“I, Uranus, Lord of the Heavens, in my position as King of the Gods, bless this child and bring them into this world.”
On the sacred mountain, Uranus’s majestic voice rang in every god’s ears, and his words, like a strange wave, connected the entire world.
Prometheus felt that the world, which had until now vaguely resisted his birth, finally accepted him in that moment.
Boom—
Almost simultaneously with the world’s acceptance of Prometheus, a deafening rumble echoed.
There was no clear source, yet it seemed to come from everywhere.
The sound was pure but not harsh—the hum of the world itself, the vibration of laws.
Everyone sensed a powerful, entirely new order…
It was born.
Divine authority capable of affecting the entire world had to represent a being whose primordial divine power was already immense!
At the same time—
Prometheus opened his eyes.
“Finally born?”
He looked at his palm.
Gone was the childishness of before—now an adult’s hand.
Because of his great divine power and the full realization of his divine duties, he was born in the form of an adult, roughly eighteen or nineteen years old.
As one became more familiar with their divine office, their appearance would gradually mature.
Only those born with insufficient divine power remained infants, indicating their lack of strength and the need for a period of growth.
Take, for example, the infant Prometheus was looking at.
The two babies, born at the same time, stared at each other.
Then the infant seemed to realize something, pouted, and burst into loud cries.
The crying startled the stunned gods.
Clymene reacted first, quickly scooping up the infant and gently soothing him.
The other gods exchanged glances, somewhat puzzled.
For a god to have twins was not rare, but it was quite strange that one twin was an adult and the other an infant.
Appearance at birth was tied to divine power—meaning one child possessed great divine power, while the other possessed weak divine power…
“His law is to know everything that has happened—the god of hindsight.
A weak god,” Clymene said softly, holding the infant and carefully sensing his aura.
Uranus glanced at the crying child and gave him a name: “Let him be called Epimetheus, which means ‘wise after the fact.'”
Iapetus and Clymene immediately thanked the great gods for the names.
Uranus nodded slightly, but showed little interest in Epimetheus.
Instead, he looked at Prometheus with clear curiosity and asked with a smile, “Child, what is your divine office?”
Prometheus, following Iapetus’s lead, responded respectfully:
“Your Majesty the Great King of the Gods, I am the God of Prophecy, who sees what is to come in the future.
My name is Prometheus.”
Uranus wasn’t surprised that he knew his own name.
Except for infants who needed their parents to sense their laws and name them, most powerful deities knew their names and laws from birth.
What puzzled the gods was that the God of Prophecy didn’t seem to occupy any particularly powerful divine position—yet this child was born with immense divine power, which was likely due to some more powerful underlying law.
But it made sense that one twin turned out to be a prophet and the other a hindsight seer.
Despite their similar divine roles, their divine power differed by an astonishing margin.
Logically, they should have been roughly equal.
However, no one suspected that Prometheus was hiding or deliberately omitting other laws of divine authority—because compared to the reign of Zeus, the third generation of gods, this was still an age of innocence.
At this moment, the world had just been created, and even the God of Lies hadn’t been born yet.
All the gods were becoming gods for the first time, unlike later generations.
They were all very simple and naive, with no concept of notions like “falsehood” and “concealment.”
“The reason you weren’t born yet is that Epimetheus hadn’t completed his development.
The mature aura sensed by His Majesty the King of the Gods actually represented only Prometheus’s own development period.”
Gaia, the Mother Earth, looked at Prometheus, then at Epimetheus, who was completely unlike him, and said thoughtfully, “Perhaps Epimetheus will also attain great divine power in the future.”
Completely unaware that he had been misled, Gaia could only come up with a reasonable explanation on her own.
The other gods nodded in agreement.
As for Epimetheus’s premature birth under Uranus’s influence—it was no great concern.
Gods weren’t so fragile.
If a child was born prematurely, they could simply develop outside the mother’s body; it would just take more time.
No one could blame the King of the Gods for such a trivial matter—no one would dare, and Uranus certainly wouldn’t see himself as wrong, because the King of the Gods was justice itself.
While they talked, Prometheus secretly studied the King and Queen of the Gods.
Uranus looked like a very solid middle-aged man, with an imposing presence and an air of superiority.
Just one look at him sent a chill down Prometheus’s spine—not because Uranus had failed to restrain his aura, but because simply being near him was oppressive.
In contrast, Gaia, the Mother Earth, gazed at the children with warm, loving eyes.
Noticing Prometheus’s glance, she smiled at him kindly.
The other gods also looked at Prometheus with curiosity.
Many years had passed since a god with great divine power had been born—because generally, due to the limitations of divinity, only gods above other gods could give birth to great divine power.
These twelve noble first-generation gods, born from Uranus and Gaia, had possessed great divine power from birth.
Although this child had just been born and wasn’t yet as powerful as the first-generation gods, who had long been at the stage of great divine power, his future shouldn’t be underestimated.
The only drawback of this law was that prophecy was clearly ineffective in combat—its offensive power was likely quite limited.
However, the great lord of the heavens, Uranus, the King of the Gods, was too lazy to pay attention to Prometheus’s unexpectedly powerful divine power—because in his eyes, all gods were equally weak.
What interested him more was that prophetic laws didn’t particularly concern the gods.
“Prophet?
Isn’t that just a seer?”
Uranus looked Prometheus up and down, then asked with interest, “Interesting.
Can you predict my future?
Will I become more powerful?”
Hearing this, the gods fell silent, their eyes wide with curiosity—they wanted to know too.
Only Prometheus was at his limit, even cold sweat beading on his back.
Because only he knew that this was a matter of life and death.