Samael accepted the praise with quiet composure, though inwardly he muttered to himself.
I'd originally planned to win Heracles over, turn him against Olympus, and raise that mighty hero into the "Kratos" of legend—the one who butchered the Greek gods. He'd be the thorn in Olympus's side, giving Areopagus the perfect opportunity to move in.
Besides, Heracles is tightly bound to the Third Gigantomachy, that poorly recorded conflict which once plunged Olympus into crisis.
If Zeus's pawn slipped out of control, even if Olympus's foundations weren't shaken, the wise God King would at least suffer quite a blow.
In truth, Samael's landing from the Oceanus Sea, his encounter with Atalanta, and his decision to join the Calydonian Hunt had never been impulsive.
He hopped onto the cat-drawn chariot for two reasons: to meet the Greek heroes of this era, and to forge a connection with Heracles so he could provoke him into defying his fate.
Even the "oracle of Athena" that pushed the mighty hero to join them had been guided by Samael's hand.
Along the way, the Ancient Serpent guided and encouraged him, until Heracles finally loosed his rebellious arrow in the gorge—a shot that desecrated so-called divine majesty and led him to abandon the name "Heracles," refusing to remain "Hera's prisoner."
He simply hadn't expected the three goddesses of Areopagus to be so capable. Their preparations far exceeded anything he had predicted.
At least now he didn't need to cling to Heracles and persecute him endlessly.
A pity, though. He would probably never get to see this mighty hero go bald and grow stronger, flying axes in hand as he hacked his way from Sparta all the way to Olympus.
Thinking of this, Samael let out a helpless sigh. But when his gaze drifted toward a tall silhouette within the distant convoy, there was a faint hint of blessing in his eyes.
This way… is fine too.
Samael cut off his wandering thoughts, gathering his focus as he resumed his quiet discussion with the three goddesses about the rebellion's next steps.
"Next is Poseidon. If we manage to restrain Zeus, the Sea God becomes the most likely threat to seize power. Former allies would turn into new enemies. We need to prepare beforehand."
Athena nodded. Her fingers rested on the chessboard, tapping rhythmically on the table—a habitual motion in deep thought, uncannily similar to Samael's. With just a few sentences, she laid the situation bare.
"Exactly. We need to keep an eye on Poseidon.
So far, we can confirm this: if Hera seduces him and lowers the God King's guard, Poseidon and I can strike together. A sudden rebellion to suppress Zeus gives us an eighty percent chance of success.
Even if word leaks, the situation should remain within our control.
Hestia favors humanity and wants no part in conflict; Demeter is close to Aunt Themis because of Persephone; Apollo's two sons are already tied to Areopagus; Artemis needs our help to rescue Orion; Hephaestus is obsessed with forging and, after Pandora's Box, no longer trusts Zeus. So among the remaining eight of the Twelve Olympians, at least five will choose neutrality.
As for the other four still wavering: Hermes is loyal, but too clever to bet on a lost cause; Dionysus has shaky footing and can't stir up much; Aphrodite is weak in combat and still resents the God King and Queen-Goddess for forcing her to marry Hephaestus. If she doesn't take this chance to stab them in the back, that would already count as restraint; Ares is a brute who may not even notice our moves. And I heard you've cozy'd up to the Amazons? Ran off with his precious daughter Hippolyta? Impressive…"
Themis watched Athena speak so confidently and fluently. For a moment, she seemed to glimpse Metis—the previous Goddess of Wisdom, who had once shifted the tide of the war between old and new gods with her own strength.
No. Athena might even surpass her mother.
At her foster daughter's teasing, Samael rolled his eyes and replied sternly.
"Correction: they're your Amazons, not mine. Whether you can handle Hippolyta—that's homework I'm leaving for you."
"Tch. Heartless. Sending your foster daughter to entertain her future stepmother."
"Enough. How do you plan to deal with Poseidon?"
"His Temple of the Sea God may not surpass my Areopagus. And I have Aunt Themis and Medusa helping. And that's not even counting you and Tina."
Athena brimmed with confidence. With such a strong hand, she could hardly imagine losing.
"Not enough. Beyond the authority of the sky, Poseidon's dominion over the sea isn't to be underestimated. From what I know, half of the six thousand river and ocean gods born from the Oceanus Sea have pledged themselves to the Sea King. And once we intervene, Olympus's internal conflict turns into an external threat. Those neutral Main Gods likely won't stay seated."
Samael's cold assessment laid bare the hidden risk, dousing the pride simmering in the Goddess of Wisdom's heart.
She could challenge Zeus under the righteous banner of "rescuing Mother Metis."
But once Areopagus joined in, the nature of the conflict changed entirely.
Athena fell into gloom. After thinking it through again and again, she had to admit the possibility. She slumped over the chessboard, her enthusiasm draining away.
"Your point is that I should hold back and not stir up too much trouble?"
"No. I'm telling you that if you're going to do it, do it big. Aside from keeping watch on Poseidon, if necessary, you can throw all twelve Olympians into Tartarus Prison and have Areopagus replace Olympus entirely."
Samael spoke slowly, his expression darkening as he delivered the staggering proposal.
Themis and Medusa were taken aback, while Athena reacted first. She shot upright, her face bright with excitement, anticipation bubbling beneath a thin layer of unease.
"Father, that's going to be difficult. Because of [Paradise Island], Areopagus has been constantly delayed in gathering and cultivating human heroes. If we completely dismantle the system Olympus built, we won't be able to maintain divine offices or the functioning of the rules. The world will fall into chaos. As I see it, even a flawed order is better than none."
"Who said it's impossible? Did you forget about [Saint Seiya Athena]?"
"Huh?"
"There are two things, apart from Titan might, that humans truly revere: the starry sky above, and the moral law within."
Samael spoke in a soft, contemplative tone, his gaze glinting with layered meaning.
"Twelve Gold Cloths. Eighty-eight constellations."
Realization hit Athena all at once. She slammed her hands on the table and stood up, exhilarated.
"That's it! The twelve Gold Cloths correspond to the twelve constellations of the zodiac. They can replace the Twelve Olympians and command the stars!
And the remaining twenty-four Silver Cloths and fifty-two Bronze Cloths represent the larger and smaller star clusters of the northern and southern skies. They can fill the ranks of the subordinate gods. Under the supreme authority of Chaos and Order, we could build a Celestial Court that shines over all of Greece. It's perfect!"
At that moment, not only Athena but even Medusa—and even the ever-calm, ever-collected Themis—were left wide-eyed in disbelief, stunned by the sheer audacity of the Primordial Serpent's idea.