I, the slave boy, awaken with the most potent seed!!

The days following their union were a haze of passion and unspoken consequences. Aphrodite, the goddess of love and fertility, had never known restraint, but this—this was something forbidden even among the gods. Her divine nature burned brightly in the aftermath, her body attuned to creation in ways even she could not fully control. And Nikolas, her son and now her lover, had shattered the gods' decrees with his actions.

Aphrodite reclined on a bed of soft moss in the grove they had claimed as their sanctuary. Her golden hair shimmered in the moonlight, her eyes half-lidded as she watched Nikolas sharpen a blade by the fire. His jaw was set in determination, his body taut with tension. He spoke little these days, his thoughts consumed by vengeance and the growing shadow of their sin.

Unbidden, her hand drifted to her abdomen. It had only been a few weeks since that fateful night, but she already knew. Her divine nature left no room for doubt—life had taken root within her. A life that should never have been possible.

"Nikolas," she called softly.

He glanced at her, his expression softening only slightly. "What is it?"

She hesitated. How could she tell him that his supposed infertility, the very curse placed upon him by the gods, had been overcome by her unnatural fertility? That even now, their union was bearing fruit? The words felt heavy in her throat.

"I... have something to tell you," she began, her voice faltering. "I am with child."

Nikolas froze, the blade slipping from his grasp. His eyes met hers, wide with a mixture of shock and disbelief. "That's impossible," he said, his voice low. "I'm cursed. You know that."

"You were cursed," she corrected gently. "But my nature... it's stronger than their curse. I can create life where there should be none. Our child is proof of that."

For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze fixed on the fire. Then, slowly, a smile crept across his lips. "Then they failed," he said, a dangerous edge to his voice. "The gods tried to strip me of everything, but they couldn't stop this."

Aphrodite felt a pang of unease at his words. "Nikolas, this isn't something to take lightly. The gods will see this as an even greater affront. They won't let us live in peace."

"Let them come," he said, his voice hard. "I'll kill any god who tries to take this from me."

---

Months passed, and the first of their offspring was born. A son, mortal in essence but possessing gifts that marked him as something more. He had his mother's beauty and his father's fierce determination, and as he grew, it became clear that he was unlike any mortal child. He could move with supernatural speed, his strength far surpassing that of ordinary men.

But as more children followed—each one gifted in their own way—the curse began to show itself. While they were mortal and capable of wielding divine abilities, they were unable to procreate with others of their kind. It was as if the gods had sealed that part of them, ensuring that their line would be forever plagued by the same infertility that had once cursed Nikolas.

Yet, the darkness in their bloodline emerged in other ways. Driven by a primal need to defy the gods' curse, they turned to one another. Sibling sought sibling, mortal sought mortal, their unions continuing the line but deepening the stain of their origin.

Nikolas, unaware of how deep this darkness ran, remained focused on survival and defiance. But the gods were not idle.

---

The first plague came during the harvest season. The crops in the fields, once vibrant and abundant, began to wither overnight. No matter how hard Nikolas and his children toiled, the land refused to yield its bounty. It was Demeter's doing—a punishment for his defiance.

The second plague struck the animals. Herds of cattle, once thriving, fell ill and perished. The waters of the nearby stream, which had always run pure and clear, turned black as night. It was Poseidon's wrath, seeping into their lives and strangling their resources. .net

The third and most devastating plague came in the form of whispers. They slithered through the air like smoke, driving Nikolas's children to madness. They turned on one another, their gifts twisted by the gods' malice. One by one, they fell to their own dark impulses, leaving Nikolas to bury them with trembling hands.

Through it all, Aphrodite remained by his side, her own guilt growing heavier with each passing day. She saw what the gods were doing and knew they would not stop until they had broken Nikolas completely. But even she could not deny the part of her that burned with pride for him—for his resilience, his passion, and his refusal to bow.

---

One night, as the moon hung low in the sky, Nikolas sat by the fire, his face a mask of anguish. The weight of the gods' punishments had taken their toll. His children were either lost or twisted by the curse, and his once-thriving home was now a desolate wasteland.

Aphrodite approached him cautiously, her heart aching at the sight of him. "Nikolas," she said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You've fought so hard, but this... this can't go on. The gods won't stop. You must know that."

He turned to her, his eyes hollow. "I know," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But what am I supposed to do? Watch everything I love be destroyed?"

Tears welled in her eyes. "I don't have an answer," she admitted. "But I fear that if you continue down this path, you'll lose what little you have left."

For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, suddenly, he stood, his expression hardening. "There is one thing I can do," he said, his voice gaining strength. "Take me to Olympus."

Her breath caught in her throat. "What?"

"You heard me," he said, turning to face her fully. "Take me to Olympus so that I may pay the gods a visit and end our suffering."

Aphrodite stared at him, her mind racing. "Nikolas, you can't be serious. To storm Olympus itself? That's suicide!"

"Maybe it is," he said, his voice firm. "But I've had enough of their games. If they won't let us live in peace, then I'll make them suffer as we have."

Her hands trembled as she reached for him. "Nikolas, please," she whispered. "Don't ask this of me. I can't bear to lose you."

"You won't lose me," he said, his eyes burning with determination. "But if we don't fight back, we'll lose everything else."

The fire crackled between them, casting flickering shadows on their faces. Aphrodite knew she should refuse him, should try to dissuade him from this path. But as she looked into his eyes, she saw the same fire that had drawn her to him in the first place.

And against her better judgment, she nodded.

"Very well," she said, her voice barely audible. "I'll take you to Olympus."

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