Chapter 174: The Calydonian Boar Hunt (16)
Meanwhile, the protagonist of this entire tragedy—Meleager—remained secluded in the palace, quietly working to restore order to Calydon.
The handful of people assisting him inside the palace felt uneasy watching him sit in his dead father’s throne, working without showing any emotion or expression.
Yet no one dared point it out.
Thanks to Meleager’s relentless dedication over several days, Calydon was rapidly put back in order.
The people of Calydon, perhaps sensing his efforts, gradually began to move past the tragedy and look toward the future.
Time passed. When Calydon had finally been fully restored, Meleager at last emerged from the palace and issued a command.
“Build a great altar.”
It was an abrupt order, but no one questioned him.
Their new king had silently borne the weight of the kingdom through tragedy.
In no time at all, a massive altar was constructed.
Meleager ascended it with a somber expression.
The watching citizens looked up at him with worry.
What was their king thinking…?
“Nicodemus.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“You carry—even if only in part—the blood of the founding King Calydon.”
“Yes, that is true.”
“Good. Then from now on, you will be the king of Calydon.”
“…?! Y-Your Majesty…?”
His old friend Nicodemus stared at him in shock and confusion, but Meleager had no intention of listening.
He tossed the royal insignia—passed down through generations of Calydon kings—toward Nicodemus, then stepped fully onto the altar.
From his robes, he drew the charred log.
“My mother saved my life, but I believe this is the right path. I hope… no one in this land ever has to experience the same tragedy again.”
Murmuring those words, Meleager set the log ablaze.
The life the Fates had once prophesied would be tied to that burning wood on the day he was born now burned brightly at his own will.
Because it was linked to his life, as the flames consumed the log, Meleager felt his entire body burning in agony.
Yet even in that searing pain, he wore an expression of strange peace—as though the torment itself was pushing him forward.
Meleager placed beside the blazing log a statue of a woman he had molded from clay taken from Calydon’s storehouses.
No one knew why such a thing had been kept in the royal vaults—only that it was a relic left by their ancestors, too sacred (or too troublesome) to discard.
But Meleager had a clear purpose. He set the clay figure next to the roaring flames.
Then he quietly began to chant—a fervent prayer offered to the Great Mother.
“Be silent, O arrogance. Be silent, O greed.
All things return to dust in the end.
Close your eyes and be still, and you shall return to the beginning.
Wait, O ignorance. Wait, O disbelief.
On the day you believe the world has ended, what truly begins is the prayer of your small soul finding complete freedom.
Depart from me, O destruction. Depart from me, O ruin.
All the forests and lives you have shattered are lighter than grains of sand falling through Her fingers—more fleeting still.
My flesh, my soul—everything in this world—let us beseech Her.
I offer myself as sacrifice, that they may receive complete freedom.”
The low, murmured prayer Meleager intoned soon resonated far beyond the altar.
It echoed through the lofty heavens, the solid earth, the unknown abyss, and the underworld beneath.
So naturally did it imprint itself upon the world alongside his voice.
Many across the world felt this strange resonance, though most did not understand its meaning.
Except for a very few who had lived since ancient times.
Crackle… crackle… crackle.
The fire gradually died.
The log had burned completely to ash.
Meleager—kneeling in prayer—breathed his last.
Quietly. So very quietly.
The people of Calydon felt their hero-king’s death.
Yet no one rushed forward to him.
They simply bowed their heads in silence, tears falling as they repeated his final prayer in their hearts.
Though they could not fully comprehend his intent, they understood the heart behind his actions.
For three full days, the people of Calydon neither ate nor slept—mourning their hero and king.
Though brief, his was the passing of Calydon’s greatest figure.
When the three days of mourning ended, heavy rain began to fall from the sky.
As though the heavens themselves grieved the hero’s end.
***
The prayer and sacrifice Meleager performed spread far and wide across the world.
No one knew exactly what his prayer and offering meant, or to whom they were directed—but all who heard of his tragic end mourned him.
“He truly was a great man. He could have raged against the gods, sought revenge… yet he chose this.”
Poseidon—looking at the place where Meleager had fallen—spoke with genuine admiration, even in human form.
In his long divine life, such sights were exceedingly rare.
“A human willing to throw himself away for his country and people… shouldn’t someone like that have lived? O Fates.”
—…We have no words for that, O Ruler of the Seas. But we must choose. We must prepare the world so that no single being can sway it.
—That is our duty as the Fates.
—We are the guardians of the world’s balance. We do not favor any one race—gods, humans, mythical beings, elves, dwarves, goblins, merfolk, fishfolk… none.
Normally playful and casual with Poseidon, Atropos, along with Clotho and Lachesis—who had orchestrated this ordeal—bowed their heads before him.
Though he wore Njord’s form, the aura emanating from him was unmistakably that of the Ruler of the Seas—one of the three sovereigns of the world.
“Yes… that is who you are. But it is a pity. That such a child should be sacrificed.”
Poseidon gazed at the spot where Meleager had fallen. He wished he could turn the boy into a constellation…
But since Meleager had offered himself to the Great Mother, even Poseidon could not interfere.
Though he was evaluated as equal to the Great Mother, the ritual Meleager had performed was an ancient ceremony—so old that even the Protogenoi of primordial times would have found it distant.
“Yes… if that was your choice, then I respect it. But at the very least—I will show the world another heroic tale. Even if there are obstacles.”
***
Poseidon muttered to himself as the moment arrived when Meleager finally faced his mother.
“…My… son… must… protect…”
Before Meleager’s eyes stood the creature that had crushed his father—Oeneus, twisted by the moon’s blessing. Even while restraining his rampaging uncles, she never let go of the charred log cradled in her arms.
“What… is this…?”
Meleager instantly recognized who the monster was.
Even with her body grotesquely twisted and deformed, how could he fail to know his own mother?
“Mother…”
Althaea showed no reaction to his voice, as though she had already lost her reason.
Yet she continued to relentlessly suppress Oeneus—who kept regenerating—and Toxeus and Plexippus, as if driven by a single, unshakable goal.
Most importantly—she never once attacked Meleager.
She simply held the charred log with tender protectiveness.
Seeing this, Meleager lowered his sword, even though danger still lingered.
Long ago, his mother had shown him this charred log just once—calling it her most precious treasure.
When he was young and endlessly curious, he had pestered her over and over to explain why it was so dear to her. She had never told him.
And now, that same log was being cradled by a mother who had lost her reason—while she called him her son.
Anyone who saw that pitiful sight would understand immediately.
What the log truly meant.
The moon’s blessing twisted people according to their desires.
Within that blessing, Althaea had made her own choice: the way to protect her son amid these monsters.
Whether it was a mother’s instinct or a woman’s intuition—she had known.
She had known that her family would be unable to overcome their desires—except for one: Meleager.
So the only thing she could do was keep her son alive.
That was why Althaea had transformed into a monster herself—while shielding all her children.
Against the overwhelming monsters that were too much even for Meleager, she had regenerated endlessly even as her arms were severed and her neck torn, devouring them to protect her daughters.
And in the end, she had crushed her raging husband Oeneus along with the defiant Toxeus and Plexippus—offering her neck to her son.
Her reason had been shattered again and again in brutal combat with those relentless enemies. Yet her maternal instinct had recognized her son until the very last moment.
That was why she entrusted him with her most precious thing—and allowed her neck to be taken while still resisting fiercely alongside them.
***
There are countless stars in the sky, and gods have created constellations at will in numbers beyond counting.
But among all those constellations, there was one place—the most exalted, the highest seat in the heavens, where no star had ever been placed until now.
In time it would be named one of the twelve signs of the zodiac shone for the first time.
It did not burn the brightest, yet it emitted a flame that no interference could ever extinguish.
This constellation was named Virgo—and it was engraved in the highest part of the sky.
Symbolizing sacrifice, devotion, philanthropy, and maternal love—it was created in honor of Althaea, the mother who stood in place of Meleager, who could not have his own constellation etched among the stars.
So the first of the Zodiac signs was born.
Its influence was so profound that gods, mythical beings, and every race on earth could not help but take notice.
—It’s obvious who did this. Only one person would dare place such insignificant beings in that seat.
The dragon of the deepest swamp glanced once at the constellation before closing its eyes again, apparently uninterested.
“Damn you, Poseidon!!! Every time I look at that constellation from now on, I’ll be reminded of that lunatic!!!”
The giant holding up the sky spat curses in displeasure.
—Hmph… Among us, only one would dare engrave something there.
The primordial night looked at the constellation with interest.
Kooong!!!
The primordial earth trembled.
“Hoho… yes. I knew you’d feel that way. I thought this might happen. Should I go see her face?”
The Great Mother of the Earth laughed lightly, as though she had already foreseen her close companion’s reaction.
“Yes. I knew you would say that. You truly are the most godlike among the gods—unlike those Protogenoi.”
The sage who sees the future gazed at the constellation with sparkling eyes.
While the world’s mighty ones reacted with interest or irritation—
To the exalted rulers of the world, this was an utterly intolerable affront.
Who dared engrave a star in that place? And for mere humans, no less?
Moreover, those humans had insulted one of their own—Artemis.
“We must destroy that constellation immediately and erase the story of Meleager and Althaea from the world!”
Among them, the most proactive was Apollo.
He could not tolerate the story of those who had insulted his sister spreading across the world.
Above all—once a constellation was etched in that supreme seat, even gods could no longer interfere easily. Stars represented humanity’s power to gaze upon the world independently of divine influence.
They offered guidance, blessings, and protection to humans—though not through direct intervention like the gods.
That was precisely why no god had ever considered claiming that highest seat for themselves. Though they casually created constellations among themselves, none of those ever touched the supreme position.
“Exactly! Father!! It’s rare for that parasitic Apollo to say something correct.”
Because of this, many besides Apollo were displeased by a new constellation appearing in the heavens.
Ares, for one.
“Ha! Even you agree with me sometimes, you fool!!”
“Who are you calling a fool?!”
For once, the two who usually despised each other—and often fought over women—found themselves in perfect agreement, shouting loudly in Olympus.
It was almost unrecognizable as the same pair who constantly clashed.
“Yes… I don’t like agreeing with those brats either. But I share the opinion. That Virgo seat—I had planned to engrave the symbol of myself and my daughter Persephone there, Zeus.”
Even Demeter—who rarely voiced opinions—expressed her dissatisfaction.
That highest constellation was a matter of interest even to the gods.
Amid the uproar shaking Olympus, Zeus and Hera remained silent—as though they knew something.
The same was true in the underworld.
“Hades, I hear Olympus is in an uproar right now. Shouldn’t you step in at a time like this?”
“Tch, Thanatos. Even the Fates are staying quiet—why stir up trouble unnecessarily?”
“Hm? Since when do you care about such things? You always do whatever you want.”
“Styx, I don’t always do whatever I want. And getting involved would just give me a headache.”
At Hades’s annoyed and reluctant response, the gods around him sensed something unusual.
The Lord of the Underworld only acted this way when…
“Oh? Then… does that mean Poseidon was the one behind this?”
“…Styx, even a little thought would tell you. So don’t ask any more. I have no intention of provoking that thoughtless fool for no reason.”
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I wish the Gods get karma back along the way
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