Time returns to one day earlier, when the slaughter by 'Zeus' had not yet spread, and Jason had only just been martyred.
Alexander led his company of heroes through the devastated mountains and forests, finally reaching the foot of Mount Olympus.
The sacred mountain, once hallowed and shrouded in clouds and mist, now resembled ruins ravaged by a giant beast—filled with shattered temples, scorched earth, and the rich scent of divine ichor and destructive aura permeating the air.
"What... happened here?" Theseus gripped his long sword, his voice dry.
Even heroes who had survived countless battles were shocked by the tragic scene before them.
They encountered no resistance, not even a living creature.
Only dead silence and the faint moan of the wind.
The company moved silently towards the peak.
Heracles was in the lead, his instincts guiding him towards a place where a faint light still flickered—the Temple of Hestia's Eternal Flame, now half in ruins.
The sacred flame still burned, but its fire was dim, and within the dancing flames, an indescribable dark crimson tint seemed to linger.
On the ground before the brazier lay a body, nearly cremated, but a vaguely human form remained, preserved in a posture leaning forward.
Heracles's steps halted.
His towering frame trembled slightly. Though the body was unrecognizable, the familiar aura lingering on the remains still seared his nerves.
"Jason..." he roared hoarsely, dropping to one knee beside the remains, his fist slamming into the ground, shattering it into a deep crater.
This steel-willed demigod hero, his eyes instantly reddened.
Alexander stepped forward, silently gazing at Jason's remains, then at the sacred flame that seemed to have absorbed the last life and will of his comrade.
He bowed slowly and solemnly, offering the military salute due to a warrior.
Whatever the reasons for Jason's final choice, he had died in divine fire with a mortal body—that resolve and courage deserved respect.
Odysseus, Theseus, and the other heroes also bowed silently, one after another, expressing their condolences and respect.
Even Eros, who was always bouncing around, suppressed her smile at this moment, wearing a sad expression, and let out a quiet sigh.
The entire company was shrouded in a heavy, oppressive atmosphere.
Only Hermes seemed out of place in this somber mood.
He had wandered alone to a relatively intact corner of the temple, his back to everyone, as if listening to some invisible message, his fingers unconsciously tapping lightly on a dusty stone pillar.
After a while, Thalia rubbed her temples. Her authority as the new goddess of emotions made her extremely sensitive to the emotional residue of her surroundings.
At this moment, the resentment, despair, and the lonely will of Olympus, crystallized in the sacred flame, made her feel drowsy and uncomfortable.
She looked at Hermes, brooding in the corner, and approached him. "Hermes, you've been acting strange ever since we got here. Do you have any idea what happened here?"
She had always felt this god of trickery knew something.
Hermes didn't turn immediately, still maintaining his thoughtful pose. His fingers stopped tapping.
Thalia waited a bit, growing impatient, and nudged him with her elbow. "Hey! What's the matter? Cat got your tongue? Did sister Hecate cast some weird spell on you again? Or... is all of this connected to you?"
"Don't interrupt me," Hermes finally spoke, his voice carrying a strange, elusive quality.
"I'm thinking."
"What could you possibly be thinking about?" Thalia pouted.
"Besides fun, pranks, and learning how to trick people, you think about serious things?"
"No..." Hermes slowly turned, his eyes seeming to ignite in the shadow beneath his hat's brim.
"I get it... It all makes sense now."
"Huh?" Thalia looked bewildered. "What makes sense? What kind of stupid riddle are you playing?"
Hermes ignored her questions.
He walked directly over to Alexander and the heroes, who were still immersed in mourning.
He approached Alexander, reached out, and patted the young king on the shoulder. His movement was casual, but carried an almost provocative confidence:
"Nice act."
The atmosphere froze instantly.
Heracles abruptly lifted his head, his eyes still red-rimmed, staring at Hermes in confusion.
Odysseus's eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing. Theseus and the other heroes also looked on in astonishment.
Alexander's body tensed for a moment, then he turned his head, his face full of sorrow and weariness. "Hermes, what are you talking about? I don't understand you."
"Tsk," Hermes clicked his tongue, folded his arms, and leisurely looked him over.
"Everyone here—no need to pretend anymore, right? The Olympian gods are nearly all dead. Your 'other self' has gone mad. There are no outsiders here. Wouldn't it be nice to just be honest?"
Alexander's brow furrowed deeper, his voice dropping. "I don't know what you mean. If the death of Jason and the tragedy before you has moved you, I understand. But this is no time for jokes."
"Fine, fine. Looks like you're forcing me to spell it all out." Hermes shrugged and raised his voice, as if addressing all the heroes.
"Well then, heroes, and the two 'not-so-bright' goddesses, please consider this..."
Hermes was interrupted by Odysseus before he could finish.
"It doesn't matter. A king is a king. Whether he has another identity or not, he will always be my king." Odysseus folded his arms across his chest and closed his eyes.
Theseus nodded in agreement.
Heracles hesitated for a moment, then also nodded.
The other heroes followed suit.
Hermes curled his lip. "How boring. Fine, I'll just explain it to Eros, the little fool."
Eros, who had been innocently observing, protested, "Hey! Who are you calling a fool?!"
Hermes completely ignored her.
"First point: Alexander is Zeus."
Apart from Odysseus, the other heroes were somewhat surprised.
Heracles straightened up, his gaze darting suspiciously between Alexander and Hermes.
Alexander's expression flickered, but he forced himself to stay calm. "Preposterous! Hermes, your accusations are baseless!"
"Baseless?" Hermes smiled and raised one finger.
"First, you can control thunder and lightning. This is a power possessed by Zeus, stemming from the authority of the sky. It cannot be awakened by mere lineage from Zeus. Heracles is also a son of Zeus, and extremely powerful, but can he use thunder and lightning? No. He cannot."
Heracles was silent. It was true.
"Second," Hermes raised a second finger.
"Bulls and eagles react to you exceptionally well. All along our journey, these two types of animals have shown unusual reverence and tameness specifically towards you. Again, Heracles's power is no less than yours. Does he get this treatment? No."
The heroes recalled details of the journey; it was a bit strange.
Alexander said coldly, "This could simply mean I have a stronger bloodline from the King of Gods, or that I am better at communicating with animals. Whether it's the aura of a powerful being or a special charm—it's all just conjecture on your part."
"Conjecture?" Hermes shook his head, raised a third finger, his eyes sharpening.
"Third, and most importantly: I just received news from the Mother Goddess. When we first arrived in this world, the Zeus of our world already had a fairly clear understanding of the gods of this world, especially this world's 'Zeus'!"
He stepped forward, looking directly into Alexander's eyes. "Let me ask you—even my father, Lord Hades, found it extremely difficult to stably transmit detailed information between two completely isolated worlds. How could Zeus have so quickly locked onto his target and understood the enemy's situation when we were just getting our footing? Unless—"
He spoke deliberately, word by word: "Unless you were the source of the information. You yourself are Zeus, hiding among us, and the so-called 'Alexander' is merely the perfect disguise!"