Hello, guys!
Because of the holiday season, I want to celebrate with you in two ways.
The first is that, starting today, Monday the 22nd until Sunday, January 4th, I will publish daily chapters so you have plenty to read during these holidays.
After that date, I will return to my usual schedule.
The second surprise is that, starting December 24th, I will activate a 50% discount on all tiers of my Patreon.
The promotion will be active for 2 weeks, ending on January 6th.
If you wanted to read the advanced chapters, this is your chance.
Merry Christmas!
Mike.
Patreon / iLikeeMikee
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Chapter 33: The Feast of the Gods (Part 5)
I left behind Artemis's silver forest, the resonance of her hatred a cold and persistent note in my consciousness. The huntress was a threat. Patient, precise, and lethal. But threats, like prey, simply made the game more interesting.
'Another piece on the board. And this one has fangs.'
I continued my path, a current of night flowing through the Asphodel Fields of Elysium, a place of peace so boring it was almost torture. My mind was cataloging the forces of this new territory: Zeus's whimsical power, Hera's structural control, Apollo's conceptual hostility, and now, Artemis's personal hatred. They were a nest of snakes, each with its own venom.
It was then that I felt a familiar aura approaching. It was not subtle or controlled. It was a forest fire of raw power, an explosion of adrenaline and fury moving through Olympus with the subtlety of a battering ram. It smelled of fresh blood, steel, and the sweat of violent exertion.
Ares.
I emerged from the shadow of a mausoleum dedicated to some forgotten hero and waited for him.
He appeared moments later, marching along the cloud path, his bronze armor stained with what looked like the golden ichor of some mythical beast. A huge double-edged sword rested on his shoulder, and a wild, satisfied smile was on his face. It looked like he was coming from "training".
He stopped dead upon seeing me, his smile widening. There was none of the tension of the other gods. No calculation. Only simple and direct recognition.
"Wolf!" he roared, his voice a thunder of brutal joy. "I was looking for you! I thought you might have scurried back to your dark hole after wearing out half my court."
He approached, his step heavy, confident. The god of war in his purest state: satisfied after a good kill and looking for his next cup of wine.
"Your court is weak. They tire too easily," I replied, my voice an echo of indifference in his noisy mind. "And my kingdom is not a hole. It is the abyss that swallows gods like you."
Instead of being offended, Ares let out a thunderous laugh. "Hahaha! Always with the sharp answer! You have more guts than half my generals."
He stopped beside me and slapped my flank, a solid blow that resonated like a hammer on an anvil. "It was a good night. I haven't seen Aphrodite scream like that since the last time Hephaestus caught her with a mortal captain. You broke her soul, beast! It was magnificent!"
'I broke her. And you licked her. We are not the same.' The thought was a flash of contempt I kept to myself.
"I've been thinking," he continued, leaning his huge sword against a pillar. "You and I... are alike. We don't care for talk, or politics, or my mother's stupid rules. We only understand one language." He made a fist, his knuckles the size of rocks. "The language of strength."
He looked at me, his eyes burning with genuine, unadorned respect. "I saw what you did to the son of Ares in the grotto. You humbled him. You broke him. Excellent. Arrogance is a weakness that must be purged with pain. You taught him a good lesson."
"He was noisy. And he stood in my way."
"Exactly!" he shouted, as if I had revealed a deep universal truth. "That is the only reason needed! I like how you think, wolf. Or rather, how you don't think. You are pure instinct. Pure action. It is refreshing in this nest of conspirators and poets."
He stretched, his muscles tensing under his bronze skin. "Next time there is a good war—perhaps against the Giants, if my father gets bored again—I will call you. The sight of you unleashed on a battlefield... would be a work of art. Annihilation made poetry."
"I do not answer calls. I go where my hunger takes me."
"Even better!" he laughed. "Then I will make sure the bloodiest battle smells delicious enough to attract your appetite."
Our conversation, if it could be called that, had ended. A camaraderie had been established. It was not a friendship. It was the mutual recognition of two forces of destruction, two hammers in a universe full of nails. He was the fire of battle. I was the certainty of the grave that follows.
"Well, I'm going to find Aphrodite," he said, picking up his sword. "See if she has any spirit left for a second round. Or if she is still too sore to walk." He winked at me, a brutally lewd expression on his scarred face. "Don't break her too much, wolf. Save a little for me."
And with that, he left, his thunderous laughter echoing in the courtyard, leaving behind the scent of blood and a simple, violent camaraderie.
I watched him go. Of all the gods I had met here, he was the most honest. His universe was simple: fight, fuck, drink. He was predictable. And for that reason, in a strange way, he was the least dangerous of all.
I had confirmed another piece on the board. The Knight. Strong, direct, and easy to predict.
My exploration could continue.
Ares' brutal camaraderie was a simple, honest interlude. I left behind his thunderous laughter, the smell of blood and steel fading from my senses. My journey through Olympus continued, a silent drift through a labyrinth of divine egos. I had felt the storm, the structure, the sea, the earth, wisdom, light, and the hunt.
Now, I felt a pull.
It was not a command or a challenge. It was an attraction. A magnetic force as subtle and penetrating as the most expensive perfume, pulling at my essence, not with power, but with a promise. It was a hook of pleasure dipped in divinity.
'The foam whore. She thinks her game is not over yet.'
I let the pull guide me. It took me far from the public halls and training grounds, through hanging gardens where flowers sang soft melodies and fountains wept tears of nectar. It guided me to her personal domain. The Temple of Aphrodite.
It was not a structure of cold marble like the others. It seemed alive, sculpted from rose quartz that pulsed with a soft inner light, like a beating heart. The air here was almost unbreathable, so saturated was it with the scent of roses, musk, and the pure essence of lust. It was the smell of a thousand beds, of a million orgasms, distilled into a conceptual perfume.
I emerged from the shadow of a statue representing the goddess rising from the sea foam. And I saw her.
She was not reclining on a divan. She was standing in the center of her temple, under a dome open to the golden sky, bathing in the light of a waterfall cascading into a pool of scented milk. She was naked, her body a vision of perfection so absolute it defied reality itself. Every curve, every line, was an ode to desire.
She was not alone. A retinue of her Graces attended her, nymphs of a beauty almost equal to her own, washing her skin with sponges and pouring precious oils over her golden hair.
She saw me the instant I materialized. There was no surprise. She had been waiting for it. A slow, sensual smile curved her lips. With a lazy gesture of her hand, she dismissed her maidens, who retreated with silent bows, their gazes full of lascivious curiosity.
"So the wolf has come to my temple," her voice was a low purr, every syllable a caress. She stepped out of the pool, the milky liquid cascading down her body, clinging to her curves like a second skin. She made no attempt to cover herself. Her nakedness was her armor and her weapon. "I hoped you would return. The bed feels so... empty without the fury of war and the coldness of night."
She approached, her walk a hypnotic sway of hips that had made empires fall and gods kneel. Her aura of lust spread, not as an attack, but as the very atmosphere of the room. It was a subtle but absolute power, designed to disarm the will, to ignite instinct, to reduce all existence to a simple need.
I felt her power wash over my essence, a warm, sticky tide of desire. And it found nothing to hold onto. My being, a void of indifference and dominion, was immune to her call. It was like trying to seduce a black hole.
'You have satisfied my curiosity, goddess,' I thought, my voice a slab of ice in the warmth of her temple. 'Your taste is sweet, but cloying. I have had enough.'
She stopped, a meter from me, and a genuine and rare expression of surprise crossed her perfect face. She blinked, her eyes two bewildered blue seas. "Enough?" she repeated, as if the word were in a language she didn't understand. "My dear wolf, what you had was an appetizer. A simple taste. We haven't even begun to explore the depths of pleasure."
She came closer, her boldness absolute. She placed a hand on my shadow chest, her fingers sinking slightly into my essence. "Ares offered you brutality. I offer you ecstasy. I offer you secrets that not even the night knows. I offer you pleasures that would make your millennia of solitude seem like a single, pitiful instant."
Her power intensified. It was no longer a perfume; it was a conceptual command. 'DESIRE ME.' The compulsion hit my mind, an order etched in the language of creation itself. Any other being, god or mortal, would have knelt, their mind erased by an overwhelming need to possess her.
I felt... nothing.
I withdrew my head from her touch, a slow, deliberate movement of rejection.
"Your games are boring," I resonated in her mind, my voice devoid of all emotion. "Your pleasure is a worthless coin to one who can take what he desires. I have already tasted your flavor. It is not interesting."
The word hit her like a physical slap. Not interesting.
She took a step back, her hand falling to her side. The sensual smile had vanished, replaced by an expression of pure, absolute disbelief. In all her immortal existence, from the moment she was born of the sea foam, she had never been rejected. She had never been considered... boring.
Her power, which had been flowing toward me, wavered and retreated, confused. She was the goddess of desire, and she had met a creature who desired nothing she could offer.
"But... I am Aphrodite," she whispered, the words sounding hollow in her own temple.
"And I am Lykaon," was my final answer. "And my hunger is not sated with sweets."
Without a second glance, I turned around. I dissolved into the shadow of her altar, leaving the goddess of love alone in her temple of pleasure, naked, wet, and for the first time in her eternal existence, completely unwanted.
As I walked away, I felt the shift in her aura. Disbelief was transforming into something new. It wasn't anger. It wasn't hatred. It was an obsession. She had found the only thing in all of creation she couldn't have.
And she knew, with a divine certainty, that she would now want it more than anything.
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Also, does anyone know how Power Stones work?
I think they are weekly or something like that.
If you have stones, please don't hesitate to use them on the story.
Thanks.
Mike.