"Oh? How interesting." When Thalos heard the news, the corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
Thor frowned. "Could Zeus be deliberately delaying arrival to mess with our readiness?"
That didn't sound very Thor-like.
But the word "bruiser" no longer fit Thor.
Thalos had mentioned he might leave after this war for a while to travel the outside, which pushed Thor to think more and more as a leader.
Thalos smiled. "My son, the fact you're thinking this way means you're maturing. Deliberately making the enemy wait only works on hotheads. A true king has patience. Remember—while we're waiting, they're waiting too."
"Waiting for what?"
"Zeus wants to gather more cards before stepping onto the field."
Thor seemed to get it.
After a century at his father's side, Thor was no fool. He knew very well what his father preferred to do.
Across Thalos's war record, Thor noticed his father rarely fought those soul-stirring, 'epic comeback' battles praised by the world.
On the surface, the Aesir always had overwhelming power and were good at turning advantage into victory and digesting the spoils into the strength of the whole pantheon.
Under the hood—after years of talking—Thor knew Thalos's real work was done before the war: assemble every element of victory, so the actual fighting became a methodical steamroll.
Thalos knew how to coordinate internal interests so gods from many pantheons were twisted into one rope, and he knew how to divide and strike at the enemy outside.
This inside-and-out leadership—Thor felt even another hundred years wouldn't match his father now.
But he had to learn!
He had a hunch his forced succession wasn't far off…
"Father, you mean Zeus is using this last window before the battle to purge his internal troubles and settle Kronos?"
Thalos, coolly: "Most likely."
"Too late," Athena interjected with a shake of her head. "If Zeus had done this a year earlier and absorbed the subordinate worlds, he might still have had the strength to fight the Aesir."
Thalos nodded.
By population, the Greek world was pitiful. It had one zero fewer than Ginnungagap to begin with; now at least ninety percent of its mortals had been carried off by Ginnungagap. The few cats that remained were hiding in the hills, and many had given up on the Olympians.
Simple: when disaster struck and they prayed day and night, no god came down to protect them. Survive that, and your awe of the gods is cut in half.
Even the most devout could turn into mere casual believers, which is useless to gods who live on faith.
By the four elements of the world, the Greeks surely led at the start. But after Enki stole two of the Seven Seas, Gilgamesh chopped off a chunk of continent, and then a flock of asteroids and one small world got thrown at them… after gains and losses, even in elemental totals the Greek world now lagged behind Ginnungagap.
At this point, as long as Thalos didn't go wild, the fighting might have twists, but the result would hold no surprises.
"No matter—we do our part."
On the surface, Thalos was having Ginnungagap quickly absorb the five small worlds Odin had offered.
Once upon a time, absorbing worlds on the eve of war would have been suicide.
But the world's scale was different now.
It's like a human child eating a pound of meat—stuffed to bursting—versus a half-ton bear slurping it down in one go.
Those surrendered former slave-gods were thrown by Thalos to sit with the South Asian gods. If you want a Major God's seat, find your courage and fight the Olympians; otherwise you only rate the back row in the pantheon.
No one will sneer; no one will care.
Among the Aesir, you stand by force—simple and rough.
Inside, only the core knew Thalos was saving up something big.
Thor followed Thalos into a vast underground cavern beneath Asgard and stared, slack-jawed, at the "gift" his father had prepared.
"This is…"
"Long ago I told you—this world is physical. Divine power is a kind of energy. Energy neither disappears nor appears from nothing. It only moves from one place to another, and changes from one form to another." Thalos got halfway through and saw that clear, un-"polluted" look in his son's eyes again.
He sighed and switched to language Thor could digest. "We'll most likely have to enter the Greek world to fight. Faced with that disadvantage, you need a more efficient reservoir for lightning—like wine needs a vat. Same idea."
"So this is…"
"You can call it a 'battery'!"
Thor's cheek twitched. He still didn't get it—but that didn't stop him from sensing the colossal lightning force housed within that mountain-sized, strange metal mass. Under normal conditions, without gathering stormclouds across a thousand li, he'd never marshal such a vast charge.
And somehow, all that divine might sat meekly stored inside this gigantic block of metal?
"This…"
"Zeus has lost those subordinate worlds. Most of the god-kings around him will drop a tier to Major God—no real worry. The true concern is Zeus and his two brothers."
"Mm."
"I'll handle Zeus. Hades—Hel will collect him. Under me only Enki holds the sea, but his office is no less than Poseidon's. So you'll likely face Poseidon—with Enki as your second."
"Understood."
As Thor assented, Gilgamesh asked, "Father, why are you certain our opponent will be Zeus and not Kronos?"
"The Titans are strong, but their tactics are too single-track."
Single-track means easy to counter.
And with bodies that huge, they dominate against foes of similar size or slower movement. Run into an enemy who's faster and hits harder, and Titans are just big targets.
Step back further—the office of "Agriculture" is at a colossal disadvantage.
Thalos knew Kronos had held "Sky" for a time; but with his mortal foe, Uranus, pressing from above, the idea that Kronos could take "Sky" from his father and his eldest son was a fool's dream.
Given that, the outcome can be anticipated.
Thalos stroked his chin. "Zeus has stalled this long. I want to know whether I'll be facing Zeus holding half a realm—or Zeus holding one entire broken Greek world."