Myth: The Ruler of Spirituality

The king, already on the brink of legend, easily determined that the source of the voice was inside the palace, and not far off. That place was where the presence suspected to be a deity resided.

In an instant, a myriad of emotions flashed through his heart. He wanted to draw his sword and charge ahead without regard for anything else, but various old rumors surfaced one by one.

Clytius didn't understand why things had turned out this way, nor why the queen had provoked that mysterious being, but if it truly was a deity, then the consequences of angering her could very well be the destruction of the entire city-state.

The king began to hesitate, feeling as if he had a ten-thousand-pound weight on his back. As the son of the first city founder, and one who had followed his father to establish a new city, Clytius didn't care much about his own life and death, but if his death was not only useless but would also cause greater disasters, the courage to draw his sword suddenly retreated from his heart.

Moreover, he had two sons and four daughters, which left the king in great turmoil... However, before he could truly make a decision, the next moment, a terrible might burst forth again from the place the voice had come from.

The immense pressure covered the entire palace, causing the guards patrolling various areas to stop in their tracks... Feeling that overpowering presence, which he absolutely could not contend with, the king clenched his teeth and walked towards that direction.

Now, he was the only person in the palace who could still move freely. Bearing the terrifying oppression, Clytius moved forward; he had to find out what happened, no matter the outcome, whether good or bad.

...

"Crackle—"

"..."

"Crackle—"

"..."

In the room, the goddess's hand was on the infant's face. The tiny sounds of the fuel bursting in the fire seemed to continually echo in her ears, like a rhythmless melody.

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But it was always like this, and Demeter had long grown used to it. Even when she thought she heard some other noise, she didn't pay much attention.

The mortal realm was just the mortal realm, no matter what happened here, it was of no concern to the goddess. Now, to her, completing the baptism of Demophon was key.

The pleasantness of her past life made her feel that no one would come to disturb her... It seemed it wouldn't take long, just a few more days, and this mortal's offspring would attain immortality, henceforth existing alongside the divine...

"..."

"Crackle—"

"..."

"..."

"... Ah!!!"

Suddenly, a sharp cry pierced her ears, and the goddess, who had been fully engrossed, woke up with a start. The intense emotion contained in that voice startled Demeter momentarily, and her hand involuntarily flinched, causing the protective force around the little prince to retract as well.

Then, the next moment, a loud wail echoed throughout the room.

"Wah—!"

Even if it was just for an instant, the pain from the sacrificial fire had awoken the infant from his sleep. He began to cry loudly, expressing his discontent, and at the same time, the queen realized that her child was still alive.

Her eyes wide with shock, the queen rushed forward as if she had forgotten the threat of the flames. She picked up Demophon from the fire.

Feeling the normal texture of the infant's skin in her arms, and his loud crying, Metanira finally breathed a sigh of relief, and only then did she turn to look at Demeter beside her.

The queen realized that perhaps the other wasn't attempting to harm Demophon, but instead was doing something else, something she didn't understand.

Perhaps this wasn't a bad thing... Thinking this, she aimed to justify her impulsive action. But as Metanira looked up, she was met with a pair of ice-cold, indifferent eyes.

In that moment, the queen felt as if she wasn't being looked at as a person, but rather as a blade of grass, a pebble. She wanted to say something, but the other spoke first.

"Mortal, do you know what you've done?"

Coming back to her senses from the alarming change, Demeter spoke calmly within the room.

But facing her, the queen frantically tried to explain:

"... Moira, I didn't mean to, I just..."

"You've disrupted my ritual, mortal... His face will now bear a never-fading mark—just like a criminal."

She spoke calmly, but a boundless rage rose from within her, not for the little prince, but from another source.

At that moment, Demeter suddenly realized that she might not like this child that much. She was puzzled as to why she felt this way, but as she spoke, watching Metanira's reaction, the goddess understood something.

Hearing Demeter's words, the queen's face showed no disdain, although somewhat regretful, she wouldn't let it change her affection for Demophon, but it was different for the goddess.

She liked the child, but only if it was a flawless, perfect offspring nurtured by her. It was a transference of her longing for her daughter and a reflection of her jealousy towards Leto, the Goddess of Nursery, and her son.

Without powerful strength, and even driven to desperation by Hera, Apollo still turned out so excellent. By comparison, Demeter could only make her daughter hide and seek refuge, and in the end, she couldn't escape death.

He was just a mortal... Even if a prince, what was so special about him to a deity?

He merely appeared before the Fertility Goddess at the right time and thus received her affection. But he was never irreplaceable, especially at this moment, when the masterpiece that should have been perfect showed a flaw.