On the majestic sacred mountain, pairs of eyes watched Prometheus with curiosity.
They also wanted to know whether their mighty and majestic King of the Gods would become even more powerful in the future, and whether he would lead them to build a more prosperous and peaceful world.
Uranus was even more eager to learn about his own future.
In his view, he had already mastered creative power, and the world had become his plaything.
He believed that in the future, he would only grow mightier, and the world under his rule would only get better and better.
Today was the day of his coronation as King of the Gods.
At such an exciting and ambitious time, he was naturally curious about his future achievements.
But he had no idea how much trouble his casual question would cause Prometheus.
No prophecy was needed—Prometheus already knew Uranus’s final fate, the great King of the Gods and Lord of the Heavens.
In the end, he would be abandoned by all, castrated by his own son, and forever lose his paternal authority.
He would be forsaken by the chaotic world, and his son would usurp the throne of the gods.
Prometheus had no doubt that if he dared to say that outright, given Uranus’s arrogant and self-conceited nature, he would likely be thrown into the abyss of Tartarus and imprisoned there for eternity.
Although gods were immortal, Prometheus didn’t want to leave one cage only to step into another without even taking a few breaths of fresh air.
So saying it directly was definitely not an option.
He couldn’t refuse to speak either—partly because Uranus wasn’t known for his patience.
However, whether a prophecy was true or false, the person it concerned would feel it, so prophecies could never be false.
In this situation, the question was what to say and how to say it.
An idea struck Prometheus as he recalled his own fragile origin.
If changing Epimetheus’s fate could strengthen the source of destiny, then what if he changed the fate of Uranus, the King of the Gods?
Realizing this, Prometheus felt a moment of temptation.
The best way to change the course of Uranus’s fate was not to make a prophecy—because once a prophecy was made, the future became predetermined.
Since the past was unchangeable and the future was infinite, the present was a superposition of possibilities between change and constancy.
The future was always in the future.
When you thought you were observing the future, it had already become the past.
“What’s the problem?” Uranus asked with some irritation, noticing that Prometheus hadn’t acted.
For some unknown reason, Uranus always felt a certain aversion to this newborn god of prophecy.
He didn’t know that this was because the King of the Gods was originally a representative of the chaotic world, and that world instinctively rejected foreign beings.
The more he looked at Prometheus, the stronger his dislike grew.
“Nothing, Your Majesty,” Prometheus replied respectfully.
“It would be my honor to make a prophecy for you, my great king.”
“However…
Your Majesty the Great King of the Gods, if a prophecy is made, the future becomes fixed.”
“Everything that is known exists.
When the future lies between existence and non-existence, if it is observed, it will come directly into being.”
Prometheus explained the nature of prophecy to Uranus, saying that a prophet was actually more of an observer.
He subtly suggested to Uranus that if a prophecy came true, there could be no better outcome than what was foretold—so ignorance was the better policy.
Just as he himself would never predict his own future, only expand possibilities.
But Uranus disagreed.
At this moment, Uranus had just become the King of the Gods and gained unprecedented power.
The explosive force of creation made him feel that even if the world truly came to an end, he could reverse the process by sheer force—because he truly possessed the power of creation.
Let alone a simple prophecy.
He didn’t know that Prometheus was secretly concealing the divine authority over fate.
If a prophecy could be changed in the face of absolute power, then fate itself became unpredictable.
But since he didn’t know, he said confidently: “Prometheus, just say it.”
“Whether it’s a good prophecy or a bad one, I’m confident I can change it!”
“So speak your prophecy.
Whatever the outcome, I will grant you one reasonable request as a gift for your rebirth.
On my word as the King of the Gods, you won’t be disappointed.”
Seeing that the arrogant and self-satisfied Uranus was stubborn and refused to listen to reason—and despite everything Prometheus had said, even if he still wanted to save him, he could no longer insist and could only respect the fate of others.
He took a deep breath, and a white light slowly appeared in his eyes.
Uranus felt as if someone was watching him, which somewhat displeased him.
Finally, under the increasingly complex gazes of the gods, Prometheus slowly spoke:
“Your Majesty, the future holds betrayal, and your throne will be threatened.”
“Your children will raise blades against you, your kin will turn against you, and it will all end where it began.”
“Power is eternal, but those who wield it are not.”
Prometheus’s words struck everyone present like a thunderbolt.
All the gods clearly understood the weight of those few words—and even more so, their meaning.
In an instant, the expressions of everyone present changed.
“Nonsense!”
Prometheus’s father, Iapetus, the god of life and soul, could no longer sit still.
His surging, overwhelming divine power bore down on Prometheus.
Not long ago, he had been proud of fathering a child with great divine power—but now he wished he could stuff this reckless creature back into Clymene’s womb to stop him from spouting such nonsense!
But his surging, furious divine power vanished with a casual wave of Uranus’s hand, as if it had never existed.
Uranus glanced at him indifferently, his face showing neither joy nor anger: “Iapetus, let him finish.”
Iapetus was extremely alarmed, but Uranus gave him no chance to speak again, instead turning his gaze to Prometheus.
The Mother Earth goddess Gaia finally realized the gravity of the situation and tried to stop it, but she was ruthlessly brushed aside by Uranus.
“Continue.”
The King of the Gods’s tone was calm, without any emotional fluctuation—but there was an inexplicable sense of impending doom.
However, Prometheus felt no fear.
He only sighed softly, an apologetic expression appearing on his face.
“Your Majesty the King of the Gods, great Lord of the Heavens, my divine power is exhausted.
Although I would like to prophecy for you in greater detail, I truly have no strength left.”
He wasn’t lying.
The gods could feel the power draining from him.
Prophesying the fate of the King of the Gods was no easy task—especially since he had just been born.
Uranus nodded and didn’t press him further, simply saying, “Very well, I’ll give you time to recover.
After you deliver the full prophecy, I will fulfill my promise to you.”
Prometheus naturally responded without hesitation, while secretly breathing a sigh of relief, knowing that his immediate crisis had been temporarily averted.
As expected, Uranus stopped looking at him and instead turned his gaze to the gods.