---New Hope, Scouting Vessel Beetle---
“Johanson! Stop tinkering on that thing already and co up. You won't receive anything anyway, nobody is broadcasting anymore,” the voice ca from the upper deck, prompting the man in question to look up from soldering a circuit board.
The room surrounding him was filled with wire, spare parts, and old technology like radios, mobile phones, and portable TVs. So showed signs of repair and retrofitting with skills and magic. He had always been fascinated with technology and the young lady had given him the chance to expand in this field. Even though all of these devices had stayed dead so far...
“Who is to say there is nobody out there? Didn't the people from New Hope say that the central districts managed to survive relatively well? Maybe-”
“Stop you dreaming and co back up to man the radar. We have to stay vigilant in case another undead army attacks us,” the voice of the captain interrupted him sternly. Johanson sighed. The captain was not much older than him, but he was a very serious man.
He couldn't bla him. Their task was quite important. The Beetle was a small, quick vessel tasked with scouting and mapping the surroundings of their current base, New Hope. Expanding the reaches of their knowledge, they would also be the first ones to find and report threats back to the leadership.
Johanson stood up and left the room and ascended the stairs when-
“- is welco to participate in any of these categories. Again, no matter where you originate from, you are free to participate and prove your skills to the world,” a voice blasted from the room at full volu. One of the TVs actually received a signal.
“Captain!”
…
Two hours later the crew was brooding over the transcript of the broadcast Johanson had managed to receive. They were lucky as it was a repeating signal, playing the ssage over and over again. However, the contents had them puzzled.
Overall, it was the announcent of a grand event that invited anyone, no matter their race or origin, to a contest of arts and power in a place called Little Gamma. The problem was not understanding the purpose of the ssage, but the details they couldn't know.
What was Minas Mar? Where was Little Gamma? What was the purpose of holding gas in honor of Python? Who was Python? Why were they wasting their ti on such a quirky event when the world was going to shit? However, one thing was clear.
“There are many questions, but we have to report this to the young lady. To promise a legendary weapon as a prize, when we are barely able to craft epic ones, should be a huge deal,” the captain mumbled seriously.
“Don't forget that this is the first proof of other districts still thriving. The date the broadcast nas is in 2 months, system ti. The ssage can't be old,” another ntioned.
“And don't forget who we owe this to,” Johanson said proudly, having proven that his tinkering was far from as useless as they had always pretended it to be. Captain sighed.
“Yeah, Johanson. For the fifth ti, good work...”
….
---Arandith--
“Haha, Grandfather! You promised I could go!” Polter cheered, watching the broadcast of Minas Mar. Previously, the news had only co through various channels, but it seed that Minas Mar had not held back on the marketing this ti.
The broadcast showing Seth announcing the Pythian Gas was running on major channels across Chrona and reached even the furthest edges of the multi-dinsional empire. The blacksmith finally not just announced the date but also the specific structure of the Tournant. For example, it was split into Martial and Artistic contests.
The forr were shows of strength, like the fighting tournant, weaponless fighting, racing, obstacle racing, and magic contests. The latter were contests of artistic skill, such as singing, dance, painting, poetry, and music.
Except for a minimum skill and maximum level to participate, anyone was free to enter the Pythian Gas. Seth made it clear, that everyone was welco. Of course, all of the speech peaked in the blacksmith once again confirming that the grand prize of the main event, the fighting tournant, was a custom legendary weapon made with the winner's specifications.
“Yeah, Yeah, but are you serious about entering the tournant? He said anyone can enter. If it's about a legendary weapon, I'm sure a lot of big shots will fill the ranks. I don't want to put you down, but I don't think you have a chance of winning,” the old dwarf said realistically.
“Still, I can also just go to watch. Don't you think it's interesting that they also allocated disciplines for artists?” Polter countered. He had been working his ass off for the past weeks for the chance to go. He wouldn't be deterred, just because his chances to win were slim.
“Hohoho, you are right. I think I will co along to see that. Although the prizes for the artist are more about honor, I'm sure there will be so great nas,” the old dwarf said, looking forward to the art from other parts of the Patchworks. They had gotten a small taste of it during their visit of Chrona, the old man had a hard ti believing that these attention whores would let go of a chance for publicity.
…
--- Cinema Dinsion---
“Now things really start getting into motion,” Seth, the god of chaos announced when they watched Seth giving the press conference and recording the broadcast. He already enjoyed Seth taking a more active stance, especially the short trip to Kozdam.
“Hmm, I'm actually a little worried about Mike's situation,” Maahes admitted. He had no other believers in technologically highly developed worlds. The thought of a soulless creature made of tal, being able to infect and corrupt a host was in a sense even more unsettling than the soul-shattering virus.
“It is quite concerning and a little intriguing,” Hephaestus, the grandfather of technology agreed, although not as disturbed as Maahes by this developnt. It was more that he was bothered that they knew so little about that situation.
“I'm more interested in whether these cultivators will join the tournant, “ Apollo said with a twinkle in his eyes. The contests of artistic skill were right up his alley and they knew from Mountain's tales, that cultivators also put so weight and skill into the fine arts.
“I'm sure if they join the combat it will beco even more interesting,” Seth agreed, rubbing his hands in anticipation, at which Apollo could only roll his eyes.
anwhile, Hers snuck up on the vacated seat beside the Dungeon God. The System God had left a while ago and had not returned until now.
“Hey, Dungeon God, I would like to ask you sothing,” he approached him with a cheeky smile.
“...What is it?” the brown robe answered after a mont of silence. He didn't really want to deal with Hers.
“You could have allowed that golem to beco the dungeon master, right?”, the trickster god asked him in a whisper.
“Sure.”
The great god didn't even attempt to deny it. He could have easily bent the rules a little, or spontaneously given the golem a blessing to beco the dungeon master. But he didn't.
“And Viggu? He would have been able to beco a dungeon master, right?” “Yep.”
Again, he easily admitted that he had deliberately not allowed it.
“ Aren't you interested in seeing what the little blacksmith would do with the possibilities of a dungeon?”
“I am.”
“Then whyyya?” Hers whined.
“Gods move in mysterious ways. Also, I still have a bet with System.”
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