"Then remember—don't go getting all excited the next time you hear this song…"
Thea, who had spent most of her life pinning random labels onto other people, never expected Steve to turn the tables on her today. Singing felt great in the moment, sure—but then she instantly remembered the consequences of what she'd just done.
If Diana ever saw Audrey Hepburn singing this song in the future, then what!?
She hurriedly lowered her voice and began whispering to Diana, desperately trying to patch things up.
"I've never heard this song before… and it's so good. But from the way you're talking, does that mean I'll hear it someday? So it's a song from the future? That means you're also someone from a future timeline? Oh… no wonder you didn't use your full strength in that fight this afternoon…"
Diana might be innocent, but she wasn't stupid. With this many clues, a bit of casual reasoning was enough for her to piece together the truth.
What could Thea say?
She could only nod.
Diana folded her arms, her gaze sweeping up and down Thea.
"You didn't dare join the fight earlier because you were afraid of triggering a time-chain reaction? But you still insist on joining the battle against Ares—that means Ares is definitely going to be defeated by me, isn't he!?"
As long as it wasn't some complicated political problem, Diana instantly transformed into a grim-reaper version of Conan the Detective. One deduction after another came flying out.
Seeing Thea neither nod nor shake her head, the conviction in Diana's heart shot straight to its peak.
Thea stared speechlessly at the battle-ready Diana. She never imagined it would be this chain of deductions that firmed up Diana's belief in her destined victory. Call it coincidence or call it historical inevitability—whatever the reason, Diana was finally back on her original narrative track: believing wholeheartedly that she could defeat Ares.
"Once Ares is defeated… does that mean my mission is over?"
Even though Diana knew she shouldn't ask too much, after several moments of hesitation, she still voiced the question.
Thea gently patted her on the back.
"Of course not, my knight. Your mission is only just beginning."
"Knight? You think I'm like a knight?"
Diana clearly had read her fair share of knight stories too—she burst into a bold, hearty laugh.
"Why not? Look at you—you've already got a shield and a sword. If you're not a knight, then what are you? I'm the delicate little lady who needs your protection…"
"Nonsense. You are definitely not a delicate little lady, my great Mage!"
Diana seemed to genuinely enjoy this role-play. She even struck a proud kingly walking pose as she said it.
The gap between her usual seriousness and this was simply too cute.
Watching Diana finally show a real smile, Thea felt her heart fill with joy.
But this knight-and-mage play couldn't continue—everyone knew the story of King Arthur. Someone who'd been cooped up on Themyscira for five thousand years would absolutely know it. If Diana suddenly connected Thea to Merlin, that would be a disaster.
So Thea hurriedly steered the topic away…
The next day, the six of them said their goodbyes to the villagers and set off on the final leg of their journey.
As they neared the German castle fortress, Steve—disguised as a German officer—went ahead with Sameer, who pretended to be an Indian driver, to scout for intel.
To avoid creating any major timeline disturbances, Thea split from the group early and headed off alone. She cast an invisibility spell and sprawled out on the castle rooftop, happily sunbathing. When she got tired of lying down, she pulled out a magic book to study. When she got tired of studying, she went back to sunbathing.
She had no intention of participating in the upcoming plot. As long as she was nearby when Diana fought Ares, that was enough—Zeus's divine arrows, after all, came with auto-recharge.
Right now, she was flipping through a book with an absolutely ridiculous title:
"Defense Against the Dark Arts…"
Thea complained about it endlessly. Would reading this book drop her straight into the Harry Potter world?
She only made it three pages in before the reindeer spirit inside her spatial ring sent her a vague message:
"Goddess wants to see me?"
A matter from a deity was never small—especially when the goddess in question was the Night Goddess, who probably didn't like sunlight very much.
Thea immediately flew down from the German noble family's castle roof, headed for a forest, and stood solemnly at attention, waiting for the goddess's message.
"What? The Goddess is lacking magic and needs me to supply it…?"
Thea had stood obediently for three whole minutes before the reindeer relayed this new message—leaving her on the verge of mental collapse.
Seriously?
I have to pay magic just to talk to you?
Is this a double-sided fee? What era are you living in!?
Still, despite her complaints, the goddess had never assigned her any burdens—only benefits.
So Thea followed the reindeer's instructions and injected a small portion of her magic into the ring.
The world spun.
She found herself once again in the high-dimensional realm from before—except far less stable this time.
She waited a full ten minutes before the goddess finally flickered into view like an old TV with terrible reception.
"Your Majesty."
"Hello, Thea Queen—my chosen. I didn't expect we would meet again so soon…"
The goddess's voice was still as light and clear as ever.
"I came to ask you for a favor…"
There was an unmistakable hint of embarrassment in her tone.
"I am willing to serve you!"
Thea shouted her vow with thunderous conviction—only for her momentum to instantly crumble at the goddess's next sentence.
"Unfortunately… I have nothing left to repay you with. Would you still be willing to help me?"
There was a faint, sorrowful chill in her words.
The reindeer nudged at Thea's leg as if pleading.
Broke!
You have nothing left!?
So you want me to help you on the strength of your words alone?
Thea wanted to refuse—but her conscience pricked at her.
The last time, she had taken a lot of benefits. And the goddess really did seem pitiful right now.
So she decided she had to help.
She lifted her chin with heroic resolve.
"Your generosity is enough to light the long, dark night. I am honored to assist you."
Though Thea couldn't see the goddess clearly, she could feel her relief.
"I had already accepted my inevitable fall… but your night dance last night allowed me to regain a sliver of vitality. Before anything else—I must thank you."
Last night's dance?
Thea didn't even know how to feel about that.
She danced for a few minutes, and that somehow revived a dying goddess?
Faith-based divinity really was absurd—growing fast, dying fast.
One little dance, and the Night Goddess was pulled away from the brink of death?
Seeing the goddess's situation only strengthened Thea's resolve to follow the path of power-based divinity. Faith was far too dependent on external forces.
The goddess didn't seem to have much time. She didn't give Thea long to think.
"After watching your dance, the nearby villagers developed a shallow level of belief…"
Thea immediately sensed danger and quickly interrupted.
"Your Majesty, I can't alter the timeline. If I start spreading faith in this era… that would…"
"Don't worry. I'm not so easily extinguished—I can survive for a few hundred more years. I only want to ask: would you be willing to return to your own era and help me spread just a bit of faith?"
Ah.
That was fine.
Actually, it wasn't hard at all. And faith—even shallow faith—was useful.
Not something to rely on, but something that could deflect disaster and invite good fortune.
Thea had placed her own statue on Themyscira for this very reason: to slowly absorb a tiny amount of belief, like carrying a personal good-luck charm without disrupting her foundation.
If the goddess regained enough faith, Thea—as her chosen—would benefit as well.
It made sense to agree.