Myth: The Ruler of Spirituality-Chapter 1193 - 511: Influence

Mortal Realm, Western Coast.

Dark clouds roiled, towering waves surged.

Beneath the sea, a shadow twisted and turned, vast and formless, yet as small and insignificant as dust.

Above the sea, the Titan, whom Nikki deemed commendable only for his longevity, painstakingly dragged a massive corpse, gradually letting it descend into the turbulent waters.

The corpse had a hundred heads, but all had been destroyed by some great force, leaving only parts that still exuded a semblance of life, as if it had never died.

However, upon closer inspection, one would find a sense of emptiness emanating from the origin of the body.

This indicated that something precious had long been taken, leaving only a hollow shell imbued with 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 its burning rage."

"Faced with such power, the human body can only take the most crucial part, even if it carries ’Heavenly Destiny’."

"As for its remaining corpse, only you can accommodate it."

Plop—

The dragon’s corpse plunged into the water, creating massive splashes.

But in merely a moment, with the swirls of the shadow beneath the sea, it was as if it had never appeared, leaving no trace.

Having received no response for a long time, Prometheus was not angered.

Towards these beings birthed by him, he was always generous with patience and leniency.

"...Why, are you no longer following that human?"

After an indeterminate period, it seemed something in the depths of the sea spoke.

Its voice faintly carried a hint of dissatisfaction, but should someone listen closely, they would only hear incomprehensible roars and howls.

Devoid of reason and wisdom, there was only emotion and madness.

Upon hearing this, Prometheus smiled calmly and shook his head lightly.

He understood why it was discontent, and could discern the slight agreement beneath that dissatisfaction.

After all, on the journey thus far, whether or not aided by external forces, Heracles had indeed vanquished demons with genuine strength rather than intrigue.

Yet no matter how one put it, he still bore the Divine King’s bloodline... for this reason, the being beneath the sea always harbored hostility towards him.

"Bloodline doesn’t mean everything... you should know this too."

"The successive two God of the Sun under Chaos were father and son, yet they ended up at odds."

"Similarly, successive Divine Kings were blood relatives, but only one could exist in the world."

"As for me..."

His voice paused slightly, and Prometheus’s gaze turned towards the continent.

Since that day separated in the Underworld, it seemed he had lost the trail of Heracles.

But in truth, he knew where the other was, even without looking.

The ruins of Mount Othrys, the ’rightful entrance’ of the Spirit Realm, he would only be there.

For in this world, there is no love and hate without reason; if there were no reason, how could the other understand such a secret?

"As for me, now is not the time for me to find him."

"After all, his journey in the Mortal Realm has ended, and his journey in the Spirit Realm... no longer needs me to accompany him."

The deity embodied within the puppet had already gone over; with its help, Prometheus believed the Great Hero would complete the latter half of the journey smoothly.

He only needed to wait in the Mortal Realm, for when he emerged, then he would listen to the choice the other made.

Whichever it was, he had no objections.

This perhaps wasn’t what a god should do, but it was indeed what he wished to do.

"...You are the same."

Not showing favoritism, Prometheus bowed slightly, speaking to the shadow beneath the waves.

Splash—

A gigantic splash of water erupted from below, seemingly responding to the Fire Thief’s words.

Once the water droplets settled, the sea below was already clear and empty.

Due to the rebellious law of the sea, it was able to wander freely beneath the waters.

Even with Prometheus’s abilities, he could not discern its whereabouts.

"Hehe..."

Chuckling gently, he paid no mind to the shadow’s departure.

The Fire Thief pondered for a moment, then headed towards some islands in the Western Sea.

Living long, one often finds themselves reminiscing about the past.

From the perspective of a god, though Prometheus’s lifespan was not exceedingly long, his heart was no longer young.

...

The Underworld, at the true edge.

There was no Nether Moonlight, nor was there the gray Earth.

From the perspective of space, the Earth is ’above’ the Underworld, Tartarus is ’below’ the Underworld.

The Land of Eternal Night and the Realm of Lightness enshrouded it, with only a single entrance connecting countless places, bridging the Underworld and the Mortal Realm.

Yet this place differed from the conventional sense of the Underworld; rather than truly the Underworld, it was an interstice belonging to the Primordial God Domain, and the convergence with the void outside the world.

Standing here was like standing at the edge of the Circumterrestrial River, gazing into the void beyond the world.

In Clotho’s heart, it was inevitably accompanied by some fear, and a visceral rejection from the soul.

She knew, as the Fate Goddess of Chaos, there was indeed nothing in this world that could harm her existence, but the premise was within ’this world’.

Should she step beyond the protection of the world itself, like the Divine King, she too would not know how much of her divinity would remain preserved.

After all, in her limited understanding, the power of [Fate] was the sharpest spear in the world’s contention, and the most solid shield.

For the collision of two worlds, material loss, even slight lapses in origin, were but superficial harms.