Good heavens!
Zeus must be one of those gods, right?
Night's heart tightened; thinking about Athena's words, he already had his answer.
If even a hothead like Ares can succeed, the other gods would surely be restless.
Every god harboring designs on him would use any means necessary to snatch him away, and that old geezer Zeus would likely lead the charge.
The mere thought of divine methods even more overbearing and terrifying than the War God's soul slavery made him hiss in dread, determined to never let such a thing happen.
Athena sighed, her shoulders dropping slightly as she looked at him.
"You can no longer remain on the Greek side, Griffith."
She stared down at her hands, the weight of her divine duties pressing heavily against her thoughts.
"I originally thought Ares would back off out of respect for my name, but he is willing to offend two goddesses just to possess you. Still, despite how terrible the situation looks, I refuse to abandon you.
You have two choices left. The first is for me to personally escort you away from this battlefield to escape back to Greece, while the second..."
Night knit his brows, his voice dropping to a sharp murmur.
"With Ares's power, the god-blessed lands of Greece offer no hiding place, and he will hunt me down within days unless you plan to constantly unleash your divine aura to shroud my very existence."
Athena bit her lower lip, her gaze drifting toward the map of the war-torn territories spread across the table.
Her silence stretched long and heavy.
The truth was she had already envisioned exactly that, imagining how pleasant it would be to abandon her post and simply travel the vast, sunlit expanses of Greece with him by her side.
Yet the distant blast of war horns snapped her back to reality, forcing her to realize she could never abandon her post, leaving her to let out a defeated breath. "Then we have only the second option."
"Which is?" Night asked.
Athena met his eyes, her voice turning absolute. "You must go to Troy."
The name struck like a sudden thunderclap, causing his heart to thump violently against his ribs as he stared at the goddess. "Troy?!"
"Yes," Athena continued, her pace quickening as the strategy took form in her mind. "That city-state stands under the direct protection of Apollo, the God of Light, and Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love.
It currently stands in open hostility against the Greek alliance led by Ares, which makes it the one place where his gaze cannot pierce, ensuring you will remain absolutely safe until the city falls."
However, deep down, a small, unspoken selfishness kept Athena from mentioning that she could also send him to Artemis's temple, where the Moon Goddess's raw power would easily suffice to shield her dependent from the reach of rival deities.
Because she knew that the moment Griffith set foot in that sanctuary, he would likely never return to the dust and blood of this war, depriving her of the chance to witness his breathtaking heroic radiance and the glorious new chapters he was bound to write.
She longed instead to see more miracles unfold right before her eyes, to watch the ultimate, distant end of his valorous tale.
Suspended in that quiet anticipation, she simply watched him and waited for his reply.
"How could I abandon Greece to seek refuge in a foreign land?" Night blurted out, his expression tightening into a mask of pure, unyielding outrage as he took a step back. "If I flee this battlefield out of cowardice or defect to the enemy, my homeland and my ancestors will forever view my name as a disgrace.
If you truly understand the resolve that drives me, you should know that nothing in this world can sway my heart."
This fierce determination, blooming beautifully like an ideal flower in the grim camp, left Athena momentarily dazed.
She stepped closer, asking softly, "Even if staying means facing the wrath of the War God himself, and even if your very soul is enslaved, you still refuse to turn to Troy?"
"I refuse!" Night snapped.
His answer rang out with absolute, flawless conviction, though internally his mind was practically spinning with amusement.
Really...what could be more bizarre than that.
He was originally just an undercover spy anyway, meaning returning to the Trojan side wasn't even a defection but rather a remarkably casual homecoming.
As he kept that thought buried deep, while Athena, entirely oblivious to the double agent standing before her, felt a profound tremor touch her heart.
She wondered if the heroes who marched into this meat grinder in pursuit of a glory that ordinary men deemed naive and foolish were all truly such reckless, beautiful hotheads.
Achilles was like this, Hector was like this, and now Griffith stood exactly the same, ready to stride resolutely toward certain death just to carve out a new possibility with his own will or be completely swallowed up by the storm of destruction.
"Excellently spoken!" At that moment, an excited voice boomed through the tent, causing the heavy fabric to rustle as Agamemnon strode inside.
Night whipped his head around to see the Greek king approaching.
Goddess Athena's expression remained perfectly still since she had long detected his footsteps outside.
She was entirely unconcerned by the presence of a mortal king and fully prepared to bind him with divine force at the slightest hint of treachery.
Yet it quickly became clear that the leader of the Greeks had no intention of reporting them, instead offering a deeply respectful bow to the goddess while offering a tight, apologetic smile. "It seems I have arrived at an inopportune time."
He lowered his head slightly, keeping his posture humble. "Forgive me, Goddess Athena, for accidentally overhearing your conversation with Griffith, but I have a few words of my own to share if you would allow me to speak."
Receiving a brief nod from the goddess, Agamemnon turned his solemn, heavy gaze toward Night, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "Griffith, you must leave this place."
He took a step forward, his voice cracking with raw emotion.
"Hearing your declaration just now brought joy to my heart, and as the king of these lands, I have witnessed your profound devotion, knowing that no hero alive loves Greece more deeply than you do.
But that is precisely why you must pack your things and head for Troy, because I am a failed king who cannot even protect his own subjects from the whims of the heavens, forced instead to place my hopes in the hands of our enemies."
As he spoke, a dark shadow of intense humiliation clouded Agamemnon's eyes as.
His jaw tightened against the bitter truth that his royal authority had been utterly crushed by divine power, stripping him of real control over his own camp.
The realization that he could not shield Griffith, combined with the shameful terror he felt toward the War God's might, made him feel thoroughly impotent.
"Listen to me, Griffith," Agamemnon urged as he clutched the young man's shoulder. "I am assigning you a mission, a task that only you possess the strength to accomplish.
You will likely bear a mountain of infamy and curses for this, but I firmly believe that only you can help me, and help Greece, secure the final victory in this war."
The king took a deep, trembling breath.
He knew full well that simply commanding Griffith to flee to Troy would earn him nothing but a swift refusal and immense mental anguish, which was why, when he overheard Athena's proposal, a desperate idea blossomed irrepressibly in his mind the moment.
So, he immediately started vocalizing it as an official royal decree so he could give Night a legitimate passport out of this trap.
Under the intense, silent gaze of both Night and Athena,
Agamemnon finally steadied his voice and delivered the words like a heavy blow. "I command you to infiltrate Troy as an undercover spy."
The moment the final sentence left his lips, the king seemed to deflate, all strength draining from his posture as a crushing weight settled over his chest.
He was instantly regretting his own words and wondering if he had truly gone mad.
Even though this was just a desperate pretext to save Griffith's life, an undercover assignment meant only the king could know the truth, making it impossible to clear his name to the public.
Every other hero outside would view Griffith's departure as an authentic, treasonous defection.
How much infamy will he suffer for this?!
No—it's too painful!
(At this moment, Night's brain also briefly went blank: ???)
Should I pretend to be in pain and go along with them?
.
.
.
(End of the Chapter)