Myth: The Ruler of Spirituality-Chapter 864 - 343 The Departed is Dead

Sea Eye, the wound of the ocean.

Those who had never seen it with their own eyes often attempted to describe it with florid language.

People imagined it as a massive whirlpool, speculating on the sound of colliding waves.

Poets depicted it as the Abyss, calling it the source of the ocean's darkness.

Before he came here in person, Heracles had read many accounts about it and queried elders about the real appearance of the Sea Eye.

With Olymus's firsthand narrative, the great hero even thought he had understood it enough.

But it wasn't until he sailed into this place himself that he faced the terror striking straight into his soul, Heracles realized how inadequate mere words could be at times.

Sound seemed devoured, the surge of the waves was no longer visible.

Light could not penetrate here, for the sea's loathing for the sun converged in this place.

It was as if one were walking alone in the dark, cold universe, uncertain of one's position, nor knowing if one was really moving.

But one thing was clear: behind him lay the increasingly distant world of man, and ahead, the profound Abyss that devoured everything.

"... Although I had made ample preparations and had anticipated the situation..."

"At this moment, I still felt a trace of dread."

"Though I can overcome it... it remains, growing ever stronger."

"Olymus, are you telling me my will is not firm enough?"

"Or is there some issue with this region of the sea itself?"

In the cockpit, holding an iron rod, the great hero asked his teammate, as though he was also questioning his own heart.

At this moment, everything outside was equally projected.

Where they were now was nothing but endless darkness and void.

Staring at the instruments in front of him, in response to Heracles's self-inquiry, Olymus shook his head slightly.

He understood this psychology, for once they had felt the same.

"There's no need for self-deprecation, Heracles."

"It's not your fault, on the contrary, nearly everyone would feel this way."

"Believe me, your heart isn't fearing the darkness, nor the seawater and green waves; you're just afraid of yourself... afraid of what you do not know, those powers beyond your control and comprehension."

"As a human, one fears the unknown, fears the sudden changes that could occur at any moment."

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"Even if I have been here once before, I still feel anxious about this place."

Slowly lifting his head, Olymus looked into the darkness ahead.

Here, no light could function.

Even the products of alchemy could not defy the special rules of this place.

"There's no other reason, but because I know, the decision of whether I can leave here alive is never up to me, but at someone else's whim."

"You're the same, Heracles."

"Believe me, as long as you cannot shake the entire ocean, the moment you see this scene, you will feel a panic coming from deep within."

This is a common trait of humanity, a weakness that all intelligent beings possess.

The fear of the unknown and respect for things beyond one's understanding stem from this.

"You're right, Olymus; compared to the entire ocean, I am still too weak."

Nodding slightly, the hero accepted this reality.

However, looking at the darkness that seemed to swallow everything in front of him, Heracles couldn't help asking:

"Sea Eye is the wound of the ocean; I cannot affect its existence."

"But if that's the case... then even if we were to meet the Bronze Creator, how could we possibly take him away?"

"..."

Olymus did not respond, and the hero did not inquire further.

He probably didn't know either, but perhaps the prescient creator would have a way.

And so, in silence, the vast Sea Eye endured immense tearing, as the alchemy ship continued to sink.

...

Drip-drop...

Drip-drop...

...

In the cold, silent space, there was nothing.

Only the sound of liquid dropping, day and night, without pause.

Alone 'enjoying' his solitude, Prometheus kept his eyes closed.

Over the centuries, apart from mortals who had strayed here for various reasons, only some guests with ulterior motives would come.

As for the rest of the time, it was left to him to endure the relentless torment of the boundless sea.

Drip-drop...

Drip-drop...

...

"Another year..."

In the darkness, a hoarse voice emitted from his chest.

Perhaps from not speaking for a long time, the tone was somewhat unrecognizable.

Opening his eyes, Prometheus struggled to lift his head.

Without any tools to measure time, he used the frequency of his blood drops to keep count.

For hundreds of years, the Divine Iron piercing his chest caused his blood to be enough to fill a lake.

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This was the most trivial part of his punishment, and even considered a convenience by the Fire Thief.

Just as he said, another year had gone by… But at this moment, the reason for Prometheus's upward gaze was different.

For at the edge of his perception, something familiar was approaching.

When was the last time?

Maybe it was a few years ago, maybe decades.

When those sailing the ships appeared here, Prometheus was astonished to find that the Humans of today had actually built ships capable of traveling underwater.

And yet just a few hundred years ago, they had only just learned to harness the winds for sailing, understanding how to navigate by the Stars above.

The fourth generation of Humans was far wiser than those of the first three ages.

Although this also brought more shortcomings, Prometheus believed it was all worth it.

Nothing is perfect, and if it were, perhaps its imperfection would be the most important piece of the puzzle in constituting its perfection.

"Another fleet of ships, Prometheus, guess why they have come?"

"…"

"You know, just like every time before."

"They fall into the water by accident, encounter mishaps, tell you of the various wonders of the outside world, then leave with your help."

"Yet, from the moment they return to dry land, all you receive are curses and slander."

"Some are unwilling, and thus they die. Others remain silent, and thus they never get the chance to speak again."

"In the end, the remaining ones gradually come to believe it is you who brings disaster to Humanity, so you rightfully should use your pain to help them gain wealth and divine favor."

"…"

"Oh, I forgot to say… pain can become a habit."

"And how do you make it so one can never get used to pain? The answer is to let them see the Light every once in a while."

"…"

Maybe someone was speaking, or maybe it was just an illusion.

But from beginning to end, Prometheus made no response at all.

It was unknown when it began, but another Life seemed to have been born in the pitch-black depths of the sea.

Those who had come here with intent had never discovered him, or rather, only Prometheus himself could hear his voice.

"… Do you not hate them, do you not loathe them?"

"You love Humans… but Humans may not all love you."

"Let's do this, use your intelligence, use your foresight, choose the kind-hearted ones and leave the wicked here."

"There's nothing wrong with that, you're merely giving them their deserved ending… Prometheus, am I wrong?"

One second it was gently persuasive, the next its voice suddenly rose sharply.

The voice, whose origin was unknown, seemed to become frantic, questioning the imprisoned Titan if there was anything wrong with what it had said.

Yet the dark Space remained Silent, as if nothing had ever happened.

Time passed slowly, the voice in his ears now mild, now arrogant, now humble, now haughty.

Like a lunatic with multiple personalities, it was constantly venting its emotions.

After a long while, tranquility finally returned to the Fire Thief's ears.

"… I am leaving, aren't you happy?"

Silent in the noise, outspoken in the quiet.

When the mysterious voice ceased speaking, at some moment, the hoarse voice of the Fire Thief finally echoed in the space.

But what he said would startle anyone.

Prometheus was going to leave the Sea Eye, an utter impossibility.

Heracles fancied he could manage it, but in truth, without assistance, there was never any chance of success from the outset.

The Divine King's authority had chained this Titan God, and no one could release him without Zeus's knowledge… But this time, it was the mysterious voice's turn to be Silent.

"… You are my choice, and I could offer you the Strength to change it all."

"Prometheus, why must you refuse me?"

"Of course, it's because I no longer have the strength."

"After all, carrying Humans is tiring enough, let alone bearing the Hatred of the Divine King, which is indeed too heavy."

His words were slow but clear. On the iron stake, Prometheus tried to muster a smile, but ultimately he failed.

"And besides… you, choosing me, isn't really because I am the most suitable… It's simply because my Divine Blood gave you reason, making me your first targeted choice."

"But I hope you remember, you are neither me nor Him; you are a separate entity."

"The desire for revenge against the Divine King is His will, not yours."

"Just as I look upon Humanity, I witnessed your emergence… I hope that one day, you will also find the meaning of your own existence."

"…"

Without any response, but Prometheus knew the Life that had been born in the depths of the Sea Eye had heard him.

Although it did not speak, it actually listened to him.

As for its true origin…

"Cough cough… the progenitor of countless Demons…"

"Among those recorded in history, the only Great Being who has fallen… is probably Him alone…"

Violent coughing, accompanied by spurts of blood.

Typhon was undoubtedly dead.

As to the one in the Sea Eye, just like Prometheus said.

It was an independent Life, an existence that at first even lacked clear thought.

And the proud Lord of Ten Thousand Demons… would probably never be able to resurrect again.

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