The Epic of the Disc Chapter 76: Deal With a Goddess

Chapter 76: Deal With a Goddess

"I do prefer a goddess who isn’t whispering in my ear when I’m trying to recover," he muttered into the dark behind his eyelids. "So of us have bodies that break. Weird concept, I know."

"Has your mother not taught you any manners?" said the annoying woman hiding in the shadows. Her voice curled around him like smoke that thought it was better than everyone else.

He shifted in his sleep, pulling the twins closer to his chest, almost protecting them from her. "You yap a lot, old lady." He sighed. The annoyed kind. The kind that screams leave

alone.

"I’m trying to sleep. Can you haunt

during business hours? Co back between never and don’t."

She went quiet. The shadows shifted. He could feel her studying him, and it sent a chill through his body.

"You are an interesting demi-child."

His eyes snapped open. His jaw tightened.

"Watch your filthy mouth, hag." His voice ca out low. Quiet. "I’m no demigod."

He sat up slowly, eyes burning in the dark.

"And I’m nothing like that bastard son of your unfaithful husband."

The shadows went still.

"Then why do you sll like a mortal?" she said, each word carefully asured, like she was holding back sothing. A goddess’s rage. Rage against a child who had the audacity to disrespect her. Not once, but twice. But that didn’t bother him in the slightest.

"Because I’m two-thirds divinity," he muttered as he fell back down, arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling of nothing.

"That’s impossible."

"And yet here I am." He closed his eyes. "That’s why I’m special. One of a kind. The one and only."

And he knew why she wouldn’t kill him. The sa reason Ishtar wouldn’t. The sa reason none of them ever would.

Because having him was worth more than destroying him. Controlling him, owning him, parading him around like a trophy that proved their superiority—that was the real prize. Killing him would be like smashing the only diamond in existence because you couldn’t fit it into your ring.

And that was the gods’ greatest weakness. Their pride. It was always their pride.

They could never punish you directly. Would never step down from their thrones and get their hands dirty. That would an admitting you were worth the effort. That would an acknowledging a mortal—or in his case, a mostly-not-mortal—had gotten under their skin enough to make them act.

So instead they whispered. Manipulated. Sent monsters. Sent champions. Sent nightmares dressed up as prophecies and called it fate, and punished the people you held dear.

’And they wonder why nobody worships them anymore.’

"Just tell

what I need to do. Then leave

be."

She sighed. The kind of sigh that had outlived entire civilizations.

"Such arrogance."

A pause. Then she continued, as if deciding he wasn’t worth the argunt.

"You will encounter a group of demigods. They will need your help. Once you’ve helped them, escort them to sanctuary."

He didn’t respond. Just gave her a thumbs up without looking at her.

The silence that followed suggested she was not used to being thumbs-upped by a mortal.

"One more thing." Her voice shifted. Quieter now. The warmth from earlier—gone. Replaced by sothing that almost sounded like worry. "Among them will be a boy around your age. His na is Jason. He is strong. But he no longer carries my blessing."

A beat.

"Protect him. At any cost."

Shiro groaned. "That’s one too many jobs." He leaned back. "Pick one. I either protect Ja—whoever—and let the rest die." A small pause. "Or I save the others and let Jason die."

He turned toward the voice.

"Pick."

The woman laughed. Quiet. Fond. Like he was the most entertaining thing she’d stumbled across after being bored for millennia.

"What if I make sure you travel safely to your destination? And you can sleep peacefully without any—"

"Done deal."

He said it so fast the words nearly tripped over each other. If helping this hag ant she’d leave him alone, he wouldn’t just save Jason—he’d put the kid on his shoulders and swim him back to her doorstep personally.

"Can you also make sure the thing that’s been following my ship stops?"

He asked it oddly politely. The kind of polite that only ca out when he wanted sothing badly enough to pretend he had manners.

She sighed. "I can try. But you made the sea god rather upset by killing his children."

She sighed again. Longer this ti. The kind that said let

see what I can do.

"I will do my best."

"You know, you’re not as bad as Hera—whatever his na was." He said it casually. Offhandedly. Like he was pretending she couldn’t hear him.

She could absolutely hear him.

"Exactly. I even voted yes when the other gods wanted to make him a full god." A pause. Her voice shifted—frustrated now, the ancient kind of frustrated that had been fernting for centuries. "Then he just threw it all away for a normal life. And vanished."

Shiro gasped. Loudly. Dramatically. The kind of gasp reserved for genuine betrayal.

"No way. Being a god is aweso. I had a blast—did whatever I pleased, got worshipped, the whole deal. Only an idiotic fool would give that up."

"Exactly!" She sounded happy now. Dangerously happy. The kind of happy that ant he’d just said exactly what she wanted to hear. "I went out of my way to bless him with godhood, and he dares to stomp all over it."

"Now I see why you disliked him. The man is a fool."

Shiro’s voice had gone soft. Sleepy. Like the conversation was a lullaby he was slowly losing to.

"If anyone’s to bla, it’s your husband. That man keeps dragging you into his ss." A lazy pause. His eyes were barely open now. "My mother was a goddess. And she was beautiful. And I’m pretty sure a goddess of your standards is just as beautiful. Probably more."

He turned slightly. Mumbling. Acting half-asleep.

"Chasing after mortal won while a goddess like you exists. That probably explains where the boy gets his foolishness from."

The words drifted off at the end. Barely audible.

Silence.

Then a warm sensation coated his body. Slow. Gentle. For a decent amount of ti, her presence lingered, eyes locked onto him. It wasn’t a suspicious look. It was closer to a mother staring at her child.

Then it was gone.

He opened his eyes. And a smile—almost ear to ear—tugged at his lips.

’Idiot goddess.’

He pulled both kids close. Retrieved every shard. Even the knight. Everyone was getting so rest tonight. Let the foolish goddess guide them the rest of the way.

He closed his eyes.

And slept deeply for the first ti in days.

He woke up to tiny hands.

Selene and Aurora were on his chest—pulling his hair, slapping his face, giggling like it was the funniest thing they’d ever done. Which, to be fair, it probably was. Then again, the options for entertainnt were pretty limited.

He opened his eyes. They squealed. More slapping.

He didn’t mind. As long as they weren’t crying, or unleashing their weapons of mass destruction, they could use his face as a drum all morning.

He picked them up, tiny legs flailing, and carried them onto the deck.

Although the sun had risen, it was covered by a group of dark clouds. Clouds that looked like they were stained a deep grey, bruised at the edges like sothing had upset them. And he got a feeling it was him. The wind, though, felt good on his skin. Cool. Steady.

It caught the sail and pushed them forward without him having to think about it.

He set the twins down and let Ari loose to keep them busy. The snake darted across the deck with the resigned energy of a babysitter who hadn’t signed up for a second shift.

While the three of them chased each other in circles, he got to work.

He cut into the flesh of the beast he’d killed the night before. Tore a piece off. Tasted it. Making sure it wasn’t poisonous, and to his relief, it wasn’t. Safe to feed them.

He mashed the at down, ford it into small, soft balls—bite-sized.

By the ti he turned around, Ari was hiding behind his leg. Exhausted. End of her shift.

He caught both twins before they could reach her—one in each hand, mid-crawl, legs still kicking—and handed them each a ball.

They ate. Quietly. Happily. The brief, beautiful silence of babies with full mouths.

He knelt down, fed Ari one as well, while also feeding her a few drops of his own blood.

He looked up at the clouds. Squinted. Then clasped his hands together in the most insincere prayer of all ti.

"Oh great Hera. Mighty and beautiful Hera. We’ve run out of water to drink. If it’s not too much trouble—bless us with so rain."

He waited. Not because he was patient. Because he wanted to see if this actually worked.

The clouds shifted. Slowly at first—then all at once, rolling together like they’d been given an order they couldn’t refuse. Lightning cracked across the sky. And then the rain ca. Heavy.

Shiro scrambled across the deck, placed as many containers as he could find, and lay the down.

The twins squealed. Ari coiled tighter behind his leg, deeply offended by the concept of weather.

He looked up at the sky, grinning like a madman, rain water running down his face.

’Fools.’

He was just testing the blessing at this point. Seeing how far it stretched. And so far, the answer was—embarrassingly far.

Both twins were enjoying the rain too—mouths open, tiny hands slapping at the droplets like they were trying to catch the sky itself.

He let them have it for exactly five seconds before the responsible part of his brain kicked in.

He snatched them both up—one under each arm, kicking and fussing like he’d just ruined the greatest mont of their lives—and carried them below deck.

They scread the whole way down. Probably saying we were having fun and you are the worst person alive.

He dried them off anyway. Carefully. Gently. Ignoring every tiny hand that swatted at him in protest.

But he wasn’t a complete monster.

He sat them by the doorway, just dry enough, where they could still watch the rain fall. Their tiny hands reached out past the fra, fingers grasping at the raindrops.????????????????????????????????