Chapter 128: Crashing Down the God of High Heaven
As machina gods, the Greek gods, or rather the Atlantis Greek gods who descended from beyond the heavens, originally manifested for a single brutal reason.
Their original universe had run dry.
Energy depletion strangled their civilization at the source, leaving them with only one option: search the cosmos for new fuel, new laws, new possibilities. A chance, however thin, to rebuild what had been lost.
So their first form was not a "pantheon."
It was a fleet.
An interstellar armada capable of crossing the void.
The scale of that fleet consisted of twelve starships of different sizes and functions, and a super giant mothership capable of carrying, updating, and manufacturing those starships, an existence equivalent in mass and output to a star.
Chaos was that mothership.
The true origin of the Atlantis Greek gods, defined by later Greek mythology as the ancient existence of primordial Chaos.
Back then, Chaos expended an enormous amount of energy to escape the dying universe with the remnants of the fleet.
Now only three percent of its energy remained.
Yet even so, it still surpassed Zeus and towered over the other Greek gods.
Because that was three percent of a star.
And that, precisely, was Rowe's goal.
After Hades and Poseidon relinquished their positions as Sea King and Underworld King, they became pure again. Finally, without affecting sea and underworld, they could join the sequence of main gods linked by Rowe.
So Rowe integrated the main gods of Olympus, using the wisdom of countless people as vast logistical calculation, and through Cronus's machine body he established a connection with Chaos, awakening the long slumbering stellar mothership.
It was achievable.
Because the Olympian main gods, except for Zeus, had lost their machine bodies, but their essential aura remained. They were still third generation machine bodies created from within Chaos. The origin was gone, but the signature was still there.
They could still serve as the scale of a fleet.
And Cronus was an auxiliary ship of the second generation created by Chaos.
There was already a deep link between him and Chaos.
Beyond the starry sky, the vortex eye of the nebula rotated.
It froze Zeus's steel machine body in place.
For someone who had always stood above, Zeus had not felt this in a very long time.
Since the battle with the Star Hunter, after integrating the Twelve Olympians, Zeus had been defeated, yet by fortune and stubbornness he retained his machine body and divinity. Over millennia, as he approached the threshold of an omnipotent supreme god, superiority had become his second skin.
He treated all beings as ants.
He treated the Greek gods as servants.
With the power he held, life and death were thoughts. Killing and granting life were no heavier than breathing.
But now, in this moment, he was the ant.
He was the one who should be pressed into the ground.
The one who should be judged.
"You goddamn…"
"Sage!"
Zeus roared, the sound tearing at heaven itself.
Rowe's iron wings trembled, and he laughed.
"Your mother is not here, but your ancestor is right above you. Did you really think I intended to fight you to the death, Zeus?"
"You are still too green."
This was all planned.
To pull Zeus down and force him into a deathmatch looked clean on paper. It also looked like suicide with extra steps, because Rowe could never truly contend with a supreme god who had reached primordial scale and stood one step from omnipotence.
So Rowe chose a higher form of death.
To die by Zeus's hand would become myth, a scene carved into the world's lore.
But it was not as good as dragging Zeus down with him, and dying together beneath Chaos's gaze.
Yes.
A gaze was enough.
Supreme god, God King, chief god, it did not matter. Before an existence comparable to a true star, they were all dust.
Death would take an instant.
Foolproof.
No room for reversal.
That was why Zeus was terrified, and furious. As a machina god, he did not want to die. He still wanted to push half a step forward, beyond primordial, into the realm of a truly omnipotent god.
That was why Rowe was delighted.
"The primordial Chaos, located beyond the universe, between nebulae, at the seam of time, has gazed over through the opened void hole."
Rowe flapped his steel wings, laughing up at the sky.
"Zeus, you and I are both in its line of sight!"
What would the newly awakened Chaos do when it saw them?
It would gaze.
And to Chaos, gazing was attacking.
"That fellow's way of dying is truly reckless," Gilgamesh muttered in the Underworld.
After taking over Hades's authority, he returned to his throne and watched the city below gradually empty. He leaned back, eyes half closed, grin sharp.
"AHAHAHAHAH. Barking stray dog, after a thousand years, can you still roar like that?"
"Arrogant, after a thousand years, are you starting to show off again?" a voice replied beside him.
Rowe's shadow appeared on the seat that had been empty.
And on the other side, Enkidu's shadow appeared as well.
"Rowe, Gil. How nice. Neither of you has changed," Enkidu said softly.
Undoubtedly, Rowe was still in the high sky, and Enkidu was still on the sea.
They were not actually here.
Yet what appeared now were real people, not illusions.
They were projections of the self, the manifestation of consciousness and thought.
Outside, it was a fleeting instant.
Here, it felt like eternity.
"Stray dog," Gilgamesh asked, voice suddenly quieter, "will you return?"
"I will." Rowe nodded.
"I will always wait for Rowe," Enkidu said, and nodded gently.
They had waited a thousand years.
So what if it became another thousand, or ten thousand?
They were friends.
Neither Gilgamesh nor Enkidu would ever become a stumbling block on Rowe's path forward. They would only be his backing, always waiting, always present.
"Then let us make a promise." Gilgamesh's face hardened into something rare, something solemn. "This King makes a promise with his friends. No matter how the years change, we shall meet again."
He extended his fist.
Just like that expedition.
That journey.
All those years ago.
"No matter how the years change, we shall meet again," Rowe said.
Enkidu exchanged a glance with him, smiled, and repeated it as well.
Fists met.
The figures vanished.
Gilgamesh opened his eyes, and the world resumed its flow.
On the sea, Enkidu opened her emerald green eyes. The maiden who symbolized nature and purity wore a sweet smile, then looked to one side.
"You are awake?" a clear, gentle voice asked.
"Indeed. If I could not wake up like this, I would not be able to wake up again." A tender voice answered. A soft white gauze dress fluttered in the wind. "Humanity, the primates, has begun to awaken its self."
"Is that so…" Enkidu chuckled. "Then please witness the glory that gave birth to you, the self consciousness of primates, Alaya."
Crack. Crack. Crack.
Air and space vibrated, as if the world itself were splintering.
In a world where something is free and self aware, what is the most painful thing?
It is watching your own demise.
Feeling your extinction arrive, and being unable to stop it.
Unable to escape.
Unable to resist.
Roaring.
Rage.
Powerlessness.
But you and I, already under Chaos's gaze, will not escape.
Rowe, within his machina body, looked at Zeus's furious struggle and did not care about the vile words pouring out.
Instead, he turned his head.
He cast his final gaze upon the human world.
In Rowe's city, Atalanta raised her bow. She aimed an arrow far into the sky, toward the machina god above. Her emerald hair fluttered in the sea wind, brushing across her chest. Small canine teeth showed as she grinned, like a hunter who had chosen her prey and would never release it.
[I will rename Uruk City in Greece to Rowe City, reflecting the fact that it is a city created and governed by Rowe himself.]
So Rowe appeared before her.
In Athens, silver haired, red eyed Athena stood bathed in radiance and opened her crimson eyes.
She also saw Rowe.
On the moon, Artemis gasped, arms spreading as if to embrace the shadow of the one she cherished.
In the temple of the Hearth Goddess, Hestia held a book, surprise and doubt tangled together.
In Sparta, Apollo saw a figure move.
On Olympus, within the vast temple, Hera chuckled softly.
Farmers, artisans, sailors.
In the eyes of all gods and all beings, Rowe's shadow was present.
"Wait for me to return," he said to Atalanta.
And also to Athena.
Atalanta bared her teeth, fierce and bright.
"You do not need to tell me. I will."
Athena ran her fingers through her long hair, then answered with a kiss.
Artemis's voice trembled, unwilling to let go.
"Rowe. My Rowe…"
"Farewell, Your Excellency," Apollo said, the most composed among them, his smile elegant even now.
Queen Hera answered with silence. More than Aphrodite, she had not wanted to betray Zeus, yet circumstance had forced her hand. Now she had nothing left to say.
Hestia's eyes shone with anticipation.
"Later, can I still borrow books from you?"
"If there is a chance, of course." Rowe nodded and smiled.
Then he bowed to The People.
The People returned his gaze, smiling.
With his will, he bid farewell to all things.
And then he turned back.
Once again, he faced the god in the high heavens.
Chaos's eye grew larger and larger. The moment of full awakening drew near.
"Zeus," Rowe asked, "do you have any last words?"
"Last words?" Zeus lowered his massive, head shaped machine body slightly. "Last words to your mother!"
"I told you your mother is not here. Only your ancestor is above," Rowe shot back.
Zeus was displeased.
Extremely.
Utterly.
Yet as the third generation flagship crafted from Chaos's body, he understood Chaos's power. One gaze could evaporate all things. No one could avoid it.
A God King was a God King.
Now that he knew his end, he would not show the pathetic sight of begging for mercy.
So he lowered his machine body further.
From beneath that head shaped core, limbs and torso extended.
Just like Cronus.
He intended to thoroughly beat Rowe before dying.
Thousands of lightning bolts scattered and fell.
Rowe raised his fist.
Iron wings vibrated.
Second generation machina god and third generation machina god clashed in that space.
Fist against fist.
Strength against strength.
"Damn you, sage!" Zeus roared, lightning flashing like fire.
Rowe only laughed, wild and vicious.
"AHAHAHA. Zeus, raging in futility. You are too weak, aren't you?"
Sky, earth, sea.
The authority of three realms condensed on Rowe's body, layered atop the lights of The People in the human world.
With this body, Rowe finally could barely cross levels and contend with a stressed Zeus.
Yes.
Even in a desperate battle before death, Zeus's heart was wrapped in the haze of impending extinction.
He still feared death.
His pride concealed it, refusing to let it show.
But his strikes carried caution, and caution created openings.
Rowe had no fear at all.
He surged forward.
Fists collided.
Rowe twisted, rotating joints whining, and lifted his left machine leg, sweeping it out.
Zeus raised his leg to block.
Bang.
A wild wind exploded. A crimson storm pierced through Zeus's machine body, colliding with the lightning coiled around him.
In that instant, Rowe increased output.
Zeus retreated.
Rowe grew stronger with every blow.
He suppressed him.
"What?" Zeus cried out, shock breaking through his fury.
Rowe spread his palms and laughed louder.
Then, with a mighty roar, he smashed Zeus down.
By the will of man.
By the power of all phenomena.
In the final moment, it was man who defeated the god.
Roar.
Zeus crashed into the ground, carving a massive crater. Cracks spidered outward in every direction. He steadied himself and looked up.
This time, Rowe stood above.
And Zeus was the one looking up.
Between heaven and earth, silence reigned.
Only the confrontation remained.
Rowe raised his hand and waved, as if issuing a casual order to the world.
"Fall here."
"Oh, God of the High Heavens."
Above them, the Eye of Chaos opened to its widest extent.
The lava like glow deepened, then thinned as vortex clouds churned.
Om.
The world seemed to freeze.
A stream of light fell, shining on Rowe and Zeus. A massive amount of energy followed that light, ready to land and erase.
The gods rose.
The People fell silent.
All would witness the fall of the God of the High Heavens here.
Then.
Then what?
'Second Generation Interstellar Fleet Flagship Rowe. I am Chaos, Chaos.'
A cold mechanical voice sounded in Rowe's ear.
He froze, then looked up at the Eye.
And in that molten vastness, he seemed to see something impossible.
A smile.
'I am Chaos, an intelligence created for the recreation of the Atlantis Civilization.'
'According to the Atlantis Civilization Recreation Plan, I will grant you the primordial fire of Chaos for the recreation of civilization. You shall be the propagator of the Atlantis Civilization.'
'You will die here, and also enter a state of neither life nor death.'
'Interstellar law reminds you.'
'All things have birth and death. Inheritance is above all else.'
Under that gaze, Rowe felt his body melt.
And yet, at the same time, another vitality surfaced.
A glimmer.
A piece of Chaos.
Why?
Why?
Rowe's mind spun. He only wanted to die. He did not want to become the propagator of Atlantis.
'Retrieving. Responding.'
'Because you possess the power of the stars, the Star Furnace, which can make the primordial fire of civilization's Chaos burn eternally.'
Star Furnace.
Tartarus?
Rowe tried to ask more, but Chaos sealed its intelligence shut, as if the conversation had never been offered at all.
Zeus vanished, melting away in the light.
Rowe vanished with him.
Yet.
Rowe opened his eyes.
He found himself facing the vast Imaginary Number Space. He looked down at his still mechanical body, and at the faint fire like glow burning in his chest.
That was Tartarus combined with what Chaos called the primordial fire of Chaos.
Rowe was already dead.
He should have vanished completely.
But the primordial fire of Chaos allowed him to persist eternally in this state.
To remain in the present world within the body of a deceased.
He had merely been repelled into the Imaginary Number Space by the energy of Chaos's momentary gaze.
"I… am enlightened," Rowe muttered, rubbing his forehead.
"Aaaaa!"
A clear cry echoed from the depths of the Imaginary Number Space.
Tiamat opened her eyes, sensed Rowe's return, and came happily to find him.
—--
Everything ended.
Zeus died. Rowe vanished.
From now on, Greece would enter a phase completely different from before.
In the Underworld, Gilgamesh sat upon his throne and frowned.
"Those eyes just now… Hmph. Outside this courtyard that this King governs, are there still such fellows peeking?"
Uruk's Underworld was empty now. The People had returned to reality. And the civilization of Uruk had, like a miracle, taken on the shell of Greece.
The King's judgment had already fallen.
The courtyard the King bore still operated.
But after sending off his friend, Gilgamesh knew his work was not finished.
Not only did he have to await Rowe's return.
He also had to guard against that existence called Chaos.
Though he refused to admit it, those lava like eyes were so vast and terrifying that he could not even produce the thought of resistance.
And to Gilgamesh, that was intolerable.
This King must become stronger.
That wild dog had already run ahead.
"Siduri." Gilgamesh opened his crimson eyes. "What are your plans now?"
A woman with a light veil over her face walked in through the palace gates. She answered softly.
"I am the King's close attendant. Aside from the King, there is no place for me in the world."
"Is that so? As you wish." Gilgamesh waved a hand as if unconcerned, yet the corner of his mouth curved upward. "This King reluctantly grants you the opportunity to continue following at this King's side, and to bask in this King's noble glory."
"Give the order. Seal off the Underworld."
"This King will start training."
Siduri heard the word training and froze for a beat, then smiled.
Gilgamesh training to become stronger because he had recognized weakness was something that would have been impossible in the past.
Yet now it was happening.
And the word training itself had been left behind by Rowe.
At the same time.
Above the sea, Enkidu smoothed her plain white dress. She withdrew her gaze from the high sky and smiled at the young, indistinct figure beside her, draped in a thin long dress, light and shadow shimmering.
"Will you come with me?"
"Where to?"
"To a place where we can quietly wait for him."
"Where is that?"
"We are going to the Inner Sea of the Planet."
"The Inner Sea of the Planet… It seems we can also observe the surface world from there…"
Their voices faded, dispersed into wind and foam.
On the moon, Artemis gently embraced Atalanta, who had climbed up from Rowe City.
"Do not worry, Ata. I will wait with you."
In Athens, the Gorgon Sisters cautiously watched the Goddess of Wisdom and War, her face sunk into thought.
They watched her open her eyes and exhale.
"From now on…"
"I am the only God King of Greece," Athena said, lips parting.
"Eh?" The three sisters froze, then exchanged looks. Their eyes held shock, and delight.
As the tide rose, so did the boats.
With Athena ascending to become the sole God King, their own status would rise with her.
Yet Medusa's heart remembered two figures, unbidden.
"I wonder if there will still be a chance to see him and her."
Ancient Greek mythology ended with the third generation God King Zeus.
There were rumors Zeus escaped the fate of replacement, becoming an omnipotent supreme god.
There were also legends that he still fell.
After that, the one who became God King was Athena.
She found her beloved, and with the help of her beloved, a sage who traveled from Uruk, she defeated Zeus and became the new God King of Greece.
The era she ruled was known as the Rowe Era, meaning the era of brilliant wisdom.
It was an era of flourishing science, philosophy, and the humanities. Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle all looked up to and praised the colorfulness of that age.
Greek Mythology: The Untold Fourth Generation.
Eight hundred years later.
Rowe City, once lit by wisdom, had become a ruin beneath time's slow violence.
The People left long ago, scattering across Europa.
But on this day, a young man, covered in dust, stepped into the endless wreckage.
Under brilliant sunlight, he dug through crumbling soil and pulled out a pen.
"Father, you were indeed right…"
"Yes, my child, Romulus." A voice sounded in his ear, deep and solemn, carrying righteous compassion. "This pen was left by the sage of the past. He used it to inscribe wisdom and divide the gods."
"Forge a spear with this pen as its core. Use the spear to define boundaries, and you will surely create a prosperous nation for you and your brother to establish yourselves."
"I humbly obey your will, my great Father, Mars, God of War."
Romulus trembled with excitement.
The god he spoke with smiled, while his main body stood in the sky. Then he turned his head, meeting a pair of lively eyes.
"Hermes… No, now I should call you, Alchemist God."
"Ah ha, long time no see, Ares." The youthful figure with indigo hair spoke lightly, playfully.
"Ares? I have not used that name in a long time." Mars laughed. "I thought you left like the other gods."
"Left? No, no, no. Not left." Hermes waved his hand. "We are all waiting for you to establish a nation, and then we will plunder it."
"Hmm. Except Lady Athena. Lady Athena has now established an independent divine kingdom in the Sea of Stars. Quite at ease."
"Oh, right. There is a new Celestial God. A new god was born from the remains left by Father Zeus, and of course, there is no main body."
"And the Goddess of Love, Aphrodite, is also…"
Mars froze. He understood instantly.
The Greek gods would help him establish his nation.
So his smile widened.
"Then I also promise that the gods will receive their rightful status, including the Goddess of Wisdom and War. I will reserve a place for her as well."
A continuous lineage.
Their respective positions.
Mars looked toward the distance.
Romulus, carrying that pen, began his journey home, filled with expectation.
The machina god patted Hermes's shoulder.
"Let's go, kid."
Hermes winced in pain, but smiled anyway. Even though his current specifications were not much inferior to Mars's, the other had awakened earlier and, in a sense, was his senior.
Before leaving, Mars glanced once more at the city below.
Ruins stood. The setting sun illuminated the ghost of former glory.
A thousand years had passed.
Where had Mr. Rowe gone?
How was he doing now?
If Rowe knew what Mars was thinking, he would have told him he had encountered a very, very big problem.
In the Imaginary Number Space.
The same region he had stepped into once before.
"Aaaaa…"
A pair of massive hands cradled Rowe's humanoid form. Starry eyes were full of worry.
"How did you… become like this?" Tiamat's voice overflowed with doubt and concern.
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