Prometheus cried out once more, "Boundless thanks for Your Majesty's grace!"
Only then did he slowly rise, then soared to the cloudline, came before Zeus's divine seat, and stood bowing, not daring the least overstep.
On the ground, the humans, hesitating and at a loss, stood up in fear and trembling.
Though permitted to rise, they still kept their backs bent and their heads lowered, remaining in place with utmost respect, not daring any superfluous movement.
Their extraordinary flesh and blood were already trembling beyond their control.
Some shivered in dread, sweating like rain; others trembled so hard they dared not even sweat.
Even now, not a single human dared lift their head to glimpse the God-King's form.
In their eyes there was only a sheet of blazing radiance.
The too-dazzling holy light of the God-King and the gods had turned the whole world into a pure realm of light.
Beyond the endless brightness, they could see nothing else.
Nor did any deity descend from the clouds.
The God-King led the gods, ever high in the highest heaven, overlooking all below.
All that came was radiance pouring down from on high.
In the sky, the sacred sun that should have shone upon all beings had its light completely veiled.
Before the brilliance of the God-King and the gods, it was as a firefly before the full moon, not worth a mention.
Helios, the great god of stellar radiance, was so outshone that he did not even qualify to stand in the first two ranks behind the God-King.
This time, the great gods of note in heaven and earth had all but turned out to a one.
Yet no matter how many gods had come, no matter how exalted their stations, no matter how mighty their power, at this moment only one could truly sit enthroned.
That was Zeus the God-King, seated at the very front and center.
Half a step behind Him stood, at His right hand, first in place, the eternal and holy Queen of Gods, Mother Rhea; and at His left hand, first in place, the Mother of All, Gaia, who wished to remain low-key but could not.
Second on His right stood the regal, magnificent Goddess of Night, Nyx; second on His left stood His first wife, the bright-eyed Goddess of Wisdom, Metis.
Behind these four supremely ranked Mothers were the other primordial Titans, the consorts the God-King had already publicly named, and several of the God-King's blood relatives.
Farther back stood the powerful second-generation Titans.
As for the younger third-generation Titans, they were scattered like stars behind the great gods across the vast sky, each shining with their own light, together adding endless splendor to the God-King's procession.
The God-King's gaze only skimmed the Prometheus before Him, then lowered toward the mortal earth below.
Under His omniscient, keen gaze, even from the highest heaven, the humans—tiny to the point of unseeable—were reflected in every detail clearly within His golden eyes.
That temple, crude yet condensed from all human effort; that towering altar; those one hundred pure-white bulls for the offering.
And those more than three thousand human delegates, arrayed in perfect ranks, all bowing with heads lowered in reverence…
All entered His sight.
He did not deliberately exert any power.
Yet the God-King's glance alone naturally brought an unimaginable pressure to all mortals.
The gods, too, followed the God-King's gaze and looked down.
In their eyes were expectation, curiosity, scrutiny, love, gentleness—and, of course, displeasure.
About humankind, this newborn intelligent race, the gods knew a little, more or less.
After all, the commotion at their making had been enormous, unlike the creation of common mortals.
His Majesty the God-King had shown them unusual regard.
Even though they had transgressed the sacred form of the gods, His Majesty still did not destroy them, and even publicly commended and rewarded Prometheus.
All the Muses had gone down to teach them.
Even several of the great, exalted goddesses closest to His Majesty had shown clear fondness for humankind.
Now His Majesty had personally led the Olympian gods down, condescending to the mortal realm, to make a so-called "covenant" with these tiny mortals.
More than a few gods were privately thinking: His Majesty the God-King is still too merciful and magnanimous.
They're just a flock of tiny mortals.
Even if they're somewhat valued, even if they might bring the cosmos a different hue—
they are, in the end, still mortals.
Assign a few gods, or a few nymphs, to manage them—that would suffice.
Why should His Majesty personally lead the gods and stir up such a commotion?
And that Prometheus—truly addicted to playing house.
He actually dared propose to His Majesty that humankind be made "children of the gods"!
And His Majesty truly consented!
Inconceivable!
Many a god's gaze drifted, time and again, toward that dignified and noble "chief steward" standing beside the God-King's throne.
Could it be that Clymene had whispered some bedside wind in His Majesty's ear?
Ahem… Such gossip always spreads fastest—and farthest—in the divine realm.
Prometheus, busy below, knew nothing of this for now; he truly had no mind to spare for gossip.
Very little escapes Olympus, however.
For immortal gods who possess eternal life, such amusements are all the more worth attention, bringing great cheer to a long, dull god-life.
Though even the gods knew this was unlikely.
This bit of gossip was quite new, besides.
And His Majesty the God-King had never been one to mix the private with the public.
At least… not to this extent… right?
What's more, so many other exalted goddesses had publicly expressed their liking for humankind.
That still proved that this newborn race, though mortals, indeed possessed some unique merit.
They were not the same as common mortals.
Together with the God-King's lowering gaze, the Olympian gods' gazes now fell upon the tiny humans below.
They fell upon that temple and altar—crude, yet condensed from all the blood and effort of humankind.
Even those gods who had not cared for humans before, some even disliking them, could not help but nod inwardly when they saw the preparations with their own eyes.
These mortals had, indeed, put their hearts into it.
That temple and altar might be crude and paltry to the gods' eyes.
But the gods' perception, which surpasses all, could clearly "smell" upon every polished stone the hot scent of mortals' "blood and sweat."
They not only "saw" the devotion, but also "caught" in that devotion the unique sweet tang that belongs to "sacrifice."
Those goddesses who loved humankind from the start were more satisfied still; their eyes shone with greater tenderness and reluctance.
Yet they knew as well that all the sacrifice and effort before them were necessary.
Could tiny mortals hope to win a god's favor easily?
All this blood and sweat was the necessary test and expression.
The works humankind had built and the offerings they had prepared, to the great gods, were naturally but better than nothing.
But that did not mean the gods could not see the difficulties beyond imagining and the heavy price required for humans to do all this.
It was precisely from those difficulties and that price that one could clearly see humankind's unreserved sincerity and submission.
Too many things in this world are never said with hollow words but must be shown in real action.
Words can embellish and deceive; only the costs of action and sacrifice and the final results cannot be easily faked.
Humankind's desire to sit in the seat of "children of the gods" was, in itself, a reach too far—one might even call it a vain extravagance.
If not for Prometheus's utmost maneuvering on their behalf, if not for many exalted goddesses expressing support, and—most important of all—if not for His Majesty the God-King's merciful heart and His generous consent in the end…
then the very thought would be the greatest profanation and joke upon the sacred order.
Indeed, if humans had dared speak it aloud, they would already have set foot on the road to self-destruction.
If humankind wished the gods' acknowledgment—at least the acknowledgment of most gods—
then humankind must present unreserved sincerity and respect. They must truly move the gods.
And that required action—and a heavy price.
Many gods also understood one truth well: if grace is given too lightly, mortals will certainly not know to cherish it, and will then push their luck and breed greed that should not be.
Even if the gods acknowledge humankind as "children of the gods,"
gods and men still differ in rank, and differ in essence.
Mortals must forever keep a heart of reverence.
Nor should they imagine they can readily obtain anything from the gods.
The gods are not tools for humankind to use and dispose of.
The gods are humankind's eternal sovereigns.
To be able to secure that the gods will no longer treat them "on a whim"—that is already their greatest good fortune.
As for any extra favor or grace they still seek, that can only be won by devout prayer—and by their own effort.
At this moment, the first impression most gods held of humankind, on the whole, was excellent.
Prometheus's seemingly merciless insistence was right—and worth it.
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