Fate: I Just Want to Die and Sit on the Throne of Heroes-Chapter 79: May You Finally Find Your Home

Chapter 79: May You Finally Find Your Home
Coughs echoed under the settling sky.
“Cough, cough, cough…”
The mountain crashed back to the earth with a thunderous roar, tilting as it landed. The impact sent dust rolling in all directions, but by some miracle it did not bring the whole range down.
Rowe patted the dust from his hands and looked ahead.
There, half buried in dirt, covered from head to toe in dust, a certain figure spasmed with coughs.
Rowe smiled.
“Finally willing to come out, Mister Sneaky God?”
Struck by an entire mountain, Hermes had no choice but to drop his invisibility. He forced down his coughing, raised his head, and, as if nothing in particular had happened, smiled brightly.
“Ah ha. Good morning, young stranger. Congratulations on finding the greatest god, Hermes…”
Even like this, he was still the Messenger of the Gods. The scene was absurd, but his composure was real.
Rumble.
The mountain behind him shifted.
Rowe lifted his hand slightly, and the tilted mass trembled, its base grinding as if it might rise again at any moment.
Hermes fell silent.
Right.
This one really was more suited to being the god here.
Could he not, just this once, be allowed to lie still?
“Still calling me a stranger?” Rowe raised an eyebrow.
“Not a stranger. Not at all a stranger.” Hermes’ smile tightened. “Sage Rowe, my admiration for you is like the endless waters of the Aegean Sea. No matter how much you pour out, it never runs dry…”
“Enough. Get up.”
Rowe’s expression did not even twitch.
Hermes felt a strange jolt at that.
As a god adept at reading people, the originator of trickery and wheedling words, he was used to this trick working. No matter who heard such praise from him, their spirit would stir. Pride would flicker, even if they hid it well.
But Rowe did not react at all.
So this is the so called temperament of a Sage.
“All things in heaven and earth are within my sight. I can perceive all knowledge. Do I need you to tell me how great I am?”
Rowe’s tone was light, almost bored.
Hermes froze.
Ah.
He had misread it.
It was not that Rowe was especially steady. It was that Hermes’ praise simply was not enough.
Hermes fell into thought.
Rowe, on the other hand, was satisfied.
Good.
Let the gods label him as “mad” from their very first impression.
The Gilgamesh style really was useful. That golden idiot did have his merits. When Rowe met him again, perhaps he would scold him slightly less.
Slightly.
“Then let us speak of the real matter, Hermes.”
Rowe lowered his hand, though the mountain still loomed as an unspoken threat.
“Real… matter?”
Hermes blinked.
What real matter?
His mind lagged half a beat, until Rowe’s fingers twitched again and the mountain shuddered as if about to lift.
Only then did Hermes snap back to himself.
“Right, right. Of course. The truth is, the one who had me bring you here was my father, the God King Zeus.”
He spoke quickly, betraying the King of the Gods without hesitation.
“He ordered me to stay by Heracles’ side until he grew up, and to never allow any suspicious person near him.”
“In Zeus’ prophecy, Heracles will be the key to Greece’s future survival.”
Just as Rowe had guessed.
In some ways, Heracles and Mesopotamia’s Gilgamesh were very much alike.
Both were Children of Destiny selected by the gods.
Both were born carrying countless expectations.
The difference was that Gilgamesh had resisted the heavens as a youth, while Heracles had walked the heroic path the gods laid out for him.
But whether in resistance or obedience, both had stubbornly walked the road they chose, without backing down.
“Prophecy?” Rowe snorted. “The future is without end. How much do you think you can see?”
“We cannot see much,” Hermes said, spreading his hands. “But we must still try. You believe in human effort as well, do you not?”
He exhaled softly.
“Very well. I have told you what you wished to know, Sage. Now it is my turn to ask.”
“What blessing do you desire?”
Passing the trial of a god meant receiving a god’s blessing.
This was how mystery had first begun to seep into humanity.
The earliest “sorcery” and “magecraft” had all been extensions of such divine favors.
Rowe was not particularly moved.
As a child of primordial power in a human frame, a blessing from Hermes now would be little more than garnish.
“I am Hermes, guide of the roads and messenger of the gods,” Hermes intoned. “I am the god of games and athletics, and also the guide of the dead.”
“I shall grant you three blessings.”
“In the name of Hermes…”
“May you never be lost upon the earth.”
“May you always be protected by fortune in games and in contests.”
His tone shifted slightly at the final line, and a faint smile crept into his voice.
“And finally…”
“Oh, exile of the ages. May you drift on the wind, and at last find your ultimate home.”
He bowed lightly to Rowe, then turned.
The next instant, the Messenger of the Gods was gone.
Free to come.
Free to go.
This time, Rowe did not stop him.
“A home, is it?”
He stood there for a long while, expression unreadable, then slowly smiled.
“That does not sound so bad.”
The blessing itself was of little consequence.
What mattered was that through it, he had established his first clear bond with a Greek god.
Once a path is opened, the next steps become easier to see.
“What do you think, Pallas,” Rowe said quietly. “No, I should call you Goddess Athena.”
Leaves rustled overhead.
Silver white hair spilled down like a fall of light. A plain, cloud like gown unfurled like a blooming flower, revealing a flash of pale ivory along descending legs.
The newcomer brushed back her long hair and looked straight at him, crimson lips lifting with the faintest hint of a smile.
“As expected, I could not hide from you, Sage from a foreign land.”
…
“Heracles.”
Within Mount Pelion Cave, Chiron opened his eyes from quiet meditation.
Beside him, the tall youth responded at once.
“Teacher, I am here.”
“You have studied under me for three years now, have you not?” Chiron asked solemnly.
“Yes.” Heracles bowed his head respectfully.
“In these three years, you have learned all the martial arts I can teach.”
“You already possess the strength to stand as a hero.”
Chiron paused, then asked softly,
“But do you know what you still lack?”
“What I lack…”
Heracles frowned in thought.
“Is it… the ability to deal with enemies with words?”
For example, he still could not bring himself to say “your mother.”
Chiron’s mouth twitched.
It was over.
This child had been thoroughly corrupted.
Worse yet, he did not know how to pull him back.
“Ahem. That is your Grandmaster’s skill,” Chiron said gravely. “Do not force yourself down that path.”
“So I should find more suitable language instead. I understand.”
No.
No, you absolutely do not understand.
Chiron massaged his temple and chose to change the subject entirely.
“In any case, what you lack now is the experience a hero must have.”
“From today onward, you should leave this place and begin your travels.”
He looked at his disciple, eyes deep with both worry and pride.
“I believe…”
“Heracles, one day, your name will resound across this land.”
“Like Grandmaster’s, right?”
Chiron felt an ache behind his eyes.
For the love of the gods, could he stop bringing that man up?
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