At such a time of upheaval, laying bare the whole cruel truth—the gods' departure, the vanishing of fire, Prometheus's punishment—would only make the tribes collapse in an instant.
At the dawn of human civilization, these leaders instinctively grasped that, very often, deceit is indeed a useful tool.
These chieftains and elites, who had just borne the gods' blessings, barely managed, upon returning, to prop up the tottering backbone of their tribes.
But the thin "comfort" they brought back was far from enough to outweigh the direct, overwhelming terror and despair of "losing fire."
If they had merely lost fire yet still could gain the gods' protection, it would not be so dreadful.
But now they could not even perform sacrifice.
That meant they could no longer possibly win divine shelter.
This was more than despair.
It was complete and utter despair.
The few who could still remain barely calm poured all their strength into trying to restore some semblance of order within their tribes.
But that was extremely difficult.
And time was far too tight, far too short.
The rite had begun at sunrise.
By the time they had struggled back to their tribes, evening had already fallen.
Many chieftains felt, to the bone, how grave things were.
Hearts burning, facing clans in chaos—wailing without cease, some already lapsing into total self-abandonment—many leaders were forced to take hard measures, even quite cruel ones.
They had to use "violence" to forge "order" by force,
merely to settle everyone down as quickly as possible.
Even if they could not be truly calm, they had to obey.
They absolutely had to prepare, as fast as they could, for this "first true night."
No one knew what dangers the first night without holy fire would bring.
But not a single person of insight dared ignore how serious, how deadly the matter was.
They used every scrap of knowledge they had, pouring all their might into making last preparations for the coming danger.
On this day, after "deceit," "falseness," and "opportunism," humankind also learned to use "force" on their once close and dear kin.
For now, this was an unavoidable choice made in desperation—for the tribe's survival.
But once this door of "necessary evil" has been opened, will it really close so easily again?
Yet the loss of fire did not bring only harm.
As the warm fire left, in the chaos some people kindled an inner fire of calm and reason.
It was the instinct of human society.
They learned solidarity, learned to share one another's burdens, learned to make the most of limited resources—principles that, at a critical moment, became new rules for survival.
Still, the bad roots already sown would not vanish so easily; indeed, in the struggle to live, they sank deeper into civilization.
In the short term, to stay alive, some leaders had to enforce harsher methods within: forced rationing, rigid obedience, even threats of sacrifice to maintain order.
These measures did bring order, but at the same time they fostered injustice and coldness.
Deceit and coercion—two black currents—were quietly seeping into the very fibers of human society.
On the first night after the sacred fire went out,
amid uncontrollable tension, bewilderment, and bone-deep fear of the unknown, humankind passed it… in safety.
That night, aside from some attacks by nocturnal creatures that would never have dared draw near before, nothing particularly unusual happened.
Ironically, most casualties that night came from trampling and confusion—humans harming one another in panic.
The next day, when the sun rose as usual, its long-absent light pierced the darkness and warm rays fell upon them, all who had survived drew long breaths of relief, as if born anew.
Yet the chieftains and elites dared not relax for a moment.
Suppressing their own fear and confusion, they began to steady the spirits of their tribes, which had sunk to the lowest point.
Even the most urgent, life-or-death hunting and gathering was set aside.
Everything was put down for now; before anything else, hearts had to be calmed, or nothing else could proceed.
After a day and night without rest, each tribe barely managed to restore the most basic order.
Under their leaders' strict commands, people gathered together, facing any lurking danger with heightened caution.
Many smaller tribes had already begun, of their own accord, to merge.
With the holy fire gone, they could only rely on more bodies pressed close to share that pitiful warmth.
But the true horror and despair were only beginning to unfold with time.
They cared nothing for human wishes.
Many "minor gods" of the mortal world were secretly watching this "covenant of gods and mortals."
They had heard His Majesty the God-King's decree, and did not dare defy it.
But soon they noticed the "subtlety" within.
After the God-King's proclamation, nothing followed.
Humankind seemed not to have received any particular protection.
On the contrary, they had lost that sacred fire which many gods both coveted and feared.
The powerful Titan who had protected humankind, Prometheus, had also fallen like a meteor and vanished.
At that moment, not a single great god's radiance shielded any human tribe.
They did not know exactly what had transpired in the heavens.
But they could keenly sense that humankind seemed… to have lost the favor of Olympus's great gods.
That, of course, included evil gods, wicked gods, wrathful gods, and all manner of divine monsters.
They were ill-tempered and had "special" tastes, but that did not mean they lacked wits.
They, too, were genuine divine beings with true higher intelligence.
Still, until they were sure where things were headed, most held back and watched.
Those of low wisdom or muddled spirits, however… were another story.
They knew only that human tribes no longer held that sacred aura that awed them from the soul, nor that blazing presence they had never dared look at directly.
What had been an absolute forbidden zone was now open to them.
The humans within that land, once under holy protection, were now nothing but chunks of tender flesh, scented with "wisdom."
Naturally, the lurking dangers in the dark began to drift nearer; the dangerous hunters, following this alluring smell, gathered one by one.
In this harsh wild world, filled with powerful life, the loss of holy fire meant not only cold and hunger but, far worse, the end of divine shelter and the arrival of danger.
On the second night,
when darkness fell again, many powerful nocturnal predators already regarded humans as no different from any other prey.
Brazenly, they entered human lands.
Casualties began in earnest.
At the same time, many humans whose bodies had mutated, now lacking the restraining power of holy fire, began to turn either terrifying, dangerous, or… swiftly dying.
Yet, by relying on the first generation's mighty bodies, on numbers and will, and on the precious knowledge the gods had taught them, humankind still barely made it through that night.
It was no good night.
But not yet utter despair.
Another more urgent matter, however, forced humans to spread out again.
That was—food.
For the sake of this great sacrifice, humankind had already been pushed to the edge of starvation; many had already died of hunger.
Now nearly all tribes had no stores left.
Hunting and gathering could be delayed no longer.
But once, whether for hunting or gathering, every party absolutely had to carry a torch of ash-branch flame that never went out.
This small torch could not hurt prey, but it almost entirely prevented active attacks by powerful beasts and dangerous creatures.
Now it was different.
With the fire gone, that veil of "sacred aura" over humans had vanished as well.
They were now no different from any other living things on earth.
The danger of hunting rose by leaps and bounds.
Even going out to gather required wary watching for predators bursting from grass or forest.
Finding food grew much harder; casualties more numerous and severe.
On the third night, in every human tribe, the sound of weeping only grew louder.
Nighttime despair crushed daytime stubbornness.
Only when humans had to face this wild world with nothing but their fragile flesh did they suddenly feel what "pain" and "difficulty" truly were.
For the first time, humankind understood the cost of "survival."
For the first time they grasped what it meant to "face the world alone."
Danger was everywhere; death walked at their heels.
Death swept over them at a speed beyond anything they had imagined.
In just a few short days, loss had surpassed all they had ever known.
Human frailty, the fragility of life—this icy truth struck them more deeply, more cruelly, than ever before.
Countless people knelt on the ground, toward the cold, dark sky, toward the myriad gods, and prayed.
They cried out every divine name they knew, in the humblest, most reverent postures, begging the gods for forgiveness.
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