The true beginning of a mortal wound always stems from the fate of one world being overshadowed and enveloped by another, just like Henu and Chaos of old.
A massive splash echoed from beneath the sea, as if in response to the Fire Thief's words.
When the water settled, the space under the sea was already empty.
Due to the rebellious law of the ocean, it could swim freely beneath the waves.
Even with Protheus's abilities, he could not discern the other's movents.
"Heh heh..."
With a gentle laugh, he paid no mind to the shadow's presence or absence.
The Fire Thief pondered for a mont and headed towards so islands on the Western Sea.
The longer one lives, the more they enjoy reminiscing about the past.
From a god's perspective, although Protheus's lifespan wasn't particularly long, his soul had long since ceased to be young.
...
The Underworld, its very edge.
Neither Nether Moonlight nor the gray earth could be seen.
From a spatial perspective, the earth lay "above" in the Underworld, with Tartarus "below."
The Land of Eternal Night and the Realm of Lightness enclosed it, with only a single entrance linking countless locations, spanning the road between the Underworld and the Mortal Realm.
Yet this place was different from what was conventionally known as the Underworld; it was more like a crevice in the domain of Primordial Gods, interwoven with the Void beyond the world.
Standing here felt like being on the edge of the Circumterrestrial River, gazing into the nothingness beyond the world.
In Clotho's heart existed an inevitable fear, along with a slight soul-deep aversion.
Indeed, as Chaos's Fate Goddess, there was truly nothing in this world that could harm her existence, provided it was within "this world."
If severed from the world's inherent protection, like the Divine King, she too would be unsure how much of her divinity could be preserved.
After all, in her limited understanding, the power of [Fate] is the world's sharpest spear and sturdiest shield in tis of conflict.
To the clash of two worlds, the material loss, or even the slight drainage of their origin, is rely the most superficial of skin wounds.
The true beginning of a mortal wound always stems from one world's fate being overshadowed and enveloped by another.
The Mortal Realm, the western coast.
Dark clouds rolled, and giant waves surged to the heavens.
Beneath the sea, an inky shadow tossed and turned, vast yet formless, as tiny as specks of dust.
Above the sea, the Titans, whom Nikki viewed as rely verbose about their longevity, were slowly dragging a massive corpse, letting it sink into the turbulent ocean.
The corpse had a hundred heads, all destroyed by so imnse force, yet what remained still emitted a certain vitality, as if it had never died at all.
However, upon closer examination, one would find an emptiness revealed within the corpse's origin.
This indicated that sothing most precious had long been taken away, leaving behind only a shell of power.
"The Hundred-headed Dragon Ladon, among the demons of the world, it may not be the strongest, but it is certainly the closest in bloodline to Typhon."
"Whether in form, or in the burning fury."
"When faced with such power, the human body can only take the most crucial part, even when bearing the 'Heavenly Destiny.'"
"As for its remaining body, only you can accommodate it."
With a splash—
The dragon corpse fell into the water, stirring up enormous waves.
Yet in only a mont, under the swirling shadows of the sea, it vanished without a trace as if it had never been there.
Protheus received no response for a long ti, yet he did not grow angry.
Towards these lives born because of him, he has always shown patience and tolerance.
"...So, you're not going to follow that human anymore?"
After an unknown span of ti, sothing seed to speak from the deep sea.
Its voice carried a hint of displeasure, yet if one were to listen closely, they would only hear incomprehensible roars and screams.
Lacking reason and wisdom, full of emotion and madness.
Hearing this, Protheus smiled calmly and shook his head lightly.
He knew why it was displeased, and could discern a slight agreent beneath that displeasure.
After all, along the journey, regardless of external help, Heracles truly relied on real strength rather than intrigue to vanquish demons.
But regardless, he always bore the Divine King's bloodline... because of this, the being beneath the sea always held enmity towards him.
"Bloodlines don't determine everything... you should know that."
"The two successive Gods of Sun of Chaos were father and son, yet they eventually clashed."
"All Divine Kings throughout generations are kin, yet only one can exist in the world."
"As for ..."
Pausing for a mont, Protheus's gaze drifted towards the continent's direction.
Since the day they parted from the Underworld, he seed to have lost Heracles's trace.
But he actually knew where he was, even without looking.
The ruins of Mount Othrys, the 'correct entrance' to the Spirit Realm, he would only be there.
For there was never baseless love or hate in this world; if there were no reason, how could the other know such secrets?
"As for , it's not ti to find him yet."
"After all, his journey in the Mortal Realm has ended, and his journey in the Spirit Realm... no longer needs my companionship."
The deity entrusted to that puppet has already gone there. With the other's assistance, Protheus believes the Great Hero will smoothly complete the latter part of his journey.
He just needs to wait in the Mortal Realm until his return, then listen to the choice the other makes.
Whichever that may be, he has no complaints.
This might not be what gods should do, but that is indeed what he wants to do.
"...The sa goes for you."
Showing no favoritism, Protheus slightly lowered his head, speaking to the shadow beneath the sea.
Crash—
A massive splash echoed from beneath the sea, as if in response to the Fire Thief's words.
When the water settled, the space under the sea was already empty.
Due to the rebellious law of the ocean, it could swim freely beneath the waves.
Even with Protheus's abilities, he could not discern the other's movents.
"Heh heh..."
With a gentle laugh, he paid no mind to the shadow's presence or absence.
The Fire Thief pondered for a mont and headed towards so islands on the Western Sea.
The longer one lives, the more they enjoy reminiscing about the past.
From a god's perspective, although Protheus's lifespan wasn't particularly long, his soul had long since ceased to be young.
...
The Underworld, its very edge.
Neither Nether Moonlight nor the gray earth could be seen.
From a spatial perspective, the earth lay "above" in the Underworld, with Tartarus "below."
The Land of Eternal Night and the Realm of Lightness enclosed it, with only a single entrance linking countless locations, spanning the road between the Underworld and the Mortal Realm.
Yet this place was different from what was conventionally known as the Underworld; it was more like a crevice in the domain of Primordial Gods, interwoven with the Void beyond the world.
Standing here felt like being on the edge of the Circumterrestrial River, gazing into the nothingness beyond the world.
In Clotho's heart existed an inevitable fear, along with a slight soul-deep aversion.
Indeed, as Chaos's Fate Goddess, there was truly nothing in this world that could harm her existence, provided it was within "this world."
If severed from the world's inherent protection, like the Divine King, she too would be unsure how much of her divinity could be preserved.
After all, in her limited understanding, the power of [Fate] is the world's sharpest spear and sturdiest shield in tis of conflict.
To the clash of two worlds, the material loss, or even the slight drainage of their origin, is rely the most superficial of skin wounds.
The true beginning of a mortal wound always stems from the fate of one world being overshadowed and enveloped by another, just like Henu and Chaos of old.
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