Chapter 184: “Then I will be ready.”
Athens shook like it was being torn in half.
Wukong’s staff spun in wide arcs, smashing through broken columns and shattering rooftops. Nezha’s spear burned with every thrust, flames rolling out in waves that turned the marble red. Neither looked down. Neither cared for the mortals scrambling through the streets beneath them.
The city was nothing more than a battlefield.
"Still chasing?" Wukong jeered, twisting midair as his tail lashed, knocking Nezha back a step. "Don’t you ever get tired?"
Nezha spun on his wheels, flames swirling around his ankles. His boyish face was fierce, his voice sharp. "Not until you’re buried."
Their weapons clashed again. The sound rang like a war drum, louder than the cries of the people fleeing below.
–––
Then something shifted.
A gust of wind tore through the city, faster than thought, faster than breath. In an instant the streets were empty—mortals gone, whisked away before they could even cry out.
Wukong froze for half a heartbeat, his golden eyes narrowing. "Hah?"
Nezha’s spear halted too, his chest rising, his gaze darting across the blur that had cut through the fight.
The blur stopped. And from it stepped Hermes.
His sandals hovered just above the cracked stones, wings still beating faintly. His usual smirk was gone. His eyes, sharp and steady, moved from Nezha to Wukong. His voice carried calm, but under it was steel.
"That’s enough."
–––
Neither warrior moved. Wukong tilted his head, grin spreading again. "Another one? And fast, too. What are you, then? A rabbit?"
Hermes didn’t answer. He moved again, too quick to follow, and in the same blink both staff and spear were pushed aside. Wukong stumbled back a step, his grin faltering for the first time. Nezha caught his breath, eyes narrowing.
"Impossible..." Nezha muttered.
"Stay down," Hermes said simply.
–––
The air shifted once more. Shadows swept across the ruins as a bowstring stretched, humming with divine weight. Artemis stood on a fallen column, her silver eyes sharp, her arrow already drawn and aimed straight at Wukong’s chest.
"Try it," she said coldly. "Either of you."
Wukong looked up at her and let out a short laugh. "Pretty hunter. Sharp eyes. But do you really think that toy can pierce stone born of heaven?"
The arrowhead flared with moonlight, cold and merciless. "Test me and see."
–––
From the other side of the ruin, Apollo stepped forward. His golden hair caught the sun, his lyre slung behind him, but in his hands burned fire—not song, not light, but pure flame ready to strike.
"Enough games," he said, his tone even, calm but heavy with command. "You’ve brought your fight into our city. That ends here."
–––
Athena was the last to arrive. She walked through the shattered archway with no rush, her gray cloak brushing dust from the stones. Her eyes, cold as steel, swept over Nezha, then Wukong. Her voice carried without force, but it cut clean through the noise.
"You forget yourselves."
–––
The ruins of Athens held still. The only sound was the crackle of Nezha’s fire and the faint hiss of Wukong’s staff as he leaned on it.
Nezha bowed his head, his spear lowering. His voice was steady but softer now. "Forgive me. I chased him too far."
Athena’s gaze lingered on him, unreadable, then moved on to the monkey crouched on his staff, tail flicking.
Wukong grinned wider, teeth flashing. "Bow? Is that what you do? You gods love bending your necks." He leaned closer, golden eyes glinting with mockery. "But I am the Great Sage Equal to Heaven. I bow to none."
Hermes stepped in front of him, faster than a blink, the weight of his presence pressing close. "Careful."
Artemis’s arrow did not waver. "One twitch, and I let go."
Apollo’s fire burned higher, ready to engulf.
Athena’s eyes narrowed just slightly, the calm in them unshaken. "You laugh now, monkey. But you’ve stepped into Olympus’s shadow. Even you should know what that means."
–––
Wukong balanced on his staff with one hand, his laughter bubbling up louder. "Olympus, Jade Heaven, all the same. Thrones, crowns, rules. You’re afraid of someone who won’t kneel."
He flipped to his feet, spinning the staff once, defiant. "Then hear me now. I will not bow. Not here. Not anywhere."
Nezha clenched his spear tighter, his jaw tense, but he stayed silent. He had already lowered himself in front of the head pantheon.
–––
Hermes’s eyes sharpened. In one step, he was inches from Wukong, his hand pressed to the monkey’s chest before the staff could rise. His voice stayed calm, quiet, but there was no softness in it.
"Try me again, and you’ll learn speed isn’t just for running."
For the first time, Wukong’s grin flickered. Just for a heartbeat. Then it returned, wider, wilder. "Oh, I like you."
Artemis drew the string tighter, the silver light burning brighter. "Make another move and we’ll see how much you like arrows."
Apollo’s fire swirled in his hands, ready to strike. "And flame."
Athena stepped forward at last, her presence cutting through them all. Her voice was calm, steady, and final.
"You stand in Athens. You fight in our realm. You spit on Olympus." Her eyes locked on Wukong, unblinking. "This is your only warning. Leave now. Or you will not leave at all."
–––
The air was heavy. Even Wukong felt it. The storm of Olympus pressing from all sides—speed, arrows, flame, wisdom. He twirled his staff lazily, as if unconcerned, but the grin on his face tightened at the edges.
He spat into the dust, golden eyes gleaming with defiance. "Warnings, threats, promises. Always the same. Fine. I’ll play your game... for now."
With a spin of his staff, he vaulted high into the sky, laughter echoing down through the broken stones. "But remember this, Olympians—" His voice carried as he vanished into the clouds. "I bows to no throne."
–––
Silence followed.
Nezha lowered his head again, his voice quiet but firm. "Forgive me. I will return to my own realm."
Athena studied him a long moment, then gave a small nod. "See that you do."
Hermes exhaled, his eyes still on the sky where the monkey had vanished. Artemis eased her bowstring, though her expression stayed cold. Apollo’s fire dimmed, his gaze thoughtful.
Athena turned back toward the heart of the city, her cloak trailing across the broken marble. Her voice was low, but it carried.
"He will return."
Hermes’s lips curved faintly, though not in humor. "And when he does?"
Athena’s eyes darkened. "Then I will be ready."
–––
High on his throne, Zeus’s storm thickened as he watched the threads pull tighter.
The monkey had arrived.
And soon, the Spartan would hear his laughter.