"You an to say that a bunch of thugs and lowlifes suddenly changed overnight—woke up one morning calm and peaceful?"
Protheus narrowed his eyes, suspicion flickering in their depths.
"Yes. Though their wicked impulses occasionally resurface, it's as if they're constantly being purified. They've remained in a state of unnaturally low desire. In recent years, conflict and bloodshed among humans have all but vanished."
Samael answered seriously, then paused, frowning as he went on.
"Not only that. The lands we've cultivated have yielded abundant harvests year after year. The settlents we've built have never been attacked by beasts. Hardly anyone dies from illness anymore. Humanity—this frail species—seems to be basking in divine favor."
The prophet's brows knitted tighter, his expression darkening.
"Do you find that normal?"
"Not at all. But I can't find the reason for it, which is why I ca to ask you."
"I believe the gods' gift has already been delivered," Protheus said gravely. "And it likely cos with a steep price. The more blessings you enjoy now, the harsher the backlash will be later."
"Why would that be? The Epitheus couple are under protection, and humanity, under our watch, never accepted any gift from the gods."
The ancient serpent furrowed his brow, scouring his thoughts for a clue to what had gone wrong.
"Perhaps," Protheus murmured, raising his eyes to the storm-heavy sky, "the gods' gift doesn't require humanity's acceptance at all."
Samael's expression grew troubled. "Then that's a problem. We don't even know what it is—or where it's hidden."
He rubbed at his temples, his frown deepening.
Humans stripped of their lust and malice, fertile land, disease dispelled, disasters erased...
Protheus fell silent for a mont, then offered tentatively, "Humanity is a race recognized by the laws of life. Their cities, their labor, their very existence—all unfold upon the earth itself. Perhaps you should seek answers from Gaia, the Mother Earth."
Samael thought for a mont, then nodded.
"Very well. I'll return and rally humanity to make a grand offering to Mother Earth, Gaia."
Though the Earth Mother had long since fallen into a half-slumber, unresponsive even to Athena and dusa's visits, the situation at hand was grave enough to justify the risk.
Buzz... buzz... buzz...
Just as the ancient serpent prepared to act on Protheus's advice, a strange tremor rippled through the air. Pillars of eerie light—so crimson, others black-red—burst skyward from the temple, staining the clouds above.
Black storm clouds surged from every direction. Wails, roars, and whispers rged into a maddening cacophony. The stench of decay, the reek of blood, and the pulse of chaos twisted together, forming coiling, writhing dragons of shadow.
A shrill cry split the wind.
Trouble.
Of all tis... it had to be now!
This cursed fate really knew how to pick its mont.
Samael ground his teeth, eting Protheus's gaze before leaping from the cliffs of Mount Caucasus. Midair, his form expanded, transforming into a black Wyvern as he beat his wings toward the heart of the crimson-black storm—over the Peloponnese Peninsula.
...
As Samael sped across the land, he looked down to see human cities and settlents in chaos.
The once "peaceful" humans, now enveloped in the red-black mist, had bloodshot eyes and veins bulging across their foreheads.
Petty argunts flared into brawls.
Shop goods sparked riots of greed and looting.
Envy, resentnt, and malice filled hearts once pacified by unnatural calm.
Plagues, weakness, rot, and decay erupted and spread at terrifying speed.
It was as if humanity had regressed—rational beings devolving once more into beasts driven by desire. Everywhere Samael looked, scenes of madness and depravity unfolded.
Yet not all was lost. Where darkness spread, light followed.
Barriers of divine radiance flared across the land, encasing cities and settlents, suppressing the corrupted humans within and subduing their rampaging impulses.
Good. Typhon's offspring and their allies had already noticed the disturbance and begun to act, containing the spread of disaster.
Samael exhaled in relief but had no ti to linger. He pushed himself faster, wings slicing the air as he raced toward the core—to end the catastrophe at its source.
Hundreds of crimson serpent-like columns rose from the ground, rging like countless rivers converging above Mycenae into a dark, spiraling vortex.
As more of the red-black miasma gathered, the gaseous filth began to liquefy. At the vortex's twisted center, the condensed sludge of crimson and black ford into a hovering, shapeless cube.
Fortunately, a brilliant golden radiance enveloped the city of Mycenae, shielding it from the tide of corruption.
The tendrils of black fog rising from the ground sizzled and screeched like dying rats beneath the holy light, before dissipating into nothingness.
"Roar!"
The people crowded within the walls of Mycenae slowly cald under dusa's soothing guidance. Awe filled their eyes as they looked upon the two goddesses before them—one walking through the streets radiating healing light, the other standing atop the battlents with the Aegis Shield held high. Cries of relief and exhilaration rose across the city, the sound of survivors rejoicing after catastrophe.
Yet Athena, her divine radiance covering the city-state, felt an inexplicable chill watching the crimson-black cube suspended above her. Its outline was expanding, spreading across the sky. She muttered through clenched teeth.
What in the world is this thing?
Monts later, she caught sight of faint tendrils of black mist pressing against the boundary of her divine aura, trying to slip through. Her expression hardened.
This couldn't continue. The humans already tainted by the black haze were growing unstable—if the stalemate dragged on, disaster was only a matter of ti.
"Whoosh!"
Just as Athena raised her shield, lost in grim thought, an unnatural tremor shook the heavens. The floating crimson-black cube split open at one corner, releasing a torrent of corrupted sludge that poured down to the earth.
The foul substance, reeking of malice and doom, surged like volcanic magma toward the city walls.
From within the mud, countless pale, skeletal hands thrust upward, clawing for the living—straining to drag flesh and souls alike into a pit of filth and curse. Those who glimpsed it froze in terror, their hearts seized by primal dread, before stumbling back in panic.
"Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!"
The red-black torrent smashed against the walls of Mycenae, shaking the city to its core. The divine glow on the Aegis Shield flickered violently as slabs of stone split apart and tumbled from the battlents.
Athena glanced back at the terrified humans huddled behind her. With no way to withdraw, she tightened her grip and braced herself, grim determination burning in her eyes.
But the horror only deepened. The pitch-black cube hanging in the sky began to churn and twist, its depths boiling with strange motion. Slowly, it took on the silhouette of a humanoid form—slender, graceful, disturbingly alive.
That dark substance—part tal, part sludge, part ink—shaped itself into a vast vortex facing Mycenae, like a gate to the underworld yawning open. From it radiated a suffocating wave of dread and despair that clawed at every mortal heart.
The earth began to quake violently. Cracks split open across the ground, each one a gaping chasm of blackness reaching into the abyss. The sky turned blood-red as flaming teors, drawn by so unseen force, streaked downward, their tails blazing like dying stars.
And then—
"Pfft!"
A vast, world-shaking maw tore across the heavens, its shadow blotting out the light. It lunged downward and, in a single, thunderous motion, swallowed the pitch-black cube whole.
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