Fate: I Just Want to Die and Sit on the Throne of Heroes-Chapter 78: Uprooting Mountains and Shaking Peaks

Chapter 78: Uprooting Mountains and Shaking Peaks
“Cross this mountain, and you shall see my eye.
Hermes.”
Rowe stepped into the mountain range Athena had mentioned and let the wind brush past his ears.
The words rode on that breeze.
A message, quiet yet clear.
The hint left by Hermes for anyone bold enough to come.
Rowe stopped at the foot of the mountain and looked straight ahead.
The mountain before him was enormous. Its ridges rose and fell like the backs of slumbering beasts. Dense forest wrapped its whole body, layer upon layer of towering trees stitching a dark green mantle over stone.
In the depths of that green, shadowy shapes slid along the ground like black snakes. Rustling, whispering sounds carried from within.
Enough to make ordinary men turn back.
Enough that even most demigod heroes would hesitate.
Rowe simply narrowed his eyes and took it all in.
Hermes was a very particular sort of god. Among the Greek pantheon he was not quite a chief deity, yet the difference in rank was negligible. If not for the twelve starships that had descended from beyond the heavens, He would likely have been counted among the Twelve Olympian Gods long ago.
Hermes did not stand out for raw might. His fame came from speed, from guile, from cleverness.
So this mountain…
“There is a trick here.”
Or rather, the mountain and its forest together formed a gigantic game board.
That tree might be a trigger for some hidden mechanism.
The grass might be a nest of disguised serpents.
The apparently solid earth might hide pits, while a downward slope might suddenly become a soaring track, hurling a traveler skyward in a flying chariot.
Not lethal.
But packed with surprises.
A prank.
And equally, a game.
“Come, play.”
An androgynous, youthful voice brushed past his ear.
For a moment Rowe seemed to glimpse a slim young figure drifting through the air, wearing a felt hat, winged sandals, a caduceus in hand, dark green hair flowing, delicate features framed by mischief.
Hermes.
To Him, this was a trial for mortals, but fundamentally it was still a game.
Among His many portfolios, He was also the god of games and contests.
“A game, is it. Such lofty amusement. No different from the Mesopotamian gods watching their ‘slaves’ dance for them.”
Rowe took a step forward.
He knew perfectly well that what he had just seen was no simple illusion.
With his senses, he could easily tell that Hermes was watching nearby.
Hermes had deliberately let his presence slip to Chiron.
Partly to draw Rowe away from Heracles.
And partly for this very moment.
To test this Sage from a foreign land.
As a representative of the Greek gods, it was exactly what he should do.
The gods of Greece were different from those of Mesopotamia. They possessed bodies that could contain their divinity perfectly, walking as both god and human, and would not be so easily countered by the Sword of Rupture.
But Rowe was something they could not afford to ignore.
They needed to sound out his disposition.
Probe his power.
And to the Messenger of the Gods, there was no better means than a game.
“No doubt this is also Lady Athena’s doing.”
High above, the youthful Hermes floated in the air, fingertips brushing the brim of his felt hat as he sighed.
“She met him and still passed him to me.
She could have tested him herself.”
Not only had she refused to do so, she had even kindly told Rowe where Hermes was.
In the end, she had simply appointed him as the villain.
Truly deserving of the title Goddess of Wisdom.
Show goodwill with one hand, push all the troublesome work onto someone else with the other.
Hermes shook his head, then turned his gaze back to Rowe.
Rowe did not know the exact shape of Athena’s schemes or Hermes’ grumbling calculations, but the broad outline was not hard for him to guess.
The intent was obvious enough.
Even so, he had no thought of backing down.
If he turned away here, it would only make the Greek gods look down on him and dismiss him as irrelevant.
Arrogance and audacity were his only real bargaining chips.
“In that case…”
“Let us try it your way.”
Only by stepping squarely into divine sight could he become a “hero” in Greece.
Only then could he truly enter this Age of Heroes under the gaze of the gods.
The forest stirred as the mountain wind rose.
Rowe lifted his hand, a pale arm extending from the sleeve of his robe.
He did not move forward.
He did not set foot upon the slope.
He simply let his power manifest.
The power of Ea, the god who created heaven and earth, the one who had once shaped primordial stars.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
The earth trembled faintly.
Hermes, still half complaining and half curious what method this foreign Sage would use to break his elaborate game field, suddenly went rigid.
Curiosity became shock.
Shock twisted into disbelief.
He watched Rowe raise his hand.
He watched a storm of crimson, flame like currents erupt from the ground.
He watched as that storm, guided by Rowe’s outstretched fingers, twisted upward and took shape as a gigantic hand, spreading its fingers beneath the mountain’s base.
Cracks split across the mountain’s borders.
Stone roared as it sheared away, earth collapsing and tumbling into rivers of dust that surged into the sky.
The entire mass shook.
And then it lifted.
The mountain.
All of it.
Rose.
Rowe held the whole mountain in his palm.
He had no interest in wandering through Hermes’ little tricks.
If he was going to be arrogant, then he would do it properly.
He would uproot mountains and shake peaks.
He could do that now.
After all, in the Imaginary Number Space, Zeus Himself had already evaluated him as an island class lifeform.
At the moment he took action, Rowe had already known.
He could do this.
He could move this much weight.
With a mortal body, he lifted the mountain, took a step, and strode forward.
Dust surged in rings around him, drowning the remnants of the “battlefield” Hermes had prepared.
The peak blotted out the sun.
The whole world seemed to darken beneath its shadow.
Hermes stared, dumbfounded.
“Great God King Zeus… Which of us is the god here?”
Why are you not testing me instead?
This was not how any of this was supposed to go.
In his mind, the famed Sage from a foreign land was a figure like the bearded philosophers of Athens, hunched over clay tablets and scrolls, wielding nothing but words.
And when he had first glimpsed Rowe’s composed appearance, he had only become more certain of that image.
So what was this now?
What part of this was “sage like”?
Was this a god of war?
Some variant of Heracles?
Or perhaps a mountain god who had slipped out of Mesopotamia by mistake?
Wait.
Why was the mountain getting closer?
No.
“AHAHAHAHAH, How does it feel to bear the weight of your own mountain, god of games?”
Rowe laughed freely within the storm of dust, as Hermes’ frantic screams echoed across the sky.
Do not come any closer.
Goddess Athena, save me.
I am…
In his final moments, the Messenger of the Gods only managed to squeeze out those two words.
“What is going on out there?”
Within Athens, Athena, who had returned to her temple, turned her gaze toward the outskirts of the city.
She saw dust rise like a tidal wave, filling the sky in the distance.
The silver haired goddess paused, her fine brows arching slightly.
That Hermes fellow had not gone too far, had he?
She was genuinely a little surprised.
“Lady Athena, is something wrong?” Medusa asked, voice cautious at her side.
“It is nothing.”
Athena drew back her gaze and lost interest.
She also chose to ignore the faint, desperate cry echoing from the heavens.
“Goddess Athena, save me…”
The Athena you are calling, what does she have to do with me, Pallas?
She knew perfectly well that Hermes had chosen to conduct the trial so close to Athens in the hope of dragging her into the trouble as well.
Athena had no intention of taking that bait.
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