Having traversed countless realms, can you possibly be as clever as me?

"—You're clearly wasting his time."

Her tone suddenly became sharp.

"You swore to remain a virgin forever, you swore to never be tainted by lust, you swore to stay away from all physical pleasures—well, that's your own choice, I won't interfere."

Aphrodite raised her hand, pointing to the Thrush behind Athena, her index fingernail gleaming with a pale pink luster.

"But what right do you have to monopolize the most precious treasure in the world? You can't love him, you can't kiss him, you can't hold him in your arms and cherish him, so what right do you have to lock him away in a corner like a collectible?"

Her voice suddenly rose, and an almost angry expression appeared on her stunning face, an anger that added a dangerous glint to her beauty.

"You are wasting a precious gift, Athena!"

Athena's gaze was icy; the spear shaft, entwined with an olive branch, creaked slightly in her palm, and her armor rose and fell with her breath.

"If you dare to come even an inch closer to him—"

"—So what if I am?" Aphrodite interrupted her, taking a step forward and crushing a mother-of-pearl inlay on the ground with her bare foot. "Are you going to kill me? Can you kill me?"

The moment that step was taken, the atmosphere of the entire palace changed abruptly.

Aphrodite's long red hair moved without wind, floating in the air like a burning tide. An unprecedented, heavy, and tyrannical aura began to emanate from her, an aura completely different from her previous charming and delicate demeanor, surging like a tsunami crashing on the shore!

A pale golden halo appeared in her violet eyes. She raised her right arm, spread her fingers, and faced the sky with her palm, then suddenly clenched it.

A long spear materialized from the void and landed in her palm. The spear was made entirely of gold, and its shaft was engraved with intricate rose and myrtle vines.

Aphrodite stood with her spear in hand, her posture shifting from languid to upright, her waist slightly lowered, her feet apart, her center of gravity lowered—a posture purely that of a warrior.

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“Athena,” Aphrodite began with a cold laugh.

"You think I'm only good in bed? Have you forgotten what Cyprus is? I was born here!"

Cyprus is not only the birthplace of the goddess of love and beauty. In ancient times, before the birth of the Olympian gods, during the even more distant Golden Age of Cronus, Aphrodite protected the island as the goddess of war.

She, Aphrodite, was the oldest and most senior person on Olympus!

Even in places like Sparta, Asia Minor, Syria, and Corinth, she had the duty to protect sailors, safeguard city-states, and drive out invaders.

Especially on this land, she had personally severed the heads of invaders and pierced through giants who dared to offend her sacred domain with her spear. She was Aphrodite, the embodiment of rage and flame, beyond love and lust.

Perhaps in other places, this authority of war is not powerful, but in Cyprus, it is the embodiment of war!

Athena also wore a serious expression; she was well aware of Aphrodite's abilities. She wasn't merely a beautiful goddess who became the chief Olympian; in every sense, she was the oldest being on Mount Olympus, and could be classified as a Titan.

The next moment, the two spears clashed together.

A collision, like a thunderclap, shattered the clear sky. The jade floor of the palace cracked outwards from the point where the two goddesses' feet met, and spiderweb-like cracks spread to the four walls. Mother-of-pearl inlaid paintings peeled off and fell to the ground, shattering into colorful fragments.

The three goddesses, Mei Hui, had already screamed and retreated to the corner of the palace, embracing each other. The golden plates in their hands fell to the ground, clattering.

"He is a treasure, a perfect treasure!" Aphrodite's spear swept across, accompanied by a piercing shriek that tore through the air.

"What do you take him for? A weapon? A pawn?"

Athena parried with her spear, sparks flying, her boots carving two deep furrows in the stone pavement, and she said coldly.

"He is the child I chose, and his destiny is not something you can interfere with. His future is definitely not as your canary and lover!"

She retaliated with a spear thrust aimed straight at Aphrodite's face, the spear tip sharp enough to pierce dragon scales. Aphrodite dodged to the side, the spear tip slicing off a lock of her red hair, which fell to the ground and transformed into a rose petal.

The two goddesses fought fiercely without any restraint, while Tsurugi found a safe spot to sit down and began to enjoy the fruit from the nearby plate.

Haha, I love watching women fight!

Just as this heartless little fellow was watching the spectacle, a scarlet wind suddenly swept in.

We highly recommend this book to you: "Traveling Through Multiple Realms, Can You Be Smarter Than Me?", available to read at http://

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"Athena, why did you take me in as your adopted son?"

The young boy sat cross-legged in a fountain, looking at the Athena statue in front of him with curiosity and asked...

“Origrotes, your destiny is not recorded in the hands of the three Fates.” Athena’s voice reached his ears on the wind blowing through the olive trees.

"Even the gods cannot escape the judgment of fate, but you are an exception. Perhaps you do not have noble divine blood, but you may be the natural enemy of all prophecies and destiny."

"Perhaps in the future, you will achieve something great that no one could have imagined, but unfortunately, you were born too late..."

Tsurugi was raised by Athena until he was ten years old, when he was taught by Chiron for three years. His life as a boy was uneventful.

But he knew deeply that he was an absolute variable in this mythical world.

He is a 'son' who should not exist, a born god, so he fell into the River Styx at the moment of his birth, and should have been sent to Tartarus as something that did not exist.

But at the crossroads, he was rescued by the goddess of opportunity, thus becoming a variable that should never have existed.

In this symphony of destiny, he is the uncontrollable noise, the variable that no one can lock onto, and thus the three sisters of fate will continue to weave threads about his end.

Moros, the embodiment of destruction, will always be with him. He was born of chance, and therefore, the unexpected events that accompany chance will never cease until he is destroyed.

Tsugumi already knew his fate, and his attitude towards it was—

Sigh, why think so much? Let's just set it up first!

I have no intention of obeying the gods' commands, nor do I want to get involved in their games, and I certainly don't want to play any kind of hero.

Anyway, at worst we'll just blow them up. Who's afraid of who!

In short, Tsugumi, who held a "let's just give up" mentality, took everything in stride, so—

As Athena and Aphrodite were locked in a fierce battle, and the two goddesses were getting really angry, a gust of wind suddenly swept in without warning.

The wind didn't come from the omnipresent sky, but from the depths of the suddenly torn earth. But what surged forth wasn't the lava and stagnant water of the underworld, but a thick, blood-red gaseous current carrying the smell of rust and gunpowder.

The wind was scarlet, seeping in through every crack in the walls of the palace, like hundreds of red snakes slithering at once, obscuring the golden sunlight and swallowing up the fragrance of roses and myrrh.

Dongjiang's sixth sense shrieked the moment the scarlet wind touched the hem of his clothes!

Danger, danger, danger! An irresistible, overwhelming force, capable of crushing all mortal will, is sweeping towards him!

He was enveloped in blood, like a giant python coiling around its prey. His vision was instantly swallowed by the crimson, and all he could hear was the sound of the wind and a low, bloodthirsty roar, like a war drum.

Then, he was swept away.

Athena's spear was a beat too slow when it thrust out; the tip of the spear disappeared into the vortex of the crimson wind, leaving only a blur.

Her silver-grey eyes widened suddenly, followed by an angry roar.

"Ares—!!"

At the same time, Aphrodite's golden spear pierced the crimson vortex from another direction, its tip carrying the force to tear the earth apart, yet it too missed its mark. Her red hair danced wildly in the aftershocks of the gust, continuing its violent, volcanic eruption-like rage.

"Ares!!!!"

The two goddesses shouted out the same voice that echoed through the sky. Without a doubt, they recognized the identity of the guy who had suddenly attacked them.

Dongjiang was flung away by the scarlet wind. It was only a brief moment for him, but he was swept away from half the world.

Then he opened his eyes and remained silent for a moment.

This was a massive arena, or rather—an execution ground. The ground beneath his feet was paved with dark red stone slabs, the gaps between which were filled with dried, black bloodstains that had accumulated over countless years, emanating a strong, metallic stench.

The entire arena is a perfect circle, surrounded by tiered stone tiers and stands, carved with reliefs of war and carnage—shield-wielding warriors, fallen losers, chests pierced by spears, heads crushed by wheels. The reliefs are so lifelike, it seems they might break free from the stone walls at any moment to continue their unfinished battle.

Above the arena hung a sky shrouded in crimson clouds. The clouds churned slowly, like congealed blood being stirred, their light a dim, restless, and unsettling crimson. The air was thick with the mingled stench of dust and blood, dry and scorching.

In the very center of the arena—in front of where Tsurugi stood—three neat rows of soldiers stood.

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They were naked, their brown skin adorned with dark red patterns, like incantations written in blood. Their muscles were bulging, every inch of their bodies brimming with the strength forged through long, brutal training, where killing was their daily routine.

They held various weapons in their hands: short swords, spears, battle axes, maces, and flails. Each weapon bore dense wear and dried bloodstains, testament to the skill with which its owners wielded them.

Their hair was shaved off, leaving only a tuft on top of their heads, which allowed Tsurugi to recognize them—it was the symbol of the Theban Holy War Army.

So Dongjiang immediately felt a chill run down his spine!

It was simply because three hundred pairs of eyes were fixed on him. But if those eyes held only murderous intent and fanaticism, that would be one thing; the key was—

Hey! Don't look at me with that lewd gaze!

As is widely known, the Theban Holy War Army is not most famous for its fighting prowess or achievements; what they are most famous for is that they are all gay.

Yes, joining the Sacred Army of Thebes requires swearing an oath of loyalty to love and friendship, thus forming a tight-knit organization whose fighting power stems from the emotional bonds between its members.

The founders of the Sacred Army of Thebes said the following:

"A legion should unite loving warriors to form an unbreakable and indestructible force. Warriors will fight for each other because no one wants to lose face in front of their lover. For their loved ones, they will often fight bravely and fearlessly. If the battle is lost, lovers who have shared life and death will choose to fight to the death together. In times of crisis, they will sacrifice their own lives for their loved ones."

Thebans: Only gay men are fit to join our army!!!

But you know what? This Theban Sacred Army has always been quite powerful. They have always been a formidable enemy of the Spartans, and their force of three hundred men has defeated the Spartans more than once!

As for who the god behind these Thebans was—

Here's a counterintuitive little-known fact, and I don't know if it's a stereotype stemming from a certain game by a certain bald guy, but it makes people think that the Spartans worshipped the god of war, Ares. But in reality, Ares had no status in Sparta; the Spartans' most commonly worshipped god was Apollo.

On the contrary, the Thebans, the mortal enemies of the Spartans, worshipped Ares, and strictly speaking—the Theban Sacred Army was actually closer to the prototype of the so-called 300 Spartans...

But all this talk is meaningless, since in front of Tsurugi, the other god didn't even bother to hide himself.

At the highest point on the other side of the arena, atop layers of stone steps and grandstands, a throne stands beneath blood-red clouds.

The throne was cast from dark red metal, and the back of the chair was carved with countless overlapping weapons—swords, spears, axes, and hammers—intertwined and intertwined, like a huge, never-ending war altar.

And sitting on the throne was a huge phantom.

The phantom was over ten feet tall, formed from a semi-transparent blood-red halo, its outline vaguely visible. The helmet covered most of its face, revealing only a pair of eyes burning with crimson flames.

The phantom leaned forward slightly, its elbows resting on its knees, its fingers clasped together under its chin, looking down at the tiny blond boy in the arena with a superior air.

"Are you Aphrodite's gigolo?"

His voice was deep and thunderous, carrying a tremor that rose from the depths of hell, a mixture of gunpowder and sulfur, causing the entire arena's stone slabs to resonate.

Without a doubt, the voice carried undisguised contempt and malicious jealousy. Those eyes, burning with crimson flames, sized up Tsurugi, like a butcher inspecting a lamb about to be slaughtered.

Well, I knew it. I was indeed given Adonis's script.