The Gemini side hall.
Samael leaned back in his chair, his fingertips gliding along the rim of the teacup, his black eyes flickering faintly under the fluorite lamp.
"Your Majesty, what are you thinking about?"
As the last wisp of warmth drifted from the tea and vanished into the air, Helen, who had been tidying the mess in the room, bent down to rinse the cup and refill it with fresh hot tea. Unable to hold back, she finally asked.
"It seems our opponent has changed..."
The Ancient Serpent narrowed his slit pupils and murmured thoughtfully, his brow slightly furrowed.
"Forgive my dullness, but you mean...?"
"There are still nine days left before the gate to the Inner Sea of the Planet opens completely, according to Athena and the others. When that happens, the gods now under restraint will return to the world. But already, as the seal weakens, gods from Persia have begun entering the field in person. And I'm afraid there's more than one..."
As he spoke, Samael recalled the graceful six-winged phantom wrapped in holy fire from moments before, and his brow tightened into a knot.
"The worst possibility is that the one who set off the war against the giants back then descends in person."
"Velber!"
Helen immediately went rigid. Her hand trembled, and the teapot in her grasp nearly slipped to the floor. Unbidden, her mind filled with the memory of the Sea of Okeanos, the sky-choking giant soldiers, the twisted abominations, and the white giant that burned everything in its path.
For every Greek who had lived through that apocalyptic catastrophe, it was a nightmare that could never be erased.
"No. The Lord of Hosts."
But Samael spoke a completely different name, and the loathing and wariness in his eyes deepened even more.
As far as he knew, Cyrus was more famous for tolerance, magnanimity, and the prestige of founding the Persian Empire. His strategy had never stood out that much.
And yet, from Greece becoming the target of all due to the Inner Sea of the Planet, to the secret alliance with Egypt and the Huns that triggered the first two Greco-Persian Wars, to the slaying of the divine ancestor Romulus in the City of Seven Hills to break Rome, and now to this third Greco-Persian War. The schemes behind it all were linked step by step, every move like a noose tightening around Greece's throat, inch by inch closing around the Areopagus.
Such exquisite planning, such meticulous calculation. It placed an unprecedented pressure on Samael, but at the same time, it also gave rise to a powerful sense of familiarity.
And yet this kind of player, the kind obsessed with perfection on the board, because he clung too hard to details and demanded flawlessness, was also prone to every kind of accident. One unexpected variable led to another, spiraling more and more beyond his control until the whole game no longer resembled what he had originally planned.
Same recipe, same taste.
The only one who played like this could only be the Lord of Hosts.
He had never expected that the theory he used to persuade old man Ziusudra would hit the mark so precisely, and be confirmed this quickly through this coup on the Areopagus.
Angels. Jewel-like in body, winged upon their backs, descending from heaven in service of the light.
Those feather-like lights that had appeared in the hands of the attackers earlier must have contained angelic power.
And that final sword strike had even summoned out a fragmentary spirit of one.
If his guess was right, the mysterious Persian who had incited those divine-blood nobles was most likely an angel.
And one with six wings at that. Its rank was probably not low.
The reason this troubled Samael so deeply was obvious. These so-called angels were the enforcers used by Jehovah, the Lord of Hosts.
If they had appeared, then that old opponent was about to step onto the stage.
He might even already be hidden somewhere inside the Persian army.
That old bastard really is impossible to get rid of.
Samael cursed inwardly. But there were things he still could not understand.
In the battle in the ruined divine kingdom, he had fought for his life and truly burned away the Lord of Hosts' divine body and godhead. The fact that he himself had survived was already luck.
And yet not only had Jehovah not died, he seemed to have recovered even faster than Samael. It was completely unbelievable.
That should not be possible. How the hell did he do it?
Deep wariness flowed through the Ancient Serpent's eyes, and his expression darkened and shifted.
Across from him, once Helen learned that this Lord of Hosts was the true mastermind behind the war against the giants, the one who had attempted to assimilate Greece and nearly dragged even Zeus down, her heart clenched and she asked tensely,
"Your Majesty, then this expedition... will we...?"
"We'll definitely run into him."
Samael nodded with a cold smile, utterly certain. But then his eyes took on a trace of ridicule.
"Though with this old enemy's usual style, unless he's fully prepared and has stacked every buff he can think of, he won't dare show himself and take a risk. So if we're going to face him head-on, it'll probably have to wait."
This Lord of Hosts relied too much on his so-called perfect plans, yet he kept crashing into walls whenever those plans involved Samael.
And the more setbacks this self-proclaimed omniscient and omnipotent god suffered, the more meticulous his calculations became, and the more cautious he grew.
Back during the Three Storms of Mesopotamia, he had still dared show himself in Ea's temple, confront them directly, and openly taunt and draw hatred.
But by the time of the giant war in Greece, he had waited until Olympus and the Areopagus were both all but crippled before finally daring to show himself and try to reap the benefits.
This Greco-Persian War, with so many pantheons gathered, would likely be no different.
As old enemies who knew each other thoroughly, both sides understood that a war among humans alone could never shake the apex powers of the great civilizations.
So however brutal the current Greco-Persian War looked, it was only the appetizer.
The real question was what means this Lord of Hosts intended to use against the Areopagus and the Pantheon.
But before the Inner Sea of the Planet fully opened, he still needed the Greek alliance to hold Persia back and buy time for Athena and the others to return.
"Then tomorrow..."
Helen had realized what truly lay behind Persia and could not keep the worry from her eyes.
"The arrow is already on the string. Everything proceeds as planned."
Samael lifted his teacup and took a light sip, giving Helen a reassuring look. Then his brows rose slightly, and the corner of his mouth curled upward.
"There's no harm in telling you. The Assassin Order has already defected. As agreed, they'll join me within three days at the latest.
"Carthage has already laid down its arms. The Egyptian fleet is currently sitting in the Sea of Chaos. Asking them to take the lead and fight uphill in the Greco-Persian War. Ramesses II probably isn't noble enough for that. But if Persia starts to show weakness, that pharaoh certainly won't mind absorbing Persia's stragglers and expanding Egypt's territory a bit.
"Rome has already sent its finest Amazon warriors into the war. Penthesilea is leading them. Two or three thousand of them is enough to stand against a hundred thousand strong.
"And on the Norse side, the second wave of reinforcements is already gathering. This time it's the main force of the Valkyrie corps. Unless something goes wrong, that restless god-king Odin will personally come and see this so-called [Ragnarok].
"He's not the only one who knows how to sway hearts and call in reinforcements. Over these years, that old enemy really has improved. But I'm not bad either."
A dark smile spread across the Ancient Serpent's face, his expression openly mocking.
"Besides, you don't seriously think Athena's trump card is just Odysseus and Achilles, two people and nothing more, do you?"
Not just two people... then could it be...?
Helen seemed to realize something, and her eyes lit up at once.