Turgon sighed as the attendant before him finished explaining, for the third time, that Ion was not currently within the Valley of Will.
He stood inside one of the broad reception halls of Ion's residence, surrounded by architecture that had once seemed impossibly grand to him. Months of visiting the place for meetings had dulled some of that effect. Tall windows overlooked the valley below, where emerald forests climbed toward the surrounding mountains.
He had come expecting to find Ion here.
The Unification Treaty was almost ready.
After months of negotiation, every major planetary government in the Oan system had finally agreed upon the framework that would, over the next twenty years, gradually restore a single political and administrative structure across the system. Not the exact system that had existed before the Black Night, because half a million years could not simply be erased, but something close enough that Oa, Haven, Bastion, Academy, Chronicle, Sanctuary, and the remaining worlds would once again work beneath common institutions.
Turgon had spent nearly every waking hour working toward it since Ion placed the responsibility in his hands.
Ion's return had made the impossible merely difficult. That speech to all eight hundred and thirty billion citizens of the system had changed everything almost overnight. Governments that had spent generations refusing formal contact were suddenly willing to negotiate. Political movements built around the belief that Ion would never return lost most of their support within weeks, while old religious and cultural divisions became harder to maintain once the being at the center of many of them was physically present and telling everyone to stop behaving like idiots.
That did not mean the process had been easy.
Seven hundred thousand years of mistrust did not disappear simply because Ion came home.
Some people feared Oa would dominate the new system. Others feared Haven would. The Free Clans did not want their ancient territorial rights absorbed into another centralized government, while Bastion's military leadership wanted guarantees that its fleets could never again be crippled by political hesitation.
Even those within Vaults I and II had demands. Over the ages, the inhabitants had diverged into civilizations dedicated to guarding their respective planets and the artifacts hidden within them. They had been among the most stubborn holdouts, initially refusing to accept that Ion had truly returned and believing the entire affair might be a ploy to gain access to what they protected.
Eventually, even they had come around, and Turgon had negotiated all of it. Somehow, after everything, they were almost finished.
"Will that be all, Saint Turgon?" the attendant asked.
Turgon's thoughts stopped. He closed his eyes briefly. There was that title again.
"Yes," he said. "That will be all."
The attendant bowed and began to withdraw, but Turgon stopped her before she could reach the door.
"Wait. Do you know where Ion went?"
"No, Saint Turgon."
Turgon resisted the urge to sigh. He was still getting used to the title, though apparently everyone else had adapted to it immediately. Ion had first called him Saint half as a joke, but Adara, unfortunately, had liked it enough to make the title official. According to her, the leaders of the Blue Lantern Corps would carry it permanently.
So now he was Saint Turgon, the First Blue Lantern, Shield of Ion, Resurrector of Ion, Bearer of Hope, along with several other titles he had deliberately refused to remember.
He had gone from being a fairly ordinary Oan with a government job and an unfortunate habit of asking questions to becoming, depending on whom one asked, the second most influential person in the system after Ion himself.
Possibly third, if Jade counted.
Jade definitely counted.
"Turgon."
Adara's voice entered his mind, and he straightened immediately. "Lady Adara."
"Ion has travelled to Sector 616. He will be away for some time."
Turgon frowned. "Why?"
"You do not need to worry."
"That usually means there is something to worry about."
Adara sounded amused. "He needed some time away from Oa. That is all."
Turgon considered pressing the issue, but after a moment decided against it. "All right."
"You are doing well, Turgon."
His expression tightened slightly.
"And you are also supposed to be on Bastion."
Turgon froze. "Oh."
"You forgot."
"Thank you for reminding me, Lady Adara."
"You are welcome, my Saint."
He could hear the amusement in her voice. Turgon shook his head and left the residence, taking to the air as soon as he stepped outside.
He had travelled some distance from the Valley when he slowed, his attention drawn upward. The sheer scale of the construction above was enough to make him stop in midair.
The sky was full of ships.
Hundreds of construction vessels moved in slow formations above the valley, carrying sections of metal, stone, crystal, and materials Turgon could not identify from this distance. Millions upon millions of workers moved between them, some wearing environmental suits while others used antigravity harnesses or small personal craft.
At the center of it all, something enormous was taking shape.
Ion's sky palace.
Turgon still could not believe that was actually happening.
Three months earlier, he had been standing beside Ion during a discussion about the Valley when Ion casually mentioned that perhaps he should build himself a palace in the sky.
Several attendants overheard him.
Within a day, the story had spread across Oa.
Within a week, some of the finest architects, engineers, artists, and builders on the planet had arrived at Ion's residence carrying plans.
Ion had stared at them for nearly a minute before eventually asking Turgon, "They really want to build this thing, don't they?"
Once Ion realized just how serious they were, his attitude changed. Rather than dismissing the idea, he began adding requirements that became progressively more ambitious.
Ion wanted to know how much of the old Oan spirit remained after the Long Decline. How much of the skill that had built the ancient cities and the civilization surrounding the original Green Lantern Corps still survived.
The Oans had taken that as a challenge. Now an entire city-sized palace was being built in the sky.Even unfinished, it was extraordinary.
Turgon watched it for another moment before accelerating away and climbing through Oa's atmosphere.
He arrived on Bastion within minutes.
The fortress world had changed considerably since the Golden Age. Much of its ancient infrastructure had remained dormant for thousands of years, but Ion's return had awakened projects abandoned during the Long Decline. Orbital shipyards now burned with constant activity, fleets moved between operational zones, and enormous defensive platforms were undergoing repairs.
Turgon landed on one of the primary military platforms and found an officer already waiting for him.
"Saint Turgon."
Turgon nodded.
"This way."
Turgon followed him through the facility toward the briefing room.
Three ships would soon be leaving Bastion. It had been nearly fifty thousand years since the last true Oan exploration fleet departed the system, another sign of just how far Oa had retreated during the Long Decline.
Exploration had once been central to Oan civilization.
Across three hundred million years, expeditions had travelled into unknown parts of the sectors, mapped unstable regions of space, catalogued worlds, recorded civilizations, and established contact with species that later became allies of the Green Lantern Corps.
After the Black Night, those expeditions became less frequent.
Resources disappeared.
Political divisions grew.
The universe became something Oa increasingly observed from behind its own borders.
That was changing now.
These three vessels would be the first, and more would follow over the coming years.
Turgon entered the briefing chamber and found several hundred people already gathered inside.
Many were Oan, though far from all. Some belonged to species Turgon immediately recognized from Haven's population, descendants of families of ancient Green Lanterns from so long ago that their original homeworlds now existed only in historical archives. A few species present were, according to stories Turgon had heard, extinct everywhere else in the universe.
Several people noticed him.
"Saint Turgon."
Others turned.
Soon half the room was standing.
Turgon raised both hands.
"Please don't mind me. Continue."
A few hesitant looks followed, but eventually everyone returned to their seats.
Turgon took a place near the front.
Commander Eline stood before a large holographic display. Once the room settled, she began.
"As I was saying, the starships Wayfinder, Durin, and Lithiel will form the expedition group."
Commander Eline expanded the image until a star map replaced the ships.
"The mission will take you into Sector 617."
A murmur moved through the room.
Sector 617 was not unexplored, but large parts of it had remained poorly mapped even during the Golden Age. Black holes, gravitational distortions, unstable spatial phenomena, and regions where conventional navigation became unreliable made long-term operations difficult.
Eline continued. "Your objective is to locate the remains of the great Veridion."
Veridion. Ion's oldest companion, one of the builders of the Central Power Battery, and the being whose machines had once protected the Oan system alongside the Green Lantern Corps.
Commander Eline looked across the gathered crews. "Not many Oans have seen what I am about to show you."
The lights dimmed as footage appeared, and Turgon recognized the date immediately.
The Black Night.
Space around Oa burned with green, black, and cosmic energy as Green Lanterns battled Knull's symbiotes and the Vigilants. Then something enormous entered the frame.
Galactus.
The Devourer of Worlds dwarfed everything around him, and opposite him floated Veridion, or what remained of Veridion. There was nothing left of the figure Turgon knew from statues and historical recordings. Knull had turned him into an undead puppet.
Galactus attacked first. Cosmic energy slammed into the Celestial with enough force to distort the recording, and the next few moments became difficult to follow. Veridion answered with weapons of his own, but Galactus steadily overwhelmed him until a final blast tore through the Celestial's body.
Turgon's stomach tightened as sections of Veridion broke apart. Galactus seized what remained, opened a portal, and dragged the shattered body through it before departing moments later.
The recording ended, and for several seconds no one spoke.
Commander Eline restored the star map. "Historical analysis indicates that the portal exited somewhere within this region."
A section of Sector 617 expanded before them.
"This territory contains several extremely dangerous phenomena."
Turgon listened as Eline explained the various hazards, and the longer she spoke, the more he found himself wondering whether these Oans were being sent to their deaths.
Then another image appeared.
Veridion's head.
"This is the priority," Eline said. "Ion wishes Veridion's remains returned to Oa so that he may finally be laid to rest on the world he helped build."
That was true, but it was not the entire reason. Ion had spoken privately with Turgon about it. Veridion's body contained information, including knowledge of the Central Power Battery and many other secrets that could not be allowed to remain lost in deep space.
Commander Eline's expression hardened. "If you locate additional body fragments, recover them where practical. However, the head remains the primary objective."
The map changed again, displaying a series of potential search routes through Sector 617.
"Wayfinder will lead the central search corridor. Durin will operate along the gravitational boundary to the north, while Lithiel searches the southern region. The vessels will remain in communication whenever conditions permit."
She looked over the gathered crews.
"You leave Bastion in five months."
Several people straightened.
"The mission is expected to last approximately ten years. If Veridion is located earlier, you will return immediately unless otherwise directed. Additional exploration is secondary to recovery."
Eline allowed the words to settle.
"For many of you, this will be the first time leaving the Oan system. For some, it will be the first time anyone in your family has done so in thousands of years."
Turgon looked around.
No one appeared frightened.
Nervous, certainly. Some shifted in their seats. Others stared at the star map as though trying to memorize every hazard already.
But beneath all of it was something else.
Anticipation.
Determination.
The old stories Turgon had read as a child spoke constantly of Oans travelling beyond their system, not because they needed territory or wealth, but because they wanted to know what was there. Somewhere during the Long Decline, that instinct had faded.
Looking around the room now, Turgon wondered whether it had ever truly disappeared.
Commander Eline closed the display, then looked toward the image of Veridion one last time.
"Bring him home."
Turgon remained seated for several moments and watched as the crews began talking among themselves. Engineers immediately clustered around technical officers. Scientists argued quietly over possible search methods. Pilots were already discussing routes.
Turgon smiled.
They would succeed.
They were going to bring Veridion home.
.
.
.
Odin stood overlooking the training grounds as the Einherjar drilled below.
Hundreds of warriors moved in disciplined formations, shields locking as spears lowered between them. Officers barked commands from raised platforms while cavalry units circled the outer fields and siege crews practiced moving heavy weapons into firing positions. Beyond them, the smithies had been working without pause for weeks, their chimneys staining the bright Asgardian sky as armor, swords, and other weapons were forged.
Two years of war had changed the realm.
Malekith's first attacks had come without warning. Dark Elf raiders struck Asgardian outposts along the borders of the Nine Realms, slaughtered the soldiers stationed there, and disappeared before reinforcements could arrive. Soon entire patrols stopped returning. Assassins appeared inside supposedly secure settlements. Villages in Vanaheim burned during the night, while elves were attacked in Alfheim.
There had been no great battle where Asgard could meet the enemy shield to shield and break them. This was a coward's war, fought through raids, massacres, sabotage, and retreat. Malekith proclaimed himself the rightful ruler of all Nine Realms while refusing to face the armies and peoples that rejected him.
Asgard had answered this proclamation of war by forming an alliance with Vanaheim and Alfheim, and together they had contained much of Malekith's expansion.
Contained, but not defeated, for Svartálfarheim remained beyond their reach.
Somehow, Malekith had severed or concealed every known pathway through Yggdrasil leading into the Dark Elves' realm. Even the Bifrost could not reach it. The bridge was among Asgard's greatest achievements of the age, made possible partly through their possession of the Space Stone, yet whatever Malekith had done prevented even that power from finding a path.
Only a handful of people knew what Asgardian scholars had recently concluded. Odin, King Bor, King Njord, and several of their most trusted advisers had been told that Malekith might possess an Infinity Stone of his own.
Which Stone remained uncertain.
An Infinity Stone explained too much. The severed pathways. The way Malekith's assassins sometimes appeared inside locations protected by enchantments that should have exposed them instantly.
Odin's hands tightened behind his back.
Two years, and they still did not know what Malekith ultimately wanted.
Conquest alone did not explain what he was doing.
"Odin!"
Odin turned.
Sigryn approached with a sword resting over one shoulder. "Come," she said. "Spar with me. I have been dying to hit something since those cowards raided Vanaheim yesterday."
Behind her came Haldor, Vigmund, and Yrsa. Vigmund raised both arms when he saw Odin looking at them.
"Very well," Odin said.
He followed her toward the practice grounds, though she had taken only a few steps before glancing sideways at him.
"You look troubled."
"I am troubled."
"That is becoming more common."
Odin ignored the remark. "Something is wrong. Malekith has been too quiet."
Sigryn's amusement faded.
The Dark Elves had launched no major attack for several moons. Raids continued, but they were smaller and more scattered than before. To some commanders, that suggested Asgard's pressure was working.
Odin thought otherwise.
"We know nothing of what he is doing inside Svartálfarheim," he continued.
"Asgard will prevail."
Odin looked at her.
"I wish I shared your optimism."
"You will when I beat some of this brooding out of you."
Vigmund reached them and clapped Odin on the shoulder. "Speaking of beating things out of people, how has it been three moons since we sparred?"
Odin opened his mouth.
"Prince Odin."
They all turned.
Heimdall approached from the direction of the palace.
"You are here for me, Heimdall."
"Yes, my prince. Your father requests your presence."
Vigmund groaned.
Odin pointed toward him. "Another time, my friend. You will get your beating soon enough."
"It is you who will be getting beaten," Vigmund boasted.
Sigryn gave Odin a small salute with her sword. "Go. We will find someone else for old Vigmund to throw around."
Odin laughed as he left with Heimdall.
"Has something happened?"
"Nothing concerning the Dark Elves, as far as I know."
"Then what?"
Heimdall's expression grew tired. "The Shi'ar envoys have caused nothing but headaches since arriving."
Odin frowned as Heimdall continued.
"We are fighting a war, and their expanding empire has nevertheless chosen this particular moment to make claims against one of the worlds beneath Asgard's protection."
Odin stopped walking. "They entered the Nine Realms?"
"Their ships entered territory claimed by a protected world near the outer boundaries. They insist it was an exploratory misunderstanding."
"They dare?"
The Shi'ar had expanded rapidly during the last three centuries, their borders now many times larger than before.
Odin resumed walking, anger beginning to rise. "Then perhaps we should remind them of the power of the Aesir."
"I suspect your father would prefer not to begin another war," Heimdall advised.
"We should show the damned Shi'ar the might of Asgard before they mistake restraint for weakness."
The words came easily, and so did the anger. With it came memories of when Max and Firehair had been attacked by the Shi'ar, of how Firehair had nearly been imprisoned and Max had been stabbed with a sword.
Then the anger disappeared almost as quickly as it had come.
Sadness replaced it as thoughts of Max and Firehair filled Odin's mind once more.
The change was sudden enough that Heimdall noticed.
"My prince?"
Odin looked ahead.
"Nothing. It is nothing."
Heimdall did not press.
They entered the palace and soon reached one of the great council chambers, where Bor stood speaking with three Shi'ar envoys dressed in elaborate clothing.
"Then we have an agreement," Bor said. "I am certain this matter can be resolved without further escalation."
The senior envoy inclined his head. "Majestor M'Turon believes the same, Your Majesty. The Shi'ar Empire has no desire for unnecessary conflict with Asgard."
Odin stood near the doorway and gave them a glare he made no attempt to hide.
One of the envoys noticed.
Bor noticed as well.
"Good," Bor said. "Then let us consider the matter closed while our representatives establish the final boundaries."
The envoys bowed and departed.
Odin waited until the doors shut behind them.
"ODIN." Bor's voice filled the chamber happily.
"Father. Have there been any developments concerning Malekith?" Odin asked, getting straight to the point. There was no need to discuss the Shi'ar now.
"Indeed."
Odin straightened.
Finally.
"Valthurn has confirmed it. The Convergence approaches."
The Convergence.
An alignment of the Nine Realms so rare that generations could live and die without witnessing one. During it, the boundaries between realms weakened, pathways overlapped, and places normally separated by unimaginable distances could briefly become neighbors.
Odin's mind immediately returned to Malekith's recent silence.
"Could this be what he is waiting for?"
"I believe so." Bor walked toward the large map of Yggdrasil occupying one wall.
"Valthurn believes the Convergence may provide us with the same opportunity. Malekith has hidden Svartálfarheim from every normal pathway, but when the realms align, even his concealment may not be sufficient."
Odin approached the map. "How does Valthurn intend to find it?"
"He is preparing a spell capable of stripping away the shroud Malekith has placed around the realm."
Bor touched the representation of Svartálfarheim, which remained dark and disconnected from the surrounding pathways.
"We believe the concealment itself is being sustained through the Infinity Stone. Valthurn intends to use the Convergence to track the Stone's energy through Yggdrasil and follow it back to its source."
Odin stared at the map.
Infinity Stone energy.
Something tugged at his memory.
He had seen something like that before.
Odin's eyes widened. "How could I forget?"
Bor looked toward him. "Forget what?"
Odin turned and hurried from the chamber.
"Odin!"
"I will be back soon!"
Heimdall looked toward Bor. The king sighed and gave a small nod and Heimdall followed.
Odin called Mjolnir before reaching the palace doors. The hammer tore across Asgard and struck his palm, and within moments he was airborne, flying away from the city with Heimdall following behind.
They crossed the plains before entering the wooded region of Galsir.
Ancient trees rose around them, their branches spreading wide enough to conceal much of the sky. Odin landed among them and immediately continued deeper into the forest.
Heimdall touched down behind him.
"What are you looking for?"
Odin remained silent as he reached a large rocky formation hidden between the trees and entered a cave that appeared completely empty.
He raised one hand.
The air shimmered as a cloaking system deactivated and a ship appeared.
Despite the centuries that had passed, the vessel remained almost exactly as Odin remembered it.
The ramp opened, and Odin hurried inside.
Dust had accumulated in places, though most of the vessel's systems remained dormant rather than dead. Lights awakened as he moved through the corridors, recognizing him after centuries of silence.
He began opening storage compartments.
"No."
Another.
"Not that."
Heimdall watched from behind him. "What do you seek?"
Odin opened another compartment and stopped.
There.
He smiled.
Reaching inside, he removed a compact device made from dark metal, with several luminous sections along its surface.
Heimdall examined it. "What is it?"
"Something that will help us find Malekith."
Heimdall looked at him. "The finest sorcerers in Asgard have been unable to reliably find Malekith or Svartálfarheim."
"This was not built by Asgardian sorcerers."
He handed it to Heimdall.
The guardian of the Bifrost turned it over carefully in his hands. "Then let us bring it to Valthurn."
Odin nodded and started toward the exit, but a faint green glow from the adjoining chamber caught his attention.
He slowed, thinking for a moment that he had imagined it. Then the light brightened.
Odin turned toward the doorway. He knew what was inside that room, which was why he had deliberately avoided entering it for years.
"Odin?"
He barely heard Heimdall. His attention remained fixed on the emerald light spilling into the corridor as he walked toward the chamber.
The Will Spear lay where it always had, but green light now moved across the weapon with an intensity Odin had not seen in centuries. Its glow had weakened gradually over the years, never disappearing entirely, but fading with each passing decade until only a dim trace remained along the markings.
Now it burned brightly enough to illuminate the entire chamber.
Odin approached carefully, almost as though any sudden movement might cause the light to vanish again. When his hand closed around the shaft, warmth spread through his palm.
Memories came with it.
Memories of his friend, gone for centuries.
Odin had spent years telling himself that he had accepted the loss. Standing there with the Spear warm in his hand, he knew he had never truly believed it.
Heimdall entered behind him. "My prince?"
Odin did not answer. He continued staring at the Spear.
"What is wrong?"
Odin swallowed.
He remained silent for some time before finally speaking.
"I guess I just miss my friend."
Heimdall fell silent.
Everyone close to Odin had known how deeply Max's disappearance affected him, even when Odin refused to speak about it. Agamotto had been among the few who never accepted that Max was truly gone.
One day, the old sorcerer had insisted, Max would return.
Odin had wanted to believe him and for centuries, he had tried but eventually, hope became harder to carry than grief.
Now the Will Spear burned in his hands brighter than it had since Max vanished.
Odin tightened his grip around it.
Perhaps it meant nothing.
Perhaps some change within the ship had awakened it. Perhaps the Convergence was affecting whatever strange power Max had placed within the weapon.
Or perhaps Agamotto had been right.
The thought ignited something Odin had not allowed himself to feel in a very long time.
Hope.
He took the Spear with him.
"Come," Odin said.
They left the ship together as Mjolnir flew back into Odin's hand.
It was finally time to end this conflict once and for all.
.
.
.
"I am fine, Nur."
They stood on a barren mountainside where Nur insisted the path to Olympus had opened to them before. Since there was no portal now, for the first time since Max returned to Earth, there had been enough quiet for Nur to ask the questions he had clearly been restraining since Eridu and their reunion.
"We failed you."
Max's expression tightened. "No. You didn't."
He continued, "It was Mephisto, the Maker, and the other bastards. What happened was not your fault, or the Avengers'."
Nur looked away toward the distant sea. Max remembered that expression from the old days, usually whenever Nur thought he had failed someone and intended to carry the guilt whether anyone wanted him to or not.
"I have made peace with Firehair's death," Max said.
Nur looked back sharply. "But not Aurora?"
There was confusion in his voice now, followed quickly by something more cautious.
Max shook his head. "I don't think Aurora is dead."
Nur stared at him.
"Where is she?"
"I don't know exactly, but I think she's in the White Hot Room."
Nur's brow furrowed.
"The realm of the Phoenix."
Understanding came immediately, followed by a change Max had not expected to hit him as hard as it did. Hope returned to Nur's face so openly that, for a moment, Max saw the younger man he remembered standing beside when they were Avengers.
"Then let us go," Nur said. "We find this White Hot Room and bring her home."
Max smiled. "I wish it were that simple. The Phoenix is missing too. Jade hasn't found a reliable sighting in four centuries, so we need to find her before we can find the White Hot Room."
"Then we find the Phoenix."
"That's the plan, my friend."
Max looked toward the mountains above them.
"But first, we deal with the reason we're here. Aurora can wait a little longer. She's safe. But that woman and her child might not have that luxury."
Nur nodded. "This was the place," he said, looking around. "I am certain of it."
"You were transported from here. That doesn't mean there's a permanent entrance."
Nur frowned at the empty stone.
Max pointed farther inland. "Mount Olympus is in that direction. If there is some stable path into the Olympian realm, that's a better place to start."
Nur seemed ready to agree when a distant scream carried through the mountain air.
Another shout followed, then several more.
Max turned toward a lower valley.
"Wasn't there a village that way?"
Nur's face hardened. "Yes."
They were airborne a moment later.
The sounds became clearer as they crossed the ridge. Screaming. Crying. Men shouting orders.
Max reached the village first and slowed above it.
Bronze-armored warriors had descended on the settlement. Some villagers were already on their knees with their hands bound, while others had been dragged from their homes. Livestock wandered through broken fences. Several houses had been smashed open, and piles of food, weapons, tools, and anything else worth taking had been gathered near waiting carts.
Women were being separated from the men.
So were the children.
One soldier grabbed a girl who could not have been older than twelve by the arm and pulled her away from a woman screaming after her. The girl fought desperately, kicking at his legs while the soldier laughed and looked her over.
"This one will make a slave for me."
Max stopped in midair.
"Oh, hell no."
He dropped.
The impact cracked the ground in the center of the village and sent dust rolling outward. Warriors stumbled away from him, several raising spears in alarm, while Nur landed more quietly behind him.
Every eye turned toward Max.
"Step away from the villagers."
The soldier holding the girl released her immediately, though whether from obedience or shock Max could not tell. She ran back toward the woman behind her.
A larger man wearing more elaborate armor stepped through the soldiers. His helmet carried a crest of dark horsehair, while his sword and shield were decorated far more richly than anything carried by the others.
"And who are you to make demands of us?"
The man's expression hardened. "These people are ours by right."
Nur spat onto the ground. "Barbarians."
Max looked sideways at him.
Nur folded his arms. "We would consider such conduct beneath civilized men."
"We?"
Nur gave him a look. "Kemet."
"Nur, Kemet also has slaves."
"Yes, but we do not treat them like this."
"Oh, really? You're making that argument right now?"
"I am just saying..."
Max shook his head.
It was the early Bronze Age. Slavery was woven into nearly every large civilization Max knew existed on Earth at this point, but that did not mean he could simply stand there and let it happen in front of him.
He looked back toward the warriors. "So here's what's going to happen. You leave the villagers alone, take nothing that isn't yours, and go."
Several soldiers laughed, though their leader did not. He stepped forward instead, lifting his chin with all the confidence of a man who had never expected anyone to challenge him.
"You clearly do not know whom you address. I am Theseus, son of Poseidon."
Max stared at him. He had always thought Theseus was a prick.
"Because you are ignorant of my name, I will forgive this insult," Theseus continued. "Leave now, stranger, before you bring the anger of the gods upon yourself."
Max widened his eyes dramatically. "Ohhhh."
Nur glanced toward him as Max placed one hand against his chest.
"I didn't realize I was speaking to Theseus, son of Poseidon. Whatever shall I do now?"
The warriors laughed, and Theseus smiled.
Then Max's eyes lit up.
The laughter died almost immediately as red beams tore through the group. The warriors barely had time to realize they were under attack before they collapsed, and within seconds only Theseus remained standing.
He stared at the bodies around him, then slowly looked back at Max. "You... you..."
Max started toward him.
Theseus raised his sword and swung, but Max caught the blade between two fingers. The bronze bent under the pressure. He pulled the weapon from Theseus's hand, tossed it aside, and punched him once in the face.
Theseus dropped immediately, hitting the dirt and clutching his mouth.
"You hit me!"
Max looked down at him. "You hit me."
Whatever dignity Theseus still possessed vanished beneath his outrage. He scrambled backward, then twisted toward the distant sea.
"FATHER!"
Max frowned.
Theseus climbed onto his knees and shouted even louder. "FATHER! LOOK WHAT THEY HAVE DONE TO YOUR SON!"
Nur burst out laughing behind Max. "FATHER! POSEIDON!"
Max glanced toward the villagers, and his amusement faded. Their relief had vanished, replaced by terror. Several of them were staring toward the sea as though they expected it to rise at any moment and swallow the entire settlement.
He grimaced.
He might have just saved them from slavery and immediately condemned them to divine retaliation.
Theseus was still shouting. "FATHER!"
Max walked over, crouched beside him, and clamped one hand across his mouth. The shouting became an angry muffled noise.
"Here," Max said. "Let me help."
Theseus's eyes widened as Max lifted him easily off the ground.
"Your daddy will probably hear you better from the sea."
Max turned toward the distant horizon while Nur's laughter grew louder behind him. Theseus began struggling frantically in his grip.
Then Max threw him.
The son of Poseidon vanished over the village in a blur, crossed the distant hills, and disappeared toward the coast.
Nur bent forward, laughing.
"That," he managed, "was great."
Max turned toward the villagers.
They did not look reassured.
Emerald light spread through the village. Dozens of transparent spheres formed around the inhabitants, gently lifting them into the air. Panic broke out for several seconds until people realized the constructs were not harming them.
Nur looked upward.
"Where are you taking them?"
"Away from here.Somewhere Poseidon isn't going to come looking for them because I threw his idiot son into the sea."
Max watched the last of the villagers disappear inside the emerald spheres carrying them toward safety.
Nur looked from them to Max with something close to amusement. "I missed watching you anger gods, Max."
Max glanced at him.
"You have changed as well," Nur continued. He nodded toward the dead warriors. "You wouldn't have killed them before."
"Wouldn't you have?"
Nur did not hesitate. "Yes."
"Then what's with the judgment?"
"I am not judging you. I am observing that you would not have before."
Max said nothing for a moment.
"It's been a long time for me, Nur, and I guess I have changed since I returned."
The answer changed Nur's expression. "What does that mean?"
Max looked at him and managed a small smile. "It means I have a lot to show you and tell you after all this. I have a grand journey planned for you, Agamotto, and Odin, but let's deal with this first."
Nur reluctantly accepted the answer and nodded. He did not ask anything more.
"Now," Max said, looking toward the mountains, "Olympus."
As they prepared to leave, Max suddenly felt another presence nearby. It was unmistakably divine, yet there was something about it that felt strangely familiar.
He turned at the same moment Nur did.
A woman stood behind them.
Her beauty seemed to change depending upon where Max focused. Golden hair fell loosely around her shoulders, though the exact shade shifted whenever the light moved. Her eyes changed even more, blue one moment and green the next. She wore only a short white chiton because on her, nothing looked plain.
Beside Max, Nur's mouth had fallen open.
Max reached over without looking and gently pushed his jaw shut.
Nur blinked and looked away in embarrassment.
"Aphrodite," Max said.
Her smile warmed. "Max."
Max folded his arms.
"Are you here to abduct me again?"
Aphrodite's cheeks warmed, the color becoming even more obvious when Nur glanced between the two of them.
"I had hoped you might have forgotten that."
"Not something you easily forget."
Aphrodite sighed. "I was a naive godling." Her embarrassment deepened before she forced herself back toward something resembling dignity. "I hoped that, after so much time, you might forgive me."
Max considered pretending to think about it longer than necessary.
Then Aphrodite's expression grew more serious.
"Theseus was Poseidon's son."
"I noticed."
"The Sea God will not consider what you did a minor insult."
Max widened his eyes and he dramatically acted once more. "Oh no." He raised both hands and deliberately made them tremble. "Poseidon is angry? Whatever shall I dooo? Shiver me timbers. Oh, soooo terrifying."
Nur stared at him. "Shiver your what?"
Max ignored him, which only made Aphrodite laugh.
"Oh, Max. I have missed you."
"We barely knew each other." He paused. "Other than the kidnapping."
"Must you keep bringing that up?"
Aphrodite shook her head and stepped closer, her amusement fading as she returned to the matter at hand. "Then let us speak of why you are here."
"You know?"
"I know what you seek. The woman carrying the child of prophecy."
Max closed his eyes briefly. "Of course there's a prophecy. I should have expected that. There is always a prophecy whenever gods start trying to kill babies."
Aphrodite's expression tightened. "You should be thankful my father is not among those who wish the child dead."
"Zeus?"
That surprised him enough to wipe the humor from his face. "He's protecting her?"
"The mother is safe within Olympus. My father has granted her sanctuary while the Council decides what is to be done."
Nur stepped forward. "What is there to decide? The child has committed no crime."
"The gods disagree."
"Gods disagree about everything," Max said. "Especially you Olympians."
He looked back at Aphrodite. "So why are you here, Goddess of Love?"
"To help you reach Olympus."
"Oh. Why didn't you say so? Let's go."
Nur looked sharply at him. "Max."
"What?"
"This could be a trap."
Max glanced at Aphrodite. She merely smiled at him, which was answer enough.
"Oh, it's definitely a trap," Max said. "This is absolutely a trap."
Aphrodite's smile widened into a grin.
Nur stared between them. "Wait. What?"
Max gave him a light slap on the shoulder. "Look on the bright side. We found a way into Olympus."
Nur muttered something under his breath that Max strongly suspected was insulting, while Aphrodite stepped closer until only a few feet separated them.
"When this is finished," she said, leaning forward to whisper into his ear, "find me."
Max raised an eyebrow.
"In my temple," she clarified. "I wish to speak with you."
Pink light gathered around Aphrodite and spread outward, wrapping around both Max and Nur. The world shifted almost instantly, and when the light faded, marble had replaced the stone beneath Max's feet.
He looked around. They stood in the center of an enormous courtyard surrounded by white pillars rising hundreds of feet toward the sky. Golden-roofed structures covered the surrounding hills, connected by broad avenues and terraces filled with fountains, gardens, statues, and temples.
"My daughter has done well."
The voice rolled across the courtyard.
Max looked up.
Clouds gathered overhead as lightning moved between them. A figure began descending through the air.
Zeus.
Red hair and a thick beard framed his face, while white robes hung beneath armor decorated with the eagle and thunderbolt. His heavily muscled body crackled faintly with lightning as he descended.
He was not alone.
Figures descended with him.
Many figures.
Max's expression changed.
"Ah I didn't expect this."
He knew exactly what this was.
The Council of Godheads.
The Skyfathers.
Ahura Mazda stood surrounded by pale fire. Altjira appeared almost detached from the physical world, his form shifting faintly against the light around him. Osiris looked toward Nur, who immediately straightened beside Max. Buluku and Hodiak watched silently. Itzamna, Hwanin, Izanagi, Tomazooma, Quetzalcoatl, Shou-Hsing, Svarog, Kāne, Ukko, Ulgen, and Viracocha followed.
Then Max's attention fell upon another figure.
Marduk.
The Anunnaki god had clearly recovered from being driven into the Sahara, though not completely. Part of his armor remained cracked, one side of his face was bruised, and Max could see dried blood near his mouth.
Marduk glared at him.
Max smiled and gave him a small wave. The god's expression worsened.
Then someone else caught his attention.
Vishnu stood among the divine rulers, calm and composed. He had been one of the gods Max and the Avengers had maintained friendly relations with in the past.
Their eyes met.
Vishnu gave Max a friendly nod.
Max returned it.
More light appeared across the courtyard as gods began materializing along the marble terraces. Dozens became scores. Scores became more than a hundred.
Some looked curious.
Some looked angry.
Some looked afraid.
Beside him, Nur stared at the gathering divine host.
"We're fucked," he muttered.
.
.
So Max will cause many changes to religions and also to the tales of heroes, as shown here with Theseus.
Here is a tale from Ancient Greece in this world..
.
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THE CASTING OF THESEUS
Sing, O Muse, of Maksimos Smaragdios,
the Emerald One, the Unbending God,
who came upon Theseus and the bronze-clad Athenians
when they carried off the women of a helpless village.
Then the sons of Athens raised their spears,
and bronze flashed beneath the deathless sun.
But Maksimos raised no spear.
He lifted only his terrible gaze.
From his eyes sprang the red fire,
swift as the thunderbolt of Zeus.
Warrior after warrior fell before it.
Shields dropped upon the earth.
Spears slipped from lifeless hands,
and silence came upon the land.
Then Theseus advanced against him,
proud son of Athens,
son of the mighty Earth-Shaker,
he who had overcome monsters and broken kings.
Yet Maksimos feared him not.
Theseus struck with his sword,
but the Emerald One caught the bronze in his hand.
He broke the shield of Theseus.
He cast his sword into the dust.
Then with a single blow
he laid the hero upon the earth.
Bloodied, Theseus raised his face
toward the distant wine-dark sea
and cried aloud:
"Father!
Poseidon, hear your son!"
Maksimos heard his cry
and laughed.
He seized Theseus in his mighty hands
and lifted him high beneath the heavens.
"Then let me help you,
so that your father may hear."
Thus spoke Maksimos Smaragdios.
Then he cast him.
Over the fields of men,
over hill and stony ridge,
over temple, grove, and sacred road,
the son of Poseidon flew.
Far from the land he fell,
down from the bright heavens
into the wine-dark sea.
The waves rose around him,
and the Earth-Shaker received his son.
Poseidon did not save Theseus from Maksimos.
For the Emerald God had sent the son
back to his father.
.
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Next.
You can read up to chapter 113 here.
p.a.t.r.eon.com/Illusiveone (check the chapter summary i have it there as well)