THE SPIRITUAL SOVEREIGN : RISE OF THE DIVINE

Five hundred years had passed swiftly since the last time the Heavenly Father unleashed his wrath.

As Soulis had foreseen, a century after the Cyclopes were cast into the abyss, the birth of the hundred-armed giants ignited the God King's fury once more.

The three giants—Briareos, Cottos, and Gyes—were born with fifty heads and a hundred arms each. Their immense strength allowed them to rival even Titans of moderate divine power when united. Though they lacked priesthoods, their immortality and innate might made them formidable beings.

Yet, no matter their power or how fervently Mother Earth pleaded for their lives, the King of Gods could not tolerate their existence.

This time, only fifty years had passed before Soulis, now a minor deity with weak divine power, was drawn from his meditations. Through the vision granted by his [Moon] authority, he watched as the hundred-armed giants were cast into the abyss.

Six children had now been condemned to eternal imprisonment. This cruelty struck fear into the twelve Titans. Though they found their strange younger siblings unsettling, the injustice of their plight stirred sadness among them.

While Mountain trembled under celestial drama, Soulis remained apart, sitting silently on a rock, awaiting an anticipated guest.

The priesthood of [Prophecy] had its uses. While Soulis rarely succeeded in actively foretelling events, fate often whispered of encounters to come.

Today, as a green-clad goddess appeared before him, Soulis' expression subtly shifted.

Mother Earth, her head veiled in black, wore an expression of solemn grief.

"It has been many years, dear Earth Mother," Soulis greeted her, his voice calm but his tone guarded. "I had thought to offer you a warm welcome, but your expression bids me hold my tongue."

Unlike the vibrant, radiant goddess of millennia past, Gaia now appeared weary—a woman in her middle years. Her once-luminous skin had dulled, fine lines creased the corners of her eyes, and her clear, gentle gaze was heavy with sorrow.

Though her divine power far surpassed Soulis', he could sense the decay within her. Gaia, who had once been among the most powerful of the primordial gods, now struggled to hold her position.

"What brings the Earth Mother here today?"

Though he already guessed her purpose, Soulis asked the question anyway, his gaze steady.

"Dear Prophet, as you once foretold, I can endure no more," Gaia said, her voice direct and unyielding.

"For two thousand years, I have borne his rule. At first, I accepted his strictness toward our children, as he acted within reason. I bore his demands without complaint, knowing they were natural to his station as the King of Gods and the embodiment of masculinity. I understood him, and I held no resentment.

"But everything changed with the birth of the Cyclopes." Her gaze turned toward the earth as though looking upon her children trapped in Tartarus.

"He grew irrational, consumed by his own fears. He deemed even priestless children a threat to his reign. Abusing his authority, he cast them into the abyss.

"And now, with my new descendants born gods, his rage has only deepened."

Gaia turned back to Soulis, her eyes locking onto his.

Though not a goddess known for her strength, Gaia's presence carried a weight that pressed upon Soulis. She had come to him not out of respect but because she had no other choice.

"So, the God King feels threatened?" Soulis asked, his voice tinged with a faint smile, though his expression betrayed no amusement.

"Yes. The children's strength unsettles him. Hyperion, Cronus, Oceanus, and Themis have all become powerful gods. While they are not yet his equals, together they could pose a serious challenge.

"Even my other descendants—save poor Iapetus and Mnemosyne, who were born with only the domains of [Speech], [Writing], and [Language], far too weak to fight—have risen to medium divine power."

Gaia's voice faltered, her sorrow breaking through. She was proud of her children's strength but terrified of their father's wrath. If nothing changed, she knew they would share the fate of the Cyclopes.

"I see," Soulis said after a long pause. "You wish for me to resolve this conflict. You hope I might broker peace and reconcile them. Is that right?"

"That would be ideal," Gaia replied softly, her voice almost pleading.

"But it is impossible," Soulis said, shaking his head. "Dear Earth Mother, I am a god of prophecy, not of destiny. The moment the God King demanded to know his fate, he became bound by it.

"A prophecy that ensnares the God King cannot be undone—not even by Lady Ananke, the goddess of inevitability."

Gaia fell silent. Over the past two millennia, she had sought help from others, including Nyx, the Mother of Night, who remained cloaked in her impenetrable silence alongside Erebus, the Lord of Darkness.

But as Soulis had said, prophecy and curse alike are irrevocably tied to their initiators. Once the God King sought knowledge of his future, his fate was sealed. Not even the gods themselves could unbind it.

"What of another way?"

After a long pause, Gaia spoke again, her voice trembling with hesitation and desperation.

"If I wish to end this conflict once and for all, what must I do?"

Soulis' heart skipped a beat.

It was not fear but the sudden pull of divine power. As Gaia made her choice, the authority of [History] began to coalesce around him.

By bearing witness to an era and wielding time-related authority, Soulis now found himself on the verge of claiming the priesthood of [History].

This power, destined for Rhea in the future, had reached out to him now.

Soulis accepted it without hesitation.