"So… you're saying your crew was commissioned by the King of Serifos to explore the ruins of this oceanic temple?"
Fifteen minutes later, Lorne rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he glanced sideways at the weeping, snot-nosed middle-aged man in the felt hat, who had just spilled his entire life story like beans from a broken jar.
Serifos Island, huh? That name rings a bell… but where had he heard it?
"L-little brother, I've told you everything I know. I'm just the guide,"
Seeing that the other side had no intention of letting him go, Xuster begged with a sad face, and at the same time, in order to eliminate the other side's concerns, he raised his hand solemnly, swearing to the skies.
"Look, I know the rules—I didn't see anything, I don't know anything!"
Lorne, who came back to his senses, couldn't help but laugh at this situation.
"Oh? A professional, I see. You've been through this sort of thing more than once, haven't you?"
Xuster gave a sheepish cough, trying to hide his embarrassment. He forced a servile grin onto his face, even leaning forward slightly in a show of goodwill.
"Eheh… well, you know how it is. Gotta survive out here. Not worth dying over, right?"
"So…"
Lorne's voice drew long and slow, his gaze drifting toward the man's right hand, now hovering suspiciously near his lower back.
"…how many people who bought that line of yours are still alive?"
Shit. He noticed.
Xuster's pupils shrank.
In the blink of an eye, he struck—his right hand shot out like a viper, brandishing a dagger that sang as it sliced through the air toward Lorne's throat.
The middle-aged man in the felt hat, who had been timid, at this moment, moved quickly and viciously, with a sinister and cold look, just like a cheetah that suddenly showed its ferocious fangs.
Of course.
A demigod with Hermes' blood could never be a harmless fool.
After all, their patron was the most infamous liar and thief in all of Greece.
Lorne didn't flinch. In fact, he smiled as a sneer appeared on his face.
CRACK.
The sound of snapping bone echoed through the forest.
Xuster's dagger-hand bent backward at several impossible angles as his white bone pierced through shredded muscle.
"Mmph—!"
Agony shot through him like lightning. Xuster nearly collapsed, vision swimming in black.
"Keep moving and not even Zeus will be able to save you."
The quiet threat brushed against his ear like a ghost's whisper. Jolted awake, Xuster bit his tongue, forcing himself to stay upright.
He dared not twitch, not with those explosive runes still active beneath his feet.
"Not bad," Lorne said, walking over with a dry smile. "You really do live up to your bloodline, child of the swift-footed god."
As he spoke, one hand landed casually on Xuster's shoulder, while the other smoothly caught the bronze dagger falling from the man's paralyzed fingers.
"It was just a prank, I swear! Just a little trick, can't compare to you at all, sir—!"
Xuster endured the severe pain of the fracture, and his facial features were almost twisted into a ball.
He squeezed out a few difficult dry laughs, flattered with a sad face, and cursed in his heart.
What kind of monster did I run into today? Not only was he cunning and ruthless, but his reaction speed was even faster than that of him, a descendant of Hermes!
"If that's your final compliment, I'll take it as a dying man's flattery."
Lorne smiled with his eyes narrowed as the blue-tinged dagger, almost certainly laced with his—flipped nimbly between Lorne's fingers.
Because, as it was mentioned before, not all demigods are created equal.
Divine blood thins over generations.
And while he didn't like to talk about it, Lorne was a first-generation child of Zeus.
Back on the Oceanos, the things chasing him had been pureblood titans and divine hybrids.
Compared to those monsters, this slippery bastard with diluted Hermes lineage, probably fifteen generations removed, was just a fast-talking thief with quick feet.
As the poisoned blade edged closer to his neck, Xuster turned pale, trembling. He quickly spoke up, desperation clear in his voice.
"M-Misunderstanding! That was just a misunderstanding! If you let me go, I can be your guide. I swear, those Serifos bastards—they found some really valuable stuff on this island…"
Seeing that Lorne showed no interest whatsoever in the promised treasure, the descendant of Hermes with cold sweat on his forehead simply made up his mind, gritted his teeth decisively, and showed his trump card.
"Alright, alright! I'll tell you a secret—this mission wasn't just about some abandoned temple. The King of Serifos... he sent us here to find the legendary Ichor of Divinity, a substance said to transform mortals, drastically extend life…
Even for demigods like us, it would mean a massive leap in power!"
In a trance, Lorne was startled, and pieces of information intertwined in his mind.
The Ichor of Divinity… a miraculous elixir… able to alter one's nature and defy death itself…
And then—Serifos Island…
Like a lightning strike, scattered thoughts sparked and snapped together.
His eyes narrowed.
"The Gorgon."
"You know?!"
Xuster's face twisted in shock.
Lorne did not answer, his brows were tightly knitted, and his thoughts were turning rapidly in his mind.
Now he remembered why the name "Serifos" rang a bell.
It was the second homeland of Perseus, the famed demigod hero of the constellation.
The one destined to step onto the Isle of the Unseen, slay the snake-haired Gorgon Medusa, defeat Ceto, mother of sea monsters, and rescue Andromeda of Ethiopia.
By blood… that made Perseus his half-brother.
According to the legend, Acrisius, King of Argos, received a prophecy from the gods that he would be killed by a child born to his daughter, Danaë. In fear, he locked her away in a bronze tower.
But Zeus, taking the form of golden rain, entered her prison and well..everyone could guess what happened next.
Perseus was born.
When the King of Argos learned that his daughter was pregnant and had given birth, he was horrified.
He sealed both Danaë and infant Perseus in a wooden chest and cast them into the sea.
But with the blessing of Zeus, the mother and son drifting in the sea safely passed through the wind and waves.
Finally, the box they lived in was washed up on the island of Serifos.
There, the island's rulers, Dictys and his brother Polydectes, took them in. Perseus grew up under their care.
But soon the elder one of the two Polydectes, lusting after Danaë, eventually saw the Perseus, who was gradually growing up and becoming stronger and stronger, showing supernatural powers, as a threat.
To get rid of him, he asked for an impossible gift: the head of Medusa, the most fearsome of the Gorgon sisters.
And so, Perseus was sent on a suicide quest—
Or so the story goes.
But now… things weren't adding up.
There seems to be a big deviation between the records in the myth and what Lorne saw in front of his eyes.
His gaze darkened.
That ruler of the island of Serifos definitely did not choose to let his adopted son Perseus go to the Invisible Island to hunt down the Gorgon Medusa and retrieve her head just to make things difficult for him.
No.
He'd been after the Gorgon sisters from the beginning.
Of course, to be more precise, what the king truly coveted... was most likely the Gorgon Blood coursing through the veins of the three sisters.
In Greek mythology, the Gorgons were three snake-haired sisters, each embodying a different divine trait:
The eldest—Stheno, Daughter of Strength;
The second—Euryale, Daughter of Flight;
And the youngest—Medusa, Daughter of Dominion.
According to legend, the right-side blood of the Gorgons possessed miraculous restorative properties, it could resurrect the dead and extend mortal life.
But the left-side blood? A deadly poison, swift and irreversible.
Guided by fate, Perseus set foot upon the Isle of the Unseen and slew the only mortal among the three—Medusa, claiming her head.
Rather than keeping it, he offered it to Athena, the goddess of wisdom and war.
Athena affixed Medusa's head to the center of her aegis, turning it into her eternal symbol.
Later, the god of medicine, Asclepius, son of Apollo—received a vial of Medusa's curative blood from Athena, with which he created a death-defying elixir.
This, however, angered the gods. Zeus, seeing it as a transgression against the natural order, struck him down with a bolt of lightning.
Thus, the power of Gorgon Blood was clear.
A force so potent that even the deathless gods feared its existence,
let alone frail mortals, who were forever shackled by time.
Facing the suffering of birth, aging, illness and death.
Lorne's thoughts drifted to those stone statues he'd glimpsed in the temple square—
Warriors turned to stone mid-movement, eyes wide in silent agony.
He now understood: they were hunters, fools blinded by greed, who thought they could tame the Gorgon's gift.
In the end, they became the hunted.
Now they stood as cautionary monuments, awaiting erosion by time.
His gaze flicked back to the man in the felt cap in front of him as a glimmer of understanding flickered in Lorne's eyes.
So it turned out that the king of Serifos, the foster father of demigod Perseus, had long coveted the Gorgon sisters.
He must have attempted to seize their power time and time again, but failed.
Eventually, he passed this burden on to his foster son.
According to the process and results of the battle, Perseus must have already ascended to demigodhood at the time of Medusa's death.
Only that could explain how he survived the wrath of Stheno and Euryale, both divine-level threats, after slaying their sister and escaped the Oceanus Sea alive.
At least for now, Perseus hadn't reached that point yet.
Funny how things turned out.
Among the twelve mortal-born children of Zeus, Lorne, son of Semele, fifth in the divine birth order, had become a demigod before Perseus, the son of Danaë, fourth in line.
It seems that my growth rate is indeed a bit extraordinary, but all the more reason to stay low once I reach the city for the sake of my life.
Just in case.
"Turns out you know too—then that's even better!"
At this moment, the Hermes bloodline who was the first to recover his composure restrained the astonishment on his face and revealed an expression of pleasant surprise.
Lorne smiled slightly, keeping the spinning blade between his fingers steady, but did not pull it away.
"The value of that bit of information isn't enough to buy your life."
"No, no!"
Xuster shook his head repeatedly, glanced around shiftily, and only after confirming no one else was around did he lower his voice mysteriously.
"What I mean is—I can help you get the Blood of the Gorgon!"
Upon hearing this unexpected good news, the smile on Lorne's face grew even brighter.
What was Hermes the god of again?
—Deceit, lies, commerce, and theft.
If the man in front of him really had that kind of ability, then the ruler of Serifos who issued the bounty would've gotten what he wanted a long long time ago.
There would've been no need for the future demigod hero Perseus to even show up.
Still not being honest at a time like this? Then simply…
Just as Lorne's fingers holding the dagger gave a slight upward flick, the sound of massive waves crashing came from the distant shoreline.
The familiar salty scent of the sea that followed made his eyelids twitch uncontrollably.
"Boss Xuster, you there? The goods are almost loaded. The higher-ups asked if you've run into any trouble. When can we set off?"
At the same time, a few trembling shouts came from beyond the dense forest.
Two other Hermes followers, also wearing felt hats and cloaks, were cautiously walking toward them.
Lorne's eyelids twitched again, and he couldn't help but secretly complain in his heart.
Wolves in front, tigers behind, and the three Gorgon sisters hiding somewhere on the island, just great!
But then again, if you look at it differently…
Maybe crisis breeds opportunity, and chaos might just be a ladder!
Lorne's gaze swept across both sides, and a brilliant, mysterious smile emerged on his face.
He reached out warmly, slinging an arm around the Hermes bloodline's shoulders, leaning in to whisper by the man's ear.
"How about we go big? Like… you and I swallow all the goods ourselves?"
"Hiss—!"
Xuster gasped sharply at the audacity of the idea.
Then he looked down at the poisoned dagger inching closer and closer to his neck and, like a pecking chicken, nodded furiously, smoothly making his choice.