On the island of Sardinia, every television station was running extensive reports on the recent natural disasters.
Flights to the island had even been suspended, completely turning this isolated Mediterranean land into a divine playground where one could only leave, but never enter.
The atmosphere at the breakfast table in the witch's house was unavoidably heavy today. Perhaps it was because two people were missing. Perhaps it was because of the glimpse of a third god caught during the earlier spirit vision. Perhaps it was because of the renewed depletion of magical power. Or perhaps it was because of that battle.
As for the outcome of the battle, perhaps only the gods knew.
But for Erica, who had been blown by the solar storm to the Gulf of Orosei in southern Sardinia, she walked the road, lost and devastated. If her old friends from Milan were to see her now, they might not believe their eyes. The Crimson Devil, Erica, who was always attentive to her appearance and eternally confident, was now wandering aimlessly like a stray dog.
I should have been the one to die. Erica lamented in her heart.
Ignorant of her own limits, she had foolishly challenged a god. It should have ended with her own death, but a truly qualified warrior had stepped forward in her place, facing the Heretic war god who defied myth itself.
She no longer cared if the war god lived or died. What pained her was the death of the Saint, Seiya.
That method of fighting, burning one's life to the very end, meant he could not have survived. He could never live again. She couldn't understand how such a cruel inheritance could exist in this world.
She clenched her fists, not even feeling the pain as her nails dug into her palms. Or perhaps, she was trying to use this pain to clear her head. Until, her spiritual sense was faintly stirred.
Though she was also a witch, Erica's talent in this area was far from being as outstanding as her skills in the knightly domain. It certainly couldn't compare to Lucretia, who was of the highest terrestrial order and the strongest witch in all of Italy. Nor could it compare to her friend and equal. She just happened to possess this talent, nothing more.
But in that moment, she keenly felt a thread of connection to something.
When she saw the figure on the surface of the sea, she felt as if she had been struck by lightning.
Then, she threw all caution to the wind and rushed forward.
Three days earlier, Sardinia, in a spirit-world zone near the coast.
In the forest, an owl and a black snake moved through the trees. These seemingly ordinary creatures were, in fact, divine beasts.
The owl landed on a girl's shoulder. The divine beast, a symbol of wisdom and victory in war, tilted its head just like its mistress, looking at the nearly desiccated body floating on the black surface of the sea.
His energy was spent, his body was spent, his life was spent. But even so, a single thread of life remained.
But this thread of life was like a candle in the wind, flickering and on the verge of being extinguished.
The goddess of wisdom and victory, in her incomplete form, looked with her still-youthful body at the warrior before her. With her memories, with her wisdom, she was somehow unable to ascertain what kind of warrior he was. Yet his faith was real and true.
Soon, the goddess arrived at an answer with her super intelligence.
"He must be a warrior who has fallen for my charms. That must be it."
The young goddess wore an expression that suggested this was only natural. Though her face was calm, the lightness of her steps betrayed her inner feelings.
She had many names. Gorgon or Medusa were but some of the names she had held in the past. But they all represented the same meaning—a title of reverence praising the triune holy mother goddess who once ruled the Mediterranean.
—Athena.
The sea god Poseidon was her sworn enemy. At least, that's what the Greek legends said. But she didn't hate the sea because of it. Both the sea and the earth were deeply connected to the essence that had been stripped from her—the source of life. What she truly hated was the sun. The brilliant light, the dazzling throne of the sky king, was what truly displeased the Queen of the Night.
And seeing the youth who had stood against the sun-carrying white horse reminded Athena of the distant past.
The sun was also the fire of life, an indispensable element connecting life and death. Willingly accepting this light was also the duty of the Queen. What remained in her hazy memory was her mother's sigh, the Queen's shame, the crone's wisdom. In her fragmented glory, only the memory of resisting the sun, which belonged to the domain of her father—the Sky King Zeus—remained.
Athena looked at the desiccated body, and the more she looked, the more delighted she became. Of course! He held nothing back! I, Athena, am just that charismatic!
Saint, the time has come for your humble servant to save you. Be revived for me!
The young goddess lowered her head and kissed her warrior—
—It was a simple kiss, yet it was the Authority of Immortality, a power that crossed the winter of death and strode into the spring of hope.
To the ancients, a creature as strange and mysterious as the snake was rare. It constantly shed its outer shell, hibernated for long periods in the winter, and then, as if resurrected from death, would awaken in the spring. It easily crossed the gap between winter and spring, a god who ferried mortals to immortality.
After performing this miracle, Athena's own form flickered unstably. When a night breeze blew past, her figure vanished completely.
For the Saint, Seiya, it was as if he had been dreaming.
It was a distant dream, one that should have belonged to him, or rather, to all Saints.
A time when gods still walked the earth, when the distance between gods and men was not so great. When warriors blindly flocked to the side of calamitous gods, only the goddess of wisdom and victory named Athena stood up, waging successive wars against the evil gods who sought to destroy the Earth.
In every parallel timeline, every possibility, every world-line, he was fighting.
Sometimes challenging the Pope of Valhalla in Northern Europe, or Abel who sought to rule the Earth, or the goddess of discord Eris, or the demon king Lucifer who would destroy the universe, or the celestial deities, the moon goddess Artemis and the sun god Apollo.
There was victory, there was defeat. There was an indomitable will, and there was also submission.
But in the end, all these possibilities, all these experiences from parallel timelines, condensed into a single line of text in Seiya's mind.
"You must believe in your Cosmo."
As long as the spirit is not extinguished, as long as the will to fight remains, hope will always appear.
The moment Seiya opened his eyes again, his entire body felt warm, as if he were soaking in a spring of revival.
He didn't know where he was for a moment. Was this the Underworld after death? Some corner of the spirit world? Or had he won and was now experiencing the ritual of becoming a Godslayer?
But it was none of those. This was still Sardinia. This was still the mortal world.
It seems my mission isn't over yet, Seiya thought. But then, he froze.
Because right at his bedside, there was a bronze stone box inlaid with the shape of a Pegasus.
In that instant, it felt as if a lifetime had passed.
_____
Greetings! ✨ Walnut here with another translation! Saint Seiya united by their strength!
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