Fate: I Just Want to Die and Sit on the Throne of Heroes-Chapter 72: When You Come to Greece, Of Course You Have to Be a Hero

Chapter 72: When You Come to Greece, Of Course You Have to Be a Hero
Rowe knew perfectly well that Xisuthrus was just Ziusudra’s Hellenized name.
In truth, the world ending Great Flood was a disaster that appeared in nearly every regional mythology.
Mesopotamia.
Greece.
Even the Far East had its own legends passed down through the ages.
And in every version, there was never a shortage of survivors.
What Rowe had not expected was that Ziusudra and Xisuthrus were literally the same man.
If he had not seen it with his own eyes, he would have assumed they were just two heroes with similar backstories.
He also had not expected to run into him here, of all places.
“This old man said it before. We would meet again, and in the near future.”
The old man stepped out of the shadows.
He wore much the same clothes as when he had stood in Uruk, yet the feeling he gave off was completely different.
The heavy, death tainted air was gone.
In its place was the unhurried calm of an immortal who had already seen through the rise and fall of the world.
Here in Greece, he was simply an immortal. Not a denizen of the underworld.
“To be honest, how many alternate identities do you have?”
Rowe could not help asking.
“Wherever a Great Flood descended, traces of me remain.”
The old man spoke as if describing something obvious.
“This is also a necessary skill for those who dwell in the Netherworld.”
To have alibis scattered across every civilization.
That was quite a resume.
“Let us go.”
Xisuthrus stroked the beard beneath his cloak and lifted his gaze.
“Since you have come, this old man might as well be your guide.”
Unlike in Uruk, this time Xisuthrus had waited here without any hidden motive.
It was simply because they had once known each other, at least as acquaintances.
And no matter how one looked at it, he still owed Rowe a favor.
Stopping a world ending disaster had been Rowe’s own goal, but it had also been something the old man desperately wished to see accomplished.
“I could not ask for more.”
Rowe smiled.
“Thank you, wise immortal.”
When it came time to be polite, he never skimped.
Besides, he did truly need the help.
He knew he was in Greece, but he knew neither the specific time nor the precise place.
A guide was essential.
If he intended to die in a “deed” of his own making, he first had to locate appropriate opportunities.
Just as when he had first arrived in Uruk, he needed to understand the board before making his move.
Back then, he had spent an entire year hiding inside the Pantheon, watching quietly, before he began.
“This is a tree, and over there is grass… cough. This old man is joking. Do not be so easily fooled, young man.”
As he rambled, the old man caught Rowe’s increasingly flat stare and coughed lightly.
Rowe raised his middle finger in response, perfectly polite in his own way.
Clearly, he should not have bothered being so courteous.
But instead of rebuking him, the old man let out a faintly mysterious sigh.
“The mark of the sage.”
“You still do not know, do you?”
Xisuthrus narrowed his eyes. His beard trembled as he grinned.
“Legend says that in the lands to the East, there was once a sage who, as a mere human, fought against monsters that could end the world.”
“And that gesture is said to represent the sage’s spirit of resistance.”
“Now, in that country, countless people take pride in greeting each other with it.”
[TL: AHAHAHAHAH]
Rowe fell silent.
For a moment, he pictured an entire nation using that “ritual” as their standard greeting.
Meeting on the street, facing each other with a straight face, and all simultaneously raising their middle fingers.
Strange.
Far too strange.
“Enough of that for now.”
The old man’s tone turned more serious.
“Come. We can talk while we walk. We are heading to the nearest city state.”
Finally, back to the main subject.
Just like the Mesopotamian Plain, this land also bordered an inland sea, the Aegean Sea.
Around the Aegean, city states clung to the coast and islands.
They belonged to different tribes, different kings, and different gods, yet when taken together, they shared a single name.
Greece.
Another fertile cradle where civilization had been nurtured.
But the feeling it gave Rowe was completely different.
He walked through the forest in the soft light of morning and watched a “monster” to the side.
It was shaped like a lion, but vastly larger and steeped in magic.
After catching the scent of a living human, it lunged from the underbrush to hunt, only to slam headfirst into an invisible barrier.
The barrier that Rowe had quietly erected.
Magical beasts like that seemed to be everywhere in this world.
“In this land, the gods dwell in the heavens and mystery walks upon the earth.”
Xisuthrus, sensing Rowe’s silent confusion, began to explain in an offhand tone.
“Much like Uruk in the past, but what differs here is the form of the gods themselves.”
“The gods of this region can descend freely.”
“They are not naturally occurring divinities. They are steel beings from beyond the sky. Through human faith they obtained something resembling humanity, and from their steel frames they constructed human bodies that can bear full descent.”
They were lofty gods, yet they possessed shells that could walk the world like mortals.
This was the greatest difference from the gods of Mesopotamia, who existed only as intangible concepts and struggled to find suitable vessels.
“These magical beasts arose because the gods descend so frequently.”
Divine beings manifesting in the world naturally dragged mystery down in their wake.
“All things evolve because of that.”
“And humans grow stronger because of that.”
“In this land, some slaughter magical beasts and guard the peace of a region. Those are called heroes.”
“Some are reckless and lawless, yet gain blessings from the gods because of their character. Those are also called heroes.”
“Some are born with divine blood and possess overwhelming power from the very start.”
“The strong are heroes. The weak are simply people.”
This was Greece’s Age of Heroes.
“Roar, roar, roar.”
Behind them, the magical beast that had crashed into Rowe’s barrier was still raging, claws scraping uselessly at the air.
Neither of them bothered to look back.
Such small fry were no concern to Rowe anymore.
The longer he listened to the old man’s explanation, the brighter his eyes became.
Heroes. Heroes everywhere.
In Greece, being a hero was, without question, a profession with an extremely high mortality rate.
Because heroes drew the gaze of the gods.
And the more a mortal caught divine attention, the more tragic their end tended to be.
“I have decided.”
Rowe stopped abruptly.
“I am going to become a Greek hero.”
“Hahaha. Still as reckless and willful as ever.”
Xisuthrus did not look surprised at all.
He had always known.
Sage or not, Rowe and the King of Uruk, now called the “Non Divine Hades,” were the same kind of man at their core.
Reckless.
Willful.
Then…
“As your guide, I will recommend someone.”
He continued.
“There is a man named Chiron, an excellent Centaur hero. He has trained countless heroes and is famous everywhere as the Teacher of Heroes.”
“If you go to him, you will definitely find what you are looking for.”
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