《My Mother is Medusa》


 Chapter 1

    My birth was never meant to be. Some call me a mistake. Others whisper that I am a prophecy.


    But my blood tells a different story.


    It burns with the cursed legacy of the Gorgon Queen herself¡ªMedusa.


    Yes, Medusa. Not a fallen monster. Not a slain creature in some tragic myth. But a Queen. A legend.


    Perseus? In this timeline, he failed. The stories lied.


    Before he could raise his blade, my mother shattered him. Because Medusa did not die in some hero¡¯s tale¡ªshe ascended. Beyond vengeance. Beyond fury. Beyond even divinity itself.


    No blade can pierce her hide. No magic can break her will. Not even Zeus, the almighty King of Olympus, dares to challenge her in her final form.


    And I¡­?


    I am her son.


    I do not yet wield her legendary petrifying gaze. My skin does not turn blades, and my blood does not yet hold the venom of death.


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    But I have something else.


    Paralyzing venom. A single touch. A single wound from my fangs¡ªyes, I have fangs, retractable and hidden¡ª and even the mightiest warrior becomes a prisoner in their own body. Helpless. Frozen. Forced to watch as time slips away. A mercy, compared to what my mother can do.


    But Olympus does not tolerate my existence.


    Zeus has summoned his champions. Athena, my mother¡¯s eternal nemesis, sharpens her blade once more. Hades watches from the depths of the Underworld, his motives veiled in shadow. Even Ares, the unyielding God of War, hesitates at a crossroads¡ª Should he strike me down, or claim me as his own?


    And me?


    I remember another life. A different existence. One of insignificance. I was no one. A man with an empty life, forgotten by the world. No one respected me. No one even greeted me with warmth. My presence was unnoticed, my existence barely acknowledged. I was invisible.


    But here? In this life? The mere mention of my mother¡¯s name makes the strongest warriors falter. They don¡¯t just avert their gazes in fear¡ªthey don¡¯t even dare meet my eyes when they speak. They bow their heads. They stammer their words. They tremble in the presence of my bloodline.


    I am no longer invisible. I am feared.


    But fear is a double-edged blade. Do I step away from the storm, live a quiet life, and ignore the weight of my lineage?


    Or do I embrace what the gods already believe I am? A monster. A ruler. A force beyond their control.


    The world watches. Olympus trembles.

 Chapter 2

    I never asked to be feared.


    Yet, the moment I walk into a room, conversations die. Eyes lower. Warriors¡ªmen who have slain monsters, who have battled Titans¡ªrefuse to meet my gaze. They whisper my name like a curse, an omen of misfortune.


    Not because of what I have done. But because of who my mother is.


    It should amuse me, but it doesn¡¯t. Instead, it reminds me of the life I had before¡ªwhen no one looked at me at all.


    In that life, I was invisible. Insignificant.


    Here, in this life, I am seen. But not as a man. Not even as a warrior. I am Medusa¡¯s son. A legacy of fear wrapped in mortal skin.


    I was content in the shadows, letting the world believe whatever it wanted about me. I had no quarrel with the gods, no desire to challenge Olympus. My mother asked nothing of me but to live, and I would have honored that wish.


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    But the gods? The gods will not allow me to exist in peace.


    They whisper of prophecies, omens that spell their downfall. They see me as the first step toward Medusa¡¯s revenge¡ªeven though she seeks none. It is their paranoia, their fear, that has made me their target.


    So they send their hunters.


    The first came at night. I barely saw his face before my venom took hold¡ªhis body frozen mid-strike, his blade inches from my throat. His eyes, wide with horror, stayed locked on mine long after the fight was over. A champion of Athena, reduced to a prisoner in his own flesh.


    I let him live. Maybe that was a mistake.


    Because after him, more came. Ares'' warriors. Apollo''s assassins. Even Hermes'' messengers, swift and cunning, tried their luck.


    Each time, they failed. Each time, I sent them back¡ªparalyzed, broken, but breathing.


    But if pawns fail, kings will rise. And when they fall? The Olympians themselves will come.


    I have spent my life trying to avoid this war. But the war has already found me.


    So the question is no longer if I will fight. The question is: when. And more importantly¡­


    Who will strike first?

 Chapter 3

    ¡°I want to go to the mortal lands. I want to live among them.¡±


    The words hung in the air like a curse.


    Silence fell over the room, save for the quiet hissing of my siblings.


    Yes, my siblings.


    I was not Medusa¡¯s only child.


    To my right stood my elder sister, Nyssa. Her dark, serpentine locks coiled and shifted with a life of their own, streaked with emerald-green highlights that gleamed like venom under torchlight. Her piercing golden eyes gleamed with a predatory sharpness. Her skin was flawless, yet beneath it, faint patterns of serpent scales shimmered under certain light, a testament to the power in her veins. Clad in a flowing obsidian chiton embroidered with gold, her every movement was a calculated display of grace and lethality. She was our mother¡¯s fiercest daughter, her fangs carrying the purest form of our blood¡¯s cursed venom¡ªDeath Venom.


    To my left, my younger brother, Krios. The middle child of Medusa¡¯s lineage. His rose-pink hair was wild and constantly shifting, untamed like the storm that fueled his soul. Unlike Nyssa, whose serpent scales remained hidden, Krios'' shimmered beneath his skin¡ªemerald-green and jagged, forming a natural armor that absorbed damage like a second skin. Though he lacked fangs or a tail, his piercing amber eyes carried a different kind of terror. If one met his gaze for too long, they would find their body betraying them¡ªfrozen in place by a power that had yet to fully awaken.


    Despite our differences, we were bound by the same truth¡ªwe were Medusa¡¯s children.


    Which meant¡­ we belonged nowhere.


    Nyssa blinked at me like I had just declared I wanted to wrestle a Hydra. "I''m sorry. What?"


    Krios, who rarely reacted to anything, slowly tilted his head. "Wait, is this a joke? Are we joking? Because I can laugh. Ha. Ha." His face remained completely deadpan.


    I sighed. "No, I¡¯m serious."


    Nyssa groaned and ran a clawed hand down her face. "Of course, you are. Because why wouldn¡¯t you be? Gods forbid we have a normal day where one of us doesn¡¯t decide to do something incredibly stupid."


    Krios pointed at me. "This is worse than when you tried to wrestle that Cyclops."


    "Hey, I almost won," I muttered.


    "You almost got thrown into the ocean," Nyssa corrected.


    Nyssa threw her hands in the air. "Okay, let¡¯s pretend for a second that you¡¯re not a complete idiot. What exactly do you plan to do in the mortal world? Walk into a village and say, ¡®Hello! My name is Raezel, son of Medusa! Please don¡¯t throw pitchforks at me¡¯?"


    Krios nodded sagely. "You do have a very pitchfork-able face."


    I glared at him. "What does that even mean?"


    Nyssa ignored us both and turned to our mother. "Mother. Please. Talk some sense into him before he does something that makes us all look bad."


    Medusa had been silent through this entire conversation, simply staring at me. Unblinking.


    And suddenly, I realized something.


    ¡­She wasn¡¯t mad.


    She was processing.


    Which was somehow much worse.


    Then she let out a long, slow exhale, as if contemplating whether or not to throw me into Tartarus for my own safety.


    Finally, she spoke.


    ¡°If that is your wish¡­¡± her voice carried the weight of storms. ¡°Then I will see it done.¡±


    Nyssa froze mid-eye-roll. "Wait, what?"


    Krios frowned. "That was¡­ easier than expected."


    Even I was caught off guard. I had expected an argument, maybe even a flat-out refusal. But instead¡ªthis?


    Medusa turned, her golden eyes locking onto mine. There was no rage, no disappointment.


    Only concern.


    Not for the world.


    For me.


    She said, "Come, Raezel. If you are to live among mortals, then we will do this my way."


    It was supposed to be a normal day for the King Eldors, The King of Velmor.


    He woke up, stretched, probably admired himself in a polished bronze mirror, and then sat on his golden throne, ready for another day of ruling over people who had no choice but to listen to him.


    Then, something strange happened.


    A guard¡ªa fully armed, battle-hardened warrior¡ªran into the hall screaming.


    Not shouting. Screaming.


    ¡°W-WE HAVE A PROBLEM!¡± the guard stammered, pointing frantically toward the entrance. His face was pale. His hands shook. His knees looked like they wanted to quit their job.


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    The King frowned. ¡°What kind of problem?¡±


    The guard opened his mouth¡ªthen closed it¡ªthen opened it again. ¡°I¡ªIt¡¯s¡ªShe¡¯s¡ª¡±


    Then another scream.


    This time, from outside the palace.


    And then the great doors swung open.


    Not by force.


    Not by magic.


    No, they simply moved aside, as if they knew better than to stand in her way.


    A noble gasped so hard he fainted.


    A servant girl threw herself on the floor and started praying to every god she could name.


    And the King?


    The King went completely still.


    Because stepping into his grand hall, uninvited, unannounced, unbothered¡ªwas Medusa.


    The living nightmare of Olympus. The creature whispered about in horror stories. The monster who made even gods think twice before crossing her.


    She walked in silence, her golden eyes sweeping across the terrified faces of mortals who wouldn¡¯t even dare to breathe too loudly in her presence.


    And behind her?


    Me, Raezel¡ªher son, and current problem.


    Nyssa, my older sister, who looked unimpressed but was very obviously enjoying watching people have full mental breakdowns.


    Krios, my younger brother, smirked like he had been waiting for something exactly like this to happen.


    The King, still frozen, finally managed to speak.


    ¡°¡­Why?¡±


    It wasn¡¯t even a full question. Just the word why, as if he wasn¡¯t sure which question was the most important right now.


    Then, very carefully, he turned his gaze upward.


    "O mighty Zeus, if I have wronged you, please smite me now rather than let me die like this!"


    And then, the air in the hall grew heavy, crackling with divine energy. A voice, deep as the churning sky and vast as the heavens, echoed from above.


    ¡°Even I, who sit upon the highest throne of Olympus, do not know the purpose of medusa¡¯s arrival.¡±


    The King¡¯s soul left his body.


    Silence clung to the air, thick with unspoken fear. No one moved. No one breathed.


    And then, Medusa took a step forward.


    She did not glare. She did not raise her voice.


    Yet when she finally spoke, her words carried the weight of inevitability.


    ¡°Take care of him.¡±


    The King blinked. Looked at me. Then at Medusa. Then at me again. Then back at Medusa.


    "...I¡¯m sorry. What?"


    Medusa¡¯s gaze remained steady. Unyielding. Absolute.


    The King felt his entire bloodline shrink into nothingness. "O-Of course, great one," he stammered, nearly choking on his own words. "I will care for him as if he were¡ª" He hesitated. He did not dare say my own son, for how could a mere mortal father a child of Medusa? "¡ªas if he were a prince of my own kingdom."


    His voice wavered, but his soul knew there was no room for refusal.


    My mother¡¯s golden eyes studied him for a moment that stretched far too long. A flicker of something crossed her expression¡ªsatisfaction, perhaps. Or warning.


    She turned to me. Her hand, cold yet impossibly gentle, brushed against my cheek.


    "You do not yet understand what it means to bear my blood," she said softly. "But you will."


    Then, as swiftly as she had arrived, she turned away. The serpents in her hair shifted, hissing softly, their movements a whisper of power.


    A soft hiss. A shift in the air.


    From the nest of serpents coiled atop Medusa¡¯s head, one moved.


    Not in the usual restless, slithering way. No. This was deliberate. Purposeful.


    The serpent uncoiled itself, its sleek, dark scales shimmering as it lengthened and stretched beyond what should have been possible. Then, with a ripple of magic, it took form.


    A man¡ªif one could call him that. Tall, draped in flowing obsidian robes, his eyes slitted like a viper¡¯s, his presence as sharp as a drawn blade.


    Nihaga.


    I didn¡¯t flinch. Because I knew him.


    "My Queen," he said, his voice smooth as silk, his gaze unwavering. "I will not leave his side."


    The King, who had just barely managed to start breathing again, went stiff as a corpse.


    Medusa¡¯s expression remained unchanged. "You doubt my decision?"


    Nihaga turned his piercing golden eyes on the assembled mortals, scanning them with the same warmth one might reserve for vermin.


    "I do not trust them," he said bluntly. "And I do not like them."


    The King looked visibly offended but had the survival instincts not to argue.


    "I will remain with Raezel," Nihaga declared. "To protect him. To guide him. To ensure he is not¡­" He paused, then glanced at the King. "...contaminated."


    The King swallowed hard. "C-Contaminated?"


    And then, before the mortal ruler could even process the insult¡ª


    More hissing. More movement.


    And then¡ªchaos.


    Every. Single. Serpent. That had ever lived in this kingdom¡ªwhether hiding in the forests, slithering in the cracks of ancient stone, or coiled beneath the palace itself¡ªcame forth.


    The ground shook with their arrival.


    The King aged five years on the spot.


    Some were small, some were monstrous, some divine¡ªyet all bowed before Medusa, before me and my siblings.


    And then, in one singular voice, they declared:


    "We will protect him."


    A beat of stunned silence.


    Then:


    "No, I will."


    "You? You¡¯re a garden snake, shut up."


    "Excuse me? I was personally blessed by Lady Medusa herself¡ª"


    "You hiss too much in your sleep."


    "I DO NOT."


    "Enough, all of you," one of the larger serpents boomed. "We should be discussing who among us is most suited for this sacred duty."


    "It is obviously me," Nihaga stated, exasperated.


    "Like hell it is!" Another serpent snapped. "You¡¯re Medusa¡¯s favorite, that doesn¡¯t mean you get the first claim."


    "I am not her favorite." Nihaga¡¯s eyes twitched. "I am simply more competent than the rest of you."


    "Who?"


    "Says literally everyone."


    "You¡¯ve never even fought a chimera!"


    "Because I kill threats before they become chimeras, you brainless worm."


    "Oh, now I¡¯m a worm?"


    "That¡¯s offensive to worms."


    The argument grew louder. More heated. More terrifying.


    The King, sitting utterly paralyzed, watched as his throne room turned into an arena of serpentine warfare.


    Meanwhile, I just¡­ sighed.


    "Nyssa," I muttered, nudging my sister. "How long do you think this will last?"


    She smirked, arms crossed. "At least another hour."


    Krios groaned. "I hate family gatherings."


    At the center of it all, my mother merely watched, the faintest smile playing on her lips.


    She already knew the truth.


    It didn¡¯t matter who won the argument.


    Because no matter what¡ªif a single scratch appeared on me, every last one of them would burn this kingdom to the ground before she even had to lift a finger.

 Chapter 4

    The serpentine argument escalated.


    What started as a simmering debate over who would be my protector had now turned into a full-blown verbal battlefield.


    ¡°I am the swiftest among us,¡± hissed a sleek, jet-black serpent coiled around one of the marble columns. ¡°If danger arises, I can strike before the enemy even sees their death coming.¡±


    ¡°Oh, please,¡± scoffed a massive golden-scaled viper. ¡°Speed is meaningless without strength. You may strike fast, but can you kill in a single bite?¡±


    ¡°Kill?¡± Nihaga rolled his eyes. ¡°My job is to protect him, not turn the palace into a graveyard.¡±


    ¡°You say that now, but wait until a mortal so much as breathes near him the wrong way¡ª¡±


    ¡°IF ANYONE SO MUCH AS LOOKS AT HIM WRONG, I WILL REMOVE THEIR BLOODLINE FROM HISTORY.¡±


    The King whimpered.


    The black serpent flicked its tongue. ¡°Alright, dramatic one, calm down.¡±


    ¡°I REFUSE.¡±


    Another serpent, this one a shimmering emerald green, uncoiled itself with an exaggerated sigh. ¡°You¡¯re all missing the point. Raphael doesn¡¯t need a bodyguard. He needs someone wise. Someone who can guide him through the complexities of both mortal and divine politics. Someone who¡ª¡±


    ¡°Someone who is NOT YOU,¡± the golden viper interrupted. ¡°Oh, yes, let¡¯s protect him with wisdom¡ªI¡¯m sure the next sword aimed at his throat will be so moved by your intellect it¡¯ll drop dead on the spot.¡±


    The emerald serpent huffed. ¡°Diplomacy can prevent battles before they start, you brute.¡±


    ¡°And what if diplomacy fails?¡± The golden viper smirked. ¡°What then, scholar?¡±


    ¡°Then we eat them,¡± the emerald serpent said flatly.


    A moment of silence.


    Then:


    ¡°...Wait, what?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m saying,¡± the emerald serpent flicked its tail, ¡°we talk first, eat second.¡±


    ¡°I like this one,¡± Nyssa whispered to me, smirking.


    Nihaga pinched the bridge of his nose. ¡°I swear on the Styx, you¡¯re all insufferable.¡±


    ¡°Then why don¡¯t you prove you¡¯re better?¡± The golden viper challenged. ¡°Or are you just riding on your ¡®favorite child¡¯ status?¡±


    Nihaga¡¯s eye twitched. ¡°I AM NOT HER FAVORITE.¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes,¡± the black serpent mused. ¡°That¡¯s why you¡¯re always the first one she calls upon, right?¡±


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    ¡°It¡¯s because I am competent.¡±


    ¡°Or maybe because she likes you best?¡±


    ¡°I WILL KILL YOU WHERE YOU STAND.¡±


    The King was shaking.


    The guards were praying.


    The priests were considering an early retirement.


    Krios, however, just groaned. ¡°I swear, if this goes on any longer, I¡¯m going to start rooting for the mortals.¡±


    Nyssa grinned. ¡°Oh, come on, this is the most fun we¡¯ve had all week.¡±


    Meanwhile, the argument had reached new heights of absurdity.


    ¡°You¡¯re all fools,¡± a massive, white-scaled serpent declared. ¡°We are overcomplicating this. The answer is simple: we form a rotating guard. Shifts. Teams.¡±


    ¡°Oh, great idea, genius,¡± Nihaga scoffed. ¡°Let¡¯s schedule our protection, as if threats wait for appointments.¡±


    ¡°No, listen¡ª¡±


    ¡°Do you think an assassin will say, ¡®Oh, my apologies, I¡¯ll wait until the next shift change before striking¡¯?¡±


    ¡°You have a better idea?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Me. Watching him. Always.¡±


    The golden viper hissed. ¡°You do realize he¡¯s going to be living among mortals, right? You¡¯ll stand out like a divine plague.¡±


    Nihaga smirked. ¡°Then let them fear.¡±


    The King audibly choked.


    At this point, I was beginning to suspect that my greatest threat in mortal lands wouldn¡¯t be the gods, or assassins, or even fate itself.


    It would be the absolute circus of overprotective murder-snakes fighting for my custody.


    I cleared my throat, pointedly ignoring the absolute terror in the room.


    "I''ve made my decision," I said, as if the walls themselves hadn''t nearly caved in from tension.


    I turned to face the gathered serpents.


    "I choose Nihaga."


    For a moment, nothing.


    And then¡ª


    "Of course, it''s Nihaga."


    "Oh wow, what a surprise, Nihaga wins. Again."


    "Biggest suck-up in the entire land."


    "I mean, sure, if you like ¡®boring and brooding¡¯¡ª"


    "Hey! I do more than brood¡ª" Nihaga started, but another serpent cut in.


    "Oh, do you? Do you really?"


    "Yes! I also¡ª"


    "Protect Raezel."


    "Exactly."


    "Wow. Such depth. Much variety."


    I sighed as the jealous grumbling continued. Some were dramatically writhing on the floor in exaggerated grief. Others were whispering conspiracies to each other like gossipy old oracles.


    "It¡¯s favoritism, that¡¯s what it is."


    "I heard Nihaga bribed the Fates."


    "I bet Raezel just didn¡¯t want to hurt his feelings."


    "It¡¯s always ¡®Nihaga, Nihaga, Nihaga¡¯¡ªwhat about me?! I¡¯ve been doing my scales routine every day!"


    "You look exactly the same as yesterday."


    "IT TAKES TIME."


    Meanwhile, the King looked horrified.


    I glanced at Mother.


    She said nothing¡ªjust lifted her hand.


    That single motion was enough.


    Every serpent, no matter how mighty, fell silent.


    Medusa did not speak, nor did she offer an explanation. She didn''t need to.


    I would stay in the kingdom with Nihaga. That was final.


    Then, as Mother turned to leave, she spoke at last.


    A single sentence.


    A quiet, measured statement that rang louder than any battle cry.


    ¡°He is Medusa¡¯s son,¡± she said, voice like carved stone. ¡°He stays as long as he wishes.¡±


    Her gaze turned cold.


    ¡°And if he desires this kingdom¡ªhe shall have it.¡±


    The King nearly collapsed.

 Chapter 5

    "Stop, Mother."


    It was a simple request.


    But the world itself hesitated.


    The air in the great hall thickened, pressing against the walls, against the very fabric of time itself. The torches dimmed, their flames flickering as shadows stretched unnaturally long across the marble floors.


    It was as if reality itself had paused, waiting to see if my words were truly meant to be spoken.


    Mother stopped.


    Slowly, she turned to face me, her golden eyes gleaming¡ªpredatory, unblinking.


    The hall remained utterly silent.


    And then¡ª


    "Hey, Prince, do you know who you''re talking to?"


    Every head in the room turned toward the King.


    The serpents. The mortals. Even my siblings, who had been casually enjoying the show.


    Every single pair of eyes locked onto the man as if he had just spat in the face of fate itself.


    The weight of his words crashed down on him like a mountain.


    His expression shifted from mild exasperation to sheer, unfiltered regret.


    He froze.


    His own blood ran cold.


    Did he¡­ Did he really just say that?


    Did he just¡ªcorrect me?


    Did he forget¡ªwho I am?


    The hall, which had already been tense, now felt unnatural, as if something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.


    Even the serpents¡ªwho had just been grumbling about favoritism¡ªwent dead silent.


    One of them actually hissed, "Did he just¡ª?"


    Another, eyes wide, muttered, "Oh, he''s dead. He''s absolutely dead."


    Krios, my ever-enjoyable brother, grinned. "Oh, this is going to be good."


    Mother, however, said nothing.


    She simply looked at the King.


    A long, silent look.


    A look that had likely sent entire warriors to their graves before a battle even began.


    The King, finally realizing what he had done, seemed to shrink into his throne.


    He swallowed.


    And then, finally, I spoke.


    "It''s not fair," I said, breaking the silence. "Only taking favors from someone like Velmor¡­ and giving nothing in return."


    For a brief moment, the hall remained still, uncertainty crackling in the air like a storm waiting to break.


    Then, the serpents¡ªoh, the serpents¡ªerupted.


    "Oh? Oh?? OH??" one of them hissed dramatically. "Our dear prince has a sense of fairness? Since when?"


    "This is new. I kind of like it."


    "Wait, wait, does this mean we get something in return? Because I would like a shrine. A big one. With gold."


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    "Oh, stop. You don¡¯t even like gold."


    "I like it when others don¡¯t have it."


    Meanwhile, the King looked even worse than before.


    His throat visibly bobbed as he struggled to process what was happening.


    Because now¡ªnot only was he forced to shelter Medusa¡¯s son, but Medusa¡¯s son was actively negotiating.


    And that meant something very dangerous.


    It meant that I was not just here as a guest.


    I was here to bargain.


    To demand fairness.


    To ensure Velmor was not left with nothing.


    That I was not just passing through.


    That I was here to stay.


    The serpents continued their playful bickering, but the King?


    He looked like a man who had just realized he was already in the grave.


    And Mother?


    Mother simply watched, her expression unreadable.


    Then, after a long moment, she spoke.


    "And what is it you demand in return, my son?"


    Her voice did not rise, yet it swallowed the room whole. It was not a question. It was not permission. It was law, spoken into existence. The weight of her words pressed against my chest, against my bones, as if the very world had been bound in chains of fate, and I¡ªher own son¡ªwas ensnared within them.


    Her voice was calm, but there was something deeper in her words.


    Something undeniable.


    "The Seal."


    The moment I spoke those words, the air in the hall shifted.


    For the first time since my mother¡¯s arrival, the mortals present¡ªnobles, advisors, warriors¡ªshowed something other than fear.


    Hope.


    Excitement flickered in their eyes, cautious yet undeniable.


    The serpents, however, were stunned. Some of them hissed softly, exchanging glances of confusion and disbelief.


    "Did¡­ did he just say The Seal?"


    "I think he did."


    "That¡¯s not what I expected."


    "You expected bloodshed."


    "And? I still say it was a reasonable expectation."


    My brother, Krios¡ªtypically known for his playful and carefree nature¡ªstiffened the moment he heard my request. His arms, once lazily crossed, slowly dropped to his sides. His expression turned cold, serious. He knew me well. He knew I was not naive. He knew I fully understood the weight of my own words.


    And that realization unsettled him.


    The others felt it, too. Nyssa, Nihaga, and the serpents who had been basking in the entertainment of this spectacle¡­ all fell into silence. The change in their demeanor sent a message¡ªthis was no ordinary request.


    The King.


    For the first time since this ordeal began, the King¡¯s expression changed. His terror¡ªthe pure, suffocating fear that had nearly consumed him¡ªwas replaced by something else.


    Ambition.


    For the first time since my mother entered his hall, he wasn¡¯t cowering like a man about to lose everything.


    He was looking at me as a ruler.


    And as a ruler¡­ he saw an opportunity.


    Because The Seal¡ªthe legendary contract that bound strong nations to protect weaker lands¡ªwas not just a request.


    It was a declaration.


    It meant that I was not here as a burden.


    I was here to elevate this kingdom.


    To tie it¡ªunshakably¡ªto the might of Medusa herself.


    To the Gorgon Queen.


    To the serpents who lurked in the shadows, ready to spill blood at the slightest insult.


    To me.


    The weight of my words settled over the room, and I could feel every single being present processing it.


    The mortals, who had been fearing for their lives just moments ago, now stood a little taller.


    The serpents, once vying for my attention with competitive jealousy, were now silent, taking in the implications.


    And the King?


    The King was beginning to see the vision.


    He exhaled slowly, his fingers gripping the arms of his throne.


    Then, in a voice that still held a hint of hesitation, but also growing determination, he spoke.


    "You wish for this kingdom to hold The Seal?"


    I nodded.


    "Under the Seal, this land will be protected. Strengthened. It will stand among giants, never to fall to war, calamity, or divine judgment."


    I looked at him, my golden eyes gleaming.


    "And all it costs you¡­ is your loyalty."


    The King hesitated.


    Not because he doubted the offer.


    But because, in that moment, he realized¡­


    He wasn¡¯t negotiating with a boy.


    He was negotiating with a son of Medusa.


    A being who, in time, could rise beyond the gods themselves.


    And for the first time, he understood exactly what that meant.


    The hall had been steeped in tension, weighed down by Raezel¡¯s words. The Seal of Medusa¡ªan impossibility, a request beyond comprehension¡ªhad left the mortals in awe, the serpents in stunned silence. Even Krios, ever-playful, had stiffened at the gravity of it.


    The King had begun to understand. To see the vision Raezel had placed before him. To glimpse what it meant to stand beneath Medusa¡¯s protection. And then¡ªbefore that vision could fully take root¡ª


    War itself arrived.

 Chapter 6

    In a single instant, reality itself shifted.


    One moment, the hall was bound by mortal fears and divine tension. The next¡ªhe appeared.


    The God of War. The son of Zeus.


    Ares arrived.


    He did not arrive with thunder, nor with the fury of Olympians. No, his arrival was quieter¡ªa mere blink of crimson light, as if war itself had stepped through the veil of existence.


    Yet the weight of his presence was crushing.


    His armor gleamed like freshly spilled blood, his aura reeked of steel, of fire, of the endless clash of battle. The air itself thickened, as though war had become tangible¡ªalive.


    But no one, not a single soul in that hall, was looking at Ares.


    They were looking at his sword.


    A breath away from Raezel¡¯s throat.


    The King paled, his skin turning the sickly white of a man who had just witnessed his own funeral procession.


    The guards stood frozen, hands hovering over their weapons, knowing that to act was to die.


    The serpents coiled, their tongues flicking in agitation. The air was electric with venomous fury.


    And then, Ares spoke.


    "You, boy¡­ do you know what you have asked for?"


    His voice was not merely loud¡ªit was commanding. The weight of storms, of battles untold, of a thousand warriors screaming in their final moments¡ªthat was the sound of Ares¡¯ voice.


    And in that moment, every soul in the hall understood¡ª


    Why he was the God of War.


    Why he was the son of Zeus.


    His presence was absolute. His strength, unquestioned.


    And yet¡ª


    No one was afraid of Ares.


    They were afraid of who he had drawn his sword in front of.


    For Ares had chosen to bare his blade in front of Medusa¡ªtoward her son.


    A mistake so grand, so utterly unforgivable, that the Fates themselves must have gasped.


    And then¡ª


    A hiss.


    Low. Ancient. Deadly.


    Not from the serpents that slithered around the hall.


    But from her.


    Medusa.


    It was not anger. Not fury.


    No¡ªthis sound was something older.


    It was a warning. A whisper from the abyss of time itself. The kind of sound that came before kings fell.


    And Ares¡ªthe mighty war god, the unshaken warrior¡ªhesitated.


    For the first time.


    Ares blinked.


    His grip on the sword faltered¡ªbarely, almost imperceptibly¡ªbut it was there. A flicker of restraint, a realization clawing at the edges of his mind. He had made a miscalculation. A grave one.


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    The weight of Medusa¡¯s gaze bore down upon him, not with rage, not with wrath¡ªbut with certainty. A certainty he had seen once before, long ago, in the eyes of a warrior he had struck down. A certainty that sent a cold shudder through his immortal bones.


    For the God of War had stepped onto a battlefield where his blade meant nothing.


    And he knew it.


    Now, he had drawn his sword against Raezel, the son of Medusa¡­ in front of Medusa herself.


    His fingers twitched, ever so slightly. It was the smallest movement, yet it spoke volumes. A warrior¡¯s instinct¡ªto correct a mistake before it became his undoing.


    Still gripping his blade, Ares straightened his posture, attempting to regain what little dignity remained. His voice was steady, but thinner now, the roar of war tempered into something dangerously close to diplomacy.


    "This land," he declared, "is under my command."


    Silence.


    The words hung in the air.


    Then¡ª


    A cough.


    A single, casual cough.


    And it came from the King.


    The same mortal ruler who had moments ago feared for his life. Now, he leaned forward on his throne, an eyebrow raised, speaking as if he were discussing the weather.


    "That¡¯s fine," the King said, waving a dismissive hand. "You can withdraw your command."


    Ares¡¯ eyes narrowed.


    "Withdraw?"


    "Yes," the King said, his tone entirely too light for the situation. "If we are granted ¡®The Seal¡¯ from Medusa, we won¡¯t need your protection anymore, will we?"


    And just like that¡ª


    The world shifted again.


    Ares did not move, did not speak. And yet, everyone saw it. The way his fingers curled, ever so slightly, the way his stance shifted as if the very ground beneath him had betrayed him.


    For this was not just a refusal.


    This was an insult.


    No.


    A humiliation.


    The war god¡¯s claim¡ªhis very authority¡ªwas being dismissed like a child¡¯s tantrum. A land under his command had dared to suggest they would be better off under Medusa.


    And what was worse?


    They were right.


    Ares¡¯ grip on his sword tightened¡ªbut he did not raise it.


    Because what could he do or say?


    Ares stood motionless, yet within the halls of his mind, a storm raged. He could feel it¡ªthe weight of a gaze that needed no eyes to see. The sky did not darken, nor did thunder roar. And yet, he knew.


    Zeus was watching. And Ares knew¡ªthis was not the first time he had made this mistake.


    Not as a father.


    But as a king.


    And then¡ªwithout sound, without breath, his presence filled Ares¡¯ mind. A voice not spoken, but understood. A voice as vast as the sky, yet as piercing as the tip of a spear.


    "You have drawn your blade against Medusa''s son, in the presence of Medusa herself. Tell me, Ares, have you learned nothing? Back then, she was merely a Gorgon, a cursed thing beneath our notice. But now¡ªnow she is Queen Medusa, feared by the three realms. And still, you dare to stand against her?


    There was no wrath. No fury.


    Only weight.


    Ares clenched his jaw. He would not kneel. He would not submit. But before Zeus, the King of Olympus, he was made to listen.


    "Tell me, Ares, what outcome did you foresee? What victory did you think awaited you here?"


    The words resonated like the toll of a bronze bell. The meaning was clear¡ªnot a reprimand, not even disappointment. No, this was worse.


    It was confirmation of a mistake already made.


    Ares knew his father well. Zeus did not waste words, nor did he speak without purpose. If he was asking, it meant Ares had already lost.


    Ares let out a slow breath. His fingers, still curled around his sword, loosened slightly. Not in surrender. But in acknowledgment.


    "I meant not to offend," he answered within the realm of thought. "But honor compels me. This land is under my domain."


    A pause.


    Then, a shift¡ªnot of the world, nor of the heavens, but within his own thoughts.


    Zeus was not angered.


    If anything, he was amused.


    "Honor?" The word was spoken like the rolling of distant thunder. "Do you think honor will keep you standing if Medusa decides to erase you from existence?"


    Ares said nothing.


    For even he could not deny it.


    Medusa was no goddess, no Olympian, and yet¡ªthe very mention of her name commanded a fear that not even Olympus could deny. And Ares, more than anyone, knew why.


    Zeus, of all beings, understood this best. He had ruled the heavens, shaped the fates of men and gods alike. And yet, there was a reason he had never sought to command Medusa.


    He could not.


    For Medusa bowed to none.


    Ares breathed deeply, steadying himself. He could feel the weight of his father¡¯s presence easing, withdrawing. Yet before it faded completely, one final thought passed between them.


    "Ares, there is no battle here. Only echoes of your past failures."


    And then, Zeus was gone.


    Ares exhaled, the breath leaving his lungs slow and measured. He glanced at the mortals¡ªat their wide, stunned eyes. They had heard nothing, yet they had seen everything.


    Then his gaze fell upon Raezel.


    The son of Medusa stood before him, unflinching. He did not gloat, nor did he smirk. He simply waited.


    Ares sighed.


    Slowly, deliberately, he lowered his sword.

 Chapter 7

    Ares, the mighty God of War, son of Zeus, conqueror of countless battlefields, stood there like a child who had just been caught breaking a sacred vase. His sword¡ªhis divine, blood-soaked sword¡ªwas still in his hand, but he suddenly had no idea what to do with it.


    The silence dragged on.


    Too long.


    Far too long.


    Someone coughed.


    Ares chanced a glance at Medusa¡¯s face¡ªnope. Bad idea. That smile of hers was still there, calm and unreadable. Ares would rather face a hundred Titans than that smile.


    So he turned his eyes to Reazel instead.


    Big mistake.


    Reazel was looking at him like he was the biggest idiot in Olympus. And considering how many idiots Olympus had, that was quite the accomplishment.


    "Uh¡­" Ares finally muttered, clearing his throat. "So¡­ how are things?"


    Everyone blinked.


    Even the serpents.


    Reazel tilted his head. "Did the God of War just try to start small talk?"


    Ares shifted uncomfortably. "I¡ªlook, let''s all be reasonable here. Mistakes were made."


    Reazel raised an eyebrow. "Oh? You mean, you made a mistake?"


    Ares glared. "I did not say that."


    "You just did."


    "No, I didn''t."


    "You did."


    "I did not!"


    A serpent in the crowd mumbled, "He totally did."


    Ares gritted his teeth and ran a hand through his hair. Why was this happening to him?


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    He was the God of War, for Zeus¡¯ sake! He was supposed to be feared! Respected! Mortals were supposed to tremble at his presence, not exchange judgmental glances like he was some fool who had just walked into the wrong tavern!


    Ares winced. Oh no.


    He opened his mouth, then immediately closed it. How did one even begin to explain this?


    He considered lying.


    That lasted about half a second.


    Then he considered running.


    That lasted about another half second.


    Then he considered just... standing there and hoping Medusa forgot about this whole thing.


    Yeah. No. That was never happening.


    Ares felt a bead of sweat roll down his neck.


    "Uh¡­ I mean¡­"


    Ares swallowed. Then, without any warning¡ª


    CLANG.


    His sword hit the ground as he dropped it dramatically.


    "Whoops," he said, very unconvincingly. "Didn¡¯t mean to pull that out. Complete accident. Slipped right out of my hand."


    The entire hall just stared.


    Medusa tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable.


    Reazel crossed his arms.


    The king blinked. Twice.


    The serpents whispered amongst themselves.


    One of them muttered, "Did he just¡ª?"


    Another replied, "I think he did."


    A third simply said, "Pathetic."


    Ares coughed. "Sooo... we good?"


    No one spoke.


    Somewhere in the distance, a single cricket chirped.


    And then¡ª


    Medusa laughed.


    It wasn¡¯t an evil laugh. It wasn¡¯t a victorious laugh.


    It was just¡­ a laugh.


    A slow, soft chuckle that sent absolute terror down Ares¡¯ spine.


    "God of War," she mused, stepping closer, her smile widening just a fraction. "How strange. I thought you were braver than this."


    Ares swallowed.


    He wasn¡¯t brave.


    Not when it came to her.


    Not when it came to the woman whose wrath even the gods feared.


    But, well¡­ he wasn¡¯t exactly stupid, either.


    So he did the only thing a self-respecting war god could do in this situation.


    He cleared his throat.


    Slowly bent down.


    And ever-so-gently picked up his sword and placed it back into its sheath.


    "Right," he said. "Glad we could clear that up."


    Then he turned¡ªvery, very slowly¡ªto Raphael.


    "And you," he said, "what in Olympus did you just try to pull?"


    Reazel shrugged. "Something fun."


    Ares exhaled sharply through his nose. "Fun, huh?"


    Medusa rested a hand on Reazel¡¯s shoulder, her gaze still locked on Ares. "My son does as he pleases."


    Ares took a very careful step backward.


    "... Noted."

 Chapter 8

    Raezel stepped forward, arms crossed, eyes cold. He didn¡¯t look afraid.


    He didn¡¯t even look impressed.


    "You know, Ares," he began, his voice casual¡ªtoo casual. "You¡¯re not the first god who¡¯s wanted me dead."


    Ares narrowed his eyes.


    Raezel¡¯s smirk grew. "Actually, there¡¯s barely a god or demi-god who hasn¡¯t tried to kill me." He gestured lazily around the hall. "And yet, the moment they step in front of my mother¡ª" he tilted his head toward Medusa, whose eerie, knowing smile remained untouched¡ª "they suddenly forget how to look me in the eye while speaking."


    Ares clenched his fists.


    "And yes, exactly," Raezel continued, his voice dropping slightly, almost mocking. "You think it, and I state it. Your life is my one wish away, God of War."


    The weight of those words settled in the air like a thundercloud.


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    For the first time in his immortal existence¡ªAres felt envy.


    Raezel stood before him, arms crossed, gaze unwavering.


    He did not flinch.


    He did not bow.


    He simply was.


    Ares had faced warriors, kings, and gods. He had seen power in all its forms¡ªraw, refined, divine.


    But Raezel carried something else.


    Unshaken certainty.


    Even Ares had never stood with such certainty.


    Raezel did not need to prove himself. He did not need to demand respect. He existed beyond fear, beyond doubt¡ªbeyond Olympus itself.


    For all his strength, for all the wars he had won, Ares had never stood before anyone like this.


    He had always been a god of conflict, a weapon forged for war.


    But Raezel?


    He was his own force, which changed fate itself.


    He had already done what no one else could¡ªhe had rewritten fate.


    And that¡­ that was what Olympus feared.


    Ares'' fingers curled around the hilt of his sword, though he did not raise it.


    He exhaled slowly, voice low, edged with something he had never spoken aloud before.


    "What a terrifying thing you are, boy."

 Chapter 9

    Ares was about to speak¡ªsomething to salvage what little dignity he had left¡ªwhen¡ª


    "Ohhh, look at that! The God of War hesitated."


    Ares froze.


    Slowly, he turned his head.


    The serpents.


    Oh no.


    The serpents were back.


    And they were enjoying this.


    A particularly smug-looking one¡ªNihaga¡ªslithered forward in his mortal form, arms crossed. "You know," he mused, tapping his chin. "I always knew Olympus had some fragile egos, but this is truly special."


    Ares gritted his teeth. "You dare¡ª"


    "Oh, I dare." Nihaga smirked. "You pulled a sword on him like a god¡­ now stand like a soldier who just realized he marched into the wrong war."


    The other serpents burst into laughter.


    "God of War? Please. You look more like a child who just realized he picked a fight with his father."


    "I told you all," another snake hissed. "I told you he¡¯d regret it!"


    "This is better than any battle I¡¯ve ever seen!"


    Ares looked like he wanted to kill every single one of them.


    But he didn¡¯t move.


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    Because¡ªwell.


    Medusa was still right there.


    Raezel casually slung an arm around Nihaga¡¯s shoulders. "I like this one," he said. "Very observant."


    "I am quite perceptive," Nihaga agreed, tossing his hair dramatically.


    Ares inhaled sharply. "I hate all of you."


    The serpents erupted into even louder laughter.


    Ares stood there. Stiff. Unmoving.


    A serpent¡ªone particularly large and particularly unimpressed¡ªtilted its head, flicking its tongue before asking the question everyone was thinking.


    "Why are you still here, war god?"


    Ares exhaled slowly. His grip on his sword had long since loosened, his pride dented, his ego shattered into tiny, embarrassing pieces. And yet, he did not leave.


    Instead, his gaze swept across the room, lingering on Medusa, then Raezel, then¡ªbegrudgingly¡ªNihaga, before he finally spoke.


    "I want to see if Velmor will get ¡°The Seal.¡±


    The words carried no arrogance, no defiance¡ªonly calculated interest.


    The hall tensed.


    The mortals did not like that response.


    King Eldors, however, felt a cold dread creeping up his spine.


    Because at that moment, he realized something.


    If Medusa granted The Seal, his kingdom would be untouchable. Protected. Not even Ares himself could lay a finger upon their land.


    But if Medusa didn¡¯t¡­


    Then Ares would surely return.


    And when he did¡ª


    He would not come alone.


    A shudder ran through the king¡¯s body. His vision narrowed, the edges of the world blurring as the weight of the situation crushed him. His fingers twitched. His throat was so dry it burned.


    Ares noticed. And he smirked.


    "You see it now, don¡¯t you?"


    The king did.


    If he failed to secure Medusa¡¯s blessing now, then the moment Raezel left this kingdom, war would follow. A war they would not survive.


    Ares took a single step forward, his presence suffocating, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement.


    The king barely kept himself from stumbling back.


    Because one thing was clear:


    Whether through Medusa¡¯s protection or Ares¡¯ wrath¡ª


    This kingdom¡¯s fate would be decided today.