Chapter 141: The Trojan War: PROLOGUE

High above the mortal realms, in the vast and resplendent dimension of the Gods, a meeting of unparalleled importance was taking place. More specifically, this gathering unfolded in the celestial halls of the Olympian Gods—a realm where divine power shaped the very fabric of reality.

The air was thick with tension, and the glow of eternal fires reflected off the towering marble pillars, casting long shadows over the gathered deities.

The twelve principal Olympian Gods, their presence both awe-inspiring and intimidating, stood at the forefront of the assembly. However, they were not the only ones in attendance. Surrounding them were other great Gods—deities from beyond Olympus, drawn here by the gravity of the impending crisis.

The grandeur of the gathering was immense, a rare convergence of divine forces, called forth by a war that threatened to reshape the very world over which they ruled.

The subject at hand was no ordinary conflict. It was a war brewing on the Achaean continent, the land where the Gods of Olympus were venerated, their names whispered in prayers and etched into the hearts of men. This was not the first war to unfold in the lands of mortals, but this one held a particular significance.

It was a conflict that, if left unchecked, threatened to tear apart the continent itself, leaving a legacy of devastation for generations to come.

Yet, despite the gravity of the situation, the Gods were bound by laws even they could not easily defy. The ancient decrees of Olympus forbade direct intervention in mortal affairs. To involve themselves too openly would disrupt the delicate balance of fate and free will, forces that even the Gods held sacred.

Seated at the head of the grand chamber was Zeus, the King of the Gods. His brow furrowed in frustration, and his eyes flashed with the fury of countless storms. Zeus, with his unmatched power and authority, longed to put an end to this war swiftly and decisively. His fingers clenched the arms of his throne, the marble cracking slightly under the pressure.

Yet, despite his immense might, even Zeus could not simply decree an end to the fighting. His influence, while vast, had its limits, bound by the same cosmic laws that restrained all Gods.

For months, Zeus had tried to manipulate events, pushing mortal kings and heroes toward peace, but it had all been in vain. Both the Greeks and the Trojans remained stubborn, each unwilling to back down, their pride and honor too great to bow to reason.

The seeds of this conflict had been planted months ago. What had begun as a hopeful negotiation between the two great powers of the Achaean continent—the Spartan Kingdom and the Trojan Empire—was now on the verge of collapsing into bloodshed. Talks of a truce and alliance had been progressing smoothly, much to the surprise of all.

He kidnapped Helen, leading her away from her home and her husband, carrying her across the seas toward Troy.

In that single act, a fuse was lit. It was the spark that would ignite a conflagration across the entire Achaean continent.

When Menelaus discovered his wife missing, the insult and outrage burned hot within him. His fury knew no bounds. It wasn't simply that his queen had been taken—it was the public humiliation of it, the sheer audacity of Paris to violate the sacred bonds of hospitality, to take what belonged to him under his very roof. Menelaus' anger boiled over, and he knew there was only one path left to him: war.

But Menelaus was not powerful enough to wage such a war alone. His eyes turned to his elder brother, Agamemnon, the King of Kings. Agamemnon, ruler of Mycenae, commanded the loyalty of the most powerful armies in Greece. He was the man Menelaus knew he must call upon, for Agamemnon harbored ambitions of his own.

When Menelaus pleaded for his brother's help, invoking the sacred duty of family and vengeance, Agamemnon listened with an eager heart. For years, Agamemnon had coveted the riches and strategic power of Troy. The city had stood as a symbol of defiance, its people proud and untouchable.

Agamemnon had long desired to bring the arrogant Trojans to their knees, to claim supremacy not just over Greece but over all the Achaeans, including the lands of Troy.

Now, with Menelaus' humiliation as the perfect pretext, Agamemnon had the justification he needed to turn his dreams of conquest into a twisted reality.

"The insult to our house cannot go unanswered," Menelaus fumed, his voice thick with rage.

Agamemnon, with a knowing smile, nodded slowly. "No, brother, it cannot. We will avenge your honor—your wife will be returned, and Troy will fall."

His eyes gleamed with the cold calculation of a man who saw an empire within his grasp. "Call all the kings to my banner," he commanded, his voice thundering through the halls. "Let them come at my demand, for we march to war."

With that single order, Agamemnon set in motion a storm that would drench the lands of Achaea and Troy alike in blood and chaos.