All around the mortal world, the sky rippled—soft at first, like the surface of a dream cracking open.
The gods had gathered.
Not for war.
Not for judgnt.
But for sothing far more dangerous:
They had co to give their blessings.
Thousands of orbs—each one a tiny shard of divinity, promise, and calamity—hovered above the Earth, waiting, thrumming, pulsing with raw intent. They carried the potential to crown kings, raise monsters, shatter cities—or all three at once.
But these weren't just the blessings of Olympus.
Threaded into each golden sphere was sothing else.
Sothing older.
Sothing heavier.
It coiled inside the orbs like rot dressed in gold, waiting for foolish hands to crack them open.
Waiting to bloom.
The mortals wouldn't know.
They would feel the warmth, the temptation, the shimring promise of power—and they would reach for it like moths to a funeral fla.
And tonight, those blessings would fall.
Not because mortals had earned them.
But because the gods had run out of ti.
And they needed soldiers.
Or calling them gods's cannon fodders
Now.
*
The sky wasn't really a sky anymore. It was more like a stitched tapestry of clouds and stars, barely holding together, and sowhere out there—way past where mortal eyes could even dream of seeing—three figures floated. Suspended in the void. Watching. Observing.
The Big Three.
Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades.
Floating a little apart from the rest of the gods they'd sent below, arms crossed, faces carved with that signature ancient boredom that only ca when you've seen too many millennia pass and nothing ever shocked you anymore.
Below them, the other gods they'd sent scrambling were already bickering. Arguing. Gesturing wildly like a bunch of drunk college kids at a midnight Denny's. You could almost hear the cursing even up here.
Poseidon exhaled through his nose, the sound carrying that ancient weight that said he was so fucking tired of everyone's stupidity.
"This... is where we've reached now? Working with THEY to clean up the monster we greenlit? Now we're out here blessing mortals with corrupted powers like it's so Black Friday giveaway? Just to... what? Hope it sorts itself out?"
Zeus didn't even blink, didn't even try to look impressed. He just shook his head slowly, lightning buzzing through his hair like pissed-off hornets on crack. His voice dropped, low and rough.
"I should've smited the bastard the second I felt sothing was off back then. Would've saved us all a whole fucking Greek tragedy."
Hades just chuckled, slow and dry, watching the chaos with the air of a man watching a trash fire he couldn't be bothered to put out.
For a while, they said nothing. Just watched. Until Poseidon, almost lazily, said, "Rember when this whole circus started? Aphrodite strutting around like she was gifting humanity its next big joke? 'Oh look, I gave him a system,' she said. 'It'll be fun,' she said. Even going as far as telling us to not lecture her who she should give her system!"
Zeus snorted hard enough to disturb the mist curling around them. "Fun. Yeah. That aged like milk."
Hades, smirking, tilted his head. "Do you think she knew back then? What he was?"
There was a beat.
They all kind of... paused. Imagining, for half a second, a version of reality where Aphrodite had sohow, miraculously, outplayed all of them.
And then?
They lost it.
Poseidon howled first, slapping his thigh. Zeus doubled over, laughing so hard tiny sparks popped off his skin. Even Hades chuckled deep and rumbling, like the beginning of an avalanche.
"Oh please!" Poseidon barked, wiping a tear. "That whore doesn't even know what day it is unless it's got a party and a mirror involved!"
"She's only strategic when it cos to picking which mortal to climb on top of whom next!" Zeus choked out.
Hades smirked sharper now. "She's about as subtle as a drunk satyr at a virgin festival. And twice as ssy."
The laughter lingered. Thick and loud, echoing through the cosmos.
"Shit, we really let her give him the system," Poseidon wheezed.
"Let her?" Zeus huffed. "We encouraged it later! We thought it'd be entertainnt. A little soap opera to distract us from the serious issues while the champions cleaned up the Dark Pantheon ss."
"Yeah," Hades drawled. "Real fucking smooth. Real good call, boys." They went quiet again. The kind of silence that tasted like regret.
They had expected nothing like this.
Not this hurricane in mortal skin.
Not this slow, terrifying shift from chaos to calculated supremacy.
When Aphrodite—sweet, reckless Aphrodite—had "gifted" Parker the system, the Big Three had watched with thinly veiled amusent, half-expecting a codic train wreck. A mortal stumbling through upgrades and misadventures, causing minor divine scandals, maybe ruining a town or two if he got cocky.
Nothing serious.
Nothing world-ending.
anwhile, the Champions would be cleaning house—wiping out the Dark Pantheon like obedient, well-trained dogs. Parker was supposed to be entertainnt, a tiny chaotic footnote in an already-written war.
But instead... he'd started writing the whole goddamn book.
And down below?
Their precious champions were running late. Arguing. Bickering. Flailing. Even before they faced the Dark Pantheon!
anwhile, Parker Black—the system's so-called codic relief—was quietly building himself into a goddamn calamity wrapped in silk and teeth. A storm dressed in human skin. Sothing even they couldn't predict anymore.
Poseidon glanced sideways. "We...uh... may wanna start planning for contingencies."
"Like what?" Zeus muttered, folding his arms tighter.
"I dunno," Poseidon said. "Maybe sothing between 'bribe him' and 'beg for rcy.'"
Hades grinned, all teeth and no rcy. The kind of smile that looked like it belonged on a god signing death warrants for fun.
"Or..." he drawled, voice smooth like poisoned velvet, "we could just sit back. Pop a drink. And enjoy the fucking show as his precious little family gets torn limb from goddamn limb by our trump cards. You really gonna trust THEY to keep it simple? Their 'little help' isn't so little, and you damn well know it. They're the only bastards crazy enough—and suicidal enough—to actually go toe-to-toe with a Nyxlith."
Poseidon gave a slow, grim nod, muscles tensing like old mountains rembering how to quake.
"THEY want the son of THEM dead more than Olympus ever did. Hell, if it were up to them, they'd burn down half the damn mortal realm just to scratch his na off a ledger. Hera's little ace isn't just 'help,' it's a fucking guillotine, tailor-made to take Parker out before he hits his peak. Before he becos..." His voice dropped a little. "Before he becos unstoppable."
And now they had more warriors they could risk than their precious champions.
The warriors ones they called Cannon fodders. It was debatable if the gods knew they too were cannon fodders of THEY!
A pot calling a kettle black!
And perhaps—none of them missed it. The price tag dangling over this unholy deal. Massive. Cosmic. Inevitable.
Sowhere, soone had said it once—siding with THEY to take out THEM was like committing murder to cover up petty theft. Dirty. Stupid. Damning.
Were they even ready to bleed for this gamble?
To pay the bill when it ca due?
Because it would co due.
And deep down, in the bones even the gods liked to pretend they didn't have, they all knew—this wasn't their plan anymore.
It never was.
THEY had moved them like chess pieces.
And nobody wanted to say it out loud.
"Regardless we should watch his doom first!"
And with that, the three most powerful beings in existence floated just a little closer together... and kept watching.
Because whatever was about to happen to Parker was not to be missed as he gets torn apart.
It was gonna be way too good to miss.
Far across the astral winds, watching silently, Artemis, Athena, Nyx, and Aphrodite stood apart—untouched by the madness brewing in Olympus.
And down below, deep inside the mortal world...
sothing else had started to stir.
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