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Chapter 7: Seven: Prometheus (1)



I did not know what would kill me first: Zeus\'s overwhelming affection or the fact that he was squeezing the life out of me.

"How did you hide your presence from us? Trying to surprise me?" Zeus shouted, peppering my face with kisses.

Oh believe me, if that were the case I wouldn\'t be under this predicament.

Poseidon let out a low chuckle. "You\'ve got to be kidding me. He didn\'t surprise you; he just went invisible again. I hate it when he does that." He gave me a knowing smile and waved lazily.

Invisible? Is that what they thought I was doing all this time? I thought they were just ignoring me.

Zeus finally released me and grinned like a child with a new toy. "Big bro, always making an entrance like that! It\'s been— what— two hundred years? Maybe more? And—!"

I couldn\'t hold it in anymore. Before I realized it, a loud laugh burst from my throat, breaking the eerie silence that always seemed to follow me.

"HAHAHA!" I couldn\'t stop. I the god of death, sitting here with Zeus hanging on to me like an overexcited child, and Poseidon right next to us. This really was a dream.

When I finally managed to catch my breath, I saw them staring at me— Zeus and Poseidon— frozen, their wide eyes reflecting the sheer impossibility of what they had just witnessed.

Shit. I broke character.

Do they know? I thought in a panic. Do they know I\'m an eighty-year-old scholar in the body of their \'beloved\' brother?

But instead of interrogating me, they began to cheer, dancing around like children. "Hades laughed! He\'s not a lost cause after all!" they chanted, their joy filling the grand hall as they pulled me into what had to be the warmest— and weirdest— embrace in the history of the gods.

The three most powerful gods in Olympus, embracing like giddy mortals. If this is a dream, I\'d rather die here than wake up to reality.

We laughed together for what felt like hours, but it wasn\'t long before the weight of my role began to sink in again. I felt the familiar frown settle back onto my face. The trial was looming. There wasn\'t time for any more bonding moments.

I glanced at the long red carpet stretching toward the far-off doors, flanked by towering pillars that seemed to touch the sky. The light was dim, as always.

Who even repairs Olympus when it\'s broken? It couldn\'t be Hephaestus, could it?

The grandeur of the place was impossible to comprehend.

Next to me, Zeus was muttering something under his breath, still caught up in his own excitement. This was indeed very different from the portrayal of the mighty god of the sky in Greek myths.

He did not have the beard or the serious features. This was quite the opposite, was this really Zeus or an alternate iteration of him.

"Bring in the asshol— i mean, prisoner!" Zeus\'s voice thundered across the hall.

My gods. Are these really the rulers of Olympus? The more he spoke the more Zeus looked less like an almighty ruler and more like a teenager trapped in a twenty-something\'s body. How in the world was he in charge?

I did say I wanted to be reborn in Olympus didn\'t I? Perhaps next time I would narrow it down to the myths I had read instead of this exaggerated world.

Two winged knights, gleaming in white armor caught my attention as they dragged in the prisoner. The clink of chains echoed off the marble floor as the man\'s legs scraped against the ground. His broad frame was covered in scars, and the faintest trace of energy lingered around him. Unlike the gods, mortals were barely a whisper in this world of giants.

But this was not a mortal either?

The sight was pathetic, but I had to keep myself focused. This is Prometheus, the father of humanity? His trial would decide the fate of the human race, and if I didn\'t intervene, Zeus would erase them all.

The guards flung him to the ground with a brutal thud. Prometheus groaned, his body curling under the weight of his chains, blood trailing from his wrists and ankles. His clothes were tattered, little more than rags bound by a frayed rope. I almost laughed at the absurdity of it. Gods, mortals back then really didn\'t know a thing about fashion.

But then Prometheus raised his head and spoke, his voice hoarse but unbroken. "I give reverence to the gods of Olympus. Your might and power bring beauty to all under the sun…"

Beauty? I almost wanted to scoff, but there was something in his voice. He bowed, not in fear but in defiance— a righteous heart willing to face whatever torment we had in store. Prometheus, the father of humanity, and here we are about to damn him.

Dammit, focus.

I took a deep breath. Zeus could destroy humanity on a whim, and if that happened... would my existence disappear too? Was this another world, or would erasing humanity erase me as well? I could not take the chance.

Poseidon\'s words echoed in my mind: "Save them." Why had he said that? Did he think I was the only one who could stop Zeus? But what was I supposed to do then? How do I convince Zeus.

No pressure, right?

I watched as Prometheus knelt before us, the chains around his wrists gleaming in the dim light, a perfect contrast to the divine presence around us. His long, unkempt hair fell over his face, and I could sense the weariness in every fiber of his being. He didn\'t deserve this.

Zeus\'s voice boomed again, shattering the silence. "So, Prometheus. You stole our fire and gave it to humanity. Why? Why would you defy us?"

I had to act. If I didn\'t, Prometheus would suffer a fate worse than death. And humanity... humanity would burn out before it even began.


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