The peak of Mount Olympus loomed under a cold, starlit sky. Inside the colossal palace, a giant eighty meters tall sat upon a throne carved from a single slab of stone. Draped in a robe of coarse white linen, his muscles bulged beneath the fabric, and a golden olive-leaf crown rested atop his flaming brown hair. His beard bristled like a lion's mane, and his eyes radiated an authority that seemed to shake the very pillars of the hall. This was the king of the gods, Zeus himself.
Before him, two humans lay prostrate, their forms tiny as ants against the vast throne. One shouted hoarsely, voice cracking with strain: "Most High King, the vampires defy Olympus' protection over Greece! We beg your justice!"
The echo of his cry rebounded across the cavernous hall, reverberating off stone walls. To speak here was an ordeal; even the slightest whisper had to reach the giant's ears perfectly, or risk being interpreted as insolence. The exertion left both humans trembling, every muscle taut with fatigue.
Among them was Cary of the Athenian Pavilion, tasked with handling diplomatic affairs with Greece's myriad factions—and, less enjoyably, with these giants. Though he doubted the mission would yield real help, the Council of Elders left him no choice but to crawl beneath Olympus' gaze.
Finally, the king's voice rumbled across the hall. "Has the vampire skirmish affected our supply lines?"
The words rolled out like thunder, vibrating the floor and forcing the humans' hearts into their throats.
"No, my King," replied the figure standing atop the throne's armrest, mere human height in contrast to Zeus' colossal form. Draped in black, he lowered his head, concealing his face. "The clashes are small-scale. A few buildings were damaged, a handful of humans perished. Supplies remain unaffected."
"They refuse to surrender their kind, even to parley!" Cary called out, his throat raw.
Zeus hardly acknowledged them. His gaze lingered for a moment, eyes sweeping over the expanse like twin storms. "Then let them be. There is no need to bicker with filthy vampires."
"Your Majesty! They flout Athenian order completely!"
Zeus reclined, closing his eyes. "Return home. I am tired."
A long silence followed, punctuated only by the heavy cadence of his breathing. Cary rose, defeated, every step a reminder of his own insignificance—prostrating before Zeus was like pressing oneself into the dirt like a dog, begging for scraps of attention. The grandeur of Greece's present prosperity, Cary thought bitterly, was built upon generations of such humiliation.
Outside, the waiting carriage party grew restless. A middle-aged man approached Cary quickly. "Any word?"
Shaking his head, Cary muttered, "As expected. Zeus only cares about land and resources. He couldn't care less about vampire raids."
"What now?"
"I don't know," Cary admitted, staring up at the towering palace. "The people are restless. The giants won't intervene. The vampires won't stop. Perhaps…we'll need reinforcements. Even if it complicates Athens further, at least we'd gain the ability to defend ourselves."
For all their pride, Athens was little more than an ant beneath the giants' and vampires' feet—a mere transporter of resources for their insatiable appetites. Complaints were meaningless, but anger still simmered. Citizens demanded the government release a vampire registry and expel the creatures entirely. If the authorities continued ignoring the situation, rebellion loomed.
Cary sighed, climbing into the carriage. "Take me to the Council. Notify the five Elders—I have urgent matters to discuss."
Night fell, yet Adam had not appeared at the foot of the mountain. Even the last noble visitors to Athena's library had departed. The fat man muttered nervously, "Three days' worth of potions shouldn't last this long…Is something wrong? I hope nothing happens."
At the guard post, coinciding with a shift change, he spent five gold coins confirming that all within the library remained normal. A slight relief eased his tension.
"Maybe he's already found the books…honing his skills in some corner of the library," he speculated.
Inside Athena's secret study, the little goddess bent over the desk, quill in hand, transcribing Adam's torrent of words.
"Are you lying to me?" she asked, brow furrowed.
"Lying? I'm a creature of my word."
Her violet eyes narrowed. "Yet your deeds in Eden defy logic. How can you know the apple is the fruit of wisdom? One taste? And the Almighty—how could he be fooled by two stones? Don't tell me you were born knowing all. Giants don't believe in myths."
Athena paused, expression a mix of adorableness and mild irritation. The contrast of her youthful face and divine scrutiny made her seem impossibly sharp.
Adam smiled subtly, withholding his answers, letting her curiosity guide her to reveal the knowledge he desired. In this game, curiosity was the leash he held.
"Are you still willing?"
She hesitated, then nodded. "Yes."
Adam grinned, a plan already forming. "Then another book. Before leaving this study, I will answer every question you have."
With a resigned sigh, Athena grabbed the nearest tome, tossing it toward him. The quill scratched lightly on the desk as she resumed writing, the flicker of candlelight dancing across her determined expression. In the dim corner, the air shimmered faintly with the residue of magic, hinting at the immense potential compressed within the small frame of a goddess.