I woke to the soft chime of a system notification, thrumming gently in the space above my domain.
[System Notification]
[Expansion Notice: New World Integration – EARTH]
› Magical Saturation Level: 3%
› Estimated Convergence: 4 Days
I blinked up at the sky I had installed—warm, gold-tinged, ever-shifting—and let the words settle.
"…Earth?"
The orb that floated beside me pulsed to life.
"New world detected. Dimensional barrier weakening. Integration into the Celestial Assembly Grounds imminent."
"I've never heard of it," I muttered, standing. Grass swayed beneath my feet, brushing against my ankles. "Is it supposed to mean something?"
"No relevant data located in your memory signature," the orb replied. "World of origin: unknown. Classification: developing. Magical saturation suggests approaching inflection point."
I narrowed my eyes. "So it's… changing?"
"Yes. And soon, it will be visible to the Assembly."
Which meant the pantheon-casino outside my domain was going to get noisy.
The Celestial Assembly Grounds hadn't changed.
Still chaotic. Still godlike. Still absurd.
I stepped through the threshold of my domain and into the swirling city of Constellations. Floating palaces gleamed in the mid-light. Spiral towers leaned against probability. A pair of titanic birds composed entirely of prophecy screamed at each other over a game of divine chess.
I drifted toward one of the Assembly's many plazas—a wide expanse lined with floating screens, betting rings, and Constellations who had already claimed their thrones or regretted never doing so. The moment I got close, I could feel it. A shift. New energy. New attention.
Dozens of gazes were locked on a projection—a swirling globe of blue and green, still wrapped in fog.
Earth.
A title shimmered faintly above it:
[NEW EXPANSION – EARTH]
Integration Phase: Magical Awakening
Projected Divergence Events: Unknown
The noise spiked.
"Another low-tier mortal world?" someone scoffed.
"Might be more fun than the last one."
"Too clean. Bet you five thousand credits it goes apocalyptic in a month."
I watched silently. The orb beside me dimmed, as if giving me space.
Then—like a glitch in the crowd—something cracked.
A line of golden light split the air open, jagged and sudden. A figure dropped from it, landing hard on the marble floor of the plaza.
Tall. Muscular. Robed in a toga that shimmered with stormlight. His beard curled like it had been sculpted by vanity itself.
He rose slowly, flexing, and looked around with unconcealed disdain.
"…What is this place?" he demanded.
A dozen Constellations paused mid-bet. A woman made of ink raised one brow. A centaur demigod snorted.
"Another new one," someone muttered.
The newcomer turned sharply, fixing a bored-looking Constellation with a golden gaze.
"You. Mortal. You will explain this to me."
The Constellation—a gray bearded swordsman whose eyes flickered like broken stars—blinked once.
Then punched him in the face.
The newcomer flew back into a cart of glowing dice, scattered across the plaza like falling suns.
Silence.
The newcomer staggered upright, robes scorched where divine dice had exploded around him.
"You hit me?" he growled, eyes crackling with lightning.
The swordsman didn't blink.
"I am Zeus, King of Olympus!" the man thundered, spreading his arms wide. Lightning licked the edges of his shoulders. "I command the skies and the storms. Kneel before your god."
Zeus pointed a glowing hand at the swordsman. "You dare strike a deity? I could end you with a thought—"
He didn't finish the sentence.
The swordsman was already there—no flash, no teleport, just sudden movement too fast to follow. A blur of steel, a twist of presence.
CRACK.
Zeus hit the floor again. Harder this time.
A crater bloomed beneath him, spiderwebbing out across the marble. A handful of shimmering chips floated gently through the air where his head had bounced off a divine betting altar.
The swordsman dusted off his gloves, expression flat.
"I've ended storms sharper than you," he muttered. "Pick a new title."
Around them, the plaza had gone quiet—then burst into roars of laughter, applause, and a few not-so-quiet bets.
Even the orb beside me chimed once—its version of a snicker, maybe.
Zeus groaned from the crater, dazed.
Another rift opened nearby.
Another confused god tumbled out.
Then another.
And another.
One by one, they arrived—draped in cloth, spilling out from golden tears in space.
A pale figure in seafoam green stepped through next—his hair flowing like ocean currents, trident forming in his grip with instinct more than thought. He blinked once, gaze sweeping the Assembly with the cold calm of crashing waves.
Behind him came a tall, dark-robed man, eyes like smoldering embers buried deep beneath the earth. His steps were slow, deliberate, already calculating.
Then came the last.
The rift peeled open cleanly, folding around her like it didn't dare touch. A woman stepped into the Assembly with her chin high, shoulders squared beneath a mantle of crimson and gold. Her hair shimmered like a storm held in a bun too dignified to unravel. Her eyes found the crater before anything else.
She sighed. Quiet. Controlled. But with weight.
"Zeus," she said sharply.
Zeus groaned from the crater again, trying to sit up. His beard was frizzed. His pride bleeding.
"I'm fine," he wheezed.
"You're not," She replied, sweeping past a snickering titan with barely a glance. She knelt and took his arm with queenly grace. "You came in blind and loud, and now everyone's seen your spine."
"I will end that—mortal—" Zeus spat, pointing at the swordsman again.
The swordsman had already gone back to sipping tea someone handed him.
She didn't even look in the swordsman's direction.
"You will not," she said. "Not here. Not now. We don't know the rules yet."
The figure in seafoam green approached silently, gaze flicking over the crater.
"…What happened?"
"Zeus spoke before thinking," the dark-robed man replied flatly, arriving at his side. "Some things do follow him between worlds."
Zeus stumbled upright with Hera's help. His face was dark with fury.
"I am Zeus, King of Olympus! They dare lay hands on me—!"
Her hand clamped onto his shoulder.
"And we will address that," she said through gritted teeth. "Later. When we know where we are, and what this place is."
I looked toward the orb.
"…Is this normal for a new expansion?"
The orb pulsed.
"Unclear. Earth's legends appear to be manifesting with a full ego."
"Great,"
Zeus—scowling, smoking, and sparking like a tantrum in human form—was already pointing fingers and shouting threats.
"Mark my words!" he roared. "I will return! This insult will not be forgotten! My name will thunder across this—this place—and you will all kneel! Especially you, swordman!"
Hera pulled Zeus toward a quieter part of the plaza. The rest of the pantheon began grouping together, murmuring among themselves in confusion, slowly realizing that no one here knew them.
Not as gods. Not as rulers. Not as anything.
To the rest of the Celestials, they were just new.