On the lush, mountainous surface of Yustea Prime, the situation had escalated with terrifying speed.
Reports of native Yusteans sneaking out of their designated zones and stealing from the heavily guarded Accord forts and luxury resorts had begun to spread like wildfire. The major galactic news networks immediately sank their teeth into the rising drama.
Standing in front of the looming, dark durasteel walls of the primary Accord fortress, LNN reporter Vulpy stared dead into the floating camera droid. She was wearing a bulky, bright blue blast-proof vest with the word "PRESS" emblazoned across the chest in reflective white lettering.
"The situation here on Yustea Prime has taken a drastic and dangerous turn," Vulpy reported, her voice laced with practiced, dramatic urgency. "Accord Army officials have just confirmed that overnight, native Yustean insurgents successfully breached the outer armory of Fort Aurek. The stolen inventory is highly concerning. Several standard-issue Helios Pistols and Radiant Carbines are missing, along with a handful of long-range Lumen Marksman rifles. Furthermore, the natives managed to make off with entire repulsor-carts full of high-yield ammunition, including Solcore, Corona Charge, and armor-piercing Lumen Spike rounds."
The broadcast split-screened, showing a polished news anchor sitting in a pristine studio back on a Core World.
"Vulpy," the anchor asked, his expression perfectly tailored to convey deep concern. "With the highly anticipated Centennial Showers approaching, thousands of Accord citizens are currently down there on holiday. What is the atmosphere like for the tourists witnessing this unrest?"
"The tension is incredibly high among the civilian populace," Vulpy answered smoothly, pressing a finger to her earpiece as the wind whipped her hair. "However, the brave Accord Legionnaires have been working around the clock, locking down the resort perimeters to ensure absolute safety for our citizens. But it is a difficult task. The continued struggle of our Accord's reaching, diplomatic hand has been repeatedly denied by the native tribes, largely due to their strict adherence to their 'Silent Vow' ritual. When the natives refuse to even speak to our negotiators, it begs the question: how long can our brave Accord Army calm the situation down when the Yusteans simply cannot be reached, and this civil unrest is still ongoing?"
Vulpy gave the camera her signature, deeply serious look. "For LNN, I'm Vulpy."
"Up next," the studio anchor seamlessly transitioned, "Is your Neura-Link implant secretly tracking your dietary habits? We investigate..."
The red recording light on the floating camera droid blinked off.
"Cut," the Kalamoran cameraman grunted, his four arms already moving to lower the heavy stabilizer rig.
The moment the broadcast ended, Vulpy let out a massive, exasperated sigh. Her entire professional demeanor instantly evaporated. She unlatched the heavy blast-proof vest and practically threw it onto a nearby equipment crate.
"Ugh, that is entirely too heavy," Vulpy complained, rubbing her shoulders. She immediately walked over to the open hatch of their parked news speeder, digging into her designer bag to pull out a tube of premium sunscreen. She began aggressively smearing it over her face and arms.
Smack! She violently swatted at a large, iridescent flying insect that buzzed near her ear. "Ugh! Can we please just go back to the resort now? The humidity out here is absolutely destroying my pores."
The Kalamoran cameraman, who was currently wrestling with three heavy equipment cases at once, shot her a flat look. "Wait, will ya? Or maybe you could actually help pack up for once."
Vulpy elegantly flipped her hair over her shoulder and held up her microphone. "Sorry. I'm already holding the mic. My hands are full."
Before the cameraman could formulate a colorful insult, a soft, squelching sound of muddy footsteps approached the resting reporter.
It was little Jess. She held out a small, woven basket filled with wood carvings. "Buy a Yustean souvenir?"
Vulpy looked down at the child, her lip curling slightly in annoyance. "I already bought one from your dad the other day, child. Now, off with you. I'm busy."
Jess didn't run away. She stayed perfectly silent for a moment, her head tilting slightly to the side as she observed the glamorous reporter.
Then, in a clear, innocent voice, Jess dropped a bombshell. "Sister, you know the kind grandpa people can talk, right?"
Vulpy froze, the sunscreen tube slipping slightly in her grip.
Before the reporter could process the massive, narrative-shattering implication of what the little girl had just said, a frantic blur of motion rushed in.
"I'm so sorry!" Gale gasped, practically sliding into the mud as he scooped Jess up by the arm. "She didn't know you already bought one from me! We're leaving!"
Without waiting for a response, Gale aggressively dragged Jess away from Vulpy and the news speeder, practically carrying her down the muddy path toward the civilian docking bays. Behind them, the Kalamoran cameraman remained entirely oblivious, simply tossing the last heavy case into the back of the speeder.
Jess stumbled slightly as Gale dragged her, looking up at him with deep confusion. "Gale! That sister lied on the glowing orb! She lied about the grandpa chieftain and the others being quiet on purpose!"
Gale abruptly stopped behind the rusted hull of an old cargo hauler, out of sight from the press. He dropped to his knees, ignoring the mud soaking into his trousers, so he was perfectly at eye level with the little girl. He gripped her shoulders gently but firmly.
"Jess," Gale said, his voice tight. "It is not our place to retaliate. We can't get involved in this. It's too dangerous."
Jess frowned, her small eyebrows knitting together in pure, unadulterated defiance. She looked at him with the absolute, uncompromising morality of a child.
"Then who?" Jess demanded. "You told me that being a good person starts with honesty. If they are lying, why aren't we being honest?"
Gale's mouth opened to explain the complex, terrifying reality of the Accord, the Legion, and the BSO. He wanted to tell her that honesty in this galaxy usually ended with a Solcore round to the chest.
But looking into her bright, innocent eyes, the words died in his throat. He hesitated, the crushing weight of his own hypocrisy suffocating him.
"Let's... let's just get back to the ship, Jess," Gale finally deflected, his voice hollow. "I already bought some lunch from the market."
He stood up and began to walk again. Jess waddled obediently beside him, her small hand gripping the edge of his jacket. But as Gale looked down at the muddy path ahead, the easygoing, opportunistic light in his eyes was completely gone.
It was replaced by a deep, lingering hint of worry and a profound, quiet sadness.
…
"...how long can our brave Accord Army calm the situation down when the Yusteans simply cannot be reached, and this civil unrest is still ongoing? For LNN, I'm Vulp–"
Click.
Lin Liseli swiped her hand through the air, completely severing the holographic projection. The glowing news feed vanished from the center of Round Table Studio's command table, plunging the room into a heavy, suffocating silence.
The six figures standing around the table dropped into a state of low, anxious tension.
They were currently eighty percent done with the massive Stardew Valley DLC; the highly anticipated 'Centennial Showers' event. It was supposed to be a beautiful, communal in-game celebration mirroring the real-world astrological event. But now, the real-world equivalent on Yustea Prime had just violently erupted into a highly volatile, heavily militarized ground zero.
Arthur looked around at his dedicated team. The stakes had suddenly skyrocketed from simple game development to political warfare.
Ross Dalle reached out with his three-jointed arm, tapping the console to share his recent data-scraping findings onto the main screen.
"The majority of the Core Worlds' public opinion on the Yustea situation is heavily leaning toward the negative," Ross stated grimly, pointing at the plummeting approval graphs. "The media is successfully painting the natives as unreasonable, violent insurgents."
Bem Lendu adjusted his glasses, his face pale. "If we release this DLC painting the Yusteans in a sympathetic, culturally accurate light, it will aggressively contradict the Accord's official narrative. This will affect our sales numbers at best, and trigger a massive audit by Accord Intelligence at worst."
Kasavin slammed his hand flat on the table. The lead writer's eyes burned with the fierce, undeniable truth he had learned from the journalist Kre Jalirelg back on Lanides.
"But this is exactly our chance to tell their actual story!" Kasavin argued passionately. "The Accord is choking them out and silencing them! We have tens of millions of active players! If we show them the truth through the game, they won't be able to hide it!"
"But what if they silence us?" Liseli countered, her voice trembling slightly. She crossed her arms defensively. "Kas, there are deep conspiracies on the galactic net that the Bureau of Stellar Order isn't just a group of desk sitters writing up military demerits. They disappear people who speak out against the Accord."
Arthur held up a hand, instantly quieting the room. He needed to assess their actual vulnerability before making a call.
"Logan, Bem," Arthur said, his voice carrying the calm, absolute authority of the studio head. "How confident are you both in our network architecture and our intercepting cloak?"
Bem straightened his posture, pulling up a complex, cascading wall of code. "The network is entirely untraceable, Arthur. By utilizing the highly restricted hardware you provided and the piggybacking system you created, we can safely access and broadcast over the Accord's own secured wave-frequencies without them ever knowing the origin point."
Logan Kim nodded in agreement, pulling up a topographical hologram of their hidden planetary base. "And the physical plot of land our studio sits on cannot be scanned from orbit. There is a double-layered security cloak active at all times. If it detects an unidentified ship or an Accord interceptor flying above us, it immediately projects a false geographical return. What their scanners see is just a barren, stubby expanse of jagged rocks, completely unfit for landing and far too desolate to warrant a physical inspection."
Arthur stared at the holographic map. His mind churned, the gears of the massive scales weighing the pros and cons of releasing the DLC. If they dropped it, Round Table Studio would effectively be declaring ideological war against the most powerful military machine in the galaxy.
He let out a long, heavy sigh.
"Let's go home early today," Arthur decided, rubbing the back of his neck. "This is clearly too heavy of a decision to make right this second. Let's all rest on this, clear our heads, and take a final vote tomorrow morning."
The team looked at each other. The relief was palpable. They all offered silent nods of agreement and began packing up their personal datapads and belongings.
"Good luck, team," Gawain's smooth, synthesized voice echoed gently from the building's overhead speakers. "The transport ship is fully charged on the landing pad and ready for takeoff."
As the team filed out of the room, the bright, daylight-simulating windows were automatically shuttered by Gawain, plunging the studio into a low-power, ambient glow.
Arthur walked out last. He stood at the edge of the landing pad, watching the team board the transport. He looked back at his studio standing tall in the hidden valley. Dotted around the lush, green landscape were massive, floating wind turbines spinning lazily in the evening breeze, giving the entire area a feeling of pure, isolated bliss.
He needed to protect this place. But he also needed to do what was right.
Arthur closed his eyes and mentally opened his system interface. He navigated past the farming tools and the music metrics, diving straight into his Hades inventory.
He focused entirely on one specific, glowing icon.
He only had one of them. It was a single Boon of Athena, the Olympian Goddess of Wisdom, Strategic Warfare, Handicraft, and Reason.
This decision was far too heavy for a farm boy from Friton to make alone. He needed a second opinion, and who better to consult on navigating a war than the Goddess of Strategic Warfare herself?
Arthur turned away from the spinning turbines. He boarded the sleek Millennium Falcon, fired up the repulsorlifts, and took off into the twilight sky, heading straight home.
…
The Millennium Falcon touched down silently on the far, darkened outskirts of the Kepler estate on Friton.
Dorian stepped out onto the damp grass, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the stifling tension of the studio. In the distance, standing like a warm beacon, he could see the lights of his house. It was safely far away, separated from his current position by the dense, sprawling rows of perfectly aligned apple trees he had planted along the edge of his land.
He smiled. It was the perfect, secluded spot.
He was finally ready to materialize the boon. This was only the second time he had ever summoned a new Olympian deity into the physical world. If Athena's entrance was anything like Aphrodite's first appearance, it was going to be loud, theatrical, and impossible to hide from his father and siblings if he did it indoors.
He focused his mind on the system interface.
"System," Dorian commanded quietly into the night. "Equip profile: Prince of the Underworld."
A wave of dark, chthonic energy washed over him. His tailored clothes vanished, replaced by the jagged, asymmetrical armor of the Underworld. His eyes shifted into mismatched heterochromia, and the soles of his feet ignited with the familiar, smoldering heat of Zagreus.
He rolled his shoulders, getting used to the divine weight, and began to pace back and forth in front of the apple trees to rehearse his lines.
"Okay, stick to the script," Dorian muttered to himself, holding up his hands. "I'm your cousin. You are in another world now. And you are the second god of Olympus to ever appear with me. Keep it simple. Don't overcomplicate the lore."
He stopped pacing, took a deep, centering breath, and pulled the item from his inventory.
A swirling, majestic blob of golden fire materialized in the air in front of him. In the center of the flames, the unmistakable logo of Athena's round shield glowed with a brilliant, blinding light.
Dorian reached out, his hand hovering over the golden fire.
"By Olympus..." Dorian spoke the activation phrase, his voice deepening into the Prince's resonance. "I accept this message."
DONG! DONG!
The sound felt like a massive, celestial bell had been struck deep within the earth itself. A heavy, physical vibration rippled violently outward through the soil, shaking the apple trees and rattling Dorian's bones. Thankfully, the sheer distance dissipated the shockwave just before it could reach the foundations of the mansion.
The golden fire erupted into a towering pillar of light.
When the light faded, an imposing, breathtaking warrior figure hovered just above the grass.
Athena was tall and perfectly upright, her posture radiating absolute, uncompromising discipline. Her hair was braided in tight, practical lavender locks, perfectly matching the piercing, intelligent lavender of her eyes.
She wore a radiant collection of golden armor, with the terrifying visage of a Gorgon stamped heavily onto her hip. Lightweight, elegant robes flowed seamlessly beneath the metal. She was crowned with a brilliant blue helmet adorned with a sweeping horsehair crest, and golden discs caught the starlight on her forehead, ears, and chest.
In one hand, she held her sacred animal, a calm, observant owl. In the other, she was armed with her characteristic, impenetrable golden shield.
Dorian immediately felt the shift in the atmosphere. Unlike Aphrodite, who passively exuded an aura of intoxicating charm and physical weakness, Athena exuded pure, overwhelming Presence.
Standing near her, Dorian felt a crushing aura of absolute Invulnerability. It was the profound, terrifying feeling that absolutely no power in this universe or the next could ever leave so much as a scratch on her armor.
Her piercing lavender eyes immediately locked onto Dorian. She assessed the flaming feet, the mismatched eyes, and the Stygian blade resting at his hip.
"Noble cousin?" Athena's voice was clear, authoritative, and perfectly composed. "You are free from the curse of the Underworld?"
Dorian immediately launched into his rehearsed ramble.
"Yes, cousin!" Dorian said, keeping his posture relaxed. "As you can see, we are not on Earth or in the Underworld anymore. I don't know exactly how it happened, but there are countless worlds out here, and I'm sure you can feel the vastness of them yourself. You are the second god to ever come here to aid me. Aphrodite was the first. It is really nice to finally see you again, cousin."
Athena did not smile. She did not nod. She kept absolutely silent.
She lifted her arm, and the sacred owl took flight, its silent wings carrying it up into the dark Friton sky to observe the new world.
Without a word, Athena floated slowly down toward the grass. She glided forward, closing the distance until her face was mere inches from Dorian's. Her lavender eyes seemed to bore straight through the farm boy hiding underneath.
"You," Athena stated, her voice devoid of anger but heavy with absolute, undeniable truth, "are not my noble cousin."
**A/N**
~Read Advance Chapter and Support me on [email protected]/SmilinKujo~
~🧣KujoW
**A/N**