It felt good to return ho.
Months passed in the blink of an eye to immortal gods, but his ti spent on Elphion had seed so much longer to Wepwawet. The sight of his father’s pyramid had never seed so comforting before, especially since his avatar had grown stable enough to leave the classroom and return to the Egyptian Pantheon’s district in Nexus City.
His ho was already relatively crowded by the ti he, Ganesha, and Artemis arrived. A host of mummy servants served ambrosia, amrita, and immortality peach and apple juices to the elites of the Storm Gods Alliance while Set and Astarte greeted their guests at the door.
Shiva the Destroyer showed up in his stormy, three-headed Rudra aspect with his beautiful wife Parvati; Ganesha had inherited his four arms and bluish skin, though the Lord of Yogis was as fearso as his son was affable. His closed third eye could destroy worlds, and his dress of fire burned with the fires of his unending wrath.
Lord Zeus arrived soon after in the form of a mighty patriarch with bustling muscles capable of splitting planets, a well-grood beard that survived tempests and typhoons, a toga crafted by the heavens’ best tailors, and a pair of fashionable sunglasses. He brought a Loa goddess whom Wepwawet didn’t recognize as his date for the evening and exchanged passionate kisses with her in between bellowing laughs. Artemis told Wepwawet that he and Lady Hera had divorced again for the ninety-eighth ti, though she doubted it would last more than two weeks.
“How do you keep track of them?” Ganesha asked Artemis.
“I use a gift card system for events,” the goddess replied proudly. “If it’s a divorce, I write ‘my condolences’; and if it’s a wedding, I write ‘my congratulations.’”
Wepwawet himself felt intimidated in the presence of so many high-profile gods under his roof. He spotted Susanoo, one of the three lords of the Shinto Pantheon, Lord Viracocha, and even King Perun of the Slavic Pantheon. Allfather Odin himself had shown up today with his redheaded son and legbreaker Thor. The King of the Nordic Pantheon looked far frailer and unassuming than most deities and favored rustic clothes over more impressive ones, but he remained spry and wise. The rune-carved leather eyepatch covering his right eye added to his subtle fearsoness, with his remaining eye as grey as his beard and receding hairline. Many lesser deities flocked to kiss his ring and ask for favors from the Nordic Pantheon’s Don of Dons.
“Hel won’t be coming?” Wepwawet whispered to his friends. “I figured the Allfather would bring her with him…”
“I’ve texted Idunn about it, and she told the Allfather doesn’t trust Hel with information since it might find its way to her dad,” Ganesha explained. “You can always trust Loki to be untrustworthy.”
While the Nexus gods and the Titanomachy ford the heavens’ two major factions, there existed a large unaligned movent of gods who simply couldn’t care less about mortals or weren’t trusted by the main sides. Loki belonged to that latter category. Although he had happily backstabbed all Pantheons at one point or another, he always managed to provide just enough useful information not to be entirely expelled from the Nordic Pantheon.
That’s… odd, Wepwawet thought upon seeing the sheer number of guests present. He had expected a small committee for the cram school session, yet it seed his father had invited the entire Storm Gods Alliance today. I’m missing sothing.
“My son!” Set called out to him from across the room. He and Astarte had been talking with Shiva, Zeus, and Allfather Odin. “Co here! Your comrades too!”
Wepwawet exchanged a glance with his classmates and walked up to his father’s crowd. All four gods had been friends during their Mytholo High days, the sa as Wepwawet’s own friend group; and though he had seen them visit his dad’s pyramid now and then, having them all in the sa room reminded him of his junior standing among the heavens.
No sooner did Wepwawet approach that Set grabbed him by the shoulder with one strong hand and raised a cup of ambrosia to his audience with the other. “Dear thunderlords and tempest ladies, today let us raise a toast to those three young gods who have bravely volunteered to lead the charge against their first world’s Titan Incursion! A round of applause!”
Wepwawet forced himself to smile as an assembly of gods welcod him with shouts and claps, none louder than that of his stepmother. The more outgoing Ganesha waved his hand at the crowd and Artemis raised her thumbs up in excitent.
However, his father didn’t stop there. “And let us raise a double toast to my trueborn son, who managed the exploit of crushing his treacherous, nephew-killing aunt Isis with a beginner’s deck!”
Ooooh, of course that’s what all this is about. Wepwawet wanted nothing more than to shrink in place as Set’s boast invited laughter from the audience. Mother did say he would beco unbearable once he learned of that…
Set leaned on to whisper in Wepwawet’s ear. “Tell , my son, did my sister cry when you beat her?”
“I…” Wepwawet winced. “I’m not sure… she did scream though…”
“I knew it! I knew it!” Set grinned in triumph before gulping down his cup. “That treacherous whore couldn’t handle half of my divine genes!”
“Language, dear,” Astarte said with a note of amusent in her voice. “Though it is an achievent worth celebrating. Perhaps your son should enjoy his first taste of ambrosia, now that he has co of age?”
“No way!” Set protested. “I’ll need him fresh and sober for his first Titan Incursion!”
“Oh co on, Seti!” Zeus said with his trademark warm laughter. “We were their age when we had our first hangover!”
“A wise man does not drink before battle, Zeus,” Lord Shiva said calmly. “I have too many examples of why in mind.”
“I, I wouldn’t mind trying out amrita, Dad,” Ganesha said. “Just… after the Incursion?”
“Your child is wise, Shiva,” Set said before giving Wepwawet a pat on the back. “Don’t worry my son, I’ll get drunk enough for the both of us!”
“Uh… thank you, Dad?” Wepwawet was a bit curious about drinking godly alcohol for the first ti, but not enough to skip training before his big day. “So, when will the lessons start?”
“That’s my son, already locking in before the fight has even begun!” Set waved at soone in the crowd. “Tāwhiri! Co over here!”
Tāwhirimātea—whose na was so difficult to pronounce so most shortened it to Tāwhiri—was a Maori god of storms with dark skin streaked with lightning marks for veins and a long mane of clouds for hair. He cut an impressive figure, though he lacked the renown of the Alliance’s more powerful mbers.
“Our three winners’ first opponent is so chump called Whiro,” Set told him. “He’s one of your pantheon’s archfoes, isn’t he?”
The Maori god of storms nodded gravely. “I dueled him a few tis, though less than my pantheon’s fire gods. He draws his strength from corpses so they immolate them in the worlds he threatens, which he takes personally.”
“Ugh, another undead player?” Artemis complained. “I hate those, their creatures are no fun killing!”
“Whiro played an undead deck when I fought him,” Tāwhiri confird. “His Providence lets him draw mana from every death taking place within his Influence, so raising zombies from his victims and then siccing them on the living lets him snowball fast. Whiro is midlist, but he knows how to lock in.”
“He’s a locker?” Astarte asked with a hand on her mouth. “Oh my… those are my worst matchup.”
“A locker?” Ganesha repeated, being unfamiliar with the term.
“They’re players who are all business on the board,” Wepwawet replied upon rembering his father’s lessons.
“Indeed, my son.” Set nodded in appreciation. “They’re among the most dangerous enemies one can fight, since they have no psychological weaknesses to exploit and don’t let themselves be distracted. Don’t bother with mind gas when fighting a locker, since they’ll usually fall flat.”
“Whiro is a straightforward beatdown player,” Tāwhiri added. “His strategy was very simple when I last fought him a few centuries back: wipe the board to build up mana with his Providence, summon beatsticks, and steamroll whatever’s left.”
“So the best way to deal with him would be to prevent him from gathering steam with his Providence, so he never gets the mana ball rolling,” Wepwawet guessed. He could think of a strategy or two to implent once Pele returned with more recent intel from the rest of her pantheon.
“That’s my son, imdiately thinking of a strategy,” Set rejoiced. “I’ve arranged for you to receive direct one-on-one guidance from our top mbers in the back. Since I’ve already taught you myself, I figured you would benefit more from outside expertise.”
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“I would be happy to provide counsel to your son,” Lord Shiva said solemnly. “I find myself in a ditative mood now that the recent System Apocalypse debacle is behind us.”
“You speak of that ‘Dis’ cataclysm that struck an alternate tutorial Earth?” Zeus chuckled. “I’ve heard one of Vishnu’s avatars got his ass kicked by one of my echoes. Was that true?”
“This was no joking matter, Zeus,” Lord Odin said. “We were lucky that this version of Earth’s mortals put an end to the System virus before the damage could spread to too many worlds.”
“A System virus?” Wepwawet choked. He heard tales that so creatures had evolved to parasite godly Systems only for the Overgods to wipe them out. “I thought they were extinct!”
“We suspect the Titanomachy supported that particular plot, or at least did their best to distract us,” Lord Shiva replied with his four arms crossed. “No matter. This is an Overgod concern, and you will have your own battle to wage.”
The heavens followed a very clear and strict divine hierarchy. At the very bottom were local, indigenous ‘deities’—although spirits might have been a more appropriate moniker—stuck to a given world and completely unaware of both the Nexus and the greater multiverse beyond their ho. So often ascended to the Nexus under very rare circumstances—that was how Sun Wukong started out, having risen up the ranks from mortal to local god and finally ascending to the Nexus—but most remained bound to their universe and never learned of the greater forces at work across the cosmos. They served their universe’s System rather than command it.
Above them lood the true Nexus gods like Wepwawet himself, who could exist independently from a given world and whose power often affected multiple universes at once. At the top of the pyramid were Overgods, who had the power to create new worlds and weave entire Systems into existence. Grandpa Ra stood among their numbers alongside the Hindu Trimurti, Lady Arcane, and that ssy dragon-fomor duo no one liked to hang out with…
Since these true deities weren’t so much individuals as beings of Influence stretching across multiple universes, indigenous worlds often developed ‘echoes’ of a greater entity. These emanations were so distantly connected to their parent entity that the true gods were unaware of their actions, though they mimicked part of their personalities. So lazier Overgods even copy-pasted entire pantheons on their newborn worlds to fill out the ranks of local deities, which often led to giving their inspirations a bad na.
“I don’t understand why so many of my godly echoes are lightning-shooting dicks,” Lord Zeus complained. “Why do they always forget that I’m a god of justice?”
Artemis squinted at her father. “You were a lightning-shooting dick, Dad.”
“It was a phase which I grew out of eons ago!” Her father protested. “Geez, can’t a man wise up in his old age?”
“You should see so of my echoes, or those of young Hel,” Allfather Odin mused. “Anyway, these young minds didn’t co to hear us old fools banter about the past, but to receive our wisdom.”
“Now we’re talking!” Lord Zeus all but grabbed Wepwawet in a heavy, uncle-like embrace. “Mind if we borrow your son, Seti?”
“So long as you don’t Ganyde him!” Set quipped with a laugh echoed by his divine posse. Wepwawet forced himself to smile while Artemis sent him a glance of sympathy.
And so, the Storm Gods Alliance’s most elite mbers split the group of students between themselves. Set and his wife took Ganesha under his wing, Lord Shiva agreed to review Artemis’ deck with her, while Wepwawet now found himself seated on a sofa with two Overgods.
“It’s a–it’s an honor to receive your direct guidance, Lord Zeus, Allfather Odin,” Wepwawet said as he did his best to hide his unease. These two were not only the leaders of their respective Pantheons, but among the highest-ranked B&C players in the entire Nexus.
“Co on, kiddo, don’t be so formal with us!” Lord Zeus raised his cup for a mummy servant to refill. “I was there when your mother first changed your diapers!”
“Look how big you’ve grown since, young god,” Allfather Odin complinted him. He lit up a pipe and let out a cloud of multicolored smoke when he exhaled. “Would you mind showing us your deck for review?”
Wepwawet anxiously opened his System interface and shared the contents with the two Overgods. He expected them to criticize his cards, but Lord Zeus simply nodded to himself.
“Looks pretty good for a few months’ ti,” Lord Zeus comnted. “You don’t have enough card synergy for a dedicated strategy yet, but your Miracles are versatile enough to cover your bases.”
“Really?” Wepwawet asked, taken aback by the Overgod’s input. “But I haven’t replaced all the beginner cards yet.”
“It’s not unusual,” Allfather Odin replied. “The First Incursion always strikes before students can iron out their decks' consistency by design, to force young gods to exploit limited resources to the fullest. This ensures they won’t waste the good stuff they accumulate later and force them to cooperate rather than play glory hounds. Gods and mortals only play ball when they feel truly threatened.”
“Exactly!” Lord Zeus grinned ear to ear. “We all love the spotlight, but we must all learn to share the stage in a pinch!”
“What about Sacred Food then?” Wepwawet inquired. “Should I trade it away for a combat Miracle?”
“Are you kidding?” Lord Zeus choked. “You should always keep a food-production Miracle in your deck at all tis!”
Allfather Odin nodded in assent. “So Incursions can last a very long ti if you fight stall or lockdown-focused Titans, so you need a way to keep your soldiers replenished. My battle with Ymir took three years to complete.”
“Three years?!” Wepwawet had never been in a battle that lasted more than a few hours. “How is… how is that possible?!”
“My daughter taught you that a potential victory condition is to claim the most Altars before a countdown runs out, right?” Lord Zeus sipped from his cup. “Well, kiddo, it’s the Titan that chooses its duration.”
“The countdown has a minimum ti limit of sixty mortal minutes, but no maximum length,” Lord Odin explained. “Thus Ymir cunningly set it to three years. His strategy was to starve out my Champions with an Endless Winter Animism and then summon giants to claim the most Altars in the last stretch of the ga. I had to constantly recycle my Valhalla Banquet with a Doctrine to keep my warriors alive through it all.”
Wepwawet couldn’t believe that such a play was legal, nor that he never considered it. His father’s warning that the Titans would always play dirty rang true. He didn’t have the impression Whiro would use that kind of tactic—beatdown players usually went for a sweeping victory rather than play the long ga—but future opponents might.
“Now that I think of it, you lack a good recursion option in your deck besides Mummy’s Call, kiddo,” Lord Zeus said upon checking Wepwawet’s Miracles. “You need sothing that will let you recover used cards from the discard pile. I suggest finding one through trade before the Incursion starts.”
Wepwawet nodded obediently. He would interrogate Ganesha, Artemis, and Pele to see if any of them had such a card; the issue was providing a Miracle worth the trade. “What card would be the best to trade in return?” he inquired. “A Revelation or an Artifact? They’re not too useful in an Incursion.”
A glitter of mischief passed in Lord Odin’s eye. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, young god.” He leaned on towards Wepwawet as if to conspire with him. “My deck is almost entirely Revelations and Artifacts, with very few Rituals and Doctrines here and there.”
“What?” Wepwawet stared at the Allfather in disbelief. “No way, you’re kidding?!”
“Look at his face, Odin!” Lord Zeus said with a bellowing laugh. “Your Champions are the real winners in B&C battles, kiddo! If Miracles decided everything, then Titans would win all the ti with their crazy Incursion advantages!”
Allfather Odin nodded. “Miracles are important, especially in the early days before you can perfect your army, but it is the quality of your Champions that decides the mid to late ga. My valkyries have been the best legbreakers a god could ask for.”
“I’m so proud of my own Champions,” Lord Zeus said wistfully. “I shed a tear when my boy Hercules joined us upstairs.”
“All in all, when given the choice between strengthening them or yourself, always pick the forr,” Allfather Odin advised Wepwawet. “Building a strong and respected civilization is a marathon, not a race.”
“Which brings us to an important question.” Lord Zeus set his drink aside and stared into Wepwawet’s eyes with a serious expression. “How many demigods can you field, kiddo?”
“Demigods?” The question took Wepwawet aback. He knew a few gods fooled around with mortals—having warned Victoire he wasn’t that kind of deity—but the thought never crossed his mind. “Uh, none? Why?”
“Have you ever heard about the Demigod Swarm strategy?” Lord Zeus asked, which led to Wepwawet shaking his head in response. “Ah! I figured my dear ace of a daughter wouldn’t teach you this tactic. It’s a mid to long ga-focused strategy with a few drawbacks, but I swear to you, it’s the most effective thod to build up your civilization over ti.”
“It is not,” Allfather Odin disagreed. “Building up a warrior culture matters more than a given individual… though I’ll concede that having a few demigods running around never hurts.”
“Do you have female Champions?” Lord Zeus inquired.
“Uh… yes, I do,” Wepwawet replied warily. Sothing about the question bothered him.
“You’ve got to breed with them.”
A short silence followed, broken by the sound of Wepwawet’s gulp. “Lord Zeus, I do not understand…”
“Demigods are statistically superior to normal mortals in every way, and so are their children,” Lord Zeus explained. “Plus your mortals will feel appreciated if you fuck them now and then without that immaculate conception crap. If you care about your Champions, you’ll breed them. You’ll breed them all.”
“Oh my gods…” Wepwawet muttered in horror.
“But don’t overdo it. You should only fertilize one hundred to one hundred and twenty female followers a year max, else genealogical trees will start to look like perfect circles a few decades down the line and you’ll alienate your male Champions.”
“Oh my gods!”
“And before you accuse of misogyny, I tried it the other way around. I spent a full civilization run playing a female avatar, but my best output was four and a half kids on average each year!”
“Oh my gods!”
“No, kiddo.” Lord Zeus grinned ear to ear. “If you do your job right, she’ll say ‘oh my god!’”
Wepwawet stared into the distance with a static noise resonating in his head as his mind struggled to process the Overgod’s words.
“Don’t listen to him,” Allfather Odin said. “A few demigods are fine, but having too many family branches on a single turf always leads to a family war.”
“I only had one with the Trojan War!” Zeus complained. “One!”
“And how many of your kids turned bad because their daddy couldn’t pay attention?” Allfather Odin replied with a snort. “Demigods are a quality investnt, not a quantity one.”
“But it’ll help the boy practice for the day he and my daughter finally tie the knot!”
“W-What?” That brought Wepwawet out of his torpor. “Sir, I’ve never… never treated your daughter that way–”
“Co on, kiddo, don’t be so shy and make a move already!” Lord Zeus ‘reassured’ him upon grabbing his drink again. “If anybody can nail my little Arty, it’ll be you. Can’t wait for you to call daddy-two.”
“Now, now, Zeus, let’s not be hasty,” Allfather Odin said. “Now that his father’s sche to put him on the throne is likely to succeed, I have a few granddaughters and nieces to present to him.”
Wepwawet froze in place. “My father’s sche?”
Allfather Odin raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell you haven’t figured it out yet?”
“Figured out what?” Wepwawet asked, suddenly uneasy. He can’t imply…
Lord Zeus sipped his drink. “Your dad doesn’t look like it, kiddo, but he’s one hell of a cunning bastard when his temper doesn’t get in his way.”
“Your aunt Isis tried to take you out because she had heard your father would send assassins after her son,” Allfather Odin said with a smirk as he looked over his shoulder and stared at another table, where Set helped Ganesha review his deck. “Who do you think spread those rumors in the first place?”
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