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A tense silence filled the lunar church. The air still hummed with residual energy from the recent confrontation. Zeus reappeared in his throne, his form snapping back into existence with a low crackle of dissipating lightning. His face was a dark storm cloud, jaw clenched tight, but the arrogant bluster was gone, replaced by a simmering, wary respect. The other gods watched Nicholas now with new eyes.
His casual trip to the Kuiper Belt and the subsequent destruction of Pluto had been a brutal and effective demonstration. He was not a mere upstart; he was a genuine peer, and a dangerously powerful one.
The mood in the room had shifted palpably. Postures were still rigid, but the outright hostility had been replaced by a cold, calculating formality. They were no longer gods dealing with an insect, but rival sovereigns negotiating a fragile treaty.
Nicholas broke the renewed quiet, his voice calm and measured. "Now that we've cleared the air," he began, adjusting his golden monocle, "I have a question. Why are our colleagues from the East not present? I would have expected representatives from the Heavenly Court, or perhaps the Shinto pantheon."
Odin, who had resumed his own throne, answered in his gravelly rumble. "We have an ancient agreement with those... reserved powers. They handle the East. We handle the West. Our domains do not overlap. Our conflicts do not intersect. It is a simple, clean arrangement that has prevented greater wars."
A flicker of interest crossed Nicholas's mind. Reserved was a diplomatic word. Odin's tone suggested something else, dismissal, perhaps even contempt, mixed with a healthy dose of caution. He filed the information away for later investigation. The internal politics of the older pantheons were a web he had yet to untangle.
"Very well," Nicholas said, moving the discussion forward. "Let us define our own 'clean arrangement.' I propose the following terms. I will maintain sovereignty over my current territories, my divine realm and the mortal lands where my faith has taken root. In return, I will formally agree to cease direct, overt intervention in mortal affairs. I will operate through intermediaries, through demigods and chosen agents, just as you do. It is a sensible rule, and I will abide by it."
He paused, letting the first point settle. There were slow, grudging nods from around the room. It was a reasonable concession, mirroring their own Ancient Laws.
"However," Nicholas continued, his tone firming, "this brings us to America. I will be taking it."
Zeus's head snapped up, his eyes flashing with renewed anger. "Absolutely not!" he boomed, his voice causing the crystal glasses on a phantom side table to tremble. "That is utterly unacceptable! It is our territory, the heart of our modern influence!"
"Is it?" Nicholas asked, his voice dangerously soft. "Is it really your territory, or merely the place you wish to park your thrones? America is my backyard. I was born there. I built a life there. I ascended to power there. My followers number in the millions within its borders. My Order holds key positions throughout its government. You may have historical claim, but I have tangible, present-tense control. To demand I abandon it is not a negotiation; it is a fantasy."
The air grew thick again. Thor's grip tightened on Mjolnir. Athena watched Nicholas with an unreadable, intense expression.
"Then we are at an impasse," Zeus stated flatly.
"Not necessarily," Nicholas countered. "I am a reasonable being. I understand the strategic importance of the region. So, I offer a compromise. America becomes neutral ground. It will not be the official territory of any single pantheon. All may operate there, but none may claim dominion over it. My Order will remain, your children may quest there, but the nation itself belongs to no god. It becomes a divine free port, a place of competition, yes, but not a casus belli."
A long, heavy silence followed. Hermes and Aphrodite exchanged a glance. Freya whispered something in Odin's ear. The idea was unorthodox, but it was also the only path forward that didn't lead to immediate, catastrophic war. It acknowledged Nicholas's undeniable influence without formally ceding the entire continent to him.
"Begrudgingly," Odin finally spoke, his single eye fixed on Nicholas, "we accept this term. America shall be neutral ground."
A subtle wave of relief passed through the room. The first major hurdle was cleared.
"Excellent," Nicholas said, a faint smile touching his lips. "Now, for a point of mutual interest. Mortals are advancing. Their technology, specifically their nuclear arsenals, has reached a threshold. They now possess the capability to end their own civilization, and in doing so, severely damage our primary source of faith. Rebuilding humanity from a radioactive cinder would be... tedious work for all of us."
He had their full attention now. This was a fear they all shared, a modern problem their ancient minds were still grappling with.
"I propose collaborative working," Nicholas declared. "Let us use our combined authority to place a safeguard upon this weapon. Let us weave a clause into Fate itself. Henceforth, any attempt to deploy a nuclear bomb against a human population will be met with a guaranteed, absolute coincidence. A faulty wire, a last-second countermand, a sudden mechanical failure ensuring that the trigger will never be pulled. The missile will never launch. We should make its offensive use impossible."
It was a monumental suggestion, a direct and cooperative manipulation of the mortal realm on a global scale. But the alternative was unthinkable. Zeus gave a slow, grave nod. Odin assented with a grunt. One by one, the other gods agreed.
Without another word, they acted. Nicholas rose from his throne, and the other gods followed. They joined hands in the center of the lunar church, a circle of immense, clashing powers. Zeus's lightning, Odin's wisdom, Athena's strategy, Thor's thunder, Freya's magic, Aphrodite's desire, Hermes's speed, and Nicholas's own dominion over Fate and Magic all merged into a single, focused intent.
They channeled their will not at a person or a place, but at the concept of the weapon itself, at the probability of its use. A brilliant, multifaceted light erupted from their circle, then shot downward, through the moon, and into the fabric of Earth's destiny. It was done. A new, unbreakable rule was written into the cosmos: the nuclear bomb would never again be a tool of war.
The circle broke. The formal business was concluded. With terse nods and final, wary looks, the old gods began to depart, their forms dissolving into light. Soon, only Nicholas and his attendants remained.
Then, a soft glow lingered by the doorway. Athena had stayed behind. Her divine form was still, her grey eyes holding a complex mix of emotions, pride, anger, resentment, and a flicker of something that might have been maternal concern.
She did not speak aloud. Instead, she sent a single, psychic thread to Nicholas, a private message for his mind alone. We must speak. Soon. There are things you do not understand about the balance you have just shattered.
She held his gaze for a long moment, her expression unreadable once more, and then she too vanished, leaving Nicholas alone in the silent, artificial church, a new and different kind of challenge now laid before him.
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