Fate: I Just Want to Die and Sit on the Throne of Heroes-Chapter 121: Atalanta Glaring at Athena

Chapter 121: Atalanta Glaring at Athena
The rising sun announced the end of a long night.
Helios, the attendant god of Apollo and the personification of the Sun, appeared on the far horizon. Yet the full moon still hung high. Its shadow had thinned into something like diluted ink, but Artemis could not bear to sink to the other side of the world, and so she continued to gaze upon the present.
At that moment, Rowe, robes flowing, hovered at the gates of Olympus and smiled as he watched Athena approach him step by step.
“Congratulations, my only beloved.”
Athena brushed her silver hair back. Wrapped in a plain white dress, she leaned in and, in the next breath, embraced him. Rising onto her toes, she pressed her abdomen tightly against his. Her legs hooked around him, closing the distance with shameless certainty. She tilted her face to his ear, soft lips grazing his earlobe as she whispered.
Even with the slight regret of not having a direct confrontation, Rowe’s renewed display of wisdom made Athena, already carrying love, fall deeper.
Truly worthy, she thought, of being the only one beloved by the Goddess of Wisdom and War.
Athena’s expression was proud, confident. As she spoke, she could not resist glancing toward the lingering shadow of the moon. Her ruby eyes were openly provocative.
The moon shadow swayed faintly, then fell silent.
Watching the man and the god held in her arms, Apollo quietly turned his head away. Ever since his sister had cleared the dust from her heart, she had become a little… unrestrained.
And for some reason, Apollo felt a flash of envy.
No.
As the embodiment of art, he must maintain elegance.
Elegance. Elegance.
“I’ll be leaving first.”
With only that, Apollo, God of Light, directly summoned Helios’s sun chariot and drove away.
Aphrodite, the shadow of “Ares,” Hera, Hephaestus, the remaining gods all departed one after another.
A promise made was a bet lost.
No one would, and no one dared to, renege in front of Rowe.
As the Greek allied forces retreated, the soldiers of Uruk on the other side advanced.
Rowe extended a hand and marked their direction.
The Uruk soldiers moved toward the east he indicated, climbing mountains and crossing valleys. They would build a city upon a vast plain, reconstruct Uruk civilization in Greece, and then, little by little, transfer the people of Uruk from the Underworld.
Silently, they would replace the old with the new.
In the end, they would become the most populous people in Greece. And as customs changed, faith would follow.
“I wonder what Zeus will think then?”
Rowe watched the long line of Uruk soldiers and spoke as if to himself.
Would Zeus want to devour him alive?
Rowe felt anticipation bloom in his chest.
‘The Sage arrived upon the surface, made covenants with the gods there, and built a city.’
‘That city lay east of the Aegean Sea, forming a strategic pair with Athens. Vast and wide, its walls white as jade, towering like mountains.’
‘That was the holy city on the surface, the recreation of Uruk.’
‘People called it Rowe City, meaning the place illuminated by sagely wisdom, the city beneath Sage Rowe.’
‘Greek Mythology, Chapter of the Fourth Generation of Gods’
“Finally, have they all left?”
Inside the Temple of Olympus, Hestia, who had been trembling in a corner out of fear that Rowe would notice her, cautiously opened her eyes. She scanned the vast, magnificent Pantheon and, after confirming there were no other gods present, released a quiet sigh and sprang to her feet.
Her slender waist swayed. Her black hair flicked behind her.
This chief goddess, whose seniority rivaled the three God Kings yet whose presence was nearly invisible, slipped toward the exit at once.
Then she saw the two figures still embracing at the entrance to Olympus.
And at the same time, she met Rowe’s gaze, deep and direct, turning over as if it had been waiting.
How… are they still here?
And why are they still hugging?
It’s over. I’m going to be silenced, aren’t I?
Hestia froze for a breath, then silently shrank her neck and muttered.
“You can’t see me. You can’t see me.”
Though she was one of the Twelve Olympians, Hestia’s presence had always been remarkably low. That came from her conduct, understated beyond measure compared to the other chief gods, and also from the Authority she presided over.
The hearth.
Something in every household, so common no one paid it special attention.
Yet in truth, Hestia was also an extremely beautiful goddess. Her hair was jet black, her figure winding and graceful. A plain white dress could not conceal the fullness of her chest. Her bare arms swayed with soft whiteness, and her legs extending from the hem were full and smooth, the line leading naturally into firm curves.
She did not have Athena’s heroism.
She did not have Hera’s nobility.
She did not have Aphrodite’s overt allure.
But she carried the vitality of a young girl.
Which was precisely why it felt strange.
She was clearly one of the oldest among the Twelve Olympians… why did this old goddess act so affected?
Rowe’s gaze shifted slightly, his thoughts wandering in a direction that did not feel particularly reverent.
Hestia puffed out her cheeks.
She always felt like he was thinking something rude.
Rowe’s eyes moved away at the same time.
A crisp sound rang out in the air.
An arrow tore through the world and landed before him, perfectly straight, as if it had pierced the boundary itself and nailed it in place.
That was…
“Atalanta?”
Emerald eyes met his, bared teeth flashing. Fierce aggression, yet also a trace of charming innocence.
The hunter girl stepped onto Mount Olympus.
“Lady Artemis was right. You really did come back.”
Her voice sharpened.
“I said you are my prey.”
“And I will not let you go.”
Princess of Arcadia, Atalanta, let her beast like eyes sweep over Athena, who was still pressed against Rowe. Hostility poured out without restraint.
Ata had arrived.
After Rowe entered Tartarus, Atalanta had waited for his return in Arcadia.
That farewell kiss became an eternal memory.
That momentary impulse became an indelible mark.
She waited for a long time.
Time in the Underworld never matched the mortal realm. Half a month for Rowe down there had been far longer in the world above.
At one point, Atalanta even thought she would wait forever in Arcadia until she herself fell into the Underworld and met him there.
But just now, Artemis had descended from the Moon Palace.
She told Atalanta that Rowe had appeared on Olympus, and she sent her onto the path that led here.
Artemis had looked disappointed when she spoke. She told Atalanta that Rowe had already been snatched away by that cunning Goddess of War and Wisdom, Athena.
Artemis was very sad.
She believed Enkidu would also be very sad if he knew.
Atalanta knew her chief goddess liked Rowe very much.
So Atalanta stood here now, full of hostility toward Athena.
It was a double hostility.
Hostility because someone had taken the prey a hunter had set her sights on.
And hostility because Athena, in doing so, had insulted the goddess Atalanta revered.
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