The Story of Bellerophon - Part 6
Bellerophon, who once boldly sought the position of a god in front of Hades after slaying Typhon’s offspring, found himself struggling as he experienced the duties of a lesser god.
“Huff... Huff... Hey! Bring the arrows faster! Why did Lord Hades send such a slow human...”
“...I’m sorry!”
It felt like he was about to lose his mind.
Eros, the winged god, was relentlessly firing arrows at criminals at a pace too fast for Bellerophon to keep up with. The god of love, with a deeply furrowed brow, was constantly shooting, and the quivers of arrows emptied quickly. Naturally, it was Bellerophon’s job to refill them, and he found himself scolded often by Eros.
“If you make the criminals rest, the supervisors will report it to Lord Hades!”
Whack!
“I’m sorry... Ouch!”
Without even glancing at him, Eros smacked Bellerophon on the head with his bow, frustrated with the pace. Bellerophon, though angry, didn’t dare retaliate. Not only was Eros far stronger than him, but the lesser gods nearby were also watching and speaking favorably of Bellerophon’s performance.
“He’s adjusting well, even though he’s only been here for a short time.”
“Yes, I must make sure to tell Lord Hades that he’s doing a good job.”
“Hmm. If that human stays, think of how much easier our work will become.”
This wasn’t a cruel joke or a trial—it was the actual workload of the lesser gods. This realization shook Bellerophon. Could it be that being scolded by higher gods and doing hard labor was a normal part of being a lesser god?
He had always thought gods lived leisurely lives, occasionally helping humans.
Whoosh—Thunk.
“Aaargh!”
“Please... forgive me...”
Sure, the Underworld was harsher than other realms, especially the parts where gods tortured the damned. But Bellerophon, new to this afterlife, hadn’t grasped that distinction. Time passed in a blur for him.
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“Hey, human. It’s my shift now.”
“Shift change?”
A red-skinned, horned lesser god approached him, signaling the end of Bellerophon’s shift. He collapsed onto the ground in relief. Even though he was dead, mental exhaustion couldn’t be avoided, especially with Eros’s sharp-tongued comments constantly grating on his nerves.
“You did well. I’ll make sure to give Lord Hades a good report.”
“Wha... What do you mean...?”
“Weren’t you here to experience the duties of a lesser god? If you became a god, you’d be quite useful.”
Bellerophon stared blankly. Could this really be his trial? Was this what being a god was like? And then a question popped into his mind.
“I’ve heard that gods enjoy ambrosia and nectar. Might I be able to witness such divine food?”
“Oh, right. Since you’re supposed to experience a lesser god’s duties, I suppose you should try it. Follow me.”
“I... I can taste the food of the gods?!”
Bellerophon’s face lit up with excitement. Tasting the food of the gods—what a generous gesture from the ruler of the Underworld!
The lesser god led Bellerophon to a far-off location. It was a vast building, similar to the grand palaces of the mortal world.
“Excuse me... Where are we?”
“This is the 1,253rd warehouse of the Underworld. It’s the third largest storage facility for nectar and ambrosia.”
Bellerophon was too busy looking around in awe. The fortress-like structure, built with black stone, was filled with the souls of the dead, all bustling about, carrying out various tasks. As they passed through the heavily guarded entrance, Bellerophon’s eyes widened as he saw stacks upon stacks of nectar and ambrosia, carefully stored and organized.
‘The ruler of the Underworld is also the god of wealth. To have warehouses of this scale, numbering in the thousands...’
While he was deep in thought, the lesser god handed him something.
“Here, this is ambrosia and nectar. Consider it an honor to taste it, human.”
“Oh! Thank you so much!”
Bellerophon eagerly ate and drank. The divine food tasted heavenly, unlike anything he had ever experienced before. No earthly food could compare to it, not even the greatest pleasures of the mortal world.
“Hmm. Now that you’ve eaten and drunk your fill, it’s time to get up.”
“...?”
“What are you staring at? Managing nectar and ambrosia is part of a lesser god’s duties.”
Bellerophon, once again, found himself working.
“Nectar and ambrosia may grant immortality while consumed, but humans are not supposed to even lay eyes on it, let alone touch it.”
“I... I am deeply grateful to Lord Pluto.”
“Even though you’ve tasted it, if you harbor any inappropriate thoughts...”
The lesser god’s face twisted into a grotesque expression. Despite being a minor deity, he exuded a terrifying aura. The air around Bellerophon grew heavy with an ominous atmosphere, and his head was filled with disturbing, disorienting sounds. He barely held onto his sanity, thanks only to his experience facing the Chimera.
As Bellerophon’s face paled, the lesser god shrugged, his earlier menace vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.
“Well, you seem like a diligent human, so there’s no need to worry.”
“O-Of course!”
After that, Bellerophon spent hours moving crates of ambrosia, carefully stacking them according to the instructions, and managing bottles of nectar, ensuring they didn’t break. He also took inventory and recorded the quantities on parchment.
Luckily, the lesser god assisted him throughout, making the tasks more manageable. Still, he couldn’t help but think that these were jobs more suited to a servant or a scribe. Why did gods have to handle such mundane work?
Once he finally had a chance to rest, Bellerophon couldn’t hold back his curiosity any longer. Why did gods do such menial tasks?
“Great work. You certainly have the strength of a hero.”
“But why do gods do this work?”
“How could we entrust such important tasks to mortals? Managing divine food isn’t something mere humans can handle.”
Bellerophon was still puzzled. It didn’t make sense to him.
“But surely the great gods shouldn’t have to do such labor...”
“How long do you think mortal souls could endure such tasks? Only gods, who are immortal, can handle this work.”
Gods were not only physically immortal but mentally unbreakable as well.
If a human lived for thousands of years, they would likely go mad. But gods, with their divine power and immortality, could endure such tasks.
Old gods, who had lived for thousands or even millions of years, didn’t always behave in the wise, stoic manner Bellerophon had expected. Sometimes they were childlike, at other times, they acted like old men stuck in their ways. Occasionally, they gave in to their desires over logic, fulfilling their emotional needs.
But that was how gods maintained their mental stability. The true essence of a god wasn’t just about their immense power or immortal bodies—it was about their unshakable minds.
“Still, there’s no need to be afraid. Becoming a god doesn’t mean you’ll be overwhelmed by work.”
‘This... is only a little?’
Bellerophon was beginning to seriously reconsider whether he wanted to become a god.
About 30 days after Bellerophon left the audience chamber, I had nearly forgotten about him when a messenger arrived to deliver news.
“Lord Hades, the hero who slew the Chimera wishes to see you again.”
“Bring him in.”
When Bellerophon arrived before me, he looked haggard, his eyes hollow, and his expression dazed. Although dead souls don’t experience physical fatigue, the mental toll on him was evident.
Kneeling before my throne, he spoke in a weak voice.
“I have realized that the position of a god is far too much for me, Lord of the Underworld...”
“So, you wish to give up?”
“Yes... Please, assign me another task...”
I waved my hand, and one of the parchments piled beside me flew over. It was a report on Bellerophon’s performance, sent by the lesser gods who had been supervising him.
“They’ve given you high praise. ‘He would make a fine lesser god,’ they said.”
“Wha-?! How could I be worthy of such...”
“With a report like this, even Zeus might consider you a capable human.”
The parchment was filled with positive evaluations. Remarkably diligent, displaying the persistence of a hero, and more.
“B-But! The work gods do is...”
“You thought it would be easy?”
“That’s not what I meant! It’s just...”
Bellerophon, pale as a ghost, tried to explain himself, but it was clear that he didn’t want to continue with such arduous tasks. Still, I had deliberately made him experience the duties of a god to teach him a lesson.
Many mortals share the same misconception as Bellerophon. I nodded and looked at him calmly.
“...Very well. Then...”
“I don’t need to become a god. I just want to be of help to the Underworld! Please assign me another role!”
“...? Don’t you want to receive a reward for slaying the Chimera?”
“No! Please forgive my earlier insolence!”
The hero, trembling, pressed his forehead to the ground before me. Ah, I see. He believed that he had committed blasphemy by asking to become a god and was now begging for mercy.
Even though I wasn’t holding it against him, he still couldn’t relax. After all, the Greek gods were known to be unpredictable.
“I’ll forgive your rudeness. As for a new role, why don’t you share your experiences with future generations of heroes?”
“I will do anything you ask, my lord!”
“You can quit whenever you want, and there’s no need to take it too seriously. Chiron has been looking for a new instructor...”
Chiron had mentioned needing a trainer for the heroes he was teaching. Bellerophon, the hero who had slain the Chimera, would be perfect for the job.
Still, I felt a little guilty for assigning more work to a hero who deserved rest. Perhaps I could offer him other comforts... Maybe even help him reconcile with the brother he had accidentally killed.