Apeiron was allowed to remain within Zeus's halls.
In the days that followed, he was brought before the many children of the king sons and daughters born of different unions, raised in splendor and divine certainty. Some barely acknowledged him. Others laughed openly, calling him fragile, temporary, unworthy of the stone beneath his feet.
"A human doesn't belong here," one of them said.
"He should be sent back to the orphan houses," said another.
"Why is he even allowed inside the castle?"
Only Pandora stayed beside him.
On the first day, they slipped away together, laughing as they traced crude drawings along the bases of statues older than memory. Apeiron ran beside her as she guided her golden device through the corridors, showing him places most mortals would never see. Terraces suspended above the clouds. Halls where magic hummed softly through the walls. Chambers where light behaved strangely.
Eventually, as they wandered deeper into the palace, Pandora led him to the garden.
It was filled with beautiful flowers and towering trees, alive with color and quiet movement. Apeiron slowed, taking it all in.
"Wow," he said. "This garden is beautiful. Whoever takes care of it is amazing."
Pandora laughed as her device rolled forward. She reached down and gently picked a flower.
"This is all me," she said. "I did this. There are many gardens around the castle, but this one is mine."
Apeiron looked at her, surprised. "I'm impressed. You must have worked really hard. Maybe I can help you sometime. I'm sort of like a farmer."
Her face lit up with excitement. "Really? No one else wants to help. Everyone says we should just leave it to the workers. But I like tending to it myself. It makes me feel more alive."
Her magical mechanical arm brushed gently against the flowers as she spoke.
Pandora showed him more of the garden, guiding him through the paths she had shaped with her own hands.
Later that night, when Olympus had grown quiet and the world felt less watchful, they sat together beneath the open sky.
Apeiron and Pandora stared up at the stars. Silence settled between them, calm and unforced.
Apeiron hesitated before asking again.
"What happened to your legs, if you don't mind me asking?"
Pandora didn't look away.
"I don't mind," she said softly. "At first, it was difficult to accept. But time teaches even the unwilling."
She paused. "My name was not always Pandora."
She drew a slow breath.
"I was Persephone. Daughter of Demeter. Daughter of Zeus."
Apeiron stiffened, but she continued before he could speak.
"At my birth, fate was twisted. One of my father's enemies, Typhon, laid a curse upon me. He could not overthrow Zeus, so he chose a quieter cruelty," her voice remained calm, practiced. "I was never meant to endure."
Her gaze lowered.
"Typhon and his servants took me while I was still an infant. They wished to make me a vessel against my father. Zeus and the other gods pursued them, and before Typhon was sealed away, he marked me. Not merely my body. My soul. My very being."
She inhaled slowly.
"My father defeated them and came to me at once. They sought every remedy. Gods and spirits. Magic gathered from across the multiverse. Asclepius himself could not stay its advance. The sickness continued."
Her fingers tightened against the frame.
"My body ached for years. And when I reached my fifth year… I died."
Apeiron's chest tightened.
"Even Zeus could not deny it," Pandora said. "He descended into the Underworld and reclaimed my soul. Yet the curse followed me there. It lay deeper than death. Deeper than the gods' dominion."
She rested her hand upon the golden frame that bore her weight.
"So my father turned to what predates us all."
She lifted her eyes to the stars.
"He called upon Hephaestus. The Cyclopes. The ancient smith-spirits. Those who forged the thunderbolt. Those who shaped the bones of reality."
Apeiron remained silent.
"They turned to Pandora's Box."
"It is not a box," she said gently, anticipating him. "It is the pithos. A vessel holding a fragment of the Source itself. The origin from which the infinite multiversus first unfolded. Before gods. Before law. Before form or fate."
Her voice softened.
"That power was pain and creation woven together. Endless possibility, without boundary. They did not use it to replace me. They used it to bind me."
She touched her arm, the faint lines of the frame beneath her skin, then her legs.
"My body was rebuilt piece by piece from the Source itself. Not metal alone. Not flesh alone. Reality shaped into form. The same force that gave birth to the multiverse now sustains me. It ended the sickness. It silenced the curse."
A small, quiet smile appeared.
"Persephone ended at five years old. Pandora is what came after. And even now… I am still becoming."
Apeiron was silent for a moment.
"So you're… something like a construct?"
She laughed softly, shaking her head.
"In part, perhaps. But I am not a machine. I am a life that was crafted. I eat. I grow. I feel pain. I heal. I live."
Her fingers curled, the metal beneath them warm, responsive.
"My body is living structure. Living metal. A fragment of the Source given shape and breath. I am not artificial, Apeiron. I am as alive as anything born of this world only my beginning was written differently."
"I'm sorry," Apeiron said quietly.
"It's alright," Pandora replied. Then she looked at him. "I'm sorry about your family. What will you do now?"
Apeiron clenched his fist.
"I have to become stronger," he said. "Stronger than this. What those gods did to my family… I can't let it go."
His hand tightened further. "I remember that god, Modi. His lightning striking the ship. That moment caused everything."
Pandora looked at him, troubled.
"I'm sorry," she said gently. "But don't be reckless. You're human. You don't stand a chance."
She lowered her voice. "My father will likely reclaim that territory in time. I hate war, Apeiron. I wish it would all just stop."
"Then I'll be the first human to defeat a god," Apeiron replied. "And if I have to kill one, I will. No one deserves to suffer like this."
His voice steadied. "I swear it. I promise you, Pandora. I will become the greatest warrior. Strong enough to end every war."
Pandora's eyes brightened.
"Then maybe we can do it together," she said. "When we're older. When I finally become queen. That's what I want most. For it all to end."
Apeiron held out his hand.
"Then let's make a pact," he said. "Both of us. Pushing forward. No matter what it takes."
Pandora laughed softly and took his hand. "You have a deal."
After a moment, she added, "If you truly want to become strong, you should train with the Spartans. You still have a few days before your uncle comes for you."
Apeiron's eyes lit up.
"That's perfect," he said. "If anyone is strong, it's the Spartans. My father once told me his brother knew a special martial art… but I doubt it compares to them."
The next morning, Apeiron trained until his body could barely answer him. He drove himself through endless push-ups until his arms trembled and gave way, then rose again. He threw strikes into empty air until his shoulders burned, forcing his breath steady through the pain. When his vision blurred, he kept going. When his muscles failed, he rested only long enough to stand again.
With hope still alive in him, he went to the Spartan training grounds.
They laughed.
He failed every trial set before him. His strength fell short. His speed lagged behind warriors born with blessings he did not possess. Magic coursed through others. Divine blood. Gifts granted at birth. He had none of it. When the rankings were called, his name sat at the bottom every time.
"You would die," they told him.
"Powerless beings aren't allowed."
"Leave."
He refused to walk away.
"Please," he said, lowering his head. "I can become strong."
No one answered. They simply turned their backs on him.
That night, he returned to Pandora and told her everything. She listened without interrupting. She didn't pity him. She didn't offer false comfort. She stayed.
Days passed.
They explored Olympus together. Apeiron tried again and again. Wrestling pits where giants tested their strength. Archery fields where arrows moved faster than light. Halls of sorcery where even children bent reality without effort. Each place greeted him with the same truth, spoken or unspoken.
No power.
No place.
No future.
And yet, every night, he trained.
And every night, Pandora stayed.
One afternoon, as they worked together in the garden, Apeiron knelt beside Pandora, pressing soil around the roots of a young tree. She guided her golden device along the stone path, tending the flowers carefully, practiced hands. The air was warm. The scent of earth and blooming petals drifted gently around them. For a moment, it felt like peace.
Then the air changed.
Power settled over the garden without sound or warning. The light dimmed, not in fear, but in recognition.
Zeus stood at the garden's edge.
And beside him stood another man.
He was broad-shouldered and steady, carrying the quiet certainty of someone who had survived countless battles. His presence was calm and contained, edged with constant awareness.
He wore black armor built for movement, not display layered cloth reinforced with fitted plates. Red shoulder guards sat low and compact, matched by red wristbands and boots plated with a dense, unfamiliar metal. Silver-and-black fabric filled the gaps, flexible and durable, shifting easily with him. A plain black cape fell from his shoulders.
At his side and crossed behind him rested a pair of nunchucks, placed where his hands could reach them without thought.
His gaze settled on Apeiron.
"Pack your things," the man said. "You're coming with me."
Apeiron froze.
"I'm your uncle," the man continued.
"Theseus Logos."
The name struck deeper than the words themselves.
Apeiron lowered his eyes, then slowly turned toward Pandora. For the first time since arriving in Olympus, he didn't know what to say.
Pandora rolled forward quickly and looked up at her father.
"Can he still visit?" she asked. "Or can I visit him? Please, Father."
Zeus regarded them in silence. The garden held its breath.
"At times," Zeus said at last. "But only here, within Olympus."
His voice hardened slightly. "You will be escorted. Multiple guards. No exceptions."
Pandora nodded, relief flickering across her face.
Zeus's expression softened just a fraction. He glanced toward Theseus.
"Still," he added, "I doubt you will be in danger."
A faint smile crossed his face. "You will be with one of the greatest martial artists in our multiverse."
Theseus inclined his head once, as if the title carried little weight.
Apeiron packed what little he owned. Before he left, he and Pandora made a promise to one another. They would speak every night. No matter the distance. No matter how many worlds lay between them. Nothing would change.
Even across different dimensions, they would find a way.
When the ship lifted from Olympus, he stood at the viewport, watching the realm shrink behind him the impossible sky, the layered light, the place that had rejected him yet sheltered him all the same.
The vessel slipped into a fold in space.
Reality bent.
Time loosened its grip.
They emerged into another realm, still part of the same multiverse, yet governed by different laws.
This is Kosmos Maches.
The World of Combat.
Apeiron pressed his face to the window.
Below him stretched vast training fields and towering structures carved by battle itself. Warriors of every kind moved through them some wielding raw physical skill, others blending magic, power, and technique into seamless forms. The air itself vibrated with motion, discipline, and intent.
When they landed, Apeiron stepped onto unfamiliar ground.
As he carried his things into what would become his new home, Apeiron felt something stir for the first time since the stars had taken everything from him.
Hope and possibility.