The Investiture: Unlimited Blade Works Nezha

"Then as your sister who's cared about you since you were young, I suppose I should be heartbroken."

Nezha waved a hand, signaling Athena to stop spouting nonsense. Cared about him since he was young all the way until now? What kind of creepy stalker talk was this? Ignoring her remark, he cut straight to the point: "What is your wish?"

Even Athena, famed for her wisdom, was momentarily dumbfounded by Nezha's sudden question. What wish do I have? Aren't you here to seek my assistance? Why are you asking what wish I have?

"I am God King Zeus's favorite daughter, Athena, the Goddess of Wisdom and Victory, one of the Twelve Main Gods of Olympus. You're asking me what wish I have? Is it because you've managed to find support from Nyx, the Goddess of Night?"

Nezha was unfazed and replied with pointed intent, "Even gods aren't omnipotent, are they? Didn't Heavenly Queen Hera fail to stop her husband from gallivanting off in extramarital affairs every day?"

Athena froze for a moment before her smile gradually faded. "Oh, my darling brother, does that mean you believe yourself to be omnipotent?"

Nezha shook his head. "Of course I'm not omnipotent, but there *are* things I can accomplish that you cannot."

Athena's gaze darkened, her thoughts swirling. The wiser one is, the more inclined they are to deliberate, and deliberation breeds hesitation. Clearly, she was now caught in such a dilemma.

Nezha didn't force her further.

"You don't have to decide right away. After all, you did help me before. When my abilities reach the level you deem sufficient, you can make your request. If I fail to reach that level, then we'll leave it there, and you won't lose anything."

Having said that, Nezha turned and left Athena's temple.

As for dealing with a bunch of Mortals, he hardly needed to borrow any assistance.

After leaving Athena's temple, Nezha rested for a night in the palace that had been arranged for him. The next day, he stepped onto the plaza of the capital city, surrounded by a crowd of citizens—all curious about how he was going to deal with things.

"When facing oppression from enemies, only overwhelming strength can deter them and address the problem at its root. Now, I'm going to show them exactly that. Is there anyone among you who's willing to go with me?"

At the mention of the Elginos people, the faces of these long-tormented citizens immediately tightened, filled with palpable fear. Nezha didn't urge them; he simply waited in silence.

Nezha could annihilate the Elginos people single-handedly, but that would be too primitive. He didn't want to meddle excessively in the struggles between Mortal kingdoms. The best path forward was to apply deterrence with strength while teaching his allies how to wield power themselves.

If these people couldn't muster even the courage to resist, then Nezha wouldn't bother with them further. Bringing them decades of peace would be the least he could do to honor his adoptive father.

As results proved, where there is oppression, there will be resistance. Even without power, they would still rely on their fiery spirit to fight for a glimmer of hope.

A thin, frail boy who looked barely fourteen or fifteen squeezed through the crowd of adults to shout passionately near the platform: "Hercules, I'm going with you! My sister was captured by the Elginos and turned into a slave. Even if I die, I'll save her!"

Nezha couldn't help but admire this child. Fear is not as terrifying as lacking the courage to face danger for what one holds dear.

"Alright, you're in."

Clearly, such sentiments weren't limited to just this young boy. Passion, once ignited, could burn like a wildfire.

In no time, the number of volunteers swelled to several thousand. Even though many others remained cautious or weak-willed, the gathered numbers were already sufficient.

More than a thousand volunteers, led by Hercules, packed their own meager rations. Armed with hoes, brooms, wooden sticks, and other near-useless weapons, they set out for their journey.

Five days later, at dawn, the Elginos people noticed the approaching group of over a thousand sweepers gathered below their city walls.

"Hahahaha! Everyone, come take a look—what's this? Brooms, sticks, brushes—is this an army here to clean our streets?"

"Ha! I'm dying laughing! Is this some new entertainment program the Thebans have come up with?"

Nezha, standing below the city wall, raised a hand, signaling the crowd of over a thousand to halt immediately. By now, their fiery determination had cooled slightly, yet not a single one retreated. They had come this far ready to die.

Nezha didn't waste his breath. He clenched his fist and, across the hundred-meter distance, swung it toward the city wall. A terrifying gale arose as his strike carved massive grooves into the ground, ultimately slamming into the wall, which exploded like a block of tofu with a resounding crash.

The mocking laughter atop the wall was abruptly stifled by the sheer, invisible force of power.

"Bring out your King."

The formerly snickering commander stumbled away in a panic toward the royal palace, fearing the creature below might crush them with another punch.

The Elginos King, upon hearing the report, eventually showed up—though his nervous stutter made his words falter.

"May I… may I ask… w-who you are?"

Nezha didn't need to speak; the fervent group behind him jumped in to answer excitedly: "Elginos King, before you stands the great hero Hercules! He's here to avenge *us*!"

"Yes, Elginos King—hurry up and surrender!"

The Elginos King broke into a cold sweat immediately. His frail frame wouldn't last one punch; there was no way he'd withstand what the wall just suffered.

Nezha, noting the King's wavering resolve, spoke directly: "I'm a man of fairness. Let's agree on three terms. If you can fulfill them, we'll leave immediately."

"Great hero Hercules, p-please go ahead."

"First, release all Thebans and let them return safely to their homeland."

Under the shadow of inevitable defeat, the old King quickly agreed: "Alright."

"Second, refrain from invading the Thebes Kingdom for the next thirty years."

The old King, now fearing retribution from the Thebans instead, hurried to answer: "Alright."

"Third, return the Thebans' weapons and some of the gold and silver you've plundered."

The old King hesitated for a moment but ultimately agreed to the last demand.

Both sides swore oaths before All Gods, and Hercules led the group back to Thebes, bearing gold, silver, and the freed people. Meanwhile, the thousand volunteers who had tagged along became unintentional porters.

Upon returning to Thebes, the thousands of volunteers were transformed into Hercules' ardent fans, spreading tales of how he'd shattered the city wall with a single punch, striking fear into all Elginos people.

Nezha, for his part, cared little for the accolades. Having left behind a manual detailing the Body Refining Skill, he shrouded himself in the night and departed from the kingdom. This chapter of cause and effect was now concluded, and it was time to see through Hercules' destined Twelve Labors.

Not that Nezha was some eager bootlicker desperate to partake in Hera's torment—but the Twelve Labors did appear to offer him tangible benefits. Moreover, he didn't harbor outright animosity toward Hera.

Such feelings likely stemmed from Nezha's unique arrogance.

If someone offered you a hundred dollars to run three laps around a plaza stark naked, you'd think they were humiliating or tormenting you. But if the demand were as simple as taking two steps? Well, perhaps you'd find it trivial, even helpful for digestion. In that sense, Hera's initial nursing of Nezha was akin to gifting him one hundred dollars when he had nothing. Her scheming now might feel like trivial provocation—provocation that's almost effortless to endure.

On his way to Mycenae, Nezha got to truly witness the rustic simplicity of this era. Kingdoms were little more than humble city-states, and food wasn't even worth mentioning. Nezha deeply missed his friend who was a talented cook.

Hercules' remarkable deeds in Thebes had clearly caught the attention of the gods. Zeus, for his part, hadn't yet discerned Hercules' true identity but nonetheless found himself troubled.

This son of his was enigmatic. Too weak to serve as a pillar of Zeus' reign, yet too strong to avoid becoming a threat to him. Torn between options, Zeus settled on the safest path: having another son. After all, Hera's attention was now entirely fixated on Hercules.

As for Hera, her emotions were far more tangled. This infant she once nursed had indeed grown into a great hero, just as she predicted. Yet he remained her husband's illegitimate child.

Now Hercules was heading for Mycenae to meet his fate. Hera resolved that this time, she would ensure he endured agony without end, easing the anguish that kept her awake through the night.