Myth: The Ruler of Spirituality

"Pandora, go and make good use of Triton's remaining life."

"Poseidon is no longer here, and the Trident has left the material world. The [Tsunami][Storm][Earthquake] he once controlled are now without a master, causing the laws to be in chaos... And soon, two beings capable of wielding divine power in the mortal realm will engage in a fierce battle over the sea... This is your best opportunity."

"It's just... Sigh..."

With another sigh, Epimetheus finally fell silent, his gaze drifting towards the sky one last time.

Pandora kept a deadpan expression, ignoring him. However, it was she who was truly valued by Mother Earth; compared to her, he was merely an afterthought.

Heracles wouldn't even know who he was, and yet he seemed to be the center of this era, qualified to uphold even the sky.

Even his brother, whom he had always looked down upon, had now broken free and was following this great hero of the mortal world, perhaps finding a new turning point.

What does this prove?

It proves that sometimes it's not that one doesn't try hard enough, but that luck has never been on one's side.

If he and Pandora's positions were swapped, Epimetheus wouldn't care about Mother Earth's control. As long as he still held value, there would always be opportunities to act, just like his marriage to Pandora under Zeus' arrangement.

But unfortunately, when you don't even have value, there's really nothing you can do.

Shaking his head in the dark, the Afterthinker was about to turn and leave this place to Pandora alone. But suddenly, it was as if he remembered something, and he looked towards where his brother was once again.

Prometheus' disguise could fool others, but not Epimetheus; his brother's style and habits were too familiar. However, who was that person beside him?

"Zeus' man?"

"Could it be that after all this, I still have to rely on this Divine King to break this deadlock..."

Slightly narrowing his eyes, Epimetheus did not show any outward reaction, merely noting Dionysus' presence in his heart.

He was unsure of what he should do now, or rather, what he could do...

"..."

"Hmm? What is that?"

After a long silence, with only the sound of the wind, Clotho seemed to have noticed something.

Even without using her right to observe fate, she could sense another massive deviation occurring.

Boundless malice emanated from the void, but this time it was different from before.

Threads of black gas seemed to seep through Lachesis' shadow left on fate, reflecting onto her.

This should have been impossible; the Fates could usually withstand such backlash if they wished.

Compared to Atropos of old, Lachesis had not yet reached her limit, and she had no intention of relinquishing her burden.

So, feeling the boundless evil and the profound terror, Clotho knew something had likely happened to her second sister.

She had at least lost her consciousness, unable to perceive the tides of fate actively.

Whoosh——

Instinctively turning her head, the Goddess gazed westward.

There, fate was boiling as if it were on fire, and a towering black shadow pierced the skies.

The shadow pressed down, carrying the weight of the material world, the turbulence of fate's river, and the heaviness of a segment of the sky, crashing from the Western Heaven unto the Northern Sea.

Boom——

No sound was heard, for great noise is silent, and great form is shapeless.

Clotho's arms trembled as she clasped them together, gazing at the Northern Sea struck by the shadow, darkness clouding her vision.

In that instant, countless fates were altered... and this was just the beginning.

"The garden... that garden, Ladon!"

Biting her lip lightly, Clotho tried to stand, but found her legs devoid of strength.

Though fate's backlash had yet to fall upon her, she knew.

If this was a war, they had already lost before it even began.

······

Crash... Crash...

Western Sea, near Atlas' domain.

Lurking in the seawater, Epimetheus cast a glance at the son of the Sea God falling from the sky, then continued watching the trajectory of the descending blow.

Simple, direct, with no embellishment.

This blow carried the weight of the heavens. Whether human or god, without the 'qualification,' they would feel as if facing a falling finger of the Sky God.

As the blow landed, the Northern Sea shook, waves reaching the clouds, and the ensuing ripples flattened the ocean for miles.

A flicker of astonishment flashed in Epimetheus' eyes; he knew if this strike had been aimed at him, it could have taken half his life.

From now on, across the entire mortal world and the divine realm, there would be only a handful capable of battling this hero, who was still a god among mortals.

And if he soon inherited the power borrowed from Atlas, even with the divine powers restored, the gods would be outclassed.

Being a Titan tasked with upholding [Strength], Atlas was exceedingly powerful, and his millennia of bearing the sky and the world's power had placed him near the peak of formidable divine forces.

With his help, neither the Hundred-headed Dragon Typhon nor all gods could flaunt before this human.

"Tsk... such is destiny..."

"Pandora, you've held 'destiny' for so long, why can't you be like him?"

Shaking his head in exasperation, Epimetheus turned his gaze back to the fallen Triton.

To die in the hands of the witch clutching the magic jar might have been your destined fate. The death you sought has now come for you.

"I wonder if it's destiny that forges the hero, or only heroes can bear destiny... hehehe... Whatever it is, I can't be a hero."