At the peak of Mount Olympus, within the magnificent Temple of the King of Gods, a woman of noble bearing and breathtaking beauty sat upon a lavish throne.
Her presence upon that throne, situated so boldly within the sovereign hall, spoke volumes of her status. She was the seventh wife of the supreme wielder of thunder—Zeus—and the only one among his many consorts to share half of his divine authority. She was Hera, the Queen of Heaven.
The Queen was undeniably exquisite. A crown rested upon her head, and her thick, auburn hair cascaded down like a shimmering waterfall. Her violet eyes, so brilliant they shamed the stars, seemed capable of peering through all veils of deception. Her ornate robes traced the proud curves of her figure, and a golden scepter rested against her lily-white, "white-armed" embrace.
Two goddesses stood respectfully behind her.
One possessed a resolute gaze and an athletic build, with a pair of powerful wings folded at her back. She appeared both heroic and alluring. The other was the image of purity, her figure lithe yet curvaceous. She, too, bore wings, but her gossamer garments shimmered with seven distinct colors under the sunlight, radiant and multifaceted.
They were Nike, the Goddess of Victory, and Iris, the Goddess of the Rainbow—the personal attendants of both Hera and Zeus.
Hera picked up a grape and idly fed it to a peacock trailing its massive tail feathers beside her. The magnificent blue-green plumage was not yet adorned with those peculiar eye-like patterns. Those "eyes" would eventually belong to Argus, the hundred-eyed giant kept by Hera, but the time for his fall had not yet come. Thus, Hera's sacred beast did not yet possess the legendary plumage known to later history.
As for why Argus would meet his end, it was yet another tale of Zeus's philandering—a truth history would eventually reveal.
The noble Queen teased the peacock with grapes, her boredom evident. Her gaze drifted toward the empty throne of her husband, and a cold light flickered in her all-seeing eyes. She knew exactly where her "dear King" and "good husband" had gone.
However, Hera was in no mood to pursue him today. Countless ages had passed since they wed; did she still love him?
Naturally, she did. Perhaps not at first. As the daughter of Cronus and Rhea, and as Zeus's own elder sister, Hera was a powerful and haughty goddess in her own right. For the brother who had rescued her from the bowels of Cronus, she had initially felt only gratitude and sibling affection.
When Zeus first proposed, Hera had refused. She understood his fickle and profligate nature; as the Guardian of Marriage, her intuition told her he was no suitable match.
Yet she had underestimated the persistence and deviousness of the King. Zeus had exploited her compassion by transforming into a shivering, rain-soaked cuckoo. When she took the bird into her warmth, he struck, stripping her of her maidenhood.
Possessing the Godhood of Marriage and being the defender of the hearth, Hera had no choice but to marry him.
At that time, Zeus had undoubtedly loved her with sincerity. To show his esteem for the "White-armed Goddess," she was the only one among his wives to be titled "Queen of Heaven" and granted half of his sovereign power. This respect and affection had indeed led to a period of blissful harmony. Those were the happiest days of Hera's marriage—days where she forgot her initial reluctance and truly fell in love with her husband.
But the King's nature was like the clouds in the sky, drifting wherever the wind took them. While Hera was still pregnant with their first divine child, Zeus strayed.
As the Guardian of Marriage and Family, she could not tolerate the betrayal. In a fit of rage, she tore the oak nymph involved with Zeus into pieces. She screamed, she wept, she demanded an explanation, becoming hysterical. The glory and dignity of a goddess vanished in that moment; she wanted only his repentance.
But when she finally looked up, all she saw was the irritable, cold gaze of a husband who had grown tired of her.
Hera remembered that feeling vividly even now. It was as if her divine blood had ceased to flow, and her heart was being crushed by invisible, massive hands. Wave after wave of coldness surged from her golden sandals to the crown of her head. Along with it came the agonizing backlash of her Marriage Godhood, fractured by her husband's betrayal and the cracks in their family.
It was a bitter, unforgettable pain.
She had watched him leave in a cold silence that marked the beginning of their first long estrangement.
Weakened by her damaged godhood, Hera could not gestate a healthy child. Their firstborn, Hephaestus, the God of Fire and Forge, was the result. That child should have enjoyed infinite glory on Olympus, but due to his mother's misery during his gestation, the once-perfect divine son was born with a fatal defect—his hideous face.
The gods of Olympus were naturally blessed by the world, their countenances crafted by the heavens themselves. One can imagine the fate of an ordinary, even ugly, divine son in a society that worshipped pleasure and beauty.
Zeus felt little paternal love for the boy and treated him with cold indifference. Not long after, when Hephaestus spoke up in defense of Hera against Zeus, the ruthless King threw him off Mount Olympus, leaving him to rot in the mortal world.
Hera, still weak from childbirth, could not save her son. She could only entrust him to Thetis, the sea goddess of the waters where he fell.
That child...
No mother could ever truly give up on her child.
"Soon... very soon... my Hephaestus, you shall return to my side."
The beautiful, violet-eyed goddess murmured to herself. For a fleeting moment, her expression was fragile, but the look vanished instantly, as if it had been nothing more than an illusion.
In the mortal realm.
Shhh-boom!
A sharp arrow ruthlessly pierced the heart of a hideous monster. Blood sprayed as the beast let out a ferocious howl and collapsed, its eyes turning gray as Death harvested its soul.
The girl holding the jade longbow stood with her golden hair shining, her violet eyes flashing with a sharp, martial brilliance quite unlike her usual self.
"Excellent!" Ares stood by the side, clapping sincerely for his younger sister. "Truly the daughter of our mother. In this light, you carry the same grace she showed during the Titanomachy."
"Don't underestimate me, Brother. I haven't just been practicing my archery over the last century."
Hebe arched an eyebrow. Her delicate, flower-like face now held a trace of heroic sharpness, like a sword unsheathed, bold and unrestrained. Over the past hundred years, she had relentlessly practiced the arts of slaughter and marksmanship. Combined with the power radiating from her two nearly-solidified new offices, Hebe felt she was finally stepping out of the "pretty ornament" category.
The pride and combativeness etched into her soul since her previous life were beginning to emerge, shedding their disguise and showing their edge.
"Oh?" Ares tilted his head, increasingly pleasantly surprised—and a little proud—the more he learned about his sister. "In that case, the next monster nest is in the Abyss Marsh. I won't lift a finger. I want to see exactly what you can do."
"Then keep your eyes peeled."
Hebe's violet eyes brimmed with battle intent. Being a "vase goddess" on Mount Olympus for so long had left her feeling utterly stifled.
The siblings sped through the sky in Ares's chariot. The speed of the vehicle was extraordinary; the massive winds generated by their flight meant nothing to gods, but a mortal on this chariot would likely have their skin stripped away. The four demonic horses pulling the chariot were of prestigious lineage—the offspring of the North Wind, Boreas, and the Goddess of Revenge, Nemesis. They possessed the innate power to command storms, and their speed was said to rival the wind itself.
Within half a day, the chariot brought Hebe and Ares to the Deep Swamps, known as the Abyss Marsh.
The place truly earned its name. Used to the vibrant beauty of Olympus, Hebe felt a wave of instinctive revulsion at the sight of the dark, terrifying forest. Though it was high noon with the sun blaring, the trees here were twisted like massive pythons, their trunks a ghostly, eerie blue. The foliage was thick, but instead of the vibrant green Hebe loved, the leaves were a deathly, rusted olive.
The canopy was so dense it completely blocked out external light. The only illumination came from strange, glowing blue mushrooms growing on the bark. Below them lay a marsh the color of rusted iron, thick with toxic miasma.
Hebe had no doubt that any creature wandering in here would be overcome by the fumes in three seconds, only to sink into the mire and become fertilizer for the monsters lurking beneath.
"The miasma is so thick."
Hebe frowned and raised a hand to cast a Purification Barrier around herself and Ares, blocking the corrosive fumes.
"This area is a 'Demon Domain,' formed from fragments of fallen deities that were stained by abyssal energy during the Titanomachy," Ares explained, having gathered intelligence beforehand. "The creature in this swamp is tricky—it's the Swamp Witch, Mandrake. Be careful."
Ares gave his warning but made no move to help. While Mandrake was annoying, she wasn't overwhelmingly powerful. Since he was testing Hebe, he wouldn't intervene unless her life was in danger.
"Understood." Hebe nodded, surveying the terrain. The environment was poorly suited for a direct confrontation—thick miasma, abyssal trees, and a witch hiding in the murky depths.
She would have to flush her out first.
The golden-haired goddess summoned her birthright artifact, the Chalice of Youth. With a swipe of her delicate hand, the golden cup expanded until it was large enough for a man to embrace. A colossal aura of purity erupted from the rim.
Hebe drew nine silver arrows from her quiver, placed them into the Chalice, and began to stir them clockwise. As the seconds ticked by, the arrows began to glow with a brilliant silver-white light. In this dark swamp, that aura of purity was as conspicuous as a lighthouse in the dead of night.
That should do it!
Hebe withdrew the arrows, now fully imbued with the divine power of Purification, and stowed the Chalice. She raised her jade bow, nocking all nine arrows at once. Her seemingly delicate hands erupted with peerless strength as she drew the bow into a perfect full-moon curve.
"Go!"
She released. The nine silver arrows streaked out like beams of moonlight, aimed straight for the center of the marsh. Mid-flight, the beams intertwined and fused, transforming into a giant spirit bird with a magnificent crest and long tail feathers.
Creeee!
The peacock of light let out a piercing cry, beat its wings, and slammed into the Abyss Marsh with the force of a collapsing river.
A massive explosion followed. The once silent, dark swamp became a chaotic battlefield. The purification aura within the arrows was naturally antithetical to the demonic energy of the marsh; the two forces clashed like fire and water.
The divine power of Purification began to spread, dissolving the miasma and cleansing the woods. As the demonic energy faded, the ghostly blue trunks and rusted leaves seemed to be washed clean, revealing their original forms. Bright green buds began to sprout, and the forest flickered with a sudden return of life.
"KYYAAAHHHH!!!"
A scream of pure rage and brutality erupted from the depths of the mire. The calm surface of the swamp began to boil like a cauldron of scalding water. From the muck, a dark green blur lunged out, hurtling toward the girl with the silver bow...