The room went still.
"What bet?" Amaterasu asked, instantly suspicious.
"I bet Apollo would last two and a half hours against the mystery man," Aphrodite muttered, glaring at her cup. "Hermes said two hours and ten minutes."
"And?" Bastet asked, tail twitching.
Aphrodite scowled. "Apollo passed out at exactly 2:12:38. I lost."
The room erupted in laughter.
Nuwa covered her mouth. "What did you owe Hermes?"
"My garnet-star gemset. Centuries of collection. He said he was going to use them to buy new shoes."
Ishtar laughed harder. "He ate the entire wedding banquet table after that. Including the roast dragon boar."
"He used my gems as a tip," Aphrodite growled.
"And all the Olympians lost their wagers," Nuwa mused.
Aphrodite nodded. "Every. Single. One. Hermes made more profit that night than any divine trade route in history."
"And still didn't share," Bastet said dryly.
"Worse," Amaterasu added, "Apollo hasn't spoken about the fight at all."
Nuwa's eyes narrowed. "Odin denies knowing the man. The dragon courts have gone silent. Someone's hiding something."
"Could he be the one who built that orbital fortress?" Ishtar asked. "The Second Light?"
Amaterasu frowned. "The man in the armor?"
Bastet clicked her tongue. "I doubt it. That one looked… technological. This mystery man was raw power."
Aphrodite gave a slow smile. "What if they're the same?"
Silence.
Then:
"…That would be incredibly hot," Ishtar whispered.
Aphrodite leaned forward. "So I propose a new wager."
She raised her cup.
"Whoever finds him first — wins."
"Wins what?" Amaterasu asked warily.
Aphrodite smirked. "The right to claim the first kiss."
Ishtar was already standing. "I'm in."
Bastet purred. "Game on."
Nuwa chuckled. "This will be entertaining."
Amaterasu hesitated, then sighed. "…Fine. For balance."
"And because he's probably cute," Ishtar whispered.
Amaterasu turned pink. "T-that's irrelevant."
Cups clinked. Egos rose. Chaos simmered.
The Council of Petty Jealousy had spoken.
But just then—
Amaterasu's sleeve lit up with a soft golden pulse.
She blinked.
"A message," she murmured. "From my head priestess."
Ishtar leaned in. "Ooh. Gossip drop?"
Aphrodite smirked. "Turn it up."
Amaterasu sighed and activated the divine transcription seal, letting the voice echo into the room:
"Lady Amaterasu, forgive the sudden message. After correlating the most recent global census data and applying divine image recognition filters across mortal surveillance systems… we have confirmed the identity of the man involved in the Apollo, Fenrir, and Dragon Princess incidents."
"His name is Alex. Mortal, male, black hair, calm demeanor. Registered in multiple global records. Cross-referenced with witness descriptions. Match probability: 99.94%."
Silence.
A very heavy silence.
"Alex?!" Bastet hissed. "That's so normal!"
Ishtar groaned. "You just know the ones with boring names are dangerous."
Aphrodite narrowed her eyes. "So that's his name… Alex."
Amaterasu muttered, "I had records of someone by that name in Japan… very normal background. Average citizen. Nowhere near divine classification."
Nuwa calmly set her cup down. "Then we missed him hiding in plain sight."
Bastet stretched. "Which means—"
"The game's already started," Ishtar said bitterly.
"…And we've already lost," Aphrodite added.
Amaterasu rubbed her temple. "All this from a census check…"
Nuwa smiled faintly. "Simple methods. Precise results."
Aphrodite flared with frustration. "And now we're behind. Again."
Ishtar stood. "We find him. First kiss wins."
Bastet grinned. "I'm not even trying. He'll find me."
Nuwa tilted her head. "What if he's already taken?"
Aphrodite's voice dropped to velvet.
"Then I'll become the one he remembers."
Cups clinked.
The war had begun.
They still didn't know the truth.
They didn't realize Alex was the very man behind Second Light, the high-tech fortress in orbit that shook the heavens, or the armored warrior who silenced the corruption beneath the South Pole.
No one had connected the dots.
Yet.
Chapter 261 – Gone Too Soon
The morning was peaceful.
Sunlight filtered through the curtains. Birds sang. Someone — probably Ciel — was already boiling tea. And Alex had just stepped into the living room, towel over his shoulders, fresh from the shower.
Then the wall shimmered.
A small ripple, like heat off stone.
And from that shimmer stepped a girl in midnight robes and twin braids — her silver hair trailing slightly behind her as if she'd just run through time itself.
Skuld.
She landed lightly on the floor, boots barely tapping wood, and grinned up at him like a cat who'd stolen not just cream, but the entire farm.
"Brother~!" she chimed, holding her arms out dramatically.
Alex blinked.
"Skuld…?"
She practically lunged into him, wrapping her arms around his waist in a tight hug.
"I missed you! It's been, like… twelve timelines!"
He patted her head. "You visited two days ago."
"Not for me."
He sighed and smiled. "What brings you here?"
Skuld pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. Her expression shifted — just slightly. From teasing to thoughtful. From little sister to something older.
"You've made quite the mess, you know," she said brightly.
"Me?"
"Mmhmm." She twirled in place, skirt flaring. "Beating a sun god, wrestling a wolf, seducing a dragon princess—very bold! Very reckless! Very you."
Alex raised an eyebrow. "And…?"
Skuld's grin widened. "Now all the aunties are talking about you."
"…Aunties?"
"Goddesses," she clarified with a wink. "From all over. Aphrodite, Ishtar, Amaterasu, Nuwa — you're the hottest unclaimed legend on their roster now."
Alex sighed deeply. "Fantastic."
"I told them you were mine," Skuld added innocently. "Big brother clause. They didn't like that."
"Please tell me you didn't actually—"
"I didn't," she whispered. "But I wanted to."
She spun again, stopping just short of bumping into Ciel, who had entered silently with a tray of tea.
Skuld blinked.
"Oh! Hi, Sister Ciel!"
Ciel nodded gracefully. "Good morning, Skuld."
"I was just warning him about the storm of love and divine chaos heading his way."
Ciel set down the tea. "I assumed as much."
Skuld leaned up on tiptoes and poked Alex in the chest. "You're going to be very popular very soon, Brother. You might want to reinforce the windows."
Alex deadpanned. "Are they coming to flirt or to fight?"
Skuld tilted her head. "Yes."
Before he could reply, the shimmer of her departure circle began to glow at her feet.
"What, already?" Alex asked.
"I can't stay long," she said with a pout. "Urd gets cranky when I meddle too hard."
"You're always meddling."
"Exactly!" she said brightly. "But this time I'm being responsible. I delivered the warning. That's what little sisters do."
The light flared. Skuld's figure began to dissolve into sparkles of silver thread.
But just before she vanished completely, she looked back at him — her smile softening.
"…Be careful, Brother."
And then, she was gone.
Gone too soon.
As always.
Alex stood there in silence for a moment, staring at the spot she'd left behind.
Ciel handed him a cup of tea.
"She cares about you deeply."
"I know," he said quietly.
Then, after a sip—
"…So which one do you think will show up first?"
Ciel didn't hesitate.
"Aphrodite."
Somewhere in the skies above—
A ripple of celestial silk parted the clouds.
Descending through layers of illusion and warded veils, wrapped in glamour and moon-sweet perfume, came a figure cloaked in beauty sharpened by centuries of conquest.
Aphrodite.
Or at least… what she let mortals see.
Tonight, she wore the illusion of a young, wandering woman — long auburn curls, soft curves, a flowing white dress with just enough slip to spark thought and just enough innocence to deny it.
Her bare feet didn't touch the earth as she hovered just above the tree line, scouting the little neighborhood below.
"Ah… there he is."
Her eyes narrowed as she gazed upon the quiet house — faint traces of divine, draconic, elven, vampiric, and fox-kin mana glowing like threads around the property.
She smirked.
"Competition, hm? Let's see how they react when I walk in."
She adjusted her form — slightly more radiant skin, slightly more perfect lashes, just enough sway in her hips to break peace treaties. She'd worn this look before. For kings. For gods. For rivals she wanted kneeling.
She had slept with Ares during wartime.
With Adonis in mortal disguise.
With Poseidon for revenge, and Hermes for fun.
She'd stolen the breath of mortal poets, sun-queens, and moon-priestesses, then vanished like perfume on silk.
And yet…
There was a strange flutter beneath her breast.
"Why now?" she murmured to herself. "Why does he make me nervous?"
She shook it off.
This would be just like the others.
Walk in. Speak gently. Lean close. Touch his hand. Tilt her head. Kiss — or be kissed. And then…
Well.
No man had ever resisted her for long.
Certainly not one named Alex.
She stepped lightly onto the front path of his house.
Disguised as a "lost traveler." Nothing more.
She knocked once.
The door opened.
And there he was.
Black hair. Calm black eyes. Still in a simple T-shirt, holding a towel in one hand and a mug in the other.
"…Can I help you?"
Her heart did a strange thing.
A beat.
A hitch.
A pause.
"…I—I'm sorry," she said in the softest, most vulnerable tone she had mastered over centuries. "I think I got lost… My phone died… and my ride left me…"
Alex blinked once.
Then twice.
He handed her the towel. "You look cold. Want to come in?"
Aphrodite smiled.
But inside, she was stunned.
No flirtation? No tension? No hesitation?
He'd offered help without reaction.
No glazed stare.
No gawking.
No nosebleed.
Just a calm, polite welcome.
She stepped inside.
And something inside her shifted.
"This might be harder than I thought."
Far above the mortal world, the clouds parted in silence.
No trumpet sounded. No light flared. No mortals trembled.
That was by design.
For once, Aphrodite wasn't arriving with grandeur — only intent.
She had cloaked herself in subtle glamour, suppressing her divine presence until it flickered like nothing more than a gentle breeze. Her skin was lightly sun-kissed, her features flawless in the way that mortal dreams only ever hinted at. Soft rose-pink hair cascaded down her back in gentle waves. Her eyes, the same color, shimmered with a warmth that melted hearts.
She had chosen the perfect form — alluring, approachable, undeniably irresistible.
To any man.
Except, perhaps…
"Found you," she whispered, standing just across the street from Alex's house.
She tilted her head, watching the front door as a soft wind carried the scent of tea and soap.
Her lips curved. "Humble house. Mortal rhythm. But the man inside it shattered a sun god and danced with dragons."
She stepped forward, her sandals barely making a sound.
"Let's see if the legend is half as interesting as the man."
Inside, Alex stood in the living room, setting down his empty cup.
Ciel had already disappeared into the back to clean. Hanabi was napping. Airi was doing something suspiciously loud in the kitchen. Morgan and Reyne were dormant in his sigil, quiet and still.
He barely had time to turn before—
Knock. Knock.
He opened the door.
And blinked.
She stood there like a goddess trying not to look like one — which only made her presence sharper. Her rose-pink hair framed her glowing, youthful face. Her eyes sparkled like petals caught in morning dew. Her smile was warm, inviting… dangerously inviting.
Every curve, every blink, every angle of her posture exuded a kind of subliminal pull — like gravity sculpted into a woman.
"Hello," she said sweetly. "I'm new to the neighborhood. I was just wondering if…"
She paused, pretending to think — a practiced hesitation honed over centuries.
"…you had any sugar I could borrow?"
Alex blinked once. Twice.
His gaze didn't linger on her figure. His heart rate didn't spike.
He just tilted his head.
"No," he said plainly. "I don't."
Aphrodite blinked.
Most men — even gods — would be tripping over their own tongue by now. Babbling. Sweating. Offering not just sugar but their firstborns.
But this man?
Nothing.
His eyes were calm.
His tone? Bored.
She leaned forward a bit, just slightly — enough to make lesser kings kneel.
"Are you sure?" she asked, voice silken. "You don't even want to ask my name?"
"I'm not interested," Alex replied.
Pause.
That hurt more than she expected.
"I didn't offer anything yet," she said, voice a touch sharper.
"You didn't have to," Alex replied. "You're not here for sugar."
"…Then what am I here for?"
Alex's eyes narrowed just slightly. "You tell me, Aphrodite."
The glamour flickered.
Only for a split second — but her eyes widened.
He knew.
She straightened slowly. "So you're not just strong," she murmured. "You're clever."
Alex crossed his arms. "You've slept with hundreds. Gods. Kings. Mortals. Half the pantheon."
"And none of them ever refused me," she whispered.
"I'm not one of them."
A moment passed.
Aphrodite stared at him, truly seeing him now — not as prey, not as a conquest, but as something… else.
Someone she couldn't touch.
Not with her beauty.
Not with her power.
"…What are you?" she asked softly.
Alex didn't answer.
He didn't have to.
The silence was enough.
She gave a slow, reluctant smile.
"Fine. I'll play fair. For now."
She stepped back, the wind catching her hair like rose petals in retreat.
"But this isn't over," she added.
Then she turned, walked away, and vanished — slipping between the sunlight and the shadows.
Gone.
Like a perfume that lingered without a source.
Inside the house, Morgan whispered from his sigil:
"She's going to be trouble."
Ciel answered quietly from the hallway:
"She already is."
Chapter 262 – The One He Invited In
Aphrodite shimmered back into the Council Chamber of Heavenly Accord, her sandals clicking across the polished floor with far less confidence than usual.
The room was already half-full.
Ishtar was sulking with her arms crossed.
Nuwa was staring into her teacup like it had betrayed her.
Bastet was curled into a moody stretch, ears back and tail stiff.
Aphrodite didn't speak.
She just walked over to her throne, sat down, and muttered:
"…He said no."
The other goddesses froze.
Ishtar blinked. "Wait. You mean…"
Nuwa raised an eyebrow. "Even you?"
Aphrodite exhaled slowly. "Didn't look twice at me. No stammering. No blush. Not even a flicker."
Bastet looked vaguely sick. "He refused Aphrodite. That's… cosmic-level indifference."
"Do you understand," Aphrodite growled, "that I used the soft-pulse allure field? The one that made entire royal lines collapse into scandal? And he just—" she waved her hand "—closed the door."
Ishtar grinned bitterly. "So. We're all failures."
Nuwa set down her cup with a sigh. "I admit defeat."
Bastet hissed, "I don't. But I'm out of ideas."
All heads turned to Amaterasu.
She stood quietly, arms folded into her sleeves, her face calm.
Ishtar leaned forward. "You're the only one who hasn't tried."
"Are you going next?" Bastet asked. "Want help with makeup?"
"No," Amaterasu said softly.
They stared at her.
"I'm not going to flirt," she clarified. "I'm going… to apologize."
Aphrodite blinked. "To him?"
Amaterasu nodded. "For all of us."
Later – Earth, Just Past Noon
The knock was soft.
Alex opened the door — expecting another odd visitor, a neighbor, or perhaps Morgan sneaking back in with groceries.
But there stood Amaterasu.
No disguise. No illusions. Just herself.
She wore a simple, cream-colored kimono. Her expression was calm, her posture dignified, but not cold. She had even left her divine radiance behind — no blinding warmth, no pressure of solar might.
Just… sincerity.
Alex raised an eyebrow. "...Another one?"
Amaterasu bowed deeply.
"Forgive me. I'm not here for what the others came for."
Silence.
"I came to apologize," she said. "On behalf of the goddesses who approached you selfishly."
Alex studied her for a long moment.
Then opened the door wider.
"…Come in."
The house was warm. Sunlight danced off quiet corners. A pot of water hissed gently on the stove.
Amaterasu sat across from him at the table, hands folded neatly, eyes calm.
He poured the tea without a word.
She sipped.
And paused.
Then blinked.
"…This is… very good," she whispered.
Alex tilted his head. "Better than divine tea?"
She glanced up, a small smile forming. "Yes."
They drank in silence for a while.
No tension.
No seduction.
Just tea.
"I didn't expect you to be so…" she trailed off.
"Humble?" he offered.
"Real." She looked down. "I see now why they all failed. You're not looking for worship. Or lust. Or awe."
She looked up again, her gaze softer now.
"You're already surrounded by women who love you."
Alex didn't reply.
But his silence said enough.
Amaterasu stood after finishing her tea and bowed once more.
"Thank you for the kindness. And… for the reminder."
He nodded. "Anytime."
She turned to leave, but just before the door, she said softly—
"If you ever visit the heavens… my door will be open."
And with that, she stepped into the light.
No seduction.
No pretense.
Just honesty.
And that, perhaps, was why he let her in.
Amaterasu stood at the doorway, ready to leave.
The sunlight outside painted her silhouette in warm gold, but inside, the house still held a gentle stillness — a peace she hadn't expected to find.
Alex watched her pause.
Then, before she stepped out, he moved to a nearby shelf and returned holding a small wooden box.
He offered it with both hands — no words, no explanations.
She looked down at it.
It was simple.
Handcrafted. Sanded smooth.
Etched faintly with unfamiliar sigils that shimmered only when the light hit them just right.
Inside — she would later discover — were dried tea leaves, impossibly fragrant. A scent both foreign and familiar, like wild earth and clean sky, like something old and new at once.
For now, though, she simply blinked.
"…What is this?"
"Tea," Alex said plainly. "Same kind I made for you."
She hesitated. "Are you sure?"
He nodded.
Amaterasu accepted the box gently, her fingers brushing his.
She didn't ask where it came from.
She didn't ask what the symbols meant.
She just bowed her head slightly and whispered:
"Thank you."
Then she stepped out into the sun.
Later – Back at the Council Chamber
The goddess court was in disarray.
Bastet had given up on dignity and sprawled across a velvet chaise.
Nuwa was whispering something sarcastic to a very defeated-looking Ishtar.
Aphrodite was muttering angrily to herself, flipping through mortal romance novels with increasing scorn.
Amaterasu returned silently.
They all turned.
"Well?" Aphrodite asked, crossing her arms. "Did he break, or did he breathe you in like a haiku?"
Amaterasu walked calmly to her seat.
Sat.
And set the small wooden box beside her without a word.
The scent drifted into the room.
Nuwa's nose twitched. "What is that…?"
"Tea," Amaterasu said softly.
Ishtar leaned in. "Is that a gift?"
Aphrodite's jaw dropped. "You got something from him?!"
Amaterasu didn't gloat.
She didn't smile.
She just looked at the box.
"…He gave it to me before I left."
Bastet narrowed her eyes. "Did he say anything about it?"
Amaterasu shook her head. "No."
"Do you know where it came from?" Nuwa asked.
She glanced down at the strange markings.
"No."
The other goddesses stared.
Aphrodite folded her arms. "So you got further than all of us."
"I didn't flirt," Amaterasu said simply. "I just listened."
Ishtar exhaled. "What a man…"
Nuwa rested her cheek on her hand. "I'm starting to wonder if we're the fools in this story."
Bastet grumbled, "We definitely are."
Amaterasu picked up the box again, held it to her nose, and breathed in the scent.
She still didn't understand why it felt sacred.
Why it smelled like memories she'd never lived.
But in her heart, something quiet stirred.
Chapter 263 – The God Who Bet on a Mortal
Somewhere above the highest celestial vaults, in a hall where gods played games far older than creation itself…
Hermes sat with his feet on the table, flipping a gold coin between his fingers with absent ease.
Around him, the Pantheon Council of Wagers looked utterly defeated.
Dozens of gods — Olympian, Norse, Hindu, Shinto, Egyptian, even forgotten deities clinging to scraps of belief — all slumped in their divine thrones like children who'd bet their lunch money on the wrong horse.
Hermes grinned.
In front of him sat two enormous piles of divine currency — shimmering essence gems, memory-ink scrolls, relic slips, and a bottle of Time-Aged Nectar that was supposed to be undrinkable until the next reality cycle.
"Let's go over it again," Hermes said, voice slick as honey and twice as smug. "Event one: the Apollo Wedding Disaster. I bet two hours and ten minutes before our sun god got dropped."
He flicked a coin. "He lasted two hours, twelve minutes. I won."
Groans rippled through the room.
"Then comes Fenrir's Awakening. Most of you —" he pointed casually at a few major gods, "— bet that the boy would lose, get devoured, or retreat."
One of the Egyptian war gods muttered, "No mortal should've survived that fight. He didn't even use divine blessing—"
Hermes just smiled, flipping the coin again.
A Norse god grumbled, "He's just a human…"
Another slammed down a scroll. "This is ridiculous! He's not even recorded in our heroic registries!"
The gods around the table groaned again, louder this time — at themselves, at fate, and most of all… at Hermes.
Who was still winning.
The groaning had settled.
Mostly.
The gods around the celestial gambling table were now deep in contemplation, staring at their empty hands and dwindling essence-stones like gamblers who'd just lost the heavens' rent money.
"Where did we go wrong?" muttered a Babylonian storm god.
"Trusting Apollo," said a Hindu war deity.
"Underestimating mortals," grumbled a Celtic trickster.
Hermes, meanwhile, was lounging on his cloud-cushioned throne, spinning a jade token between two fingers, a little too pleased with himself.
Then, without looking up, he said, "We could always place another bet."
Twenty divine heads turned at once.
"No," said a thunder god.
"I'm still recovering from the Fenrir loss," mumbled a moon deity.
Hermes grinned. "This one's different. Simpler. Dumber."
A few gods leaned in.
"I know something you all know," Hermes said, tapping the table. "That mortal boy — Alex — clearly has a harem."
"…Obviously," muttered an Egyptian god. "Elf Princess. Dragon Princess. We saw the reports."
"Exactly," Hermes said, teeth gleaming. "But we only know those two. And he's clearly the type to attract powerful women. You all agree?"
Reluctant nods followed.
"So," Hermes said, holding up a glowing coin, "I propose a new wager. One question. One answer."
He flipped the coin into the center of the table. It landed without a sound.
"Who will be the first goddess to enter his harem?"
A beat of stunned silence.
Then—
"You're insane," said a Japanese wind god.
"If any of the goddesses hear about this," muttered a trembling river spirit, "we're all going to get kicked through a sun."
Hermes shrugged. "Only if they find out."
"And if we're right?" a war god asked, intrigued despite himself.
"You get double your wager," Hermes said smoothly. "In divine favor, essence credit, or one request — within cosmic bounds."
A ripple of interest spread.
"…Only goddesses?" a cautious Norse god asked.
"The mortal girls are too far ahead," Hermes said. "It's like betting on a horse after the race. This keeps the pool clean."
One by one, the gods muttered their choices.
"Ishtar," said a Mesopotamian deity. "She'll force her way in."
"Aphrodite," said another. "She's persistent."
"Skuld," mumbled an old fate god. "She already likes him like a big brother…"
"Freyja," came from the Asgardian corner. "She's overdue for some scandal."
"Nuwa," said a Chinese sky god. "She's already watching."
"Amaterasu," said Hermes, suddenly.
The whole room turned.
"…What?" asked a thunder god. "You're betting on her?"
"She's already visited him," Hermes said, stretching. "Drank his tea. Took a gift. Left with a smile."
"Yeah, but she's…" one god gestured vaguely. "...Amaterasu."
"Exactly." Hermes grinned. "It's always the quiet ones."
A long silence.
And then the scribes — invisible, floating, ancient — began recording the bets in divine ink.
Goddess Name: [REDACTED]
Prediction: Will be part of Alex's divine harem.
Bet Type: First.
Some gods were sweating.
Some were too smug.
All were forgetting one thing:
If any of those goddesses heard about this…
Heads would roll.
Literally.
As the divine scribes sealed the final lines of the bet in radiant ink, and Hermes leaned back with that infuriatingly victorious grin, the celestial gambling hall fell into a simmering hum of speculation.
Names had been whispered.
Lines had been drawn.
Fate itself had been dared to intervene.
Meanwhile, far below — in a calm, private shrine surrounded by fragrant plum trees and morning stillness…
Amaterasu was seated in quiet meditation.
The box of tea Alex had given her sat gently beside her, unopened but humming with an energy that made her chest ache.
She reached for it slowly… and then—
"Achoo!"
She blinked.
"…?"
She sneezed again.
Soft. Ladylike. But undeniably confused.
"…Is someone talking about me?"
She paused.
A long silence.
Then she looked toward the horizon… and narrowed her eyes slightly.
"…Hermes."
The gambling chamber was just beginning to settle — scribes sealing the bet, divine energy pulsing through the scrolls — when the air suddenly froze.
A golden radiance descended like the quiet breath of the sun itself.
Soft.
Serene.
And absolutely terrifying.
Amaterasu appeared.
No fanfare. No thunder. Just light, and then her.
Her gaze was unreadable, her posture regal.
And every god in the room flinched like children caught raiding the temple pantry.
She stood at the threshold of the circle, hands calmly folded in her sleeves.
"…What," she said softly, "are you all doing?"
The gods froze mid-motion. Even the scribe in the corner stopped writing mid-stroke.
Hermes — to his credit — didn't drop his coin.
He stood smoothly, grinned innocently, and replied:
"Oh, nothing! We were, uh, definitely not betting on which goddess would— I mean— which powerful being Alex might defeat next."
A pause.
Several gods buried their faces in their hands.
Hermes kept smiling.
"Y-You know," he added quickly, "like… battle achievements! Nothing romantic. Or personal. No harems involved. Total respect."
Amaterasu stared at him.
Just stared.
Hermes began to sweat.
"It's… for balance purposes?" he offered weakly.
She took a step forward.
He took a step back.
"I'm on the list, aren't I?" she said coolly.
No one answered.
Hermes laughed nervously. "I mean — technically, everyone was eligible—"
"I drank his tea once," she muttered.
The thunder gods flinched.
"I gave him a polite thank you."
The moon deity behind Hermes started inching toward the exit.
"I didn't flirt. I apologized." Her voice was still calm.
Hermes tried to salvage it. "And we all deeply respect that, Amaterasu-sama."
She narrowed her eyes.
"…You bet on me," she said flatly.
Hermes clutched his chest. "Out of admiration!"
"I'm going to tell Skuld."
Hermes immediately paled. "Wait—wait—NO, PLEASE—"
She turned on her heel.
The room collectively panicked.
"Skuld's too unstable!" shouted a war god.
"She'll prank-cascade fifteen pantheons!" cried a wind deity.
Amaterasu kept walking.
Hermes chased after her, sputtering, "W-we can void the bet! I'll cancel it! I'll donate my entire vault to shrine restoration projects!"
She paused at the doorway.
Glanced back.
"…Double it."
Hermes groaned. "Done."
And just like that, she was gone.
The gods sat in stunned silence.
"…She definitely knows," someone muttered.
"She absolutely knows," someone else said.
Hermes sat back down, poured himself a drink, and sighed heavily.
"…Worth it."
Chapter 264 – The Second Cup
It was a warm afternoon.
The breeze drifting through the open window smelled faintly of green leaves and sun-warmed earth. In the distance, cicadas chirped — the slow rhythm of a summer day stretching quietly.
Alex stood in the kitchen, towel over one shoulder, sleeves rolled up.
He wasn't surprised when the air behind him shimmered.
No knock. No announcement.
Just light.
When he turned, Amaterasu stood there.
She wore a pale cream kimono threaded with rays of gold, more subdued than before. Her dark hair flowed freely down her back, bound loosely with a crimson ribbon. She held a small, lacquered box in her hands — the one he had given her days ago.
"I… hope I'm not intruding," she said softly.
"You're not."
She stepped inside, removed her sandals, and crossed the room with a grace that belonged to stars and temples.
"I brought this," she said, offering the box. "The tea leaves. I didn't want to brew them myself. I thought… perhaps… you would do it justice."
Alex nodded and took the box from her hands gently.
He didn't ask why she'd come.
He simply filled the kettle.
Moments later, they sat across from each other at the low table in the living room. The steam rising from their cups curled gently in the light.
Amaterasu took a sip.
Her eyes widened slightly — just a flicker — before she closed them and smiled.
"…Still the best tea I've ever had," she whispered.
Alex gave a small shrug. "They're just leaves."
She shook her head. "No. It's the way you prepare them. The timing. The temperature. The patience."
She looked up at him.
"You do everything with care."
A quiet passed between them.
Not awkward.
Just still.
Then she spoke again.
"In Takamagahara," she began, "I'm the sun. The radiant pillar. The unshakable one."
Her fingers circled her cup.
"They pray to me. Fear me. Praise me. But they never… see me."
Alex said nothing.
"They don't ask what I like. What I'm afraid of. Or if I ever feel tired." Her voice lowered. "But when I drank your tea… for a moment, I forgot I was a goddess."
She laughed softly.
"It was a nice feeling."
He watched her closely — not with awe, not with lust, but with understanding.
"You're allowed to be tired," he said.
Her hands stilled.
"And you're allowed to just drink tea."
Her lips parted slightly.
Then closed.
She looked at her cup again.
Finished it.
Set it down gently.
He poured her a second without asking.
Their fingers brushed.
She froze.
He didn't pull away.
Neither did she.
For a moment, the silence wasn't just quiet — it was weightless.
Then she whispered, "Alex."
"Yes?"
"…If I asked for nothing else — no favors, no alliances, no blessing — would you still invite me again?"
"Yes."
She smiled.
A true one.
Small.
Soft.
Bright.
Like morning.
When Amaterasu stepped through the veil and returned to Takamagahara, the light of heaven greeted her — familiar, warm, and strangely distant.
The floating bridges of golden stone curved gently across a sea of drifting clouds, leading toward the central palace where the other kami whispered and wandered in eternal cycles. Her footsteps were silent against the sky-born path, her robes trailing like a ripple of dawn in motion.
And yet, something felt different.
Not wrong.
But no longer whole.
She paused at the edge of a sun-gate, watching the endless gardens sway beneath the sacred light. Divine wind moved the boughs of celestial sakura trees. Attendants passed in reverent silence. From every angle, she was still the goddess — distant, radiant, untouchable.
But inside her, there was something small and very human taking shape. Not in weakness. Not in shame. In stillness.
In memory.
She could still taste the tea.
Still hear the simple weight of his words: "You're allowed to be tired."
No one had ever said that to her. Not in all her thousands of years. Not even her brother Susanoo in his rare moments of kindness. Not the ministers who served her. Not the shrines that bore her name. They revered her. They exalted her. But none of them ever invited her to simply be.
Alex had.
And he hadn't bowed.
He hadn't begged.
He had looked at her, and poured a second cup, and said yes — as if it was the most natural thing in the world to give a goddess a moment of peace.
Amaterasu passed beneath the great bronze arch of her palace, the celestial fires flickering softly on either side. The maids bowed low. Priests moved aside with respectful murmurs.
She gave a faint nod, then dismissed them all with a quiet wave.
When she reached the inner garden, she stood alone beneath the silver-leaved sun tree. A breeze moved through her hair, the way it had back in that small mortal home.
She reached into her sleeve and withdrew the empty tea box.
Holding it in both hands, she slowly sank to her knees in the garden and placed it on the ground before her.
She didn't speak.
Didn't pray.
She just sat.
Letting the wind pass.
Letting the sunlight fall on her face without having to control it.
And for the first time in centuries, she closed her eyes — not as Amaterasu Omikami, goddess of the sun and keeper of heaven — but as a woman who had shared tea with a man who saw through the light.
And accepted her anyway.
Three weeks passed.
The world did not change.
No wars broke out. No divine heralds descended. The heavens did not tremble. Yet in the space between sunrises, something began to shift — softly, deliberately, and without a single word exchanged.
Amaterasu came again.
Not every day.
But often enough that her presence no longer surprised Alex, and no longer startled the others. Sometimes she appeared in the afternoon, just as the light began to soften. Sometimes in the morning, before the dew had fully dried on the grass. She never came with servants, never wore a crown, and never stayed long enough to make herself a guest.
And yet, when she sat across from him — sharing a quiet cup, or leaning against the doorway watching him tend the kettle — she always seemed like she belonged.
On the twenty-first day, she arrived just before sunset.
Alex had already begun cooking.
He glanced back when he heard the familiar sound of quiet feet behind him, and without a word, he reached for another bowl.
"I didn't come for tea today," she said lightly, removing her outer robe and folding it neatly.
"I'm making dinner," he replied, turning the pan with casual ease. "You'll eat before you leave."
She smiled faintly. "You say that like it's an order."
"It is."
She didn't argue.
When the food was served — stir-fried lotus root, warm rice with herbs, grilled salmon wrapped in plum leaves, and a bowl of clear daikon soup — Amaterasu stared at it for a moment without moving.
Not out of reluctance.
But reverence.
"This smells…" She closed her eyes. "…like something I forgot I missed."
Alex sat across from her, already eating.
She lifted her chopsticks slowly. Took a bite.
And froze.
The texture, the warmth, the subtle sweetness layered beneath savory calm — it was perfect. Not divine. Not made from celestial flame or star-forged seasonings.
Just real.
And somehow, that made it unforgettable.
"This is…" she began, then stopped. Words failed her.
Alex didn't press.
But after a long silence, she whispered, "No one's ever cooked for me."
He looked at her, surprised. "Really?"
"Offerings are not the same," she said. "Worship is not the same."
She took another bite.
Her shoulders relaxed.
And just like the first time she drank his tea, the goddess began to disappear — replaced by a woman who knew what sunlight felt like on her skin… but had only just begun to taste warmth in her heart.
By the fourth visit, no one asked questions.
By the seventh, no one was surprised.
And by the twelfth… every woman in the house had quietly accepted that Amaterasu would come when she wanted — always with dignity, never with drama.
But that didn't mean they weren't watching.
Ciel was the first to notice.
She never said a word.
But when she passed through the kitchen and saw the sun goddess calmly sipping broth beside Alex, her golden eyes lingered just a moment longer than usual.
Later that evening, she adjusted the spellbound tea cabinet — just slightly — so Amaterasu's favorite cup would always be on the right side.
She didn't comment on it.
Morgan noticed next.
Her reaction was colder — not with anger, but with calculation.
From her resting state within Alex's sigil, she monitored every visit, every smile, every pause between sentences.
"Another one drawn to his breath," she whispered once.
But when Ciel asked if it bothered her, Morgan simply replied:
"If she wants to follow him, she'll have to endure everything that comes with it."
Hanabi grumbled once.
Just once.
She peeked from behind a hallway corner and muttered,
"Great. Now the sun's in love with him."
But she never confronted it.
She never teased.
She only made sure to train harder the next day — tail flicking behind her like fire barely leashed.
Airi watched in silence, arms crossed from the other side of the room.
She didn't trust easily.
And someone like Amaterasu — divine, beautiful, reserved — felt like a sleeping blade.
But then one evening, Airi overheard the goddess laugh softly at something Alex said. Not politely. Not with poise.
Just… honestly.
And Airi turned away, biting her lip, whispering to herself:
"…At least she's not faking it."
Reyne, the dragon princess, remained unreadable.
When she appeared next, summoned for a joint training session, she stared for a long time at the empty teacup on the counter — the one that bore the faintest trace of celestial energy.
She said nothing.
But later, as Alex walked past her, she stopped him and said,
"If the sun tries to take more than her share… remind her dragons don't yield."
But even with all this — the watching, the quiet, the soft unspoken edge in the air — no one said anything aloud.
Because deep down, they all understood something.
Amaterasu wasn't intruding.
She wasn't claiming.
She wasn't conquering.
She was simply… resting.
And for now, that was enough.
The stars were out.
The house had quieted.
Somewhere inside, Ciel was folding blankets. Hanabi had fallen asleep curled up against the sofa. Morgan and Reyne were silent within the sigil, their thoughts private. Airi, as usual, pretended not to care — but had made sure the porch door was left open.
Alex stepped out barefoot.
The night air was cool, tinged with jasmine and cedar.
And there she was.
Amaterasu.
Sitting on the wooden porch, sleeves folded neatly across her lap, gazing up at the moon. Her hair shimmered like molten night, the red ribbon gently catching the wind. Her bare feet touched the smooth floorboards. Her posture was straight, but her shoulders… just slightly relaxed.
She heard him approach but didn't turn.
"You stayed late," Alex said, settling beside her.
"I didn't mean to," she replied. "I just… didn't want to leave yet."
He nodded, letting the quiet stretch.
The cicadas had faded. Only the wind remained now — soft and rhythmic, like breath across water.
After a moment, Amaterasu spoke again.
"You read the stories, didn't you?"
Alex looked over at her. "Some of them."
"You think I had a husband," she said.
He hesitated. "According to the myths… you married and had a child. Some say the first emperor descended from you."
She gave a faint, quiet smile. "The first emperor did descend from my bloodline. But not from me."
Alex blinked.
Amaterasu folded her hands. "That child wasn't my son. He was my nephew. And the man they call my husband… was never mine."
Her voice was calm. Not bitter. But there was weight in her words — a truth long buried beneath centuries of misinterpretation.
"In the days when myths were first recorded, mortals didn't like the idea of a goddess ruling alone. So they rewrote it. Added a consort. Gave me a child. Tamed the sun in their stories, so she wouldn't outshine their kings."
She looked over at Alex, and her eyes were not proud or angry.
They were just tired.
"But I've never married," she said softly. "I've never held a child in my arms. And I've never… been seen."
Alex looked down.
Not in shame.
In respect.
"You're the most powerful goddess in Japan," he said quietly.
"I am," she answered.
He turned to her. "And yet you come here just to eat dinner and drink tea."
Amaterasu gave a soft laugh — barely audible.
"It's the only place I've been where no one tells me who I'm supposed to be."
They sat like that for a while.
Two figures beneath a silver moon — one born of heaven's fire, the other a mortal with the weight of a thousand legends on his shoulders.
At some point, her hand shifted.
Just slightly.
It rested near his.
Not touching.
But close enough that if he moved his fingers…
They would.
Chapter 265 – When the Sun Sleeps
It was well past midnight.
The house was still. The stars glowed faintly above the quiet sky. And inside, tucked in soft silence, warmth and breath intertwined.
In the main room, Alex lay on the wide bed he had created — a bed large enough to hold not just comfort, but connection. Around him, familiar bodies lay in gentle rhythms.
Ciel, resting close to his side, her fingers curled lightly near his shoulder.
Hanabi, hugging a pillow while occasionally murmuring in her sleep.
Airi, back-to-back with him, pretending she didn't care, though she never moved far.
Morgan and Reyne, both dormant within his sigil, pulsing faintly with his breath.
It was peace. The kind they had earned. The kind they protected.
But tonight, someone else lingered in the house.
Down the hallway, a second bedroom sat untouched — its lights dim, its bedding fresh.
Amaterasu's room.
Alex had prepared it the day after her third visit. Not because she asked. But because it felt right. A quiet gesture. A space of her own.
She had never used it.
Until now.
She stood at the door, barefoot, her cream robe hanging loosely at her frame. The moonlight filtered through the hallway window, casting a soft glow across her expression.
In her hand, she still held the empty teacup from earlier.
She looked toward the bedroom where Alex and the others lay — and then at the door beside her.
Slowly, she opened it.
The room was simple.
Wooden shelves, soft white curtains, and a futon laid neatly on a tatami mat. A small altar in the corner glowed faintly with sunlight-infused crystal — not because she needed worship, but because she deserved comfort.
She walked in, sat on the edge of the bed, and looked out the window.
The breeze touched her hair.
She had never stayed the night anywhere but Takamagahara.
And now she sat in a mortal's house — not as a goddess, not as a guest, but as herself.
She closed her eyes.
For the first time in centuries, she let her divinity dim.
Not vanish.
Just… rest.
Her power receded like the tide. The radiance of her presence folded in on itself like a silken veil being drawn shut.
She set the cup gently on the nightstand.
Laid back.
Listened to the wind.
And thought — as her eyes began to close — that this was what she had always imagined sleep might feel like.
Safe.
Quiet.
Warm.
In the other room, Alex stirred for just a moment.
He felt a flicker — something golden, something soft — settle in the air.
He didn't move.
He just exhaled once.
And smiled.
That night, as the wind rustled the curtains of the quiet room, Amaterasu slept.
Not meditation. Not divine stillness.
But true sleep — mortal, deep, and unguarded.
And in that rare, vulnerable moment… she dreamed.
She stood beneath a tree in full bloom — a massive sakura with petals glowing gold in the sunlight. The wind was warm, and laughter rang through the air.
At first, she didn't understand.
She looked down at her hands — soft, bare, and free of sleeves. Her robes were replaced by a simple cotton dress, sun-washed and gentle. Her hair was tied back loosely, and when she turned, she saw herself reflected in a shallow pool.
Not as a goddess.
Not as a sun.
As a woman.
And behind her…
"Mommy!"
The small voice pierced her heart with startling joy.
She turned.
A child ran into her arms — small, radiant, and laughing. Not glowing with divine energy, not shaped by ritual — but real. With soft black hair, warm skin, and golden-red eyes like the sun through maple leaves.
Her arms wrapped around the child instinctively.
Warmth bloomed through her chest like a sun rising beneath her ribs.
She lifted them, spinning once, laughing with a sound she didn't recognize — her own joy.
And then a second presence approached.
Familiar.
Steady.
She turned again.
And there he was.
Alex, walking toward her across the garden path, sleeves rolled up, holding a picnic basket in one hand and a faint smile on his lips.
He wasn't dressed like a hero.
Not a warrior. Not a god-slayer. Not a myth.
Just a man.
Her husband.
He reached her, leaned down, and pressed a kiss to her forehead — not like worship. Not like reverence.
Like he loved her.
"I made your favorite," he said quietly.
She felt her chest ache.
The kind of ache that comes when something is too good, too gentle to bear.
She couldn't speak.
She just looked at him, tears quietly forming in the corners of her dream-soft eyes.
"Amaterasu?"
She whispered.
"…Is this real?"
He smiled. "Does it need to be?"
And then—
The wind shifted.
The petals blew upward.
Light engulfed the scene like a sun rising too fast—
And she woke.
Amaterasu sat up in the quiet room, her breath caught in her chest.
The night was still. The moon still hung outside the window.
She raised a hand to her cheek.
It was wet.
Not from power.
But from a single tear.
"…Alex."
She whispered the name not as a prayer.
Not as a title.
But as something closer.
Something frightening.
Something precious.
The sun rose softly that morning.
Its first light touched the windows with a golden glow — not the blinding brilliance of divine radiance, but the kind of sunlight that slips through leaves and warms the skin just right. The kind that made you want to breathe a little deeper.
Alex was already in the kitchen, sleeves rolled, preparing breakfast like he always did — simple, precise, calm.
He didn't look up when he heard the quiet footsteps.
But he felt her.
The shift in the air. The pulse of warmth. The scent of sunlight and silk.
Amaterasu stepped into the room slowly, dressed again in her traditional cream-and-gold robes, but something about her was different.
Her posture was no less regal.
Her eyes no less composed.
And yet—
When she saw him, she blushed.
A faint pink rose beneath her cheeks. Her gaze dipped, just for a moment, as if she remembered something she wasn't supposed to feel.
"…Good morning," Alex said gently.
"G-Good morning," she replied.
Her voice was slightly too soft.
And slightly too human.
He tilted his head. "Did you sleep well?"
She blinked — and looked like she was struggling to answer a question no one had ever asked her seriously.
"…I dreamed," she said finally.
Alex looked at her. "A good dream?"
She hesitated.
Then nodded once.
"A very good dream."
He smiled and went back to cooking. "I'm glad."
She stood there for another moment, hands folded at her waist, cheeks still touched with warmth. Then she slowly walked toward the door.
"I'll return to Takamagahara today," she said, more to the room than anyone in it.
Ciel glanced at her from where she sat sipping tea in the corner and nodded.
Morgan didn't say anything — but her silver eye opened slightly from Alex's sigil.
Hanabi mumbled something in her sleep.
Amaterasu stepped outside, pausing at the threshold.
She looked back one last time.
At him.
And smiled — not the serene smile of a goddess, but the uncertain, blooming one of a woman in her twenties… who had just fallen in love for the first time.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Then, wrapped in golden mist, she vanished.