Chapter 45: Poseidon doesn’t like Greek and Roman mythology

Chapter 45: The Age of Heroes (1)

“See? That’s why gods should do good deeds.”

“Look at the luck rolling in like vines.”

“Not that the black-hearted ones would get it.”

Poseidon chuckled at Zeus and Hades’ crumpled faces, then walked over to Hephaestus.

He patted the shoulder of the young god he’d once sponsored, overwhelmed with pride at his growth.

“Thank you.”

Hephaestus shook his head and stood.

“No. I didn’t need it anyway. And giving it to Zeus or Hades felt… off.”

Poseidon smirked, glancing upward.

From Hephaestus’ perspective, it was a chicken-or-egg dilemma—especially with two gods up there still wearing sour expressions.

Though Zeus’ seemed a bit different.

His gaze shifted to Hera, another key figure in this mess.

She’d watched silently from start to finish, expressionless, but Poseidon knew her insides were rotting.

Her two sons had crossed an irreversible line in their fratricidal clash.

“Whew…”

“Seriously, Hera, you owe me big. Who else would treat you like family?”

Sighing at her, Poseidon stripped the war divinity from the extracted authority, split it in half, and re-injected one part into Ares.

The gods gasped.

Why use it on Ares when he could’ve given it to other sea gods?

Ignoring the confusion, Poseidon addressed the unconscious Ares.

“Thank your mom. Otherwise, I’d have demoted you to a lesser god…”

“Raise him well. Tch.”

“Oh, and this is for mouthing off to me.”

THWACK.

Ares fainted again.

Poseidon then flicked the remaining half—war and victory—to Athena.

“Kiddo. You wanted this, didn’t you? Couldn’t take your eyes off it.”

“Still so young.”

Athena, startled by the sudden gift, caught it protectively, cradling it like fragile glass.

She flashed a few hand signals at Poseidon, then—abandoning her usual composure—scurried off with it.

The surrounding gods blinked, baffled.

The ever-calm, dignified Athena acting like that?

It felt… familiar.

“That little brat—polite in public, but…”

“Only says that when it suits her.”

The signals were a code she and Poseidon had created using gestures and divine energy.

Translation: “Thanks, Dad. You know I love you.”

Poseidon shook his head like a father with a hyperactive daughter, then returned to his seat.

“What? Wanna fight?”

He needled Zeus and Hades out of embarrassment.

They just clicked their tongues and looked away—used to his antics.

“Ahem. State your final wish.”

Zeus regained composure, quieting the crowd to ask Hephaestus.

Unfazed by Poseidon’s shocking actions—as if he’d expected them—Hephaestus’ eyes gleamed.

‘Time for the final blow to Ares.’

He glanced at the unconscious god beside him and smiled—a smile he hadn’t shown even when stripping Ares’ divinity.

“I want Aphrodite as my betrothed.”

“?!$%”

Zeus pondered briefly but ultimately granted it.

The odd part? Aphrodite didn’t protest.

The goddess of love and beauty, bound to someone?

By her own standards, it was absurd.

But the gods dismissed it as one of her whims.

It was only a betrothal, not marriage.

More importantly, they were eager for Ares’ reaction when he woke.

Though unspoken, every god’s gaze drifted toward him.

***

As the hall cleared and attention shifted, Hephaestus and Aphrodite had already ascended to her palace on Olympus.

“Hephaestus, what are you thinking, little god?”

“…”

“Silent men are charming, but a fluffy chick should answer his aunt properly.”

Aphrodite had stayed quiet out of confusion.

Her instincts told her Hephaestus felt no love, lust, or even attraction toward her.

His gaze was that of a craftsman appraising a tool—nothing like the beastly hunger of other male gods, or the volcanic passion of Ares, Hermes, or Apollo.

To the goddess of love, he smelled of single-minded devotion—a rare mortal trait, but present.

Her certainty made Hephaestus hesitate, then speak out of guilt for involving her.

“I’ve already been made to feel love by another god.”

“I know. You smell like a tart, green apple—sour and fresh.”

“I’m sorry, but I wanted to use you. Ares seemed to love you fiercely.”

Aphrodite frowned slightly—still beautiful enough to make gods drool, but Hephaestus remained unmoved.

She didn’t scold the young, pure god who knew his wrongdoing but saw love only as a tool due to overwhelming anger.

Frowning was involuntary, though.

“Daring to use the goddess of beauty is unforgivable… but that’s just how men like you are.”

“Once your heart’s taken, you don’t glance elsewhere.”

“…”

After a long silence, watching Hephaestus hang his head, Aphrodite sighed with a “What can I do? Big sis will let it slide” expression.

“Fine. Athena asked me to, anyway.”

“And sometimes, men like you set my heart ablaze. I like that. Forgiven.”

She winked.

Aphrodite’s wink sent her attendants collapsing.

“Aaaah~”

“Lady Aphrodite…”

Among everyone in the palace, only Hephaestus remained unshaken.

He bowed deeply, face full of gratitude for her acceptance.

“Thank you, truly. I know this wounds your honor, dignity, and heart—yet you’ve agreed.”

Aphrodite blinked in surprise.

A Greek male caring about a woman’s feelings?

“You know how to move a woman’s heart with such consideration?”

“Huh? Oh—Lady Thetis, Amphitrite, Eurynome, Hestia, Demeter, and Sister Athena always stressed it whenever we met: how to respect a woman’s heart and treat her properly.”

Hephaestus listed the women who’d drilled etiquette into him, counting on his fingers.

Aphrodite burst into genuine laughter at his innocent adherence, pulling him into a hug.

“You’re too cute. A little chick already so different from other men—girls are gonna fall hard.”

“Fine. Big sis is in a good mood. I’ll cooperate as your fiancée. Just say the word.”

“Huh? Earlier you said ‘aunt’…”

“Shush! Never remind a lady of that. Didn’t they teach you that?”

“Now, enough nonsense. Come sit by your big sis and talk.”

“Who are you in love with?”

“W-Why do you ask?”

“Tch, only I’ll know. Spill.”

Hephaestus reeled from Aphrodite’s sudden warmth.

He felt nothing romantic for her, but a beautiful woman being this affectionate?

Even a man’s defenses crumbled.

“It’s… Aglaea…”

“KYAAA! Her? You are a man! Few goddesses match her.”

“You’re so lucky. Aglaea’s destined to work with me when she grows up.”

“If you’re okay with it, I could put in a good word…”

“R-Really?!”

“Of course. In exchange, tell big sis everything—how you met…”

“Uh… our first meeting was…”

At the promise of help with Aglaea, Hephaestus fell under Aphrodite’s spell, spilling every detail like a man possessed.

If Poseidon saw this, he’d have roared:

“I’m not giving away my daughter!”

“Dream on!!”

***

Hephaestus defeated Ares and officially claimed a seat among the Twelve Olympians.

Every god in Olympus and the coliseum that day acknowledged him.

As Aphrodite’s betrothed and the only god to wield Zeus’ lightning, he became immensely popular.

Meanwhile, Ares…

“This child needs to be raised from scratch.”

“How?”

“I’ll ask Poseidon for the monster spring water Athena once retrieved.”

“Tiamat’s Breath…?”

“Yes. It’s right for you, Hera, to conceive him anew.”

“That’s how he’ll re-fuse with his divinity and be reborn.”

Tiamat’s Breath was the black water surrounding the goddess spring Athena had retrieved.

She’d handed it to Poseidon, who confirmed it could regress an immature young god to a fetal state—and allow a god to bear a child alone.

Hera pondered Zeus’ proposal deeply.

Ares was their son, but irreparably broken.

His divinity—meant to be realized—was filled by Eris and his followers.

No wonder he never grew properly.

“Fine. I’ll carry him again.”

Hera and Zeus approached Poseidon.

“Brother, if you give us Tiamat’s Breath, I’ll repay you.”

“What? Why do you need that?”

“Poseidon, Zeus and I have decided to rebirth Ares.”

Poseidon stared, stunned by their sudden, bizarre request.

“Wait—even for gods, that’s…”

Doing this without Ares’ consent was cruel.

“A criminal should be grateful to be reborn and live again.”

“Hera’s right. If he weren’t our son, and without political reasons, we’d have locked him in Tartarus long ago.”

Their resolve left Poseidon raising both hands.

Not his kid, anyway.

And in Greek mythic logic, if Ares were mortal, he’d deserve a Sisyphus-level eternal punishment for his crimes.

“Fine. But nothing’s free. You know how much I’ve looked out for you two.”

Zeus and Hera nodded.

From Hephaestus to Ares and Zeus’ other children, they owed Poseidon plenty.

Though most of Zeus’ kids admired Poseidon more than their father—a minor flaw.

“What do you want?”

“Humans. Let’s repopulate them. Past Silver and Bronze—into the Age of Heroes.”

“!!!”

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