"Themis" tried to bind 'Zeus' with the web of law and order, but her scales rusted and crumbled the moment they touched the Wrath of Earth. Her spirit of law was pale and powerless before the force of 'return to the source'. As she was torn apart, she left a final curse: "Mad King!"
'Zeus' merely indifferently absorbed her divinity, savoring the cold texture of 'absolute justice' within her.
The goddess of hearth and family, Hestia, guarded her eternal flame, trying to purify the dark crimson blade with the purest fire, but the flame seemed to be smothered by earth the instant it touched the blade. 'Zeus' struck her from behind. Before 'Hestia' fell, she looked once more at her brother, her eyes filled with incredulous despair and profound sorrow: "Regrettable..."
The temple of the harvest goddess 'Demeter' was tainted by Gaia's power; vines and roots danced wildly in resistance. But the Wrath of Earth in 'Zeus's' hands, in this sense, shared the same origin as Gaia, and was even more 'authoritative'. Where the blade passed, roots withered, vines turned to flying ash. She looked at the blade plunged into her chest, at her unrecognizable brother. In her eyes was not hatred, only deep weariness: "Finally... you still..." Her divinity transformed into a vibrant green light of life, absorbed by Zeus. Around Mount Olympus, the once golden wheat fields withered and blackened at a visible speed, and the earth let out a silent howl.
The huntress goddess 'Artemis' set traps in the forest; the moon god's arrows rained down, but they could not stop the King of Gods' steps. The forge god 'Hephaestus' detonated all his divine workshops; the exploding flames and shrapnel created a desperate situation, but only slightly delayed 'Zeus's' advance. Even 'Athena' and 'Ares', who had just returned to Olympus and attempted to fight together, only held him for a moment. Brothers and sisters united, but it only allowed 'Zeus' to swing his blade a few more times.
"A good fight." 'Zeus' absorbed the wisdom and authority of 'Athena' and the warlike divinity of 'Ares', feeling his own thinking sharpen and his battle spirit surge, as if tasting a delicious meal. "But futile nonetheless."
When the sun god 'Apollo' drove his burning chariot, dragging his heavily damaged body in a final attack, he was cut down, blade and chariot together, transforming into a rain of light and being absorbed. Olympus's resistance had completely collapsed.
The remaining gods, nymphs, and demigods began to scatter and flee, but 'Zeus's' divine thoughts enveloped the entire sacred mountain.
Like a reaper harvesting wheat, he methodically pursued every being with a divine spark, seeking peace. Each time the dark crimson light of the blade flashed, a god or descendant of a god silently vanished, transforming into nourishment for 'Zeus's' growth.
Blood and fire stained every step of Olympus, every temple.
Wails, prayers, curses, desperate cries... In the end, all was silent.
Only 'Zeus' trod upon countless divine ashes, step by step, towards the peak. The ever more majestic, ever more chaotic, ever more terrifying divine power within him grew, drawing closer and closer to a certain terrifying 'singularity'.
When he stood in the center of the nearly ruined temples, with broken idols and dried divine blood at his feet, and behind him, the silent, dead sacred mountain, the dark crimson light of the Wrath of Earth in his hands nearly condensed into substance, and the sun, moon, and stars in the sky began to dim due to the fall of the gods, he let out a wild laugh that shook heaven and earth.
"Do you see?! This is the supreme moment! This is the only way!"
He looked down at the magical blade in his hand, which hummed and seemed to resonate with him. "This is not even close... It still lacks the most important 'Earth'. Gaia, my grandmother, it is time for you to return."
He took a step and began his descent.
The target—deep within the earth, the slumbering core of Gaia.
---
Behind him, amidst the charred ruins of Mount Olympus, a faint movement was heard.
Jason used his last strength to push away the stone fragments pressing down on his body.
The lightning that had pierced his chest was gone, leaving behind a horrifying, blackened cavity with golden arcs at the edges, from which his life force was rapidly draining.
He was sustained by a stubborn will.
He had witnessed the entire massacre.
From initial fear and trembling, to subsequent numbness, and now, an absurd calm rising in his heart.
Alaya Noah's plan? Gaia's calculations? Zeus's ambition? The future of humanity?
All these grand narratives seemed so distant and unreal against the hellish scene before him.
He was just a mortal, a pawn drawn into a divine war, used and finally discarded.
But even a pawn should have its own trajectory when it falls at the end.
He looked towards the mountain peak, where the Eternal Flame still burned.
Now, the flame was still there, dancing alone in the ruins, as if indifferent to the tragedy around it.
It was Hestia's flame, symbolizing the warmth and sanctity of the hearth and home.
Now that the home was shattered, the gods were dead, this flame... what meaning did it still hold?
In Jason's fading consciousness, a thought arose, clear and stubborn:
The madman would not get everything. Even if he couldn't be stopped, he must leave a mark.
A small... trace, belonging to 'humanity'.
He began to crawl.
With broken hands, he dragged his mortally wounded, dying body, slowly ascending the mountain path littered with gravel and divine ichor.
Every movement brought excruciating pain. The hollow in his chest bled freely, leaving a shocking trail of blood behind him.
His vision blurred and cleared, cleared and blurred. In his ears, he heard only his own labored breathing and his heartbeat, thick as a drum—but the beating grew fainter and fainter.
Yet he did not stop.
Images flashed through his mind: the heroic longing of his childhood, the elation of becoming the leader of the Argonauts, the times fighting side-by-side with Heracles and the other companions... Finally, the trust on Heracles's sleeping face, frozen in time.
Forgive me, old friend. This time, I am truly leaving.
He did not know how long he crawled; the concept of time had vanished.
When he finally touched the warm edge of the brazier, he could barely feel his body anymore.
The warm light of the flame reflected his bloodied, paper-white face.
He looked up, gazing into the depths of the flame.
It seemed the last vestige of the goddess Hestia looked back at him with compassion.
Jason used his final strength to pull his expression into something that was not quite a smile.
Then, he closed his eyes and leaned forward—
Plunging his broken body, along with the meager life and will remaining within him, into the eternally burning flame.
The expected intense pain did not come immediately.
Instead, in the moment of contact with the flame, he was enveloped by a strange warmth, as if returning to his mother's womb.
Immediately after came the searing pain of the flame licking, consuming his flesh and bone.
But the pain quickly receded into the distance.
His consciousness floated, rising within the light of the fire, watching his body burn, carbonize, and finally turn into a small handful of ash within the flame, seeming to merge perfectly with the fire itself.
The once pure flame was tinged with an extremely faint dark crimson hue, belonging to a 'mortal'.
It burned silently, finally turning into a wisp of light smoke, carrying the scent of burnt offering, drifting in the cold wind of Olympus.
---
Far below, 'Zeus', who had already stepped onto the earth, seemed to sense something. He glanced askance at the flickering flame atop Olympus, then snorted dismissively and continued his march towards the depths of the earth.
The dying struggle of an ant meant nothing.
The sun had, at some point, completely vanished.
The moon, too, had lost its light.
The world was plunged into darkness, and only the dark crimson light of the Wrath of Earth in 'Zeus's' hand shone like a beacon in hell, pointing the way towards destruction.