"The thod of transforming from a present-world god to a god of faith, losing its physical form but achieving eternal spiritual immortality..." Athena looked at the thod provided by the Great Sage.
To beco a god of faith, to survive the Ragnarok.
"So everyone, do you wish to beco eternally immortal gods of faith, or choose to perish in the Ragnarok in your current form?" Athena gazed at the gods and said,
"Feel free to test the sharpness of my sword. I’ve said my piece, who agrees, and who opposes?"
That sa day, Olympus began a great reshuffle, seeming both like a divine war and the Ragnarok.
...
August 25, 1208 BC, Zeus, King of Gods, was confird dead.
That day, countless people saw a teor flying backward, shredding the false sky, reaching the world’s end.
On that day, the plagues, wars, famine, and death scattered across Greece vanished, and the survivors knelt on the ground, grateful for the gods’ rcy.
That day, the gods disappeared from human sight, with no fourth King of Gods appearing. It was said the gods, under duress, all transford into faith, scattered across the world, marking the end of the Divine Era.
So said the heroes of the Celestial Thunder killed Zeus but also died far from ho.
Others said internal strife among the gods led to their disappearance.
Rumors abounded, but life went on as usual.
People, unaware of these events, erected statues of the gods, but henceforth, there were no more miracles or divine punishnts.
The world returned to its course.
On Alypotripa Island, at the entrance to the Netherworld.
Achilles painstakingly left the rock face, his gray eyes surveying the surroundings.
No bodies, no wreckage of the Celestial Thunder, just desolation.
He trudged toward the cave entrance, the blow from Zeus had not killed him, due to his undying body, but even so, he staggered like a living corpse.
"Achilles..." A familiar voice rang in his ears.
Achilles’s eyes instantly regained vigor, he looked toward the voice. It was Odysseus in the Nether River, the hero fad for his wisdom, at the mont soaking in the Nether River, holding a wooden box.
"Odysseus! You’re all right, you’re still alive! Thank goodness! Thank goodness!" He wept, crawling and rolling to reach his friend.
"Where are the others? Is anyone else alive?" His joy and tears mixed with the mud, stumbling, seemingly wanting good news from his friend’s mouth, the news that Xediles and Hector were still alive...
"Do not approach, Achilles." Odysseus’s voice ca, Achilles stopped abruptly, stunned in place.
"Everyone is dead, including Odysseus. The one here is rely the remnant soul nad ’Odysseus.’" He spoke, pushing the wooden box to the shore, next to Achilles.
"This is our last testant, Achilles. Take our testant, carry our souls ho..." Odysseus started to sink slowly into the Nether River,
"This is the last story of Ancient Greece and the last epic..."
Achilles was dumbfounded, looking at the wooden box filled with their testants, gazing lifelessly at the Nether River.
The remnant souls in the Nether River continued to emit reluctant voices, but he heard nothing now, holding the box like a rusty clockwork, chanically moving forward.
Before the dawn broke, so chose to ignite themselves, beside the flickering light, there was no applause, no weeping.
Only those solitary souls subrged beneath the Nether River remained.
"Hey, kid! You’re still alive!" Suddenly, a woman’s voice interrupted Achilles.
The transford witch Calypso hurried from Olympus to this place, tears involuntarily streaming down her face as she looked at the surviving Achilles.
Yes, Achilles was still alive, other heroes should be alive too! Especially Xediles, my Xediles, he must be alive! Surely!
She so hoped, and so yearned.
"I said, how could a noble hero like Xediles possibly be dead." She seed to convince herself that her hero was still alive, arrogantly addressing young Achilles.
And Achilles silently reached into the wooden box, took out a testant with Xediles’s na, stepped forward, and placed the testant in her hand.
"Xediles is dead, everyone is dead, only I am alive..." Achilles, like a puppet, voiced these words, "This is his last testant, Xediles had no family, so I entrust it to you."
"Huh?" Calypso was stunned, holding the roll of papyrus.
Even as Achilles left, she did not notice, standing dazed, looking at Xue Ding’s last testant in her hands, for so reason, tears uncontrollably flowed, wetting the papyrus.
She kept wiping away tears, but they flowed like an uncontainable river.
Until she opened the papyrus, she saw Xue Ding’s last words.
[From myself onward, future generations need not look up to the gods]
"Drip..."
A tear fell on the papyrus, Calypso hurriedly moved it aside, standing there dully, at a loss.
Feeling as if all strength had left her, she lost everything once again.
At this mont, a white owl arrived, narrating calmly: "If you are willing to wait, in 3200 years, in the distant east, you will find a similar flower."
"A, similar flower?" She murmured, looking toward the distant east.
...
Thus the story cos to an end.
The Celestial Thunder had 32 heroes, 31 of whom perished, the sole survivor, Achilles.
He carried the last souls of his friends, traversing all of Greece on his own two feet, leading his friends’ souls back ho.
This was his personal eternal martyrdom and the last heroic tale of Ancient Greece.
Centuries later, the Greeks still felt puzzled by the disappearance of the Divine Era, with varying legends across the land.
Until a minstrel nad Hor found several testants of the 32 heroes of the Celestial Thunder, gradually restoring the truth of those years.
For the rest of his life, this minstrel nad Hor traveled across Greece, ultimately collecting 24 testants of the Celestial Thunder’s heroes.
From the information within these testants, he completely reproduced the plan and deeds of killing Zeus from that year.
From the Golden Apple incident to the death of Zeus, the minstrel Hor dedicated his life to recording them and singing them throughout the world.
At the sa ti, he confird from other collected materials that one hero survived and returned all the testants to the heroes’ hotown, leading their souls back to their holand in the epic.
The minstrel spent his whole life pursuing the restoration of the story of that year.
This story was nad "Hor’s Epic."
The subsequent story of the 32 heroes returning ho was nad "The Odyssey"...
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