Chapter 255: Warmth’s Fireworks
In each tribe, the leader was not singular; based on the division of labor for survival, each role had one or more leaders, generally individuals jointly recognized and nominated.
However, they were only responsible for the instruction and leadership in their respective areas. Tribal matters were still deliberated upon by all the tribe members together.
In this era, being a leader was truly a task of utmost hardship.
They ate the same amount as everyone else, enjoyed nothing, and yet had to do the most, worry the most, exert the most effort, and perform the most labor.
At this stage, “leader” meant “one who leads everyone else in doing work.”
Demeter watched a most diligent figure in the fire mirror.
It was a strong man who gave the best roasted meat to the children in the tribe, while he himself only picked up the worst piece.
He also ate the fastest, because after eating, he still had to patrol the campfire of the camp, tidy the tools for the next day, and teach the children and tribe members hunting techniques.
The concept of “unfairness” appeared for the first time.
It was just that this initial “unfairness” arose among these selfless leaders.
It must be said that many things, at their inception, were perhaps entirely different from their future state.
As for those who were not leaders, their lives were actually simpler and more comfortable; they only needed to do what they were supposed to do.
Those who could hunt went to chase the wind and pursue beasts, those who could weave nets guarded the water and listened to the tides, and those who could gather spoke with the forest.
Everyone did what they could, according to their abilities. As for the children, they were raised by everyone together.
Of course,
Because the concepts of “marriage” and “family” had not yet emerged, even the deities who taught them were all single.
Currently, the survival and continuation of each tribe, or rather, all of humanity, was in a state of relative freedom and unrestrained primitivity.
Children only knew their mother, and not who their father was.
But this was not important; it was not a big issue.
At least, it was not important before the second generation of humans grew up.
Overall, humans, who were still living in “swaddling clothes,” lived a simple and unpretentious life under the meticulous care of the gods.
Apart from those leaders who had to bear more responsibility, ordinary people did not have many daily troubles.
Apart from the troubles of survival itself, nothing else had yet emerged.
And those who had the most troubles were the ones who always liked to tilt their heads back and gaze at the sky.
Besides the troubles of survival, their small, just-beginning-to-function minds were always filled with too many unanswerable questions.
Why did night fall? Why did the stars twinkle? Where did the wind come from? For whom did the rain fall?
Also, what exactly were gods?
When they looked up at the sky, the endless, deep starry expanse always filled them with both curiosity and fear.
The vast sea of stars was both enchanting and terrifying.
The radiance of the sun and moon, generously and lovingly sprinkled upon the Earth, filled their hearts with the most primal reverence.
Yet, they were also like two unblinking eyes, watching over all things, naturally inspiring awe.
Not to mention the “thunder” and “fire” inscribed in the deepest part of their souls.
Every time the wind and rain rose, every time lightning flashed and thunder boomed, the busyness of the tribes would abruptly stop.
The sound of thunder was like an announcement; people, in alarm, gathered their loved ones, stopped all activities, and rushed back to their caves, prostrating themselves inside.
With trembling and halting voices, they most piously offered prayers to the supreme Master of Thunder, the King of the Gods, the Master of All – Zeus, begging Him to stop the “anger” that could tear apart the sky.
Thunder was the “wrath of the Heavenly Father” hanging over their heads, unfathomable.
It was absolute majesty that mortals could never understand, only revere!
Whenever this happened, only the eternal, unquenchable warm flames, burning from ash branches within the caves, could offer them a little solace.
Fire was the “warm motherly love” that was tangible and unchanging; a gentle source that mortals could always rely on and draw strength from.
Thus, without any teaching, without any established rituals, in a state of utmost ignorance and bewilderment, merely by the simplest epithets heard from the gods, and guided by instinct, they softly called out the name of the Master of the Warmth of Fire.
Though their pronunciation was still unclear, they were exceedingly devout: Hestia.
They pleaded with this warmest fire to carry the violent thunder away from their horizon.
A god’s name must not be lightly invoked; where there is a thought, there will be a response.
Zeus did not fail to hear.
However, His Majesty the God King had long ago set up a “whitelist” and reception restrictions for “event triggers and sensitive words.”
Aside from these, He would not listen to simple mutterings like merely “chanting His name.”
Because there were simply too many, if He were to listen to all of them, He would be driven mad on the spot.
He was already swamped with work for the development and perfection of the cosmic laws of the entire universe!
Where would He find the time to listen to these incessant pleas?
Moreover, He did not wish to interfere too much with the autonomous development of humanity.
As long as they were not facing a crisis of destruction, the matters encountered by humans on their own path should be explored and resolved by humans themselves.
However, the warmest sacred fire never had any shield.
Facing these first few million humans in the universe, she, who was the warmest and most compassionate, had never blocked any plea from the mortal world, no matter how faint.
When humans, in alarm and fear, chanted her name, she would make the flames in the caves burn even more intensely and warmly.
She made the leaping, hotter flames drive away the dampness and cold, dry their clothes and tears, illuminate the caves and hearts, purify them from danger and terror, and bring them light and tranquility.
With warmth and brightness, she gently comforted these pitiable little children.
Of course, what humans received from the thunderstorms was not only fear.
They had also encountered another kind of “celestial change” on several occasions: golden clouds covered the sky, and colorful clouds emanated, followed by fine and gentle “golden rain” that could nourish all things.
Bathed in this divine golden rain, all fatigue was removed, all pain vanished without a trace, stubborn illnesses were instantly dispelled, and even unknown mutations were guided toward beneficial development.
Their bodies became stronger, and their spirits became more vibrant.
On these occasions, all humans would gather the largest bonfires made of ash branches and dance and sing to their hearts’ content in the golden rain.
In their still-unclear but sincere language, they would most piously praise the supreme bounty of Heaven.
Strangely, the golden rain did not extinguish this sacred fire; instead, it made the fire burn even more fiercely, the flames growing in reverse within the rain, like a flower blooming under golden light.
Whenever this happened, amidst the joyful crowd, there would always be some people who secretly looked at the sky, their eyes revealing deeper curiosity and bewilderment.
Just as they did not understand why the flames, initially bestowed by the gods as a thousand sources of fire and ignited by the lightning strikes, would not be extinguished for any reason.
However, fires produced by other trees ignited by lightning would be extinguished by water, by wind, by rain, or even by a lack of firewood.
Also, why did the sacred fire burn eternally only on ash branches?
And when other trees were used as firewood, the flames would also be extinguished after they burned out.
Humans, in this endless curiosity, stumbled and grew continuously.
This was what Hestia had been silently watching all along.
The Master of Warmth of Fire, though she possessed a destructive aspect capable of incinerating all things, her essence was eternal warmth and light.
She loved Zeus, and she loved all living beings who yearned for warmth and light.
Humans, this newborn race, were small in stature and short-lived, yet they possessed the same form as gods, and, most importantly, the wisdom that could continuously grow.
And they possessed the rich emotions that originated from the gods.
The Divine Realm was always so peaceful and uneventful.
Even if there were minor squabbles, for the Immortal Gods, they were not major issues.
The rules of the entire universe were changing greatly, even rapidly.
But all of this was under the control of her beloved Zeus, destined to move towards a most glorious and great future.
Gods are immortal, deathless, and infinitely powerful.
No matter what they do, there is no need to rush; they only need to do it slowly and enjoy this infinitely beautiful universe with peace of mind, which is enough.
However, these newborn humans were completely different.
Their lifespan and strength, compared to gods, were so negligible as to be almost not worth mentioning.
Time was merely a friend to the gods.
But for mortal spirits, it was the most terrifying and merciless enemy chasing behind them.
Therefore, humans were always in a hurry, always prone to anxiety, and always wanting to accomplish more meaningful things within their limited lives.
They would proactively seek the meaning of life for themselves, weaving their short time into a lively and flavorful daily existence.
Their brief yet always incredibly busy time was precisely what Hestia was most fascinated by.
The most unadorned emotions and laughter between humans, the affection of looking into each other’s eyes by the campfire, and the first clear cry of a new, small life, all made her heart burn.
She knew that Zeus had long-term plans for humanity.
Therefore, before Zeus spoke, she did not directly interact with humans.
However, she had always been the one among all the gods who paid the most attention to humans.
Every flicker of fire in the mortal world was her gentle gaze upon the mortal realm.
And it was a great symbol of her silent protection of humanity.
Yes, yes, Olympus was certainly more beautiful.
This was the supreme and ultimate center of the entire universe; this was the abode of many great deities; it was the symbol of her most beloved male god, the greatest God King Zeus.
Here, there was her glory, her revered Mother Goddess, her beloved sisters, her dear friends, and her most loved – God King Zeus.
Here, there were also the most beautiful landscapes, infinite magic and magnificence, endless delicacies and fine wines, and even the aether flowing in the air was different from the mortal world.
However, this place was too sacred and pure, and too lofty.
And the gods were too independent and self-absorbed; the majority of the gods were proud and isolated.
The gods were like brilliant stars, each shining independently, rarely intersecting.
Olympus was like a flawless divine crystal, sacred, magnificent, radiant, eternal, and pure, yet also cold, hard, and unchanging through the years.
Whereas the mortal world was more like a warm pottery vessel, kneaded by the most unadorned artisans with love and hope, rough and unpolished, yet constantly being shaped.
It was imperfect, but it was full of infinite possibilities.
In the gathering places of humans, there was something entirely different from the Divine Realm.
It was something that attracted her more, a certain atmosphere that made her yearn to go to the mortal world and experience it firsthand.
That something, that feeling, she had long been unable to find a suitable word to describe.
It wasn’t until later, in a mortal tribe, that she heard a mother, in her still simple and halting language, teaching her child:
“My child, remember this warm feeling, remember the aroma of cooked food. Thank the great Goddess of Fire, thank Her for bestowing upon us the ‘fireworks.’ Thus, we are able to enjoy this warmth and deliciousness.”
This statement was not ornate, nor complex, but it was the clearest language in human speech at that time.
Humans had not forgotten the warm fire.
It was the most important treasure in their lives, and the one most worthy of gratitude.
From that moment on, Hestia finally knew what she had always loved and longed for.
“Fireworks.”
It was the “flavor of fireworks” filled with the essence of life, where relatives, family, and friends could be together and share that peace and warmth.
It was the symphony called “home,” woven from the laughter of children, the aroma of food, the idle chatter of tribe members, and the crackling of the campfire.
The meaning of fire was not in how sacred the flame itself was, but in the warmth it brought to family.
Fire without “home” was merely a pile of ashes destined to burn out.
She had been waiting, waiting for an opportunity to go to the mortal world.
She wanted to get closer to humans, to come among them, to feel their “flavor of fireworks” more intimately.
And through her long observation, she had already discovered a great predicament that humanity was currently facing.
A predicament that could even be said to have completely hindered the progress of their civilization.
That was – stable food.
Under the teachings of Prometheus and others, humans had acquired language, simple symbols, and had even learned how to use various stones and wood to make simple tools.
They had also learned how to use fire, and how to select and make simple modifications to suitable dwelling caves.
For the most basic “clothing,” they had learned to use leaves and animal skins to make rough garments for modesty and warmth.
As for food, they had also learned how to hunt, how to fish, and how to distinguish and gather wild fruits.
However, many things could be compromised, but food could not.
