Chapter Twenty-Four: The Second Generation of Gods

Yunmeng’s words jolted Ye Ran awake. Yes, wasn’t the whole purpose of becoming a Chosen One to enter the temple and learn the powers of the gods? If he couldn’t even manage that, then the so-called title of Chosen One was nothing but a laughingstock. It was all painfully obvious: the greater the god, the greater the status and prospects of their Chosen. Freya had neither a temple nor had she ever displayed any divine power—what was the point in being her Chosen?

But… was that truly a reason to abandon her? Just because, aside from her heart, she had nothing else left to give? Ye Ran shook his head. “I won’t leave her, nor do I wish to belong to a new god…”

Though the gods didn’t care if a human pledged themselves to two or more deities, their pride and dignity would never allow it. Even Hermes, the patron of thieves and the most shameless of the divine, would never select a Chosen who already belonged to another god. To this day, only once had a prodigy named Han Feiyu been favored by both Bacchus, god of wine, and Ares, god of war; he was one of the rare few Reinstated Chosen.

A Reinstated Chosen was someone who belonged to multiple gods at once.

Ye Ran laughed at himself. “Even if I wanted to, I doubt any other god would choose me.”

“What if one did?” Yunmeng asked.

He glanced at her; her beautiful eyes were fixed on his, serious and searching.

“If one did,” Ye Ran replied, “unless they could accept my allegiance to Freya, there’d be nothing to discuss…”

Suddenly, as if struck by a thought, he grinned. “Yunmeng, you’d never guess—Freya is actually a second-generation god.”

“A second-generation god?” Surprise flickered in Yunmeng’s eyes.

Gods and humans were different. Since the dawn of humankind, no one could count how many generations had passed. But among the gods, there were only four generations so far.

The first generation—the god-king Zeus and his queens—ruled the heavens, lofty and distant; no one had ever seen them in person. The second generation—Athena, Thor, Ares, and the like—were already famous, often descending to the mortal world to gather Chosen. For humans, to be the Chosen of a second-generation god was the best possible destiny: they were mighty, commanding respect, and not easily overlooked even among the divine.

Most third-generation gods, by contrast, were obscure, though a few—like Antaeus, son of the Earth Mother—had made a name for themselves. But most had yet to mature, their divine power still dormant, and their growth would take ages.

As for the fourth generation, they were the youngest and most pitiable—having only just been “born,” they were only slightly stronger than mortals and would require centuries to reach their prime. Ultimately, these generations were a matter of seniority: the earlier a god was born, the greater the advantage. That was the difference between gods and humans. Gods were born with their powers, but required long ages to grow into them—luckily, their lifespans ranged from thousands to tens of thousands of years, if not eternity. Humans, on the other hand, lived briefly but grew quickly.

Yunmeng had always assumed Freya was a fourth-generation god. To belong to a fourth-generation god as Chosen was almost laughable, which was why every time Ye Ran had to announce he was Freya’s Chosen, people would snicker.

After all, who would believe that such a weak, childlike figure as Freya could be a second-generation god?

“It’s true—look,” Ye Ran said, taking out his small god-token. The mark at the bottom was red.

The color denoted a second-generation god.

Gold was for first-generation, red for second, black for third, and green for fourth.

Yunmeng took the token, studying it, her expression growing thoughtful. “It’s definitely second-generation, but why would she…” She didn’t finish, but her meaning was clear.

Ye Ran shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe Freya just matures slower than the others.”

But surely not this slowly? That little girl was truly strange. Wait—a thought struck him. She was a second-generation god, a peer of Athena and Ares. How could she possibly be only nine years old?

They both seemed to arrive at this question at the same time; their eyes met, each seeing the astonishment in the other.

“Um… could it be that she’s already lived for thousands of years…?”

Their lunch passed amid wild speculation. When Ye Ran returned home, he found Freya quietly sketching at the edge of her bed. Lately, she had been working hard, seizing every spare moment to draw.

When she saw him, she smiled happily and wrote on her drawing board, “A Ran, the food is in the pot.”

“Ah… Oh, I’ve already eaten,” Ye Ran replied distractedly, sitting at the table, his gaze flitting toward Freya, debating whether to ask her directly or try a more subtle approach.

“What’s wrong, A Ran?” Freya evidently felt his gaze, and wrote a line of small characters on her board.

“Ahem… It’s nothing, really… I just wanted to ask… how old are you this year?”

He’d made up his mind—directness was best.

Freya counted on her fingers, thought for a moment, then wrote: “Nine years old.”

“But you’re a second-generation god…”

“What’s a second-generation god?” she wrote, looking at him in confusion.

“It means… you’re of the same generation as Athena and Thor, supposed to have lived for thousands of years, able to summon storms, move mountains and rivers, wield immense divine power…” Ye Ran struggled to explain it as simply as he could.

But Freya seemed only half to understand, scribbling, “I don’t get it, Freya is nine years old.”

It seemed hopeless to e