The God of Underworld - Chapter 189

189: Chapter 33 189: Chapter 33 Overworld.

Evening fell over the quiet farming village.

Athena and Herios sat at a low wooden table inside the small hut, sharing a simple but warm dinner of fresh bread, stew, and wine.

The soft glow of an oil lamp lit the room, casting long shadows on the walls.

Herios’ grandmother moved about slowly, bringing more food to the table.

Athena noticed it-her movements were slower than usual, her breath a little shallow.

“Grandma, sit down,” Herios said gently, rising to take the tray from her hands.

The old woman chuckled and waved him off.

“Don’t fuss over me.

I’ve been serving food since before you were born.” Athena’s sharp eyes narrowed slightly.

“You are paler than yesterday,” she said quietly.

“And your pulse is weaker.” Herios nodded at her words, turning to his grandmother.

“I noticed it as well.

You really should rest more, grandma.” The old woman sighed and finally sat down.

“You two worry too much,” she said with a small laugh.

“This old body still has another ten years left in it.” Athena didn’t look convinced.

“A decade?

That is optimistic,” she muttered.

“Optimism keeps me alive, girl,” the grandmother said with a grin.

“And I still need to see great-grandchildren before I go, so you two better work faster.” Athena froze, her face turning red.

Herios laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Grandma…” he said helplessly.

Athena cleared her throat, forcing herself to regain her composure.

“We should eat before it gets cold,” she said quickly, reaching for her cup of wine.

The grandmother just smiled knowingly and began eating.

Through the rest of the meal, Athena kept glancing at the old woman, feeling a strange tightness in her chest.

She had seen death many times, watched mortals fade like embers, but for some reason, the thought of this woman passing left her uncomfortable.

After dinner, Herios stepped outside to fetch water from the well.

Athena stayed behind.

She quietly gathered the plates and carried them to the washbasin.

The grandmother tried to stand, but Athena stopped her with a firm look.

“Rest,” Athena said simply.

The old woman raised a brow but smiled and leaned back.

“You’re a sharp one.

He could use a woman like you.” Athena didn’t respond, focusing on washing the dishes.

Her hands moved quickly, but her mind was elsewhere.

She had fought wars, judged kings, guided heroes.

Yet, she felt an unfamiliar weight in her chest watching this mortal woman grow weaker.

“You care for him,” the grandmother said softly.

Athena froze, but nodded.

“More than I can even dare to imagine.” “To hear that from a goddess…I guess my grandsome must’ve saved humanity in his past life for him to be this lucky.” Athena froze.

How did she knew she was a goddess?

She never revealed it.

She stared at the old woman, eyes wide in surprise.

“How did you-” The old woman smiled, “Child, I’m old, not senile.” Athena stared, took a deep breath, and continued her work.

She rinsed the last plate and set it aside.

Her back stayed straight, but her golden eyes softened.

“Mortals are fragile,” she said quietly.

“I have watched countless die.

But seeing you fade feels… different.” The grandmother tilted her head.

“That’s because we’re family now.

At least, I hope we will be.” Athena looked away, lips pressed together.

She didn’t argue.

Because she also hope they will be.

Just then, Herios returned with more water.

Athena stepped outside, letting the night air cool her face.

She stood under the night sky, her hands clasped behind her back.

The stars above were the same ones she had seen since the dawn of time, yet tonight they felt different.

They felt closer, almost like they are watching her.

She thought of the grandmother’s words.

‘Family now, huh.’ Athena had never even thought of Zeus and Metis as that, for her, they are her father and mother, but not family.

For her before, that terms hold no meaning.

And she couldn’t understand why mortals seems to love that term so much.

But now…

She took a deep breath, staying where she was, letting the cool wind brush against her face.

Why does it feel so heavy, she wondered, to think of the grandmother’s death?

She had seen kings burn, heroes fall, nations crumble.

She had buried companions before.

But this time, it was different.

Herios’ grandmother was just an old woman, a speck of dust compared to eternity.

Yet Athena felt a tightness in her chest at the thought of her gone.

Is this what it felt to have a family?

It felt painful.

‘If I stay,’ she thought, ‘I will watch him grow old too.

I will watch him die.’ Even if he can reincarnate.

Even if they can be together again.

He will still die.

And every time, will she feel this pain?

Her jaw tightened.

She could leave.

She could complete her punishment and return to Olympus, to her eternal duty, and put this mortal village out of her heart.

But then she remembered Herios’ laughter.

The way he called her name without fear or reverence.

The way his grandmother always made sure she ate, as though Athena wasn’t a goddess but just another young woman at her table.

Her hands slowly relaxed.

She whispered to herself, barely audible, “Maybe I should just forget my punishment and stay in the mortal world?” The thought startled her.

Just then, Herios came out of the hut and directly walked towards her, standing by her side.

He immediately noticed something off about her.

She was standing still, gazing at the stars, her expression unreadable.

“You look like you’re planning a war,” he said, chuckling, sitting down on the porch steps.

Athena blinked, then smirked faintly.

“Maybe I am.” He tilted his head with a smirk, “Do I need to gather the villagers and build fortifications?” Athena chuckled.

As her laughter stopped, she once again gaze back to the moon Herios frowned, sensing her mood.

He leaned back on his hands, looking up at the sky with her.

“Grandma worries you, doesn’t she?” Athena glanced at him, surprised he saw through her so easily.

“You don’t hide it well,” Herios said.

“You were tense all through dinner.” Athena hesitated.

“…I don’t want her to die.” Herios’ expression softened.

He didn’t tease her this time.

“No one does.

But it will happen one day.

She’s ready for it, even if we’re not.” Athena slowly sat beside him.

“I have seen death countless times.

I have guided mortals through it.

Yet now, it feels… heavier.” Herios turned to her with a small smile.

“That’s probably because the one you’re sending off, is someone you care very much about ” Athena froze.

The simple truth in his words left her speechless.

“You’re starting to see her as more than just a mortal grandmother of a mortal you fancied,” he continued.

“Now, you’re probably seeing her as a family.” Athena looked down at her hands.

“…Family.” For a moment, silence hung between them, filled only by the night wind.

Then Herios nudged her shoulder playfully.

‘You’ll give yourself wrinkles if you keep thinking so hard.” Athena gave him a flat look, then, unexpectedly, laughed.

It was quiet, but a genuine one.

“You’re impossible,” she said.

“Good,” Herios replied, grinning.

“If I can make the goddess of wisdom laugh, I must be doing something right.” They stayed there together, watching the stars.

Athena’s heart felt lighter, as though some invisible weight had been shared.

Just then, Athena broke the silence first, her voice calm but serious.

“I can extend her life, you know.

It would be easy.

A touch of divine power and she would live another fifty years.” Herios didn’t look at her right away.

He stayed quiet, letting the night air fill the space between them.

When he finally spoke, his tone was steady.

“I know you can.

But I don’t want you to.” Athena blinked, surprised.

“You… don’t?” Herios turned to face her now, his expression firm.

“This village follows Lord Hades.

We believe death is not an end but a passage.

To stop her from crossing when it’s her time would be defying that belief.” Athena frowned.

“Defying her belief?

Just for that?

I have the power.

I can make it happen.

You don’t have to lose your grandmother.” Herios nodded.

“Maybe.

But that power isn’t yours to use just because you can’t bear to lose someone.” Athena’s jaw tightened.

“You think I am being selfish?” Herios sighed softly.

“No.

I think you care.

That’s why you offered.

And I’m grateful you do.” He looked out toward the fields, his eyes thoughtful.

“Grandma’s body might decay, but her soul will endure.

Lord Hades will take care of her in the afterlife.

She will see the rest of the family again.” Athena’s hands tightened on her knees.

“…You have such faith in him.” Herios smiled faintly.

“Of course.

I am his greatest champion.

And if I tried to keep her here against her will, I think she’d be furious with me.” That made Athena pause.

“She would?” “Oh yes,” Herios said, chuckling.

“She’d probably curse me for not letting her see Grandpa again.

And then she’d lecture me until I begged you to undo it.” Athena almost smiled at that.

Herios glanced at her, noticing the faint softening of her expression.

“You’re Athena.

You guide heroes.

You know better than anyone that clinging to what must pass only brings suffering.” Athena’s lips pressed together.

“…You are right.” He reached over and lightly tapped her forehead.

“Besides, we still have time.

You should spend it with her while you can.” Athena blinked, startled by the gesture.

“You… are far too wise for a mortal.” Herios grinned.

“Then I guess I’m doing a good job of impressing the goddess of wisdom.” Athena exhaled, a small, reluctant laugh escaping her.

“You fool.

That is only to be expected if you are to be my husband.” Herios smiled playfully, “I never agreed we would marry for real.

I might just find some other farmer girl to settle down with.” Athena’s expression darkned.

Her blank, soulless eyes stared straight at Herios.

“Do that, and I will curse you.” She leaned closer, “I said it didn’t I?

You can only belong to me.

In this life, in the next, the next one after that, until this world cease to exist.

You can only be mine.” Herios smiled wryly.

Virgin Goddess really are troublesome to handle.

* * * Later that night, after Herios had gone to check on the animals, and Athena found herself sitting quietly at the table with the old woman.

The small house was warm, lit only by the gentle glow of an oil lamp.

The smell of dried herbs and fresh bread hung in the air.

Grandmother sipped her tea slowly, her wise eyes glancing toward Athena.

“You’ve been staring at me for a while, girl.

What’s on your mind?” Athena hesitated, then spoke softly, but bluntly.

“…You are about to die.” Grandmother chuckled, a low, raspy sound.

“I’m old.

That’s all.

Don’t look at me like I’m about to vanish in front of you.’ Athena frowned.

“I could heal you.

If I wanted, I could even grant you immortality.” The grandmother set down her cup and shook her head.

“Immortality?

No thank you.

My bones are tired enough as they are.” “…You don’t fear death?” “Fear it?” The grandmother laughed again.

“Child, death is just the next room we step into.

I’ll see my husband there.

My sons and daughters who passed before me.

Why would I fear that?” Athena was quiet for a long moment, then asked carefully, “But… Herios.

He will be alone.” The grandmother smiled warmly.

“He is stronger than you think.

And besides…” she leaned forward slightly, eyes glinting, “he won’t be alone if you stay with him.” Athena froze, startled by the directness of the statement.

The old woman smiled, “You help him, you care for him, and you look at him like he is your whole world.

With you by his side, I’d smack his head if he still feel lonely.” Athena felt her chest tighten.

“Still…” Grandmother’s smile softened.

“No one stays forever.

Not even the gods.

What matters is that you stay as long as you can.

Don’t run away from what you want.” Athena lowered her gaze, thinking about Herios’ words from earlier.

“…I will.” Grandmother chuckled.

“Good.

Then do me a favor.

Stop overthinking, and go make my grandson happy while I can still see it.” Athena looked at her, stunned, then slowly allowed a rare, gentle smile to spread across her lips.

“Leave it to me.” Grandmother leaned back, satisfied.

“Good girl.

Now fetch that boy and tell him to stop hiding in the barn.

I want to see you both before I go to bed.”