At the same moment the light masses separated from Baldr's body, in an indescribable dimension of the world of Chaos, Athena stood in a quiet stone chamber, holding the god-slaying scythe with its dark gleam.
Before her stood Prometheus, his eyes red-rimmed.
"You may go now." Athena's voice was calm and unwavering.
Athena gazed at him quietly, her wise eyes seemingly able to see through all disguises.
After a long moment, she said slowly, "...You are not Prometheus, are you?"
Prometheus's body suddenly tensed.
"He would never show this." Athena took a step closer, her eyes sharp.
"Even in the face of utter despair, his eyes would hold only calm calculation and a deep-burning fire. Vulnerability, collapse, self-mockery... These are not things the forethinker Prometheus would ever reveal."
"...No, I'm just a little..." Prometheus tried to defend himself, but his voice grew weaker and weaker.
"Enough pretending." Athena cut him off, her tone weary.
"With your hindsight, you cannot play his complexity. At best, you might deceive an incautious Catia or a simple-minded Eros. Epimetheus?"
The camouflage was completely torn away.
"Prometheus"—Epimetheus, wearing his brother's face—finally surrendered.
Tears welled up again, this time his own sorrow and confusion. "Yes... Is it... so obvious? I failed so completely, I couldn't even play the part well..." He choked on his sobs.
"But, Athena, why? Why did my brother choose this path? Why did he make me pretend to be him, endure Catia's hatred, endure everyone's suspicion? He clearly could have... We could have found a way... together..."
"Why? Why did all of you..." 'Prometheus's' voice cracked with tears, bewildered like a lost child.
"Brother... Why did he do this? Why sacrifice himself? Obviously, an idiot like me... A guy like me who always holds everyone back—I should be the one to be sacrificed!"
Athena was silent for a moment, looking at the god before her who, despite wearing the face of a prophet, still seemed so clumsy and sincere.
She softened her voice. "Do not demean yourself. Prometheus has his own plans, on a scale we may not fully comprehend. For the 'plan' he and the Mother Goddess have devised, there may be no substantial difference between a forethinker and a hindsight. All that was needed was the delivery of this scythe."
She paused, lowering her voice further. "Perhaps he preferred that you live, rather than be sacrificed. To live, bearing his identity, if only for temporary safety."
"Live..." Epimetheus repeated, tears falling to the ground.
"Carrying the accusation of murdering my brother, living with my brother's face... What meaning is there in living like that?"
Athena did not answer the question.
She was already growing a little impatient with the waiting; the plan needed to move forward.
She raised the god-slaying scythe in her hand, the blade pointing towards her own brow.
"Wait!" Epimetheus panicked and tried to stop her. "What are you going to do?!"
"Complete my part." Athena glanced at him, her eyes filled with resolve.
"After this, you are free. Use your brother's face, or return to your own. But remember, everything you have witnessed here today must be buried in your heart forever."
The words fell, and before Epimetheus could say anything more, Athena applied force to her wrist. The dark, curved blade of the god-slaying scythe sliced across her brow and forehead without obstruction, cutting clean through!
Where the scythe passed, Athena's divine body silently 'vanished', like a pencil mark erased by a rubber band.
Her divinity, consciousness, and very essence of being were precisely torn from the shell of the material world by this forbidden weapon, capable of cutting primordial laws.
Epimetheus watched in astonishment as Athena's 'body' collapsed like a sand tower, leaving behind only a complex sphere of light hovering in the air.
Immediately after, the scythe rose automatically, its tip lightly slashing through the air.
Space tore like fabric. Beyond the rift was not darkness, but a boundless expanse of light composed of countless thoughts—the sea of humanity's collective unconscious, Alaya.
The sphere of light fell into the sea of consciousness and vanished.
In the stone chamber, only a stunned Epimetheus remained.
---
In the depths of the sea of consciousness, the concepts of time and space were blurred.
Athena's 'consciousness' was recondensed here, but it was no longer substantial—more like a phantom.
She 'stood' upon a 'wave' of countless human thoughts—thinking, praying, despairing, hoping. Beneath her feet lay the unfathomable foundation of civilisation.
A figure familiar to her was already waiting there.
The real Prometheus.
His form was also insubstantial, a silvery-grey weave of countless flowing threads of foreknowledge and possibility—deeper, more transcendent than in the material world, yet also more inhuman.
"It seems our plan is proceeding well." Prometheus spoke, his voice resonating directly within Athena's consciousness, peaceful and detached.
Athena's phantom 'looked' at him. "Through the cycle of reincarnation, phased integration, the gods will finally merge into the collective spirit of humanity, becoming part of Alaya, unable to directly interfere with the material world any longer, only able to play an indirect role, influencing humanity's collective subconscious... Is this step to be called dangerous, or revolutionary?"
"Whether it is dangerous or not is irrelevant." Prometheus's figure rose and fell slightly with the waves of the sea of consciousness.
"It is a necessary sacrifice to break the deadlock of reincarnation—that 'someone must bear the world'. Essentially, it is drinking poison to quench thirst, shifting the infinite pressure onto humanity. The Father of Gods broke the cycle of reincarnation, but the world still needs to be maintained. Instead of leaving the Father of Gods or some single god to bear it alone... the responsibility for 'maintaining the world' is distributed among all beings with spiritual intelligence, so that the consciousness of all beings together forms a 'buffer layer' and a 'network of meaning' for the world."
"So you, the Mother Goddess, and Lady Nyx are promoting a silent 'retirement of the gods'?" Athena asked.
"To move the gods from the front of the stage to the backstage, from rulers to... 'concepts' or 'archetypes' within the subconscious?"
"That is one way to understand it." Prometheus nodded.
"But it needs a catalyst. The madness of Zeus in the other world, his pursuit of the 'One God', his slaughter of the gods, and the 'return' nature of the Wrath of Earth... All of this is the perfect catalyst. When he slaughters the gods of that world and tries to become the One, he is, in fact, forcibly gathering and purifying all divinity. And when he finally attempts to complete the last step..."
"The 'divine aggregate' of that world will reach a critical point." Athena completed the thought.
"At that time, the 'ritual' prepared by the Mother Goddess and Lady Nyx can use the explosive force of that critical point and the characteristics of the god-slaying scythe to sever the primordial laws, partially strip the concept of 'god' from the fundamental laws of this world, and finally merge it with the sea of human consciousness across multiple worlds. This process will spread like a virus, ultimately reaching all connected worlds, including our Chaos."
"Correct." Prometheus's form drifted slightly closer, his silvery-grey light flowing and gently intertwining with Athena's golden radiance.
"Gods will no longer exist as separate individuals, independent from humanity. Their authority, characteristics, and stories will transform into 'mythological archetypes' within humanity's collective subconscious, continuing to influence the direction of civilisation, but they will no longer be able to directly inflict divine punishment or interfere with the world at will. The maintenance of the world will be shared by the conscious activity of all sentient life. Pain, joy, creation, destruction... all emotions and thoughts will become the 'energy' and 'meaning' that sustain the world's existence."
Athena was silent for a moment, ripples of thought appearing in the sea of consciousness. "It sounds like a 'democratisation' or 'dilution' of the gods. But the price is that the gods lose their freedom. For those like me who choose to integrate actively, it's fine, but what about those consciousnesses that are forcibly stripped and integrated? Will they be willing?"
"That is why we need the 'god-slaying scythe', the effect of 'return to the source', and precise guidance." Prometheus said calmly.
"This is an irreversible process. Once it begins, it is like an avalanche. As for whether they are willing to accept it or not... in the face of the survival of the whole, the will of the individual must sometimes be set aside. Moreover, integration into Alaya is not destruction, but another form of 'being'. When the plan matures and the system stabilises, a consciousness that has accumulated enough strength can still choose another path—for example, maintaining a relatively independent state of observation and guidance, like me; or stripping away part of its consciousness and being reborn into the material world, as you may be able to try later, to experience, learn, and grow as a mortal. Even... if one's power is strong enough, one's consciousness robust enough, it is not impossible to leave this world with memories and some abilities to explore the void."
Athena's phantom light flickered. "'May be able to try later'? It seems the Mother Goddess has already planned everything for me?"
"Lady Metis foresaw many possibilities." A faint smile coloured Prometheus's voice.
"She knows you, Athena. You are not a god content with the status quo; exploration and growth are your instincts. This new system may offer you unprecedented freedom—if you adapt to this non-physical form of existence, learn to swim and gather strength in the ocean of consciousness."
"It sounds... not bad," Athena admitted.
"So what will become of the Father of Gods when the plan is complete? Will he accept this 'divine retirement'? Or... will he become an exception?"
For the first time, Prometheus's figure showed a distinct hesitation.
The silvery-grey light stream swirled slowly, as if he were weighing his words.
"...I don't know," he finally answered honestly.
"Lady Metis only informs me of the plan up to the necessary part. She has said nothing about the Father of Gods' ultimate role or destination. Perhaps even she could not fully foresee his choice. He is the primary variable and the cornerstone of this plan."
Athena's wisdom dimmed slightly. "I thought you were a rebel who dared to defy everything, including the patriarchal order. Unexpectedly, in the end, you are still executing the great 'elder's' plan of the Mother Goddess."
"Not out of obedience." Prometheus corrected her, his voice firm.
"For the good of the 'whole', for a more sustainable future where fewer are forced into sacrifice. If my 'rebellion' must be carried out in another form of 'obedience', then so be it. Moreover..." He paused, and in his silvery-grey form appeared a hint of the warmth characteristic of 'Prometheus': "This plan itself contains the most complete 'rebellion' against the old order. It will overturn the relationship between gods and men that has persisted for hundreds of millions of years. Is this not what I have always striven for? To allow humanity to escape the absolute dominion of the gods, to let their collective will become the dominant force of civilisation? Only this time, I have used a more indirect and meticulous approach."
Athena's phantom was silent, as if digesting the vast amount of information, and seemingly re-evaluating her half-brother.