All of it existed because of me. The one who had written their myths, carved their laws, dictated their existence from beyond the veil of reality. It was me. Im the reason they even exist.
I stared at Zeus, his divine form kneeling before me, his g*dly mind struggling to comprehend what I was.
I inhaled deeply. Then, crossing my arms, I tilted my head.
"So."
I scoffed.
"Still thinking about smiting me, old man?"
Zeus, the All Father, visibly flinched. The other g*ds remained silent, their auras flickering with uncertainty.
"...No,"
Zeus admitted.
"That would be... unwise given you're Identity."
"Damn right it would be."
I cursed.
Then, cracking my knuckles, I let out a deep breath.
"Alright, listen up, Gramps."
I gestured to the still frozen Pantheon.
"I need my damn Golden Finger. My Cheat. My system. My bloody plot armor."
Zeus asked.
"...And if I refuse?"
I scoffed.
"Then not to mention the fact that I doubt you'll survive the soon to come war that will definetly turn from a simple war of annexation Into a h*ly crusade for the big two gangsters that are surrounding us just like I had written, you're definetly becoming nutrient packs for those l*vecraftian horrors In the fourth dimension that I cooked up In my mind, the very same dimension where youre psionic power comes from and together with peoples faith had given birth to youre existence well at least thats how I explained It In the book"
The g*ds collectively paled. Zeus exhaled deeply.
"...Very well."
...
Pythia of the Pantheon as a woman among the ones with highest standing In the ducatum had witnessed many things in her lifetime. But nothing, nothing could have prepared her for what had just transpired.
One moment, Prince Dracula Von Death the very same Infidel kept ogling her with his eyes each time they encountered each other just like the full of hormones raging eighteen summers old boy he was making her want to smite him with Dzeus divine lightning on the spot.
The most notorious disgrace of the Imperial family, was standing before the marble throne of Zeus, his voice booming with unchecked fury, spitting curses in tongues even she did not recognize.
And before she knew It. He collapsed. Like a puppet with its strings cut. His body crashed onto the cold marble floor, limbs sprawled unnaturally, his breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps.
A collective gasp rang through the temple. The frozen crowd stirred to life once more, their voices a rising tide of whispers, murmurs, and horrified speculation. Whispers of madness and blasphemy of the highest horror.
"By the g*ds, has he gone mad?!"
A noblewoman clutched her sizable chest, her face pale as a corpse.
"Did you hear the way he spoke to the All Father? He has defiled the Pantheon!"
An elderly scholar muttered, clutching a leather bound tome of scripture like a lifeline.
"No one has ever dared, NO ONE EVEN THE IMPERATOR HIMSELF has ever spoken to the g*ds in such a blasphomous manner!"
"The g*ds should have struck him down where he stood!"
"Look, look did he, did he just collapse from d*vine punishment?"
The onlookers recoiled, some making h*ly signs, others backing away as if the prince's madness were contagious.
Pythia felt her own hands tremble. She was no stranger to power, no stranger to witnessing d*vine miracles, but what she had just seen In between like watching through a foggy screen?
It defied everything she knew. The g*ds… had not struck him down. They had listened. And then, they had kneeled.
Zeus himself had kneeled before the prince. Then all the g*ds poured theyre psionic energy Into his body, supercharging him like a battery making him float up.
And then, in an instant, everything returned to normal, except the prince himself.
His body lay motionless, save for the faint rise and fall of his chest, his entire being drenched in sweat, his skin ashen pale, almost lifeless.
A sickening chill crawled up the high priestess spine. What… what exactly had she just witnessed Then out of nowhere heavy clank of military boots shattered the tense silence.
A Contubernium of Praetorians, Cerberus the three headed hellhound, the shadow of the Imperial Throne, the watchdogs of the Emperor himself stormed into the temple, their submachine guns drawn, their disciplined formation exuding pure authority.
"SECURE THE AREA! NOBODY LEAVES!"
Their Tesserarius barked, his spartan cloak billowing as he strode forward, his hand gripping the ornate hilt of a gladius while the other hand held a pistol.
The guards stepped aside immediately. No one dared oppose the Emperor's personal enforcers. The onlookers hushed, a cold wave of fear settling over them.
The priestess watched as the Praetorians closed in on the prince's unconscious form, their commander kneeling beside him, checking his pulse, inspecting his state.
"Is he alive?"
One of the praetorians muttered.
"Yes. Unconscious, but alive."
The commander confirmed. He then stood, his steel gray eyes sweeping the temple, scanning the gathered nobles, commoners and priests.
"Who can explain what happened here?"
His voice was cold, commanding, demanding immediate compliance.
Silence. No one spoke. No one wanted to be the first to speak of what they had seen and heard, the priestess still reeling from shock, opened her mouth, but no words came. How could she possibly explain the unexplainable that only she saw thanks to her deep connection to the g*ds which allowed her to see the untinkable?
The Praetorian Commander let out a sharp exhale, his jaw tightening.
"Fine. We will report directly to the Emperor."
With that, he signaled to his men.
"Take him. We move immediately."
Two praetorians bent down, lifting the prince's unconscious form, his body hanging limply between them, his once immaculate noble robes stained with dust, sweat, and something else, an unnatural pitch ass abyss miasma still faintly emenating from him.
As they carried him toward the exit, the onlookers remained silent, watching with a mix of fear, confusion, and disbelief. Pythia herself felt a strange sense of foreboding settle over her.
This moment… This incident… It was not the end of something. It was the beginning of something far greater. Something that would change the fate of the Ducatum and the world itself.
She turned her gaze toward the marble throne of Zeus, where the g*d himself was sitting. For the first time in centuries, the psionic presence of the g*ds felt as weak as kindle that could be extinguished at any moment. It seemed like that whatever they did to the prince It left them almost powerless.
But what terrified her the most. Was the fact that they had bowed to him, the Ducatums undesputed number one on the Infamous prodigal sons list.
...
MC POV
A dull throbbing pain in my skull. My body felt heavy, as if I had been tossed into a cauldron of molten lead, reshaped, and then spat out onto the cold floor of reality.
My breath was ragged, my limbs aching, my entire being drenchedinsweat.
And then, my eyessnappedopen. The first thing I saw was polished ebonyinteriors, lined with gold trimmedleather, a soft hum of the engine, the faint scent of sandalwood and steel lingering in the air.
The Imperial seal of the House ofDeath the same as the Ducatums emblem was embroidered onto the velvet upholstery beside me.
I was inside a luxurious armored vehicle, one specifically built for members of the Imperial Family.
Sitting directly opposite me were two Praetorians, their cloaks draped over their ceremonial armor, their submachine guns resting against their legs.
Their expressions were unreadable, their eyes locked onto me, assessing me like I was some unhinged wild animal that might attack at any moment.
They were waiting for me to speak. But I barely registered them. Because hovering right in front of me, a translucent crimson Interface exactly the same color as my eyes interface flickered into existence.
[SYSTEM ACTIVATED]
[SYSTEM ONLINE]
I stared at the words floating in my vision, my breath catching in my throat. Then, I laughed. A System That Could Summon... ANYTHING.
My laughter started slow, then grewuncontrollable, echoing through the cabin of the armored vehicle.
The Praetorians exchanged glances, visibly unsettled.
"…The prince has finally lost his f*cking mind, hasn't he?"
One of them muttered.
"What the f*ck happened in that temple?"
The other whispered, gripping his gun. But I wasn't even listening. Because the more I scrolled through the system, the more insane it became.
This wasn't just any system. This was the system of systems, the most borderline broken reality defying system, THE OG OF SYSTEMS.
I clicked through the summoning categories, and my vision was immediately filled with endless blueprints, unit formations, and logistical data.
Manpower? No problem. Blueprints for modern fighter jets? No problem. Modern tanks? Easy. Entire aircraft carriers? Done. Enough weapons and equipment to arm multiple Infantry Legions Child's play.