Chapter 481 – The Weight of a Choice
The golden corridors of Olympus were quiet as Athena and Artemis walked side by side, their footsteps faint against the marble. The air outside was cool and clear, carrying the scent of the mountain flowers that grew along the edges of the terraces. Neither of them spoke at first. The silence between them was not empty—it was heavy, full of thoughts that neither goddess had been able to shake since they left the dining hall.
Athena's mind kept replaying that moment at the table when Alex held their hands. The calm warmth of his grip still lingered in her palm, and even as she tried to reason with herself, her heart was moving in a way she had never allowed before. She had faced countless philosophers, generals, and kings, but none of them had ever made her lose her balance. None had made her hesitate like this.
Artemis stopped first, leaning against a marble column that overlooked the vast expanse of the sky. The silver light of the stars reflected in her pale blue eyes as she whispered, "Athena… I can't calm down."
Her sister turned toward her, quietly studying her. "Your heart?"
Artemis pressed a hand to her chest, fingers curling lightly over the fabric. "It won't stop. Ever since he spoke, ever since he said he would wait for us… I can't stop hearing his voice. I didn't think it was possible for me to want someone like this. And it's worse because he didn't take advantage of it. That made me want him even more."
Athena walked closer, resting her back against the same column. She closed her eyes for a moment and said softly, "You're not alone in that."
When Artemis glanced at her, surprised, she went on. "I have seen men try to win my favor with gifts, power, clever words, even prayers. And I have refused every single one. None of them understood me. None of them saw me as anything other than a goddess they wanted to own. And yet…" Her voice lowered, and she opened her eyes, the faintest tremor in them. "With just one sentence, Alex destroyed all of that. He showed me what I had never seen before—a man who could take everything, but chose not to."
For a moment, the two sisters stood side by side, staring at the starlit sky in silence. Then Artemis murmured, "It hurts, doesn't it? This feeling. It makes me want to see him again right now."
"It does," Athena admitted.
They began walking again, not toward their separate rooms but toward Athena's private chambers, the place where they often shared their thoughts. Inside, away from the open halls, the tension eased slightly. Athena poured them both a cup of tea, though neither of them touched it.
"He told us to think carefully," Athena said at last. "To decide what we truly feel, when time has cleared away this confusion. Do you know what I fear, Artemis?"
Her sister tilted her head. "What?"
"That time will only make it worse," Athena whispered. "That the more I try to reason with myself, the more I will want to see him."
Artemis laughed quietly, a dry, self-mocking sound. "That makes two of us."
They fell silent again, but this time it was different. It was not the silence of hesitation. It was the silence of realization, of two proud goddesses understanding that their hearts were no longer their own.
"I want to be near him again," Artemis said finally, her voice soft but steady. "Even if it's just to watch him cook, even if he doesn't say a single word to me."
Athena reached out and touched her sister's hand lightly. "Then we will wait. But when the time comes, we will not hesitate again."
The night deepened outside the tall windows, and in that quiet room of Olympus, two of its brightest goddesses sat together, hearts already given to the same man.
As the last echo of their footsteps faded beyond the hall, the room became still again. Alex sat in silence, his calm eyes watching the door they had just closed. The plates on the table were nearly empty, the golden light from the tall windows now softer with the sinking sun.
Aphrodite, who had been leaning back in her chair with a thoughtful look, finally spoke. "You know," she said, her voice lighter than the expression in her eyes, "you could have just taken them both right now."
Alex glanced at her, his expression as steady as ever. "I know."
She leaned forward, resting her chin in one hand. "But you didn't. You gave them time." A slow smile curved her lips. "That's why I like you so much. You never take what isn't freely given."
"They need to understand what they really want," Alex said. "Not confuse gratitude and heat for love."
Aphrodite studied him for a long moment, and then her smile softened into something gentler. "Do you know what I see when I look at you?" she asked quietly. "Kindness. Warmth. You don't show it to everyone, but those close to you… they get to see it. And it makes them fall for you, one after another."
Her pink hair slipped forward over her shoulder as she tilted her head. "I want them to have that too, Alex. I want you to love them both when their feelings are certain. Because they'll never find anyone else like you."
Alex was silent for a while, then nodded slightly. "If, after time, their feelings don't change, I'll answer them."
Aphrodite reached across the table and lightly placed her hand over his. Her touch was warm, but her eyes were even warmer. "You think you're giving them time, but what you're really giving them," she said softly, "is a piece of yourself. That's why they can't look away from you."
He didn't reply, but there was a faint shift in his expression, a quiet acknowledgment.
Aphrodite smiled, leaning back once more, the light from the setting sun catching in her pink eyes. "I'm glad," she said. "I'm glad they saw that side of you. The same side I fell in love with."
Outside, the sky burned gold and red, and the room fell into a calm, deepening quiet.
The light from the tall windows had softened into amber, painting the room in a warm glow. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Aphrodite slowly laced her fingers with his, resting her head on her other hand as she studied his face.
"You know," she said softly, "sometimes I wonder if you even realize how much you change people. Athena and Artemis walked in here yesterday with their shields up. They walked out without them. That wasn't because of what you said—it was because of who you are."
Alex glanced at her, expression calm. "I didn't do anything."
She laughed gently, a soft sound. "That's the point. You don't force it. You never try to charm anyone. You just… exist. And that's enough to make the walls around people crumble."
Aphrodite leaned back slightly, her pink hair sliding across her shoulders like silk. "When I first met you, I thought I would be the one to seduce you. Do you remember that? I was so sure I could make you mine with just a look."
"I remember," Alex said.
"And yet," she murmured, "I was the one who fell first. No tricks. No masks. Just you, sitting there, cooking in my palace like it was the most normal thing in the world."
Her eyes softened as she spoke, the playful glint in them replaced by something more vulnerable. "That was the first time in my life that I realized… I didn't have to be a goddess with you. I could just be me."
Alex's gaze remained steady, but his voice was quieter when he answered. "And that's why I come when you call."
Aphrodite blinked, surprised for a moment, then smiled. "So you do care."
"I wouldn't be here otherwise," he said.
Her fingers tightened slightly around his hand. "I don't think you realize how rare that is, Alex. Do you know what it means for someone like me, who has spent centuries drowning in shallow love, to finally find something real? I don't want to lose that. And I don't want them to lose it either."
She tilted her head, studying him with a faintly teasing smile. "That's why I'm greedy. I want you for myself… but I also want you to love them, too. It makes me happy to see you make others happy."
He looked at her quietly. "You don't get jealous?"
"Oh, I do," she said without hesitation. "Every single time. But when I see the way you treat us… the way you respect each of us… that jealousy turns into something else. It makes me proud that I get to share a part of you."
She paused, her pink eyes locking onto his. "Do you think I'm strange?"
"No," he said simply.
Her lips curved. "Then tell me something, Alex. When was the last time someone told you that you deserve love too? Not because of what you do for others, but simply because you're you."
He stayed silent, his black eyes unreadable. The question hung between them, heavy but gentle.
Aphrodite's smile softened. "You give so much of yourself to everyone else. I just want to be the one to remind you that you're allowed to be loved, too."
For a moment, there was only the sound of the breeze through the windows. Then Alex exhaled slowly, and there was the faintest flicker of warmth in his voice when he finally said, "I know."
Aphrodite leaned across the table, resting her forehead lightly against his hand. "Good. Then don't forget it."
The warm light of sunset washed over the table, soft and deep, and for a while neither of them said anything more. Aphrodite stayed leaning on her hand, just watching him with that quiet smile that was so unlike the playful mask she wore around others. Then, gently, she tilted her head and asked in a low voice, "Alex… when was the last time someone asked you what you feel?"
He glanced at her, surprised by the question. She smiled faintly. "You always listen to everyone else. You think about their worries, their choices, their happiness. But you never talk about yours. Not really. You hold everything inside. So tell me… what do you feel, right now? About Athena and Artemis? About me? About all of this?"
Her words hung in the air like the last rays of the sun. Alex didn't answer right away. He looked down at his hands, fingers relaxed on the table, as if searching for the right words.
"I don't know if I can explain it," he said finally, his voice quiet. "I feel… at peace, here. That's all. When I'm with you, or with them, or with the others—it's calm. Like the noise of the world fades a little. I don't need more than that."
Aphrodite's eyes softened. "Peace… for someone like you, that's worth more than anything else, isn't it?"
He nodded slightly.
"And what about love?" she asked softly. "Do you ever feel like it's too much? That too many people love you?"
"No," Alex said, and for a moment his eyes lifted to meet hers. "I don't see it as a burden. I see it as trust. It means they've seen enough of me to choose that."
Her heart tightened at the simplicity of his words. She leaned a little closer, resting her chin on her hand. "And what about me?" she asked, her voice softer now. "Do you feel anything for me? Or am I just… someone you're kind to?"
He looked at her without a flicker of hesitation. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't."
That answer made her laugh quietly—not out of mockery, but because of the quiet truth in it. She leaned across the table, her pink hair spilling over her shoulders, and for a moment she simply looked into his black eyes. The sunset behind her painted the air with gold and rose, and there was no teasing in her gaze, only warmth.
"You always say just enough," she whispered, her lips curving into a soft smile. "Never more, never less. And yet somehow, you always say exactly what I needed to hear."
Her fingers brushed over the back of his hand, slow and deliberate. "You don't have to say anything more, Alex. Just stay like this."
And before he could answer, she leaned in.
The kiss was gentle, slow. It wasn't like the burning, desperate kisses she had given him in her private chambers. This one was soft, warm, a quiet thank-you that lingered between them. Her lips pressed lightly against his, and for a few seconds, the rest of Olympus might as well have disappeared.
When she finally pulled back, her breath brushed against his lips. "That's all I wanted," she whispered.
The room was silent again, except for the faint sound of the wind outside, and the warmth of that single kiss seemed to linger long after.
When she finally pulled back, her breath brushed against his lips. "That's all I wanted," she whispered.
The room was silent again, except for the faint sound of the wind outside, and the warmth of that single kiss seemed to linger long after. She stayed close, her forehead lightly touching his as she whispered, almost too soft to hear, "I love you, Alex."
His hand rose slowly, resting against her cheek. "I love you too," he said, and in those simple words there was no hesitation—only emotion, love, and a sincerity that filled the room like the last glow of the sunset.
Chapter 482 – Morning in the Palace of Roses
The first light of Olympus spilled softly through the tall windows, turning the marble floor into gold. Inside Aphrodite's private chambers, the world was still and quiet.
Alex opened his eyes slowly, already aware of the soft, warm weight curled against him. Aphrodite was still asleep, her breath steady, her long pink hair scattered across his chest like silk. As always, she wore nothing but the delicate jewelry that clung to her arms, her ankles, and her slender neck. She had insisted long ago—no clothes, no barriers, nothing between them when they slept here.
Every night, before they lay down, she would touch his chest and whisper, "Take it off. Everything. No armor. No walls. Just you."
And though he never said a word, he always obeyed. Because it made her happy, and that was enough.
Her arm was draped across him, the soft curve of her body pressed close, as if even in sleep she feared he might disappear if she let go.
For a while, he simply lay there, listening to the faint sound of her breathing, the scent of roses in the morning air. This quiet, this moment—Olympus felt far away.
Then she stirred. Her lashes fluttered open, revealing pink eyes still heavy with sleep.
"Good morning…" she whispered, her voice husky from just waking. Her lips brushed his chest, soft as petals.
"Good morning," he answered, his tone calm but warm.
She tilted her head up, smiling the way she always did in these moments, unguarded and gentle. Without hesitation, she pressed her lips to his, a slow, lingering kiss that deepened as he answered her, their mouths moving together with unspoken familiarity.
Every morning was like this in Olympus. A ritual. A promise.
Her fingers curled lightly at his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss grew warmer, more passionate, the faint scent of roses and the warmth of her bare skin filling the quiet room.
When she finally pulled away, her breath mingled with his. "You know," she whispered with a lazy smile, "if you keep kissing me like that every morning… I might never let you leave."
Alex didn't reply, but his hand brushed a strand of hair from her face, and that simple gesture was answer enough.
Her body shifted closer, the soft weight of her breasts pressing firmly against his chest. Warmth spread between them as their lips locked again, this time with no hesitation. The slow kiss deepened into something heavier, hungrier. Her tongue brushed against his, teasing at first, then twining with his in a slow, deliberate rhythm that left no space for words.
The gentle curves of her body molded against him, every movement unhurried but full of feeling. Her hardened nipples grazed his skin with each breath, sending tiny sparks through the otherwise quiet morning. She tilted her head slightly, giving herself entirely to the kiss, as if this moment was the only thing in Olympus that mattered.
The sound of their breathing filled the room, quiet and intimate. When she finally drew back just enough to catch her breath, her pink eyes half-open and shining in the soft light, she whispered against his lips, "You have no idea how much I love waking up like this."
Her words melted into another kiss, deeper, slower, her tongue exploring his with a tenderness that matched the strength of her embrace.
When their lips finally parted, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of their breathing and the warmth of each other's presence. Aphrodite rested her forehead against his for a moment, smiling softly before pulling herself up, still completely unashamed in her bare beauty.
"Stay," she said gently, taking his hand and tugging him toward the open kitchen in the next room.
They moved together through the soft morning light. While Alex prepared a simple breakfast, Aphrodite sat on the counter, one leg crossed over the other, watching him with the same fascination she always did. She didn't speak for a long time, simply letting her eyes follow the steady rhythm of his hands.
When the food was ready—fresh bread, golden fruit, and warm tea—they sat at the long table. Unlike the night before, there was no tension, no heavy words. They spoke about small things: how quiet Olympus felt this morning, the way the wind smelled sweeter today, how she thought she could taste more of his calmness in the food.
Aphrodite leaned forward, chin resting in her hand, her pink hair spilling over her bare shoulder as she said softly, "You should come here more often. Just like this. No politics, no battles, just… us."
Alex listened, answering quietly between sips of tea.
By the time breakfast was over, the sunlight had turned bright and gold. Aphrodite walked with him back to the wide balcony where the sky of Olympus stretched endlessly. She stood in front of him, her hands lightly pressed to his chest, eyes searching his.
"I know you have to go," she said with a small smile. "But before you do…"
She rose onto her toes and kissed him—this time with no restraint, a long, deep, passionate kiss that left her breathless when it finally ended.
When she pulled back, her lips curved, a faint flush coloring her cheeks. "That's for the road," she whispered.
Alex nodded once, and with a ripple of air, he vanished from the balcony, leaving her alone with the morning wind, smiling as she touched her lips with her fingertips.
Chapter 483 – Back Home, Familiar Voices
The air shimmered as Alex appeared in the living room of his house, the warmth and perfume of Olympus giving way to the quiet, familiar scent of home. The moment his boots touched the wooden floor, two voices greeted him almost at once.
"Finally back," Hanabi said from the couch, sitting cross‑legged with a mischievous grin, her twin ponytails bouncing slightly as she leaned forward. "How was it? Don't tell me the goddess kept you all night."
Airi, seated more neatly at the low table with a book in her hands, glanced up with calm blue eyes. "Welcome back," she said softly, though there was a faint, unspoken question behind the greeting.
Alex set his cloak aside, answering with the same calm tone as always. "I'm back."
Even as he spoke, a familiar ripple of thought came alive in his mind—the voices of the three who were always with him, sealed as symbols on the back of his right hand.
Ciel's gentle, bright voice was first, warm like sunlight. "So… two more women, hmm? Athena and Artemis. I was watching."
Her tone carried a soft happiness that he could feel through every word.
Morgan's voice followed, cool and composed. "As if that changes anything for me. Do what you like, Alex. It doesn't concern me."
And then came Reyne, her voice thoughtful, almost lazy in the way it brushed through his mind. "Strong, aren't they? Gods always think they're special, but if they make you happy, I don't mind. Just remember—I still expect my time with you."
Alex replied inwardly, a calm wave of thought. I know. Nothing changes just because two more people confessed. I told them to wait. To decide for themselves.
Ciel's voice was soft, almost like a laugh. "That's why they're falling even harder. You know that, don't you?"
Hanabi had gotten up by then and walked over, peering up at his face suspiciously. "You didn't bring anyone home with you, did you? Just making sure."
"No," he said simply, meeting her eyes.
"Good," she said, leaning back with a satisfied smirk. "Though you smell like roses. Figures."
Airi, still calm, closed her book gently. "Was it… peaceful?" she asked.
"It was," Alex said.
The voices in his mind quieted for the moment, but he could still feel the faint traces of Ciel's happiness, Morgan's indifference, and Reyne's mild curiosity lingering there like ripples on still water.
Hanabi flopped back onto the couch with a dramatic sigh, arms stretched wide as if she'd just claimed the whole living room. "I still can't believe that festival," she said, eyes bright. "The food, the music, the beer—" she turned her head to grin at him "—and then you, Mr. Hooded Mystery, going up there and wiping out the whole competition without even trying. Do you know how many people were looking for you after you disappeared?"
Airi set her book aside and moved to sit on the low couch beside Hanabi, folding her legs neatly. "Everyone was talking about the food," she added in her quiet voice. "Even after we left, I could hear them on the way home. It's rare to see mortals and non-humans sharing something like that. For a night, at least, the world was peaceful."
Hanabi nodded quickly. "Yeah! It was weird, wasn't it? No fighting, no ugly looks, no arrogance. Just… mugs and laughter. It felt good." She tilted her head toward him, her red eyes narrowing with a playful gleam. "And then Dionysus had to say your name. Boom. Instant chaos."
"You made a mess," she teased, poking his arm. "Do you realize how many people now think you're a secret master chef hiding in a hood?"
Alex sat down on the opposite side of the couch. "I wasn't planning to join the contest," he said simply.
"That's exactly what made it so good," Hanabi said, waving a hand. "People weren't expecting you. Then you just calmly cooked like it was nothing, and they lost their minds."
Airi, calmer but with a faint smile on her lips, added, "I think… they'll remember that night for a long time."
For a moment the three of them just sat there, letting the quiet sink in. The house felt so different from Olympus—no golden halls, no watching eyes. Just home.
Hanabi propped her chin on her knees. "And Olympus," she said, a little more serious now. "How was it? I know you went to see her after we came back."
Alex thought for a moment before answering. "Quiet. She just wanted to talk."
Airi tilted her head slightly. "And?"
"And that's all," he said.
Hanabi made a face. "You're so frustrating sometimes. Fine, I'll stop prying. I just…" She glanced at Airi, then back at him. "I like it when it's like this. Just us. No gods, no crowds."
She leaned against his shoulder without asking, and Airi, more subtle, sat a little closer on the other side. For a while, they said nothing, only listened to the faint sound of wind outside the windows.
"Next year," Hanabi said suddenly, her voice soft, "if that festival happens again… let's go together again. Just like that. Even if it's crowded. Even if everyone stares."
Airi nodded. "I'd like that too."
Alex looked at them, calm as ever, but there was a faint warmth in his voice when he said, "We will."
The two girls smiled. And for a time, there was nothing else—just the quiet hum of home, a memory of music, and the feeling that the world outside could wait.
The quiet lasted for a while, broken only by the soft rustle of the trees outside the window. Hanabi tilted her head up, her chin still resting on her knees, and glanced sideways at him with a sly grin.
"So," she said, voice casual but eyes sharp with mischief, "are you going to tell us about them now?"
Alex looked at her, calm as always. "Them?"
"Athena. Artemis," Hanabi said, drawing out the names as if tasting them. "You think I didn't notice? You vanished from the square with them watching you, then you stayed in Olympus until morning. Something happened, didn't it?"
Airi, sitting straighter, studied his face carefully. Her tone was softer, but no less curious. "They confessed to you, didn't they?"
Alex didn't answer immediately. He looked at both of them, their expectant gazes waiting for his reply, and then said evenly, "They told me how they felt."
Hanabi blinked. "Just like that? Both of them? At the same time?"
He nodded once.
"And you?" she asked, leaning closer. "What did you say?"
"I told them to wait," Alex said. "To be sure. I don't want them to mistake what they feel right now for something permanent."
Airi's lips curved slightly, her blue eyes thoughtful. "That's… exactly what I thought you'd say."
Hanabi groaned, falling backward into the couch. "You're too nice sometimes! You know, most people would just take the chance when two goddesses literally say 'I like you.' You have no idea how many men would sell their souls for that!"
Alex glanced at her. "I'm not most people."
She gave him a look that was half annoyed, half amused. "Yeah. That's why they like you even more."
Airi tilted her head, her expression softer. "Do you like them?"
For a moment, the house was quiet again. Finally, Alex said, "I respect them. They're strong, but also honest when it matters. That's rare."
Hanabi smirked. "That's a yes in Alex language."
He didn't correct her.
Hanabi sighed, leaning back and folding her arms behind her head. "Fine, fine. But just so you know, next time they come here, I'm watching everything. You don't get to sneak around with two Olympian sisters while I sit at home twiddling my thumbs."
"I wasn't sneaking," Alex said.
"You might as well have been!" she said, and then laughed.
Airi reached for her book again, but there was a faint smile on her lips as she said softly, "If you do bring them home one day, I'd like to see for myself what kind of people they are."
"You will," Alex said.
And with that simple answer, the topic drifted into a quiet acceptance, the house settling back into its peaceful rhythm.
The conversation faded into a companionable quiet. Hanabi stretched out like a lazy cat on the couch, her red eyes half-closed, and Airi quietly reopened her book, though she didn't seem to be reading so much as simply enjoying the stillness.
Alex leaned back, resting an arm along the top of the couch. The soft hum of the breeze outside blended with the faint creak of the wooden floor as the house settled into its familiar rhythm—a quiet place far away from Olympus, festivals, and the weight of the world.
No one rushed to speak. No one needed to.
For now, this small, warm peace was enough.
Chapter 484 – The World Finds Out
Morning sunlight poured through the curtains, warm and lazy. The house was quiet until Hanabi turned on the television with a sharp click. She had barely finished her first bite of breakfast when the news anchor's voice filled the room.
"—and in other stories, the Golden Festival continues to dominate every platform today. After last night's cooking competition, footage and photos of the mysterious hooded contestant have gone viral worldwide. Observers claim he vanished in front of the entire crowd after winning by an overwhelming margin."
The screen shifted to a shaky, zoomed-in photo: a tall hooded figure at a cooking station, calm and unhurried, slicing vegetables as if there were no one else around.
Hanabi's red eyes widened, and a slow grin spread across her face. "Oh no," she whispered, leaning forward. "They figured it out."
The next segment played recordings from festival-goers.
"His food was perfect. I've never tasted anything like it!"
"Even gods were there! Thor, Dionysus—they voted for him!"
"And then Dionysus called him 'Alex.' That's when we realized—it was that Alex!"
Clips of the golden voting box overflowing with tokens filled the screen, followed by footage of the square erupting in chaos after Dionysus spoke his name.
The anchor's voice returned, calm but tinged with awe.
"It is now confirmed through multiple witnesses that the hooded contestant was none other than Alex, the same young man who defeated Apollo in a public confrontation and whose battle against Fenrir has made global headlines. This revelation has shocked both mortal and supernatural communities. Many are calling it the birth of a new legend: the God-Slayer Chef."
Hanabi almost choked on her drink. "The what?"
Airi, sitting beside her, covered her lips with one hand to hide a faint smile, her blue eyes on the screen. "I suppose it was inevitable. Once Dionysus said your name, the rest of the world was going to connect it."
"And the hair thing," Hanabi added between laughs. "God-slayer, Fenrir-puncher, miracle hair… and now they find out you cook better than anyone alive? You've officially broken the world, Alex."
She turned her grin toward him, who was sitting quietly across from them, eating his breakfast as if none of it mattered. "Do you know what they're saying about you right now? They didn't even think you could cook this well. You're terrifying in a fight, but you're also the guy who makes everyone food so good they cry?!"
On the television, more clips flashed:
– A slow pan across golden plates, people clutching them like treasure.
– A shot of Thor, mid-toast, shouting with foam in his beard: "THIS IS BEER FOOD!"
– And finally, grainy video of Alex vanishing into thin air with three women beside him.
Hanabi threw herself back on the couch, laughing helplessly. "I can't wait to see the online comments. They're probably calling you the world's most dangerous husband material right now."
Airi's quiet voice followed, soft but certain. "This isn't going to stay quiet anymore, Alex. From today, everyone knows who made that dish."
Hanabi was already reaching for her phone before the news segment had even finished. "No, no, no—forget the TV. We're checking the comments. This is going to be gold."
She dropped onto the couch next to Airi and tapped furiously. "Okay, here we go. Hashtag #GoldenFestivalAlex is trending at the top in both the mortal world and the supernatural networks. Oh, oh—look at this one!"
She turned the screen toward him.
It was a photo of Alex cooking calmly at the competition, with a caption:
"He can defeat a god with one punch AND make food better than divine ambrosia. Ladies and gentlemen: The Endgame Husband."
Hanabi burst out laughing. "Endgame husband! That's your new title."
Airi, curious, leaned closer to look. Another meme popped up—a split screen. On the left: a blurry shot of Apollo on the ground after being punched. On the right: Thor with a mug, shouting happily. Text at the bottom:
"Before Alex: chaos. After Alex cooks: world peace."
Airi smiled faintly, pressing a hand to her lips. "That one… isn't wrong."
Hanabi kept scrolling. "Oh, oh, this one—this is brutal!"
It showed a photo of the golden plate next to a crying cartoon Apollo with a speech bubble:
'Even my godhood can't compete with his cooking!'
"And look!" Hanabi swiped again, laughing so hard her eyes watered. "They made a t-shirt already. It has your face—well, the hooded one—with the words: 'Punch First, Cook Later.'"
She turned back to him, grinning from ear to ear. "I'm buying three."
Alex was still eating his breakfast in silence, but there was the faintest exhale through his nose that might have been amusement.
"Wait, wait," Hanabi said, scrolling faster. "Comments! Listen to these:
– 'Can someone explain how his hair makes people strong and now his food does the same thing?'
– 'I would sell my soul for one plate of that rice.'
– 'Apollo was beaten once. His pride was beaten twice—this time by a frying pan.'
– 'Proposal speedrun: Who wouldn't marry him after that?'"
She dropped the phone on her lap, laughing helplessly. "I can't… these people are insane."
Even Airi, normally so composed, was hiding a small laugh behind her fingers. "They certainly seem… enthusiastic."
Hanabi nudged him with her elbow. "Congratulations, Alex. You're officially the world's most eligible single man. Even more than before. If we leave the house today, we're going to have a line of people asking for cooking lessons or marriage proposals."
He glanced at her calmly. "Then we won't leave."
"Ha! So cold," Hanabi said, grinning.
She picked up her phone again, already scrolling. "I can't wait to see the fanart that's going to come out of this. It's going to be ridiculous."
Chapter 485 – The Continent That Should Not Exist
It began as a trembling under the Pacific, deep and long, like the Earth itself holding its breath. At first, the scientists said it was another deep-sea quake, the kind that rattled the ocean floor but never reached the surface. But as the hours passed, the tremor grew. Satellites caught the first signs: enormous shapes rising from the depths, breaking through the surface where there had been nothing but open water.
By dawn, the world saw what could not be.
A continent—not an island, not a cluster of volcanic rock, but an entire mass of mountains and plains—had risen from the Pacific Ocean overnight. Hundreds of kilometers wide, still steaming from the heat of the deep, its cliffs cut upward like the edges of a colossal city wall.
And no one—no one—had known it was there.
The ordinary world erupted in confusion. Governments scrambled ships and planes to survey the new landmass. Scientists argued live on broadcast: "It's impossible. Even with tectonic shifts, something this size would have taken millions of years!" Others whispered about lost continents: Atlantis, Lemuria, Mu. People all over the world watched as live drone footage revealed jagged mountains, rivers spilling from cliffs, and structures—geometric lines carved into the rising stone—that could not have been made by the ocean.
But what terrified the supernatural community was not just that it appeared.
It was that no one had sensed it coming.
The Magic Association, the ancient dragon clans, even the gods of the seas themselves—Poseidon, Susanoo, the great naga kings of the Indian Ocean—all said the same thing:
"There was nothing there yesterday. Nothing."
And that was impossible.
For beings who had ruled the oceans for millennia to admit such a blind spot sent shockwaves through every pantheon.
Divine messengers flew above the surface, trying to descend into the strange fog that clung to the new coast. None of them reached the ground. Something—an invisible force—rejected them.
Even Poseidon himself, standing at the edge of the continental shelf, narrowed his eyes and said in a voice heard across Olympus:
"I have ruled these waters for ten thousand years. There was no sea floor here. Whatever has risen… is not of my domain."
By noon, the first human explorers approached cautiously, ships bristling with cameras and weapons. They could see the coastline now: a wall of stone, dotted with massive, carved doorways half-swallowed by coral, as though a city had been waiting under the waves all this time.
And far away, in the deepest mist, something vast moved, just for a moment.
Watching.
The first landing parties approached with caution.
Ropes dropped from helicopters, boats nudged against jagged rock, and armored survey teams began climbing the slick cliffs to reach the carved doorways. The world was watching—the eyes of satellites, news networks, and hidden supernatural scrying pools all following the same images.
The carvings were everywhere.
Lines cut deep into the black stone, vast spirals and symbols older than any written language. Some showed strange beings—broad-shouldered, monstrous shapes with curling limbs. Others depicted towers that seemed to stretch upward into the sky, impossibly tall.
At first, the explorers thought they had found evidence of an ancient civilization. They moved closer, brushing away sea-salt crust and coral, holding cameras up to record every inch. Some even reached out to touch the stone.
The first scream came over the radio feed so suddenly that for a moment no one understood what had happened.
"—what is happening to him—!"
On the live broadcast, the viewers saw the man jerk backward, his mouth open, his eyes wide, his hands clawing at the air. His skin dried and cracked in seconds, his flesh collapsing inward as if a thousand years had passed in a heartbeat.
Within moments, what had been a living human was now a mummified corpse standing upright, its face locked in terror.
Then it happened again. Another explorer had been staring at one of the carved figures. She froze, hands twitching, and before the others could reach her, she turned to stone and dust, her body hollowed out, her eyes glassy but horribly aware.
Panic erupted. Radios screamed, boats scrambled backward, and even the supernatural envoys who had come disguised among the mortals staggered back in disbelief.
Everywhere the feed cut, but there were already hundreds of eyewitnesses—and the ones who survived brought back the same truth:
"They didn't just die. They became statues… and their eyes were still alive."
The Magic Association locked down the footage immediately, but it was too late. By then, the internet was full of still frames: explorers frozen mid-step, their mouths open in silent screams, their bodies dried to paper, their eyes following the camera.
And none of the gods, none of the mages, none of the psychics could sense what force had done this.
Poseidon's voice echoed again from the Pacific, full of restrained fury:
"This is not my sea. Whatever has risen here… is something older."
Around the world, temples and covens whispered a name, dredged up from myth and forbidden books.
Mu.
And in that silence, deep within the newly risen landmass, something vast and alien moved again—watching the chaos at its doorstep.
The survivors backed away from the walls, terror still in their eyes. The word had spread fast across radios and comms:
"Don't look at the carvings. Don't even glance at them!"
Teams moved like shadows now, eyes averted, but the mummified explorers stood like grotesque statues all along the black stone. Some had collapsed into heaps of dry, brittle limbs, others still upright, frozen mid-breath.
When the first magicians arrived, they rushed forward. Circles of magic bloomed in the mist, chants rising. Cleansing spells, banishment seals, even divine blessings from priests of the sea—all thrown desperately at the bodies.
The result was almost nothing.
The dried flesh softened slightly but remained locked. The eyes behind the brittle skin still darted wildly, alive but unable to blink.
"It's not working!" someone shouted. "They're still trapped!"
Supernatural medics dragged the statues to the safer part of the shore, where healers and spellcasters worked in unison, trying everything they knew. The more they tried, the more despair set in.
Then the fog on the coastline parted.
An elderly man in plain white robes walked down the rocky path with a slow, measured step. His hair was long and silver, tied loosely behind his back. In his hands, he carried nothing—not a staff, not a talisman. Just the steady glow of mana radiating around him like a calm sun.
"Grandmaster Varenius," one of the mages whispered, awestruck. "Why is he here?"
The old magician knelt beside the nearest mummified explorer, ignoring the panic around him. His hands rose slowly, forming a circle in the air.
The air itself seemed to grow still.
And then he spoke—not in the language of the Association, nor in the tongues of the gods, but in an ancient dialect that very few recognized. The syllables were smooth, almost like music, but heavy with something that resonated far beyond normal magic.
Golden sigils appeared in front of his palms, coiling and locking into place, a pattern no one there had ever seen before.
""The Light of Aten…" a priest murmured, eyes wide.
This was no ordinary cleansing spell. It was a high-grade, forbidden purification rite—a spell that only existed in fragments in the Book of Aten, the text that had changed magic forever. Few had mastered even a part of it.
When Varenius's voice reached the final word, light like a miniature sun poured down over the mummified explorer.
The stone-like skin began to soften. The papery texture dissolved as if centuries were peeling away. The body inhaled a ragged breath for the first time, and color slowly returned to their face.
Gasps and shouts rose up around the landing zone.
One by one, the other victims were brought forward, and Varenius repeated the rite. Each time, the golden light of Aten dispelled the unnatural curse, dragging the trapped souls back into living bodies.
When the last victim fell weeping into their companions' arms, silence swept across the shore. People stared at the old magician as if he had stepped out of legend.
Varenius looked up at the mist-shrouded carvings, his face grave.
"This spell was not mine," he said quietly. "Without the Book of Aten, these souls would still be imprisoned."
He straightened, the golden sigils fading around his hands.
"Whatever lies beneath this continent… is something older than gods. And it does not wish to be seen."
As the last explorer returned to their senses, trembling and wrapped in blankets, one of the Association officers stepped forward. His voice was hesitant but firm.
"We need to know," he said, addressing the shaken group. "When you were… like that… what was it like? Could you still think? Could you still feel?"
The rescued people fell silent. For a moment, no one wanted to speak, their eyes haunted by something the others couldn't see. Finally, a young woman with torn sleeves and pale lips whispered:
"I couldn't move. I couldn't even close my eyes. But I could see. I could hear everything. I could feel the wind on my skin, and I could feel my heart beating so slowly it felt like it was stopping."
Her voice broke slightly, but she forced herself to continue.
"It was like… like being buried alive, except you're standing and awake. You can't even scream. Time doesn't pass. You're just there, staring, forever."
Another man, older, spoke next, his voice rough:
"I thought I'd died. But I couldn't die. I prayed for it to end. I thought I would go insane. Some of us…" he looked down at his shaking hands, "we started wishing someone would just smash us to pieces. Anything would have been better."
A third survivor whispered, "It was like being turned into a statue, but your mind stays alive. I felt every second."
The people listening—the soldiers, the mages, even the supernatural observers—stood frozen. Even the gods' envoys had gone quiet. For beings used to centuries and millennia, the thought of being trapped in an unmoving body, fully aware, was something even they feared.
The Grandmaster magician closed his eyes for a moment, his expression grave. "This curse is crueler than death," he said softly. "It doesn't just kill the body—it locks the soul in a prison of flesh and stone."
No one spoke after that. The silence that followed was heavy, filled with unease.
Far above, the fog over the risen continent swirled like a living thing, as if something behind the mist was listening to every word.