Megalopolis, 52,000 light-years from Earth
The self-proclaimed “jewel of the universe” is not having fun. News of the war she launched were supposed to reach the capital planet of the Hera Queendom more than a day ago, but the tachyon relays are silent throughout the realm.
If her generals had enough courage to criticize her leadership, they would have told her that insisting on celebrating millions of new marriages was a colossal waste of time for the goddess. Especially considering that, on her own, she is vastly more powerful than her entire military forces combined. But to Hera, making sure that every single one of his subjects is properly married is more important than anything else.
Even by celebrating mass marriages of thousands of couples at once, however, marrying off every single bachelor on the planet is a slow process.
Megalopolis is the most overpopulated planet in the Olympian Galaxy, and that’s by design. Every marriage must result in children, and women are encouraged to have as many pregnancies as humanly possible by constant legal, societal and religious encouragement.
If that wasn’t enough, emigration is nearly impossible. Megalopolis is the only technological planet in the Olympian Galaxy to have a serious overpopulation problem: other gods have solved the problem in their sectors ages ago.
Some, like Aphrodite or Apollo, simply terraform new planets and move a portion of mortals there. Others, like Athena or Demeter, introduce strict birth control policies. The most dreaded ones, such as Ares or Artemis, used to slaughter or hunt the mortals they considered in excess.
Not Hera. If you are born on Megalopolis, you are required by law to live there for the rest of your life.
Noriko Null learned all of this in the past ten minutes, staring at her N-Phone while flipping through what passes for the Megalopolis version of the Internet.
She looks at her watch, wondering how long this is going to take, until finally someone opens the door to Hera’s throne room. It’s not the goddess, though: just an attendant, a young girl who hasn’t started puberty yet and is therefore is excluded from mandatory wedding.
<Oh Hera almighty!> she exclaims, letting a silver plate of freshly harvested grapes fall on the floor. Some of Hera’s pet peacocks recoil in fear of the sound, while others approach her cautiously to peck at the grapes.
<Not quite. Would you mind calling for her, though? This is getting kind of ridiculous!>
Despite Noriko using her gentlest tone, the girl is clearly terrified and runs for her life. The Slayer of Gods shrugs, going back to flipping through her phone and talking to herself to fill the silence.
<I should probably apologize for giving her such a scare. I’m not saying there’s an advantage to living in a police state run by an obsessive psychopath with serious control issues, but I can probably find her through… yep, there she is, that’s her face on this state-mandated dating app. Wait, she’s seven? Holy crap, this planet is really messed up.>
<HOW DARE YOU!?>
The peacocks flee to avoid being burned alive by Hera’s fiery blue flame as she barges into the throne room. Something the birds are quite used to do, as Hera loses her temper with a rather predictable frequency.
<Took you long enough! I’ve been sitting on your throne for fifteen minutes, you know. Any longer and I would’ve spent more time here than in my own throne room! Seriously, Dionysus had better security than you do, and that guy has been drunk his entire life!>
<I see your famed intelligence is vastly overrated, Slayer. There is no reason in this galaxy why I shouldn’t obliterate where you stand!>
<First of all I’m not standing, I’m literally sitting down. Second, you don’t have anything that I should be afraid of, Hera… quite frankly, the Galaxy is laughing at you right now.>
<I hear no laughter.> Hera replies, and without hesitation releases a blast of blue energy towards Noriko. It’s hot enough to reduce her to ashes and melt the throne to slag… but the energy seems to act on its own, changing direction to avoid her.
<Maybe you haven’t been listening.> Noriko says, her silver eyes shining.
<What matter of sorcery…>
<The Vial of Destiny. Remember? Contains the last sample of Drylon DNA in the universe, makes whoever holds it immune to all divine powers? You saw me use it to defend myself against Tiamat years ago, so you should’ve known I’ve killed gods that make you look like a joke.>
<The Vial belongs to the Ice Queen.>
<Yep. You’re looking at her.>
<What are you talking about?>
<I’ve deposed my mother and taken the crown. It’s a temporary thing until I can fix… wait, you didn’t know Leiko is my mother, didn’t you? Ooh, that’s rough. I throught you knew that you granted eternal youth to an unwed mother that killed her own husband to steal his kingdom. After all that’s pretty much what you’ve been doing all this time, isn’t it? Taking your husband’s place?>
<Insolent bastard CHILD!!! Even the power of the Drylon will not shield you forever from the wrath of the QUEEN OF OLYMPUS!!!> Hera shouts, growing more and more unhinged as her power seeps through her body. The palace trembles from the seismic waves generated from her pounding heart; Noriko can almost feel her rage.
“Good, keep her as angry as possible. That’ll make things easier” Noriko thinks, adding:
<Technically you’re not the Queen of Olympus anymore, Hera… your daughter Hebe inherited the crown, remember? Doesn’t that technically make you Queen Mother? I guess I outrank you now.>
<ENOUGH! I WILL NOT BE MOCKED ANY LONGER!!!> Hera screams, unleashing another blast. This one also completely fails dealing any damage to Null, but it blow up the upper floors of the Divine Palace.
If Noriko hadn’t stalled her long enough for the staff to evacuate this part of the building, there would’ve been a considerable number of victims. But now she’s gone as far as she’s willing to do in a populated area… then next tamper tantrum could destroy the entire planet.
<Tell you what, Hera. Let’s finish this once and for all, okay? You’ve clearly lost control of this galaxy but you refuse to accept it. If you were anyone else I would’ve killed you already, but I doubt Zeus would allow me to go that far. So I can either spend years dealing with your pathetic schemes… or I can put you in your place. What do you say, Hera? A fair fight against the Vanguard, in neutral ground with no civilians to get in the way?>
<Are you challenging the Queen of Olympus to a duel!?>
<I challenge a fellow vassal for control over her sector, by right of conquest.>
<And I gladly accept. You truly are a fool to challenge me, mortal, for no god will shine fortune upon you.>
<I don’t need gods. I am Null. See ya at the Vulcan Forge.> Noriko replies, remotely activating her Portal Generator to disappear from what’s left of the throne room.
Olympus, 28,000 light-years from Earth
Athena is not particularly fond of this place. The pageantry surrounding the royal palace has never interested her, and the fact that nearly everything is made of Neutral Matter is a reminder that her family held the cheap inventions of Hephaestus in higher regard than her own wisdom.
Today, the throne room is a sad reminder of how much the institution has fallen. The thrones of the Council of Twelve are empty, and have been so for a long time… some for several decades by now.
But even if the political importance of Olympus has reached its lowest point in countless millennia, it’s still where the fate of the Galaxy is often decided.
Athena has been summoned here by her half-sister Hebe, and much to her amusement she’s not accompanied by Hera but rather by her grandmother Rhea.
<Grandmother. What a pleasant surprise.> she lies. Athena doesn’t have a high opinion of most of her relatives, but she considers Rhea a particularly annoying fool.
<Athena, dear, it’s been a while! Have you found a husband yet?>
<I’m not looking for one.>
<Ah, still enjoying the freedom of youth. Well don’t worry dear, I’m sure one of these days you’ll find a god who appreciates your for your… uhm… remind me, what are you the goddess of?>
<Wisdom and war. Among other things.>
<Isn’t Ares the god of war?>
<Not anymore.> Athena replies, allowing herself the unprecedented display of emotion of a slight smirk on her lips.
<That lovable scamp, always getting into trouble.> Rhea giggles.
Athena decides there’s no point in trying once again to explain to the Mother Goddess that gods can die, and instead focuses her attention on Hebe. She used to believe the Goddess of Youth was also a fool, considering how much she allowed Hera to walk over her… but she has to admit, she has seriously re-evaluated Hebe in the past few years.
<So, what did you want to talk about, Hebe? Or should I say “my Queen” now?>
<That is exactly what I wanted to discuss, Athena. You made a claim to succeed my father, and unlike Enyo you have not renounced that claim.>
<I am a great deal older than you, Hebe. In fact, I am the oldest living child of Zeus.>
<Illegitimate child.> Hebe is quick to point out. She doesn’t share Hera’s psychotic obsession with marriage… but she’s still her mother’s daughter.
<Are you sure you’re the oldest? I thought it was the creepy girl with purple eyes, or the redhead with really big boobs, or the green one who’s always angry, or…> Rhea begins to ramble.
<Eris, Aphrodite and Persephone have made similar claims, yes. But none of them have the desire or the resolve to lead Olympus. And unlike you, Hebe, I would gladly accept the crown.>
<I’m sure you would, Athena. But there’s a problem with your claim…> Hebe starts to reply, when a voice whispered from the shadows intervenes.
<I object to your claim, Athena.> Hades says. She didn’t even feel his arrival, sensing his presence only when the god hidden in the perpetual shadow of his cowl steps into the light.
<You have no say on the matter, uncle. And I’m surprised you care; what happens in Olympus doesn’t affect the Underworld.>
<It does when you support a terrorist group bent on disrupting divine rule, Athena. I know you have been the one behind the Zenith for thousands of years.>
<That is a serious accusation, Hades. What proof do you…>
<Null provided enough evidence, and I uncovered more by torturing the soul of your pawn Vector. While it’s true the Zenith have never targeted the Underworld, I cannot allow their sponsor to sit on the throne of Olympus.>
<Careful, uncle. It is unwise to utter veiled threats against the goddess of war.> Athena replies; while she keeps a calm demeanor, she’s mentally cursing her mortal pawns.
<The Lord Of The Dead makes no threats, Athena, only promises. And if you rise beyond the level of vassal, I promise you that the evidence will reach Poseidon. You are powerful and cunning; you undoubtedly have plans to deal with a Class-1 god… but not with two of us.>
<Perhaps I won’t need to. What do you have to say, Rhea? Certainly you would not allow your sons to start a civil war within your family, wouldn’t you?>
<Well… let me think… didn’t we get into a war once?> she absent-mindedly wonders.
The answer comes from a voice that can fill the mightiest of gods with dread, as someone else joins the discussion… a god visibly taller than the others, clad in black leather and gold trimmings, with a head completely engulfed in red and black flames.
<We did, when I conquered the entire Universe.> he says, moving towards Rhea like he owns the place. And she runs towards him to hug him as hard as she can.
<Kronos! Oh how have I missed you, my love!>
Athena raises an eyebrow and turns towards Hebe, who is trying her hardest to suppress laughter.
<You’re not fooling anyone, that’s just Eros wearing a different form. Kronos has been dead for the past million years, only a complete idiot would fall for such a blatant…>
<I have so much to tell you, Kronos! Come on, let’s find a private place and let the children play among themselves!> Rhea tells her husband, her fingers lovingly passing through his dark flame.
<There’s nothing I would enjoy more than that, my love.>
Athena can’t believe her eyes, watching as the royal couple leaves the room like the past million years never even happened. And she sighs.
<I guess two things should never be underestimated… Null’s genius and my family’s idiocy. Well played, Hebe, well played.> Athena concedes.
<As much as I’d like to take credit, that wasn’t my idea. But, speaking of things I actually can take credit for…> Hebe says, walking to the throne that used to belong to her father Zeus. And for the first time, sitting on it believing it’s where she belongs.
<Let’s talk about my kingdom.>
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