"Where are my snake fangs?"
"And my flying wings!"
"I really didn’t take those..."
"Then how do you explain the silver arrows, ores, and jewels on you?"
"Uh, picked them up on the road?"
After the two victims searched a pile of miscellaneous stolen goods off Hers’ body, they finally lost all patience with the Thief God’s repeated sophistry and just like that, what started as furious scolding gradually turned into a righteous group beating.
Hearing the dull thuds of fists hitting flesh behind him, along with Hers’ loud cries begging for rcy, Lorne, who had already put so distance between them, could not help offering a half-second of silent mourning in his heart for that ancestor of thieves who had taken the bla for him several tis over.
If his guess was correct, this speed god with a kleptomania probably visited the treasuries of the gods quite often, casually pocketing a few items each ti, which was basically routine behavior.
Therefore, whenever sothing went missing among the Olympian gods, eight or nine tis out of ten, it was Hers who had done it.
And if he said it was not him, then it was probably because he had not been beaten hard enough.
After all, besides being the god of thieves, he was also the god of deception, and lying was second nature to him.
Apollo himself had suffered from this more than once.
Back then, not long after Hers was born, he stole fifty cattle from Apollo’s cowshed.
While driving the cattle away, he first made them walk forward, then backward, then sideways, constantly changing directions so that the hoofprints beca chaotic, making it impossible for the owner to tell which way the cattle had gone.
Then, afraid that his own small footprints would be discovered, he wove a pair of huge straw sandals and put them on, turning his footprints into those of a giant.
After reaching his destination, he settled the cattle in a distant cowshed, slaughtered two of them, roasted and ate them, and even knew how to bring over a handful of sand to extinguish the fire, leaving behind no trace at all.
That series of smooth, flowing operations was simply the work of a born sage and supre master of the art of theft.
As a result, when Apollo finally caught up, even though he knew full well that the culprit was Hers, who was still just a little brat, because he had no evidence, he ultimately had no choice but to give up.
Perhaps because of these old grudges, the God of Light was particularly ruthless when he struck.
In no ti at all, under the combined beating of Apollo and Hephaestus, Hers ended up black and blue and had no choice but to raise both hands in surrender.
Only after he agreed to compensate the losses of the two did the farce finally co to an end.
As the dust settled, Lorne thought of the partially damaged "Wings of Icarus", "Pithon’s Fangs", and several other items of unknown origin in his own storage, and could not help secretly letting out a sigh of relief, inwardly amused.
Look at that, Olympus even has a dedicated master of balancing the books.
If, in the future, he could draw out any good stuff from the gods’ warehouses again, he would probably have to trouble this fellow a bit more.
While joking to himself, Lorne also more or less understood the chanism behind the blessing of "Chance".
Through reasonable logic and actions, insignificant low-probability "possibilities" were modified, then embedded into the frawork of "inevitability".
For example, when Hers visited the treasuries of the gods, he took part of the collection, and left behind the real treasures, casually tossing away the stolen goods he did not like into so corner or by the roadside.
This gave the "Die of Chance" an opportunity, allowing these things that should have rotted away or disappeared to pass through twists and turns into Lorne’s hands.
So long as he was not too ostentatious, he basically did not need to worry about the aftermath of these stolen items.
After confirming the answer, Lorne straightened his back with confidence and continued forward toward the great divine temple.
Along the way, under Athena’s introductions, he successively encountered two of the Twelve Olympians he had not t before.
One was the Goddess of Agriculture, Deter.
The other was the God of War, Ares.
The forr was calm and dignified, possessing a graceful and gentle temperant, like an elder who naturally inspired closeness.
Yet her eyes were filled with a faint sadness. She was often taciturn, as if she had lost interest in everything.
The latter perfectly matched Lorne’s preconceived impression of a brainless brute.
Tall and powerfully built, his exaggerated bulging muscles looked as if they had been cast from steel, brimming with explosive force.
When it ca to action, his limbs always moved before his brain. Well, a textbook hothead.
However, this ferocious-looking God of War was currently being chased and violently beaten by a stunningly beautiful goddess with a seductive figure, and he did not dare to fight back at all.
"This is?" Lorne asked, pretending not to know.
"Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love..." Athena calmly spoke the na of that formidable woman, then watched the farce before them, a trace of gloating rising in her eyes. "The pretty boy she keeps outside was recently gored by a boar again. He was lucky enough not to die, but he was scared into having problems..."
"Again?" Lorne caught a certain keyword.
"Mm, this is already the second ti." Athena nodded.
Looking at Ares fleeing in panic, she pulled a teasing smile on her face. "And both of those boars even carried war divinity. Don’t you think that’s strange?"
As the true culprit, Lorne instantly understood and nodded along in agreent while secretly clasping his fists toward the war god whose face was covered in bloody marks.
Big brother, such righteousness.
This great-grandson thanks you!
He had originally carried war divinity himself and transford into a demonic boar to attack Aphrodite’s lover purely to confuse the trail.
Who would have thought that Ares would not only take the bla but even recreate the scene, completely nailing the charge in place?
With such a good big brother and great-grandfather, if he didn’t trip him a few more tis, it would truly be an insult to his IQ.
Just as Lorne was watching the spectacle together with Athena from the side, two golden deer pulled a golden chariot down from the sky, swooping in.
Before the chariot even landed, a tall and fiery figure threw aside the reins and jumped straight down.
At this mont, a bright, excited smile filled her pretty face as she charged straight toward soone in the plaza with a clear target.
"Bang~!"
However, as a dull collision sounded out, Artemis felt the faintly present twin cushions against her chest and froze slightly.
Her silver eyes t a pair of radiant purple pupils, and her expression imdiately darkened.
Athena? Her again!
But before she could flare up, a quiet whisper reached the Huntress Goddess’s ears.
"Don’t move. This is Olympus. Do you want to get him killed?"
"...!"
In an instant, Artemis’ pupils shrank.
Realizing the hidden danger of the situation, the flas in her chest were imdiately extinguished, and she sobered up at once.
Then spread her arms and very affectionately pulled Athena into her embrace.
"Haha, Athena, long ti no see.
I’m really happy to see you’re safe!"
" too..."
Athena struggled to lift her slightly deford face from between the two mountain-like pressures, forcing out a smile of sisterly affection while gritting her teeth in reply.
Because of the difference in height and build, when the two hugged, Artemis directly stuffed Athena, who was a head shorter than her, into her chest.
Relying on two overweight flesh bombs, she repeatedly pressed them right into Athena’s face, successfully drawing intense resentnt and hostility from a certain Goddess of Wisdom.
Isn’t it just fat piled up?
Things that only hinder movent and tempt the opposite sex, sinful objects like that, what’s so great about them?
Athena viciously complained inwardly while desperately trying to break free from Artemis’s vast bosom.
However, whether intentionally or not, the Huntress Goddess seed to truly be seeing a beloved sister after a long separation, and she held onto Athena without letting go, instead warmly exchanging greetings.
Left with no choice, Athena could only reply halfheartedly.
Hand in hand with this overly intimate "good friend", she walked into the great divine temple.
At the scene, only Lorne was left behind, standing alone and disheveled in the wind.
Since when did their relationship beco this good?
(End of Chapter)
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