Myth: The Ruler of Spirituality

Chapter 169: 24 Advice from the Afterthinker

Chapter 169: Chapter 24 Advice from the Afterthinker

The words of the Goddess of Justice were indeed effective, and after hosting a banquet for his three daughters, the Divine King left Olympus.

He intended to meet the two goddesses who were nominally his sisters but in reality were not as old as he was. In the past, whether it was Mother Earth or Rhea, they had not left a good impression on Zeus, who now reigned as the Divine King.

He needed a Queen of Gods, but not one like those two. She should prioritize the interests of the Divine King over anything else. So he decided to spend some time observing them to find out what kind of deities they truly were.

Thus, the Divine King moved between the Mount of the Gods and the sea, and long-forgotten humans walked upon the earth. A high tower was erected in the Moon, and the chaotic meteorology began to settle down.

Until this day, when the Divine King, satisfied, returned to Olympus and the son of Iapetus, whom he hadn’t seen for a long time, suddenly came to see him.

“Your Majesty, I have completed the task as entrusted,” Prometheus said, looking somewhat weary but with a spirited gleam in his eyes. Over the years, he had sought out his brother, and together they had created many forms of life.

Even without Iapetus’s assistance, the two of them had been very successful. Now, feeling that all was ready, the Forethinker thought it time to create humans.

“Very well, Prometheus, you’ve been a bit quicker than I expected,” Zeus said, nodding with satisfaction. In fact, the Divine King had been growing somewhat impatient of late.

He desired greater power, preferably before Gaia awoke and Oceanus recovered, but he had not the slightest clue how to achieve it. Whenever he faced difficulties, Zeus would think of his father.

If he possessed that kind of power, there probably would have been nothing to worry about.

Therefore, when Prometheus told him he was ready, Zeus was very pleased.

“Go, son of Iapetus, use the materials I have given you to create a new humanity.”

“Whatever the outcome, please inform me immediately after your completion. I will be waiting on Mount Olympus to reward you.”

Perhaps because fate had been twisted, Athena, who was supposed to participate in the creation of humans, had not yet been born. She would likely miss this event. However, the creation of humans did not require the participation of the Goddess of Wisdom, just as Gaia had created the Silver Humanity.

Even in the myths of later ages that speak of the five ages of humans, only one age of humans was imbued with breath by the Goddess of Wisdom, but this did not prevent the humans of other ages from being capable of thought.

“As you wish, Your Majesty, I will do my best,” Prometheus replied.

After receiving his orders, he quickly departed, not just on the command of the Divine King, but also because he himself desired to do so. He soon left Mount Olympus and immediately sought out his brother.

He had told him to wait here because the Forethinker had sensed the Divine King’s unnaturally fervent interest in humans. He predicted Zeus’s response, and although unclear about the reasons, he knew he would not stay long in Olympus.

“Epimetheus, my brother, we can finally begin,” Prometheus said as they stood on a plain near a river and forest.

“Just as we have tried before, I will bestow life upon the body, you will grant the body potential, and as for the soul, we can only hope for their own luck. In this way, each human will have their own strengths, and it will also be easier for me to remember them,” he instructed.

Although they were brothers, they had always acted more like a follower and a leader. The wise Forethinker made decisions while the foolish Afterthinker followed and executed them. It had always been so.

“But brother, why do you want to remember them?” the Afterthinker asked blankly as if being awakened by his elder.

“All beings must die at some point, and humans, despite their wisdom, are no exception. Even if you remember each one of them, they won’t be able to accompany you for very long,” he said.

“… I created them, so I must take responsibility for them, even if they will die just the same,”

There was a silence before Prometheus explained this way.

“But we have also created many forms of life before, birds, fish. Some were created with Father, others in recent years that we’ve tried creating, yet you never cared about them this much.”

As if oblivious to his elder brother’s mood, Epimetheus continued to ask.

An even longer silence followed. These words seemed to accuse him of favoritism, but Prometheus didn’t blame his brother. He was always so foolish, and it was reasonable for him to ask such ill-timed questions.

Yet, as reasonable as it was, he was truly at a loss for what to say. In his heart of hearts, Prometheus knew why he favored humans so much.

Among the deities, the Forethinker was never renowned for his strength; his only reliance was his wisdom. Among all creatures, humans were also never known for their strength; their sole distinction was having a thought process similar to that of the gods.

Every life form has its biases, and the Forethinker was no exception. The reason he cared so much for humanity was really just because he saw another version of himself.

If someone else had made humans, they would be just similar at best. But if he himself was creating them, it was as if they weren’t just ordinary beings he created but children without blood ties of his own.

“Just do as I say, Epimetheus. I am Prometheus, the Forethinker, the sage unanimously recognized by the gods. The things I’m determined to do, naturally, will be free of mistakes.”

“Now, get ready. Together, we shall fulfill the Divine King’s command.”

Speaking curtly, Prometheus did not wish to voice his thoughts, even if the other was his own brother. He turned away, not paying any more attention to his brother, but began to mold the bodies of the humans.

Behind him, the Afterthinker watched his elder brother with a hint of regret.

He couldn’t see the future, nor did he know what humans ultimately represented, but past experience told him that no matter how much emotion Prometheus invested, it wouldn’t yield a good result.

After all, the newly enthroned Divine King wouldn’t want to create humans without reason. What the Divine King dedicated himself to was naturally only power. Perhaps humans bore some special value that was unknown to them at present.

But no matter what that value was, once humans were created, there were only two possibilities.

If they were useful, then the Divine King would consider them a forbidden delicacy, to be shared at most with other powerful deities.

If they were useless, then in order to continue his ‘experiment,’ the Divine King would only start over anew.

Thus, pouring emotions into something that was doomed not to be one’s own naturally wouldn’t lead to a good outcome. It was inevitable.

“What are you standing there for, come here now,”

Seeing his brother spacing out, Prometheus scolded.

“Right, I’m coming.”

Shaking his head, Epimetheus moved forward as instructed. Divine power lit up in his hands, and in the end, he decided to do as he always did, to follow Prometheus’s requests.

He had tried to persuade Atlas in the past because he felt no god could forever be the Divine King, but Atlas had scoffed at the notion. Now, he was attempting to persuade his own brother, but again to no avail.

Luckily, the deities were immortal, so Epimetheus accepted this calmly. Perhaps after they had gone through enough, they would no longer do this.

Only by suffering losses does one learn the lesson. It goes for both gods and humans.