Chapter 34: Hephaestus (1)
Meanwhile, Prometheus, observing everything from his rocky prison, nodded as if he’d foreseen it all.
“As expected, it’s unfolding as I saw. The humans I created on earth will be swept away once, but they’ll rise again.”
“Is that your will? To defy even the king of the gods and see it through?”
A voice suddenly echoed around the bound Prometheus.
“When they’re swept away by the waves, go to Lord Poseidon and gather their remains.”
“Why should I? I’m Zeus’ woman.”
“Themis, goddess of law, calling yourself someone’s woman? That’s a laughable notion.”
The figure beside Prometheus was Themis, the goddess of law and order, embodying the very principles of justice.
“…”
“You know they deserve a chance,” Prometheus pressed.
“So that’s why you summoned me—to resurrect those humans.”
Prometheus didn’t respond, only repeating himself.
“You, who govern justice within order and law, know this: they’ll be swept away by storms and waves, but they’re entitled to a reprieve. Go to Poseidon with that and make your request.”
“…”
With that, Prometheus closed his eyes and fell silent, refusing to hear more.
Themis sighed, looking at him, then vanished with the item he’d mentioned.
‘Now, all the pieces are in place. Deucalion and Pyrrha.’
***
As Zeus desired, the humans failed the test.
A storm and tidal wave raged for three days and nights, wiping out all humanity on earth.
The only survivors were Deucalion, Prometheus’ son, and Pyrrha, the daughter of Epimetheus and Pandora—a small mercy from Zeus.
“Now that the wicked humans are gone, we must usher in a new era. But first, I will solidify the twelve divine seats to prevent tragedies like this from recurring,” Zeus declared.
Thus, ten of the twelve seats were assigned: Zeus, Hera, Demeter, Hestia, Athena, Apollo, Artemis, Hermes, Ares, and Aphrodite.
Poseidon and Hades declined seats among the Twelve.
“I won’t bow to you, Zeus. I pass on that seat,” Hades said.
“Eh, I don’t need one either,” Poseidon added casually.
The remaining two seats were reserved for gods who would later achieve great deeds or renown, establishing the true Olympus.
Ares’ inclusion was controversial due to his actions against Poseidon, but his immense power couldn’t be ignored, and his status as Zeus and Hera’s son likely played a role.
His divine domain as the god of war and victory was also a significant factor.
“Hah! I knew Mother and Father wouldn’t abandon me!” Ares boasted.
“Indeed, Lord Ares is the true heir of Olympus!”
“When you’re free, you should take revenge on that vile Poseidon!”
— “Hooray!”
— “I’ll lead the charge!”
— “More blood! Bring us victory!”
Even in prison, Ares clung to his arrogance, egged on by his followers.
Unbeknownst to them, a pair of eyes watched their scheming.
***
Hephaestus, the god of fire and craftsmanship, forged all the tools, structures, weapons, and ornaments of the world.
He rarely left the depths of Lemnos’ volcanic forge, partly due to an incident with Ares from their childhood.
Thus, Hephaestus only later learned of Ares’ actions, his punishment, and his nomination to the Twelve Olympians.
Naturally, this infuriated him.
To gather more information on Ares and his followers, Hephaestus sent a scouting golem and overheard their plotting in the prison.
“As expected, he hasn’t changed a bit. Even after Hera stepped in, a year’s confinement is too light for him,” Hephaestus muttered.
He began scheming ways to make Ares suffer.
“That’s it. I’ll claim one of the Twelve seats. And I’ll take Aphrodite, the one he loves most, right in front of him.”
Fueled by rage, Hephaestus’ eyes burned with determination.
***
The root of Hephaestus’ hatred for Ares traced back to their childhood.
As the eldest legitimate son of Zeus and Hera, Hephaestus was technically Ares’ older brother.
Though born less handsome, neither Zeus nor Hera minded much.
“He came from my womb, but he’s not much to look at,” Hera had said.
“Still, I sense great power in him—perhaps like Hestia’s,” Zeus had noted.
One reason for their acceptance was that Hephaestus, like Hestia, wielded fire from birth.
Though their domains differed, Hephaestus mastered fire effortlessly.
He also showed an early fascination with craftsmanship and technology, naturally becoming a reclusive artisan in his forge.
Ares, however, constantly belittled him.
“Hah, to think that pathetic thing is my brother. What a disgrace,” Ares sneered.
“Ares, how can you say that about your brother? If Hera finds out…”
“Don’t worry. Deep down, Mother thinks an ugly god like him should be discarded.”
Ares, inheriting the worst traits of Zeus and Hera, was arrogant and loved asserting his dominance, the epitome of a reckless troublemaker.
To him, seeing his older brother—a god he barely considered family, and an unattractive one at that—surpass him in strength and earn the respect of other gods was an intolerable insult.
“Hephaestus, you’ve got quite the knack for crafting. You’d make a fine slave… I mean, blacksmith,” Ares sneered.
“Hehe, thanks! I’ll definitely become a great blacksmith,” Hephaestus replied earnestly.
“Good. Maybe you can work under me someday.”
Ares also resented Athena’s owl-like eyes, which sparkled with interest whenever she looked at Hephaestus.
He was equally irritated by Hebe, the goddess of youth who mirrored Hera’s kindness, always giving Hephaestus snacks.
“Hephaestus, try this! It’s a treat made from honey harvested by bees raised on nectar from golden apples,” Hebe offered.
“Wow, thank you, sister!”
“No need to thank me. Just make me a little trinket when you’re older—one, maybe two… or three would be even better,” Hebe said with a sly grin, ruffling his hair.
When Ares saw Hebe’s mischievous affection toward Hephaestus, he lost his temper.
“That filthy cur dares to flirt with the woman I want?!”
Driven by greed and lacking self-control, Ares stormed into Hephaestus’ forge with just a sword.
He was promptly crushed.
Hephaestus’ hammer shattered Ares’ sword and smashed his jaw, leaving him wailing in agony.
His cries were so loud they echoed not only through Olympus but to the mortal world below.
The gods, drawn by the commotion, questioned Hephaestus about what happened.
“Well, he came at me ranting about a woman or something, so I swung my hammer, and… this,” Hephaestus explained sheepishly.
Zeus clutched his forehead, exasperated.
Hera, fed up with her troublemaking son, turned and walked away without a word.
Given the scene—Hephaestus clearly in the middle of practicing his craft—it was obvious Ares had charged in unprovoked.
“How could my son act like this?” Zeus muttered.
“Apollo, heal him. Once he’s calmed down, lock him in his room,” Zeus ordered.
“Yes, Father.”
Zeus, muttering to himself, rode a cloud away from the scene, clearly overwhelmed.
— “Was it such a mistake to overthrow Kronos and become king of the gods? This is too much. Look at Triton, Poseidon’s son—so upright. I’m too ashamed to show my face.”
After being healed by Apollo and confined to his room, Ares, unable to contain his rage, smashed everything around him, plotting to rid Olympus of Hephaestus.
“That cowardly wretch ambushed me! He humiliated me, Ares, in front of all the gods! Just wait—I’ll crush his legs and banish him from Olympus!”
***
Three months later, a tremendous quake shook Naxos, an island under Poseidon’s domain.
The tremor was so powerful that Thetis and the nymph Eurynome, playing nearby with sea spirits, rushed to investigate.
In a deep crater at the center of Naxos, they found a child with red curly hair and completely mangled legs.
“Eurynome, we need to get him to the sea quickly! If we don’t, he’ll lose both legs,” Thetis urged.
“Yes, Lady Thetis!”
They hurriedly carried the child to Callirhoe, one of the Oceanids and a sea goddess skilled in healing, who presided over the flow of water.
“Auntie! We have a patient!”
Thetis burst into Callirhoe’s palace, which doubled as a healing sanctuary, and laid the child on a bed.
“Hmm… He’ll have to lose one leg,” Callirhoe said gravely.
“W-what? What do you mean?” Thetis asked.
“He’ll be lame. It’s a miracle he’s a god; otherwise, he’d be dead. A mortal or lesser creature wouldn’t have survived this. He’s lucky to be divine.”
With that, Callirhoe took Hephaestus into her operating chamber.
“This is bad. He looks like an Olympian child. Will he be okay? I hear Olympus is rife with factional conflicts,” Thetis said worriedly.
“Probably not,” Eurynome replied. “I have nymph friends in Olympus, and they say the political strife is intense—enough to affect the mortal world.”
Thetis grew more concerned but couldn’t shake the sense of the child’s extraordinary talent.
Soon, Callirhoe’s surgery was complete, and Hephaestus regained consciousness, immediately pondering who had attacked him.
‘Someone stabbed me and pushed me. They were about my size…’
Though his skin was tough enough to resist most blades, he couldn’t withstand the force of the push.
‘Someone in Olympus wants me dead. It’s likely one of Ares’ faction—they hate me the most.’
As Hephaestus mulled over his attacker, the door creaked open, and Thetis and Eurynome entered.
“You’re awake,” Thetis said gently.
“Thank you so much. Even unconscious, I felt your divine presence. You saved me, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but no need to be too grateful. Anyone who saw you would’ve done the same.”
“No, gratitude is due. I don’t have the power to repay you now, but I promise to grant you one favor in the future.”
“If that’s what makes you comfortable, so be it,” Thetis replied warmly.
Hephaestus expressed his deep gratitude to Thetis.