If you want to go home early.
You need to deal with the Female Titan Claire early.
Ian flew, flew, and flew, constantly circling near Mount Olympus—seeing that Ian had not violated Mount Olympus, Zeus, who returned to his abode, finally breathed a slight sigh of relief.
"What on earth is he looking for?"
At the peak of Mount Olympus, the Gods gathered.
They stood above the mist-covered Holy Hall, overlooking the lonely and strange figure below—a Raven, circling among the mountains in the night.
Sometimes flying low, sometimes pausing, it was clear to the discerning eye that it was searching for something.
"What is that?" Hephaestus spoke first, his voice filled with confusion and caution, "It's been flying around here for quite some time."
"It's Ian," Athena softly replied, "he has transformed into a Raven, looking for something."
"What is he looking for?" Hera frowned, "Is he planning another Godslayer battle?"
"Doesn't seem like it." Apollo shook his head, "He doesn't have any intention to attack, he's just... wandering around."
"What exactly does he want?" Dionysus muttered, "Roaming around like a scavenging crow."
With these words, everyone fell silent for a moment.
Athena's eyes suddenly moved, as if she had caught onto some crucial clue.
"Maybe... to put it bluntly, he's just a crow." She slowly said, "Crows are scavengers, aren't they?"
"What do you mean?" Hermes asked.
"He's looking for dead Gods." Athena's tone was firm, "He's looking for a burial ground."
At these words, the Gods' faces changed dramatically.
"Are you saying…" Poseidon's voice trembled slightly, "He is searching for Ares' tomb?"
"If I haven't guessed wrong, he's already aware of the existence of that forbidden place." Athena nodded, "There lies the oldest seal, and it's the only place where a truly dead War God rests."
"But that's a forbidden place!" Hera exclaimed angrily, "Even we rarely mention it!"
"But he's different." Athena watched the distant Raven, "He can sense the traces of destiny and find forgotten corners."
Zeus, who had been silent, finally spoke: "Why are you helping him?"
Athena glanced at him, calmly saying: "I'm not helping him, I'm just letting him take fewer detours."
She lifted her hand, gently pointing, and an invisible Divine Power quietly spread like the first ray of light at dawn, guiding the Raven toward the forgotten valley.
In Ian's perspective.
Suddenly, a breeze brushed past his wings. The wind was strange, carrying the scent of olive leaves, gently guiding him to turn southeast. Ian squinted—It was Athena's Divine Power.
"Interesting." He followed the wind's guidance, "Does the Goddess of Wisdom want to show me the way?"
The breeze led him to a secluded valley.
[Here lies The Fool of war]
There was not a blade of grass here, and the black rocks were covered with scorch marks from lightning. In the center of the valley stood a giant stone coffin wrapped in chains.
A line of faded divine script was engraved on the coffin lid. The Raven seemed to sense something, suddenly diving down and disappearing into the darkness, followed by the eyes of the Gods.
"Ares?"
Ian landed and returned to human form.
The black robe was particularly striking in the desolate valley.
He walked slowly towards the stone coffin, his fingertips gently brushing the rusted Divine Iron Chains, "Ah... my dear war maniac, it seems your family was too lazy to even give you a decent tombstone."
With these words.
Zeus' expression changed.
But he did not act out.
The chains turned to powder the moment they touched Ian's fingers. With a heavy rumble, the coffin lid slid open on its own, revealing what was preserved inside.
Ares' body was remarkably well-preserved. The once War God was scarred but at least not missing any limbs, and when Ian, transformed into a Raven, pecked open the corpse's chest, he saw a fresh heart—though who knows how long it had been dead, a Divine Spirit's corpse is, after all, a Divine Spirit's corpse.
"Zeus really is ruthless." Ian crouched down to examine closely, "Not only did he kill his son, but even sealed his Divine Rank... are these Blood Crystals meant to prevent his resurrection?"
He reached out and touched the crystals, immediately feeling a familiar savage aura—it was Kratos! The crystals contained the wrath of the Spartan's ghost, no wonder they could suppress the War God's divinity.
"The product of father and son tearing each other apart...," Ian mused, "but this is not what I want."
His hand plunged directly into Ares's chest cavity.
He extracted the heart.
Meanwhile, a crimson glow rose in the valley—this was the lingering aura of divinity. Regarding this, the Gods who had been watching the raven were, of course, already aware.
"He found it," Athena whispered.
"He took the heart," Apollo murmured.
Zeus pondered for a long moment before finally sighing, "It seems we have underestimated this mortal."
"What exactly does he want to do with these materials?" Hermes couldn't help but ask.
"Alchemy," Zeus said slowly, "or something even more ancient. He's collecting items needed for some kind of ritual."
"Should we stop him?" Hera pressed.
"No need," Zeus shook his head, "He's not here to destroy us. At least not yet."
He looked towards Athena, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes.
"You're smarter than them," he said lightly, "Complete his requests early, see what he actually wants to do, we must send this plague away."
Athena nodded slightly.
"I will."
She promised the great King of Gods.
Under the gaze of the Gods,
the raven soared into the air from the valley once more, spreading its wings, cutting through the night sky. It no longer lingered but flew straight to the distance, disappearing among the stars.
Meanwhile, atop Mount Olympus, the Gods still stood silently, without a word.
The wind rose, clouds surged.
The storm had not yet arrived, but the wheel of fate had already turned unnoticed—the prologue of the Twilight of the Gods had long since begun. When the leader loses the qualities they should possess, a civilization will decline.
The night was as dark as ink, the stars hung low.
Ian transformed into a raven, spreading his wings and flying into the distance. He knew he had already stepped into the Gods' sight, and Zeus would not easily relent in his attention on him. Yet, all he could do now was wait—wait for that King of Gods to fulfill his promise and deliver the remaining two items into his hands.
Before that, he needed a place to stay.
Thus, he chose Thebes.
This city was one of the oldest and most glorious city-states of Ancient Greece, situated on the fertile plains of Central Greece, blessed by the Gods.
It was not only the center of mortal civilization but also a place where extraordinary power and worldly life converged.
The raven landed on the tip of a temple, folded its wings, and quietly overlooked the bustling city. The first ray of morning sunlight spilled, and the streets began to awaken. The sounds of wagon wheels rolling over cobblestone streets, vendors' shouts, the laughter of children, and the hammering of metal in blacksmith shops intertwined.
Forming a vibrant picture.
The streets were filled with the scent of olive oil and roasted meat, the marble-paved roads glistened with a gentle luster under the sunlight. The prosperity here was in stark contrast to the ruins of Rhodes Port—the vendors' cries rose and fell, nobles draped in colorful robes passed slowly in gilded carriages, and the most striking thing of all.
Were the "extraordinary beings" walking among mortals.
Wizards.
There were quite a few hidden wizards in the city. A man clad in a robe glowing with golden light walked past him, his steps steady, each pace seeming to tread on the rhythm of fate. Ian keenly noticed that he was a priest of Hermes, with a faint yet genuine aura of divinity flowing over him.
Not far away, a girl stood by the pool, reaching out to touch the water's surface, where droplets floated in the air, transforming into a blooming lotus flower. Her eyes gleamed with a light that did not belong to mortals.
That was an avatar of Athena.
They hid among mortals, quietly spreading the belief of their existence and service—hm, in simpler, more direct terms, even in ancient times, there were public opinion wars.
The Gods manipulated public opinion to control belief.
Plain and simple.
"Make way! The Holy Water Carriage of the Apollo Divine Hall has come to bestow blessings!"
The crowd suddenly parted, and a glass water carriage, drawn by four pure white heavenly horses, slowly passed by. The priest on the carriage held a golden branch, scattering droplets of water glowing faintly to both sides. An old beggar with a limp hurriedly crawled to the roadside, and when the holy water landed on his leg, the withered muscles remarkably regained fullness with visible speed.
Ian raised an eyebrow, observing everything discreetly. Such "miracles" of this magnitude were not uncommon in Ancient Greece, but their dense occurrence in the marketplace still took him by surprise. It seemed that Zeus indeed devoted effort to maintaining faith—after all, a race accustomed to divine blessings.
Would certainly not think about self-reliance.