The Sixth Life of Medusa

31. Before The Door

Medusa remained in a daze as she trailed after Nestor, her mind reeling from Clotho's world-shattering revelation.

Phorcys was once a topmost general until he betrayed Zeus for my sake.

Then she went on to reveal wilder things that made Medusa's ears tingle.

Beyond the seas were other continents and numerous islands, well populated and maintained like a farm. There were no gods like Athena or Zeus, or even the concept of blood carriers, just blissfully ignorant people existing with made-up ideas of supreme beings.

The real purpose of Zeus' generals is to oversee the continents and islands behind a veil. Wars. Pestilences. Famine. Natural disasters. An overwhelming portion of those occur through careful planning to bring about a potent harvest. The immortality of deities is a farce. Life must be given for more life. That is ambrosia.

Unbelievable. Utterly unbelievable. Medusa hugged herself, shivering.

Questions crowded her mind. How did it work? Once these lives were harvested, how was it distributed among deities? Why didn't Zeus end her father's life by withholding ambrosia?

Clotho had offered to open her eyes to see a vision, but Medusa declined. Her mind still felt fragile from the deluge of memories, and she was not particularly eager to see her father slaughter thousands.

Nestor led her to a large building with multiple tall doors. There were other students littered about, some chatting as they made their way in.

Clotho was present but silent, perhaps waiting for questions. Medusa was hardly prepared to ask. Her thoughts were still all over the place, and there was another heavy question hanging between them. If Zeus had Phorcys, wasn't it wiser to ask for her father's release if she won the game?

And it was too dangerous. It didn't matter that deities' immortality was false, getting Zeus' attention was the issue. If her father had suffered for helping Clotho, wouldn't it be idiotic to demand for Clotho's sister's release boldly?

So many questions and too many memories shouted to be acknowledged. Something was fraying in her mind, almost similar to how she felt when she unintentionally switched languages. Was it the change in her blood that triggered it?

She would have asked Clotho but she was worried that the Moirai could see past her wavering loyalty. My father or her sister.

Nestor opened the door and revealed a large empty hall. Across the walls and ground were what resembled sword slashes; there were also numerous footprints etched in the stone ground and shattered practice dummies were strewn about.

Ahead was a stone basin balanced on a stand. She frowned when she felt it. Dense pulses of aether spread from the spot and washed over her.

"This is where you would be training for the time being. Come." Nestor headed for the basin, his strides measured and brisk.

He stopped beside the basin. "For one who came to us as an unawakened blood carrier, you have done well."

Taken aback by the sudden praise, Medusa went with a polite nod. "Thank you." Even though I'm far from strong enough to face a fully realised blood-carrier.

He produced a plain rectangular box and revealed a black blindfold.

A training method she was familiar with. She had used the seeing blindfold to learn her combat and dagger techniques while at the temple.

"This is from the red god," Nestor said. "It would be expedient to keep that in mind as you go about your training."

There was the fear that Ares' training would be far harsher than whatever she went through at the temple's training, but she had no choice in the matter. The goal was to learn enough to be able to protect herself.