The divine hall trembled with restless whispers.
Moments earlier, Zeus had declared the beginning of the Gods' Game, an apocalypse that would turn the mortal world into a battlefield. The weight of that announcement still lingered in the air, thick and suffocating, yet curiosity soon followed fear.
A towering god from a distant pantheon broke the silence.
"And how exactly do you intend to conduct this… game?"
The murmurs faded.
All eyes turned toward the throne of Olympus.
Zeus sat at ease, lightning coiling lazily around his fingers like a living thing. His expression carried the calm confidence of a ruler who had already decided the outcome. Slowly, almost deliberately, a smile formed on his face cold, knowing.
"I thought someone might ask that."
He rose.
Thunder rolled across the endless sky above the hall, answering his movement like a loyal servant. Stretching his arms wide, he spoke with quiet authority.
"For a game of this scale… we will need overseers."
A faint glow gathered in his palm.
"I have chosen five."
The hall stilled, anticipation tightening every gaze.
"Five gods who will supervise the game," Zeus continued, his eyes glinting with something darker than excitement. "I call them… the Representatives."
A ripple passed through the gathered deities.
He raised a finger.
"First… myself."
Lightning split the heavens, illuminating the King of Olympus in blinding brilliance. None dared object.
"Second…"
From the shadows emerged Artemis, silent as moonlight. Her silver bow rested lightly against her shoulder, yet her gaze alone carried the promise of death.
"Third…"
A presence settled over the hall—calm, vast, and suffocatingly precise.
Athena stepped forward, golden light dancing faintly around her. Her eyes moved once across the hall, calculating, measuring, understanding.
"Fourth…"
A blur cut through the air before landing with effortless grace.
Hermes twirled his staff with an easy grin, as though the tension in the hall were nothing more than a passing joke.
Low murmurs of approval spread among the gods.
Four powerful representatives.
Then Zeus raised his final finger.
"And the last representative…"
He paused. Just long enough.
"…is the God of Weapons."
From the far end of the hall came the uneven echo of footsteps.
Slow. Heavy. Deliberate.
Hephaestus emerged from the shadows, his limp unmistakable, his form scarred by fire and time. The glow of the forge seemed to cling to him, yet it did nothing to soften the harshness of his appearance.
For a single heartbeat, the hall remained silent.
Then,
Laughter erupted.
It spread like wildfire, sharp and merciless.
"You chose him?"
"That twisted blacksmith?"
"Look at him, eww disgusting."
"A cripple."
"A joke." Voice emerged from every part of the hall.
The words struck harder than weapons, echoing across marble and sky alike. Some gods leaned against pillars, barely containing their amusement. Others didn't bother hiding it at all.
At the center of it stood Hephaestus.
Still. Silent. And
His expression did not change but his eyes did.
For just a moment, something flickered beneath the surface. Not pain. Not shame.
Something colder.
Above them, Zeus chuckled.
"Oh, come now," he said lightly, amusement lacing his voice. "Every game needs a joker, doesn't it?"
The laughter surged again but louder this time.
Then,
BOOM.
A thunderbolt crashed into the hall, shaking the heavens themselves.
Silence fell instantly.
Zeus stepped forward, his presence pressing down on every god present.
"That's enough."
No one spoke.
Satisfied, he turned his gaze toward the floating image of the mortal world below—a fragile realm, unaware of what was about to descend upon it.
"To make this game more interesting, we might need some underdogs. So, I decided on something."
"Each representative will choose a vassal to represent them."
Silence surrounded the divine hall.
Voice raised from Aesir Pantheon ODIN, "I like it. A competition between gods too."
Zeus said with a chuckle, "Exactly, my dear fellow gods"
A thunder crashed down the hall with a selection screen.
"Let us choose our candidates." Zeus said.
Five lights appeared before the representatives, each one pulsing with divine authority.
"Each representative will choose one human. A vassal," Zeus declared. "They will receive a boon… but our interference must remain minimal."
No overwhelming power.
No divine domination.
Only subtle advantages.
The selection began.
Artemis chose a mortal shaped by instinct and survival, a hunter who moved as one with the wild.
Athena selected a strategist whose thoughts never ceased, a mind sharpened beyond reason.
Hermes picked a thief who is fast, elusive, untouchable.
And Zeus himself chose a man burning with ambition, someone who would grasp power without hesitation.
At last,
It was Hephaestus' turn.
Many watched with open amusement.
Some with curiosity.
Others did not watch at all.
But Hephaestus… read.
Not the mortals.
The rules.
Every word Zeus had spoken.
Every restriction.
Every boundary.
Slowly, carefully, he traced the limits placed upon them—and found the space between them.
A flaw.
A loophole.
A faint smile touched his scarred lips.
"Divine weapons are forbidden…" he murmured under his breath.
His gaze darkened.
"But weapons themselves… are not."
Far below, a single mortal was chosen.
While the others granted enhanced instincts, speed, intelligence
Hephaestus created something different.
Not a blessing.
Not a gift of power.
But an object.
Cold but Simple.
Unfamiliar to the divine.
A weapon born not from divinity… but from destruction.
A gun.
Something that did not belong in a world ruled by gods.
Something that could rewrite the rules of the game itself.
High above, Zeus raised his hand.
Lightning tore through the heavens, marking the beginning of something irreversible.
"The Gods' Game… begins now."
The divine hall slowly faded, its brilliance dissolving into silence.
None of them noticed the change.
None of them saw the quiet fury burning beneath Hephaestus' calm.
As the last traces of light disappeared, his voice slipped into the void. Loww, venomous, filled with something long buried.
"You mocked me…"
A faint, broken laugh followed.
"Called me a monster."
His eyes burned but not with fire, but with something far more dangerous.
"I will give you exactly what you deserve."
A pause.
Then a whisper, sharp as steel.
"I will bring your destruction… into your own halls."
"You bastards."