Chapter 151: The Twelve Constellations (3)
“The Gods descended, you say? Inside a human body?”
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from those words for quite some time.
“Is such a miracle even possible?”
“If one of the Twelve Heroes took the effort to record it, it must hold some truth.”
Furthermore, if one investigated Astron’s deeds and history, this truth would likely emerge.
“So, does this mean that the current King of Are is essentially Mars?”
“Well, I’m not entirely sure about that.”
I’m not well-versed in Are’s political landscape. Yet, I wondered how long Astron’s body could endure as a vessel for a God.
Though it might have persisted, any existence above the 5th rank would have been restricted when Zeus sealed the heavens.
Especially since the world’s mana diminished after the heavens closed, it’s questionable whether it could withstand such immense burden.
“It seems I should visit the Kingdom of Are too. I was planning to go there due to the wildlands issues anyway.”
I had to prepare thoroughly before going.
“Could Outer Gods achieve something like this as well?”
Talia kept rereading those words, astonished. Truthfully, I was equally amazed. However, at the same time…
“How dreadful.”
“Pardon?”
『Ah, Lord Ethnos has always been repulsed by such matters, hasn’t he?』
I thought the hero who turned the situation around with a last resort was remarkable.
But Mars, who utilized Astron’s body to establish a kingdom and possibly abandoned his comrades—did he even perform proper funeral rites?
To me, it sounded horrific, as if the God had wholly usurped the human vessel.
“Maybe Mars maneuvered events to lead up to the moment the God descended.”
“You sure do seem to detest Gods, don’t you?”
“It’s alright, Talia. The Gods he deals with are mostly foreign ones. Ancient Gods tend to be kinder to humans.”
Agreeing with Lyla, Talia nodded.
It’s good to alleviate her worries, but instilling a sense of warning would be important too.
“Lastly, we should see what Apollo’s priest mentioned in his writings, right?”
“Indeed, we should.”
– I am Atra, the priest of Apollo.
– Along with this record, I leave behind a divine relic as beautiful as the sun.
So, it was Apollo’s priest who recorded these writings. There’s a high chance the relic is an instrument.
‘I shouldn’t feed this to Gluttony; this would be useful for Delion.’
I intended to leave behind a divine relic like this, which could be beneficial to someone else.
Donating it to the temple would be pointless without someone skilled to manage it, rendering such a choice ineffective.
‘And since it’s a relic from the heretical Olympus faction, I could earn significant merit by having Gluttony devour and destroy it.’
– The Apollo I serve doesn’t just oversee the arts.
– Through his powers, I have seen a prophecy.
Was Apollo also a God of prophecy? This question quickly shifted to a chilly revelation.
– To you, who reads this as a victim in a world filled with malice.
– You, who upholds your will despite the wickedness surrounding you.
– This is the message I leave for you.
… It was me. Atra left this message specifically for me!
‘He saw through prophecy that I would be reading this? Just how far into the future did he see?’
– Use your power.
– Look into my relic, ‘Phoebus’.
– There, we shall meet.
As my hand brushed against the last letter, the wall slightly cracked. Breaking the cracked section revealed a golden instrument wrapped in cloth.
A lyre that seemed to radiate its own light. Undoubtedly, this was Phoebus.
“Wow! It’s so glamorous! Uncle, do you know how to play an instrument?”
“No, not at all. I’m not taking it to play.”
I placed my hand atop the instrument and gently closed my eyes.
“Hold on, Ethnos. Are you planning to look into it right away?”
Lyla was flustered as she tried to stop me.
“Wouldn’t it be better to do this somewhere safer? If something happens here, we could all be wiped out.”
“The traps near this temple suggest that the risk is-”
“No, I mean you’d be the one doing the killing.”
Ah, indeed. That was a possibility. No one appreciated my meditation technique; hence, they were quite anxious about it.
“There won’t be an outburst. I can filter out anything dangerous.”
“Are you certain? Honestly, every time you mention meditation, I get terribly anxious.”
“I can handle most things now. Besides, the incident before wasn’t due to meditation itself.”
Reluctantly, Lyla accepted my assurances despite her unease.
“In any case, if anything seems to happen, I’ll stop immediately. Keep an eye out.”
Leaving my concerned companions behind, I began reading the lyre’s information.
The process of how an ordinary wooden instrument was reborn as a relic imbued with the golden light of the sun.
Blood was flowing.
Warm blood dripped from my hands onto the instrument.
Dizziness followed by an overwhelming sense of fatigue enveloped me. The amount of blood loss left me dazed.
“Hm…?”
A voice, sweet and melodious, mumbled as if awakening from a dream.
“Could you please separate yourself?”
The man holding the instrument spoke gently. Startled, I awoke from the transcendent state and detached from that body.
“You truly came, as expected.”
“The prophecy told me so. It fits eerily well.”
The man with long braided platinum-blonde hair wore a gentle expression. This was Atra.
‘Is this man one of the Twelve Heroes? Somehow… he seemed more like a kind music teacher.’
His overall demeanor was quite different from that of a typical hero.
“I don’t particularly like prophecies… but they seem to hold something of significance.”
“Indeed? I don’t really favor them either. A free and unfolding future is more beautiful than something predetermined, isn’t it?”
While I wasn’t sure about beauty, I agreed with the sentiment.
“This scenario is hard to grasp. You’re surely not real, and yet…”
“I am likely a remembrance constructed from the fragments of the world and your heart. I cannot perceive it myself, though.”
Atra replied, wrapping his hands in cloth.
“It doesn’t matter whether I’m real or not. What matters is that I have something to tell you, as guided by Apollo’s prophecy.”
“I see. Well then, before anything else, I have a question.”
I pointed to the blood-soaked lyre.
“Can you tell me about this blood? The instrument, Phoebus, is supposed to be a divine relic gifted by a God… What exactly is happening here?”
“This? Apollo indeed bestowed it, so it’s a divine relic. However…”
Tap tap.
A simple tap emitted an ordinary wooden sound. For a God-given instrument, it seemed devoid of grandeur, surprisingly mundane.
“There’s no mystical power yet. What I’m doing is infusing that divine power from the Gods.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t quite understand. Are you saying Apollo’s gifted relic is merely a plain wooden instrument?”
Atra chuckled and shook his head.
“There’s no ‘plain instrument’, my friend! Every instrument holds the craftsman’s soul. This instrument is imbued with Apollo’s grace while being crafted.”
Offering me the blood-drenched lyre, Atra invited me to inspect it. Soaked as it was, it didn’t feel unsettling.
“This explains why you call this Apollo’s gift.”
This instrument was indeed created by Atra.
The material came from trees that grew in the sunniest spot of Apollo’s sanctuary.
The crafting process only occurred while bathed in sunlight and peculiarly, surrounded by those being healed.
“Indeed. Made with sacred rituals in sacred places, divine intent naturally seeps into it.”
As Atra plucked a string from the lyre, a clear sound resonated through the temple.
“There are many ways to create relics, but this instrument was made this way.”
“Then, this bloodstain process is…?”
“As Apollo’s high priest, I infuse it with blessings on his behalf.”
Placing the lyre down, Atra spoke.
“The prophecy said… you would give this instrument to an ally.”
“I plan to.”
“Incredible. To easily hand over such a relic… I’d find it difficult myself.”
Atra exuded an aura that put others at ease. Despite the warmth, I felt pressed to shift to the crux of the matter.
“I’d like to move onto the important part.”
“Every tale holds importance.”
“Why did you call me?”
With a soft nod of understanding, Atra smiled.
“You really don’t have time to waste, do you? That’s precisely why I called you.”
“Pardon?”
“I’ve heard many prophecies. But only two pertain to a far future, both about you.”
Atra beckoned me to follow as he exited the temple.
Outside, the sight left me speechless.
“Your era doesn’t look like this, does it?”
It was beautiful.
A temple surrounded by decorated flowers and laden with fresh fruits. Glistening white structures mirrored the imagined gardens of the Gods.
“Do you see those beautiful women seated there? They’re devotees of the Muses. Henceforth, join them in their singing.”
Thinking I misheard, I looked at Atra. His unchanged gentle face suggested he genuinely meant for me to sing.
“Why singing out of the blue? What do you mean?”
“Just listen. To the sound of the Euterpe devotees’ pipes. To the strings plucked by Erato devotees.”
They were pleasing to hear, yet I still couldn’t discern the rationale.
“Do you not understand?”
“No.”
“You’d likely find the lamentations by the Melpomene devotees as mere sad tales.”
Perhaps, but isn’t that somewhat natural?
“Conversely, if the devotees of Talia presented humorous, lively comedies, you’d probably consider them just good stories.”
Atra softly yet earnestly pointed out my dry emotions.
“My prophecy spoke of someone arriving in an era of upheaval, singing at this lake.”
Certainly, it referred to me.
“Though impressive to other listeners, the hidden grief and sorrow couldn’t be concealed from the goddesses.”
“Is that…?”
“It’s time you face the pains you’ve ignored and dismissed. This helps ensure the Foreign Gods can’t tear open your wounds and ruin you.”
“Hold on. Was that the intent?”
“Indeed. I prepared everything in this temple for you and your companions.”
Strumming the lyre with beautiful melodies, Atra watched me.
“So, embrace the first of the 12 preparations eagerly! Sing joyfully until the Muses’ devotees acknowledge you!”