The God of Underworld - Chapter 182
182: Chapter 26 182: Chapter 26 In the overworld, Athena stood on a dusty road, wearing a simple brown cloak.
Her golden eyes were calm as she pulled her spear back, the monster at her feet dissolving into black mist.
The caravan behind her erupted into relieved cheers.
The leader hurried over, bowing his head repeatedly.
“Thank you!
Thank you, traveler!
You saved us from certain death.
Please, is there anything we can do for you?
Food, gold-anything?” Athena shook her head.
“It’s alright.
Just go.
You have a schedule to keep.” They insisted several more times, but her calm refusal never changed.
Eventually, the caravan leader gave her one last bow before signaling his people to move on.
The wagons creaked as they disappeared into the distance.
Athena let out a quiet sigh once she was alone again.
She reached into her cloak and pulled out a worn map.
Her finger traced a route until it stopped at a dot near the bottom corner.
“A small farming village… known for sweet grapes.” Folding the map, she slung her spear across her back and started walking.
Her thoughts wandered as her feet carried her down the road.
When Zeus punished her to walk the earth as a mortal, she thought it would be unbearable.
No divine power, no temple, no throne.
Just a cloak, a spear, and her own strength.
But the months she had spent traveling surprised her.
She had seen mountains glowing with dawn light, rivers so clear she could see every stone beneath, skies untouched by smoke or war.
She had spoken with farmers, hunters, and smiths.
She had even met some young heroes who reminded her of the old days, full of ambition and courage.
She trained a few of them, gave them advice, taught them discipline.
Watching them grow had been unexpectedly satisfying.
Athena found herself smiling faintly.
Walking the earth wasn’t as bad as she thought.
In fact, she was beginning to enjoy it.
She adjusted her cloak and kept moving, her steps steady, her heart strangely light.
* * * By late afternoon, Athena arrived at a small farming village named Oinostheia.
It was quiet and picturesque, surrounded by green hills and sprawling vineyards that shimmered under the sun.
She entered the marketplace and saw baskets of grapes lined up neatly on wooden stalls.
Curious, she picked one and bought a small bundle.
The moment she bit into it, her eyes widened.
The grapes were impossibly sweet, the juice almost like nectar.
She glanced around the stalls and spotted clay jars filled with wine.
If the grapes were this good, their wine must be even better.
She bought one and took a slow sip.
Her brows rose.
Just as she expected-rich, smooth, perfectly balanced.
Athena allowed herself a rare smile and nodded in satisfaction.
Her stomach then rumbled softly, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since morning.
She approached a local woman who was arranging figs on her stall.
“Excuse me,” Athena said politely, “is there anywhere nearby to eat?” The woman turned, studied the cloaked traveler, and then smiled.
She pointed toward the northern corner of the market.
“There’s a food stall there, run by old Marta.
People come from other villages just to taste her cooking.” Athena inclined her head.
“Thank you.” She popped another grape into her mouth, savoring its sweetness as she strolled toward the stall.
Her humming was soft, almost cheerful, and for a moment, she looked less like the war goddess she had once been and more like any other traveler enjoying a good day.
After a few minutes of walking, Athena arrived at the food stall and saw that it was full, overflowing with chatter and the smell of cooked meat and fresh bread.
Every table was occupied, and some villagers were even eating standing up.
She crossed her arms, her lips curving in faint amusement.
‘This must be truly popular if not a single seat is empty.’ Rather than leave, she simply waited, leaning against a post and slowly eating the grapes she had bought earlier.
She had time.
She had all the time in the world.
After all, Zeus had punished her to walk the earth, not to rush through it.
She tossed another grape into her mouth, watching the people eat with smiles on their faces.
Just then, the ground shook.
It wasn’t strong enough to topple anything, but it was enough to make everyone pause and look toward the direction of the village gates.
“Monster!
There’s a monster at the front of the village!” a voice shouted.
Athena’s eyes narrowed.
There was no terror in the voice.
Instead, there was an unmistakable note of excitement.
Her gaze swept over the stall.
No one screamed or ran to hide.
Instead, they smiled, laughed, and grabbed their foods, rushing to the edge of the village as though a festival had just begun.
Athena frowned.
This is not the reaction of a people under threat.
What sort of village is this?
She adjusted her cloak and followed the crowd, her footsteps calm and deliberate.
When she reached the open road, she saw it, a massive beast with the body of a man and the head of a bull, muscles bulging as it pawed at the ground.
A minotaur.
Athena’s golden-gray eyes hardened slightly.
She knew its bloodline.
Descendants of the cursed beast of Crete still roamed the world, feral and dangerous.
She turned to a woman beside her.
“Why are you not running?” The villager grinned, clutching her child’s hand with no fear in her eyes.
“You must be a traveler, yes?
We don’t run because our village is under the protection of a great hero.
Watch, lady traveler.
You’ll see.” Athena’s brow rose.
A hero?
Here?
The minotaur roared, lowering its horns and charging toward the wooden gates.
The ground trembled under its hooves.
And then, something moved above.
A shadow fell over the crowd.
A young man in his twenties, with short blond hair and piercing blue eyes, descended from the sky in a clean arc.
He wore a simple brown tunic, the kind of garment any farmer might wear, and carried nothing but a wooden hoe slung over his shoulder.
Athena’s eyes widened.
He is not armored.
Not even armed.
And yet- The man landed in front of the charging minotaur, the impact of his feet cracking the earth beneath him.
Without hesitation, he raised his free hand and caught the beast by its horns.
The minotaur skidded to a stop, its hooves tearing long trenches into the dirt as its momentum was completely halted.
The villagers cheered.
Athena’s expression sharpened, surprise mixing with intrigue.
His stance was steady, unyielding, as if the charge had been nothing but a breeze to him.
The young man twisted the minotaur’s head to the side, forcing it to crash onto the ground with a loud thud.
He slammed the hoe down like a staff, using it to pin the beast’s neck to the dirt.
The minotaur thrashed and roared, but could not break free.
“Easy now,” the man said calmly, as though taming a wild ox.
“You’re done rampaging today.” With one hand, he struck the creature on the back of the head, not to kill, but to knock it unconscious.
After all, beasts like this can be sold to some coliseum.
The beast immediately went still.
The villagers erupted into cheers, some even clapping and calling his name.
Athena’s lips curled into a small, rare smile.
A mortal with this kind of strength and composure… fascinating.
The young man let out a quiet sigh, as if this had been a simple chore, and slung the hoe over his shoulder again.
He began dragging the unconscious beast toward a waiting cart.
Athena stepped forward, her curiosity fully awakened.
This was no ordinary mortal.
And she intended to find out who, and what, he really was.
Just then, her eyes glowed faintly, a subtle shimmer that only gods could see.
This was no invocation of divine power, this was the innate gift of the gods, the ability to peer past flesh and bone and glimpse the truth of a mortal’s being.
What she saw made her breath catch.
The young man’s soul blazed like a star, so radiant it was almost blinding.
It was the kind of soul that could inspire nations, the kind that would leave a mark on history for millennia.
She could feel the weight of it, heavy and unshakable.
And as she looked deeper, she felt that there was something painfully familiar about this presence.
Not just the brightness, not just the power, but the very essence of this soul resonated deep inside her chest, stirring memories she thought were long buried.
No.
This wasn’t just a bright soul.
Athena’s heart pounded in a way it hadn’t in centuries.
Without thinking, she sprinted forward, her cloak fluttering behind her.
The villagers looked at her in surprise, but she didn’t care.
The young man had just finished tying the unconscious minotaur to a cart and was preparing to leave when she called out, “Wait!” He turned, brow raised, blue eyes calm and curious.
Athena grabbed his hand before she could stop herself.
Her grip was firm, almost desperate.
“W-Who… who are you?” she demanded, her voice unsteady for the first time in ages.
The man blinked at her, clearly taken aback by her sudden intensity.
But then he smiled, warm and unassuming.
“Me?
I’m Herios,” he said simply.
“Just a farmer.” There was nothing strange about the name.
Many people named their children after famous figures.
The name “Herios”, is as common as stars in the sky.
But his face, his smile, overlapped with a face she had never forgotten.
The face of the man who had once stood against Olympus itself.
The man who defied the heavens, who fought gods with nothing but his courage and will, and in doing so forged the very foundation of human civilization.
Herios.
The King of Heroes.
The one she had been searching for, without even realizing how much she wanted to find him.
Athena’s lips parted, but no words came out.
For the first time in centuries, the goddess of wisdom was utterly speechless.
Her grip on his hand tightened.
Her normally sharp and calculating mind raced with questions, but all she could do was stare into his bright blue eyes, her chest feeling strangely light.