HPDBC Chapter 781: 284: Bronze Creator
Chapter 781: 284: Bronze Creator
Chapter 781: Chapter 284: Bronze Creator
Tick tock...
Tick tock...
Tick tock...
...
At the bottom of the ocean, under an endless vortex.
In an empty, deathly silent space devoid of any color.
...
The inexplicable sound of dripping water echoed ceaselessly, as if it had never stopped.
This eternal prison existed above the East Sea, right at the heart of the Sea Eye’s whirlpool.
For thousands of years, many had fallen into this place.@@@@
But none died from the fall because, in the end, they all left, lifted by an invisible force.
Yet no one wished to return after facing such fear, and thus this place seldom saw visitors, with only a few legends circulating.
Prometheus, the Bronze Age Creator.
Once a revered Titan Deity, now reduced to a prisoner—such was the Divine King’s punishment for rebellion.
He would remain bound here forever, until the end of time.
...
Tick tock...
Tick tock...
Tick tock...
...
“Huh...”
Accompanied by the unceasing dripping sound, faint wheezing breaths could barely be heard.
Time was unknowable until, at a certain moment, bright eyes opened again in the darkness.
“...What is this...”
“Has someone else fallen in?”
But Prometheus also knew this was an Abyss that must not be entertained.
With the first, there would be a second; he could watch one person die, and gradually watch two, then three, or five, ten.
Until thousands, and eventually everyone.
When that day arrived, Zeus would come before him, victorious, asking if he was willing to take back the fire he stole for humans in exchange for embracing freedom once again.
The Forethinking God could foresee the consequences.
This was different from his blind faith in his disciples because he knew himself so well.
His nature was not so noble, and he could fall in such ‘tests.’
So it was only fitting that he never stood by, not even once, allowing ‘zero’ to never become ‘one.’
Whirr...
The sound of splashing water arose, and silently, through the millennia of flowing Divine Blood, Prometheus harnessed the power of the ocean.
The waves rose in an upsurge, carrying the sailboat that had been sucked into the vortex off into safety.
Faintly, Prometheus heard their prayers.
The crew thanked the heavens, the gods, and the entity that saved them.
In this moment, the people were so devout, swearing to forever worship their savior.
However, Prometheus just smiled and then lowered his head in silence.
He knew what would follow, for it was like many times before.
In the beginning, those who escaped would be grateful.
But it wouldn’t take long before, as the joy of their narrow escape faded, their faith born from gratitude would disappear.
Like with the Bronze Humanity before them, mere gifts could never satisfy humans.
They would be surprised, they would worship, and then they’d grow accustomed and crave more.
“So, Prometheus...”
“Hiss—”
“Do you regret it?”
“For these humans, for your ‘creation,’ enduring eternal loneliness here.”
It was like the whisper of a demon—or perhaps, it was the whisper of a demon.