“Then I’ll leave it to you, Hephaestus!”
In front of the Temple of Forethought, Prometheus tightly clasped Hephaestus’s hand, shaking it vigorously from time to time.
His handsome face was filled with gratitude.
Hephaestus calmly accepted Prometheus’s thanks and turned to leave under the other’s fervent gaze.
He didn’t stop until he rounded a corner and was out of sight.
“I didn’t expect this Fox God to start planning so early.”
Hephaestus touched his chin through his mask, looking back in the direction of the Temple of Forethought.
His expression was deep in thought.
Prometheus.
In Hephaestus’s previous life, this was still a relatively well-known name—with quite a wide reputation.
As soon as people heard that name, the first impression that usually came to mind was Prometheus stealing fire.
In that myth, the Titan god Prometheus pitied the humans on Earth who suffered from darkness and cold every night.
So he stole fire from the torch of Mount Olympus, bringing the flames of light and warmth to humanity.
Then this great Titan god suffered severe punishment from the King of the Gods.
He was bound by iron chains to a cliff in the Caucasus Mountains, enduring the torment of wind, sun, and rain daily.
An eagle pecked at his liver every day—and his internal organs would immediately regenerate after being devoured.
He spent every day and night in endless pain—until the great hero Heracles arrived and finally freed him from this suffering.
However, before that story, there was a preceding event.
It was called: Prometheus Creates Man.
One day, a certain “great” King of the Gods felt that the Earth was too desolate.
So he commanded Prometheus to create new beings for the Earth—and ordered the gods to help Prometheus.
Thus, with the help of the gods, Prometheus created many beings: pigs, cattle, horses, sheep, sparrows, eagles.
And the creation that Prometheus cared about most was humanity—which he created from clay, in the image of the gods.
Hephaestus remembered that in the myths, Zeus had been very angry about this matter.
At the time, he flew into a rage—but because of Prometheus’s clever arguments and the support of the other gods, he barely managed to quell his anger.
But he always harbored ill will toward humanity.
That was why he later took away the concept of fire from the Earth.
Then he secretly plotted, giving disaster to humanity under the guise of a gift—making human life miserable ever since.
Later, he used the excuse of humanity’s disrespect toward the gods to have Poseidon unleash a flood to destroy the world.
In the end, only Prometheus’s son and Epimetheus’s daughter survived—preventing humanity from being completely wiped out.
And now, Prometheus was asking him to build a large ship—one that could ensure the safety of creatures inside, no matter how much it was attacked or destroyed.
This was clearly preparation for future humanity.
Thinking of this, Hephaestus’s eyes instantly showed a hint of amusement.
The existence of humanity was very special in Greek mythology.
Because humanity was molded by Prometheus in the image of the Olympian gods, it could be said that the first generation of humans were a low-spec version of the gods.
They did not get sick.
They did not feel pain.
They had no worries.
They had long lifespans, beautiful appearances, and strong bodies.
They had no quarrels, no deception, no betrayal—and certainly no slaughter.
All they had was a beautiful hope for the future, a thirst for knowledge, and a down-to-earth nature.
If one were to compare virtues alone, the gods would pale in comparison to them.
Moreover, their numbers were vast.
If given time to develop, they might even one day stand shoulder to shoulder with the gods.
Zeus likely foresaw this scene—which was why he repeatedly and persistently launched human cleansing plans.
Pandora’s Box.
The Great Flood.
He always found various ways to torment and destroy humanity.
In these successive catastrophes, the originally noble humans repeatedly degenerated.
They became weak, crude, blind, irritable, bloodthirsty, greedy, and sinister.
By the time of the Heroic Age, the only truly outstanding humans were the demigod heroes who possessed the blood of the gods—and the entire world had plunged into a frenzy of slaughter and conspiracy.
Look at what those heroes did.
Deception.
Murder.
Theft.
Plunder.
Committing evil deeds—yet being called heroes by the world.
This was probably exactly what Zeus wanted to see.
He really was a scumbag with a smaller mind than an anus.
True strength never fears challenges.
True strength focuses on strengthening oneself and becoming more excellent.
Only scumbags think about weakening their enemies and making everyone around them engage in a race to the bottom.
Hephaestus curled his lip in disdain.
His contempt for Zeus grew even stronger.
Whether it was his pride as a human in his previous life—or his disgust for that scumbag god who had betrayed his sworn sister in this life—Hephaestus had no reason to refuse Prometheus’s request.
He wanted to see what kind of impact it would have on the future if the first generation of humans survived the Great Flood.
Would the heroes in the heroic stories he was so familiar with in his previous life still be as brilliant as before?
Hephaestus was looking forward to it.
Of course, no matter how much he looked forward to it, that would be a matter for later.
Currently, he was still young and had not yet fully understood the golden finger he had brought back from his previous life.
He could only bide his time and do as that Zeus guy said for now.
Thinking of this, Hephaestus sighed.
On his mental notepad, he again made a note about Zeus.
On a certain year, day, and time—that damned scumbag god actually ordered me to undertake a project and didn’t even plan to pay!
Hmph!
I’ve noted this grudge down.
When the time comes, I’ll hang him up and then give his proud little brother a Sunlight Spear—ten thousand consecutive shots!
Having thoroughly noted that down, Hephaestus composed himself and headed toward his next destination—the Temple of Hades, King of the Underworld.
Then he found it empty.
Because in that extremely simple Temple of the Underworld King, not a single divine figure was to be seen.
“What the hell—where’s the god?!”
Hephaestus looked at the extremely empty temple.
There was nothing but a chair in the vast space.
He clutched his head in frustration.
Unbelievable—did Hades, that shut-in god, run off to the Underworld this early already?!