Even the direct descendant of the Soul and Wisdom Titan Iapetus, whose cousins of the same generation are all mongrels, what does that make them? Kin?
Olympus? A nest of mongrels?
Indeed, the disdain of the gods of Olympus for this fool is not without reason.
"Father God, the prosperity of Olympus is already predestined, there's no need to add to the slaughter over the provocations of these brutes," Apollo, the god of light and prophecy, smiled as he stood up to offer a different opinion. "Rather than enforce the usual punishment, casting Atlas into Tartarus Hell would better demonstrate Your leniency."
This was a deity who radiated the genteel dignity of a noble, with handsome and sunny features, and moved with the grace of a poet. His fragrant, slightly wafting long hair, falling over his shoulders and made even more majestic by a crown woven from cypress and water lily leaves, involuntarily prompted a fondness in others, and it was no wonder the Muse Goddesses admired him.
"Leniency towards an enemy is cruelty to oneself! Such a mild punishment will only make those half-blood mongrels out there think Olympus is weak and can be bullied!"
Ares, feeling his pride had been offended, huffed with annoyance, repeatedly calling out "half-blood mongrels," causing the gods in the great hall to frown.
Among the Twelve Olympians, however, it was Hermes, the normally tactful and amiable Messenger God, who reacted most strongly.
His mother was Maia, the daughter of the Atlas who holds the heavens.
Although, in Greece's intricate genealogies, blood relations don't necessarily equate to closeness.
But Ares' words were undoubtedly akin to a direct insult to his face.
And not just once...
Hermes lightly pressed down on the hat atop his head, speaking with a smile that wasn't quite a smile.
"I heard that on the battlefield, when two armies clash, only the final victor gets to decide the fate of the defeated. Have I remembered it wrong? Or has the world changed?"
All of a sudden, Ares, who was in the midst of his tirade, stiffened, his face turning an angry red. Then, the veins beneath his skin writhed like large, twisting earthworms, his expression both humiliated and frenzied.
"Hermes, shut your mouth!"
Seeing his own son so beside himself with anger, Zeus on his throne narrowed his eyes.
He had just realized that Ares's bronze armor was as pristine as new, without a single scratch, evidently not the look of someone who had just been through a fierce battle.
Even so, the shiny new armor couldn't conceal the bruise on one side of his cheek.
Combining Hermes's sarcastic remark, it seemed that in the confrontation with Atlas, his own son was clearly the less dignified party.
After all, the formidable Titan Atlas, a standout of the third generation, was not someone whom a green youth like Ares could manipulate as he wished.
An unexpected beginning, but a foreseeable outcome.
Hearing her words, Zeus looked approvingly at his daughter and nodded in satisfaction.
As the Divine King who ruled the sky, the expansion of the heavenly realm signified the strengthening of his domain and authority.
The other gods in attendance also had a moment of realization and became somewhat excited.
As the Olympians share the same lineage, the expansion of the sky's domain would mean they could also share in the benefits to some extent.
Zeus glanced over the assembly, taking in all the expressions of the gods, and then made a final decision.
"In that case, we'll do as you suggest, Athena."
With such a method that offered only benefits and no harm, the gods naturally had no objections.
Relieved his grandfather wouldn't be made an example of, Hermes couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief, and with a smile, teasingly said.
"I had thought your valiant exploits in the forefront of battle were already praised enough, but compared to your wisdom, your might seems to pale in comparison. Is there still time for the Muse Goddesses to revise their songs and compositions?"
Seeing Hermes making faces, the gods couldn't help but chuckle.
Even Zeus's mood lightened considerably as he looked at his son, who livened up the atmosphere, and playfully scolded him.
"Hermes, stop your chattering, you're the fastest one here, don't just stand there, go and escort Atlas to carry out his sentence."
Hermes, though putting on a show of being aggrieved on the outside, secretly rejoiced inside.
After all, it was his own grandfather, and by personally overseeing him, he could spare him some hardship and he would also have an explanation for his mother, Maia.
As they watched Hermes cheerfully leave the temple, Zeus's gaze returned to Goddess Athena, the more he looked, the more satisfied he became.
In terms of valor, she had defeated Atlas, saving the face of Olympus; in terms of wisdom, she had managed to resolve disputes and presented the best solution, truly a perfect daughter.
However...
Zeus, seated upon his throne, seemed to consider something, and a shadow of gloom spread in his eyes, then he gently waved his hand.
"Well then, since the matter is settled, you are all dismissed."
The gods obeyed and began to disperse, one by one leaving the scene.
Moments later, as the sacred flame flickered and danced, Zeus, sitting alone on his throne in the empty, dim temple, caressed the cold armrest, his eyes shimmering in the dark.
Was it really just a coincidence?
An inexplicable unease caused Zeus to furrow his brow as he stepped out of the temple, his figure soon disappearing into the dense night.