DC/Fate: Age of Heroes

Time moved with the quiet relentlessness of the tide, unnoticed until the shore had changed. In the blink of an eye, a year had passed since Edward's arrival in this ancient world — a time that had reshaped the very fabric of the lands under the sky.

One year since the fall of Olympus. Since the age-old chains that bound mortals in fear were shattered. Edward, the Slayer of Divine, had not merely waged war against the Pantheon, he had proclaimed something far greater in its place.

A declaration that echoed across islands, city-states, and rugged hills: Humanity was free. And under his protection.

It was not peace that followed immediately. The vacuum left by the gods was a void, and like all voids, it sought to be filled, often by chaos.

Petty bandits, greedy nobles, rogue cults, and power-hungry priests sprang up like weeds, eager to snatch whatever power lay unattended. The veil of divine oversight had been torn, and some thought it meant license to do as they pleased.

But they had not accounted for Edward keeping his promise seriously.

For the better part of a year, he soared above the Aegean on Vimana, the golden vessel streaking like a comet across the blue sky. From Crete to Corinth, Delos to Delphi, Sparta to Mycenae — he came not as a conqueror or a tyrant, but as a silent guardian. A watchful protector.

The ship would appear in the sky without warning, its golden light casting long shadows as it descended. People would pause in their toil and raise their eyes in awe. Some dropped to their knees. Others simply smiled and waved, whispering to one another: "He is watching. We are safe."

His presence alone became a deterrent. Criminals and bandits who once fancied themselves kings would pale at the sound of the wind shifting, fearing the ship's descent.

There were days Edward never even had to raise his weapon. Just the sight of him , of that stern gaze, not of rage but of quiet disappointment , was enough to make men fall to their knees and beg forgiveness.

And many did.

"I was wrong," a young bandit once said to him, tears in his eyes as he surrendered stolen gold. "I thought with the gods gone, I could take what I wanted and be rich and happy. But… you looked at me like I had failed something greater. As if You are disappointed and expected better of me. wish to make it right."

Edward accepted the gold, only to return it to the village from where it had been stolen. "Then begin by feeding the hungry, and helping others." he had said softly. "Let your penance be your kindness."

He never wished to rule them. He never claimed land or crown. Not that he wasn't offered by many cities. But he refused them all. But he sometimes suggested them, showing different knowledge and guiding them for good.

He spoke to them not from a throne, but as one of their own. Just another man , albeit somewhat powerful , doing what he could to help a broken world heal. That casual and calm demeanor, more than his feats or powers, was what won the hearts of the people.

Temples and altars began appearing in towns and along roads. Built not in the grandeur of marble for a deity, but humble stone shrines with fresh bread, jugs of wine, and wildflowers. Offerings not demanded — but given freely, in gratitude. It embarrassed him to no end.

Edward once stood before a crowd in Argos, staring at an altar stacked with silver coins and loaves of bread. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "I told you — I don't need this."

A farmer stepped forward. "We know. But we want to show our thanks."

"And I thank you," Edward replied. "But your offerings won't reach me. Your love and respect does. Keep the bread and wine for your families. Feed your neighbors. And the gold , if you lack money for food and clothes, take from the altar instead, rather than stealing. Let it help someone, not gather dust."

A murmur of approval passed through the villagers. A few laughed. One old woman wiped a tear from her eye.

It wasn't just his words. It was the way he carried himself. The power he possessed to burn cities, to break mountains, to slay gods — he wielded not like a sword but a shield. He stood before them not as a god to be feared, but as a guardian to be trusted.

Of course, not all adoration was… convenient.

There had been incidents , incidents which left him flustered, awkward, and wishing he could disappear into the sky.

In one fishing village, a young maiden, perhaps no more than seventeen, approached the Vimana's landing deck in the dead of night. Draped in white linen, she bowed deeply and whispered, "I offer myself to you, protector of mankind, as a token of my people's gratitude."

Edward blinked, stunned into silence. Then his face twitched in disbelief.

"No," he said bluntly.

The girl looked up, confused. "Have I offended you, great one?"

"No, but—by all that is holy, why is this a thing? Why do chicks think it's natural to offer themselves to a total random dudes with some strength as present! I'll not even talk about the age. " He ran a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath. "No wonder Zeus got corrupted. Gods damn it."

He helped her to her feet gently. "Go home, child. Live your life. Fall in love with someone who treasures you. Don't… offer yourself to strange men in flying ships. That's rule number one."

She blushed, giggled nervously, and ran off. Edward sighed, " Last life I got nothing. So this life overcompensating me it seems . But I don't think a regular human can survive if I accidentaly .... Ehem , lets not think about that. "

But such moments, however awkward, were rare compared to the respect he had earned.

Fishermen painted his emblem on their sails. Blacksmiths carved his likeness into tools not for worship, but to remember him. Children played games pretending to ride Vimana.

Bards composed songs not of conquest, but of peace brought by a man who never asked for anything in return.

Still, Edward never allowed himself to get lost in it.

"Power corrupts," he'd mutter often to himself, staring at his hands. "And absolute power corrupts absolutely."

He remembered what the gods had become. He had seen the rot that came with divinity untethered by humanity. He would never follow that path.

Instead, he vowed each day to hold himself accountable. To listen, to guide, but never to rule or control. And if ever he felt the edge of pride creeping in, he would fly to some quiet cliff or lone valley and sit in silence, letting the winds carry away the burden.

A year had passed. A year of change, of pain, of healing. Greece had begun to learn what it meant to walk without the crutch of gods.

And high above them, aboard the silent golden ship drifting through the blue heavens, Edward watched — a guardian not of divine order, but of mortal potential.

He would keep watching. He would keep guiding.

Because they were worth it.

****

It was only a few weeks into his journey, alone beneath the vast and endless skies, when Edward finally remembered the ring Hera had slipped into his pocket.

He'd almost dismissed it as mere ornamentation, a beautiful band of celestial bronze and ivory set with a single blue gem that shimmered with divine light.

At first, he assumed it was some symbolic gesture, perhaps a parting token of affection, or a ceremonial token of union in the archaic tradition of the gods. A marriage ring.

He snorted at the thought. "She would definitely do something that presumptuous."

Still, the object pulsed faintly with power. Curious, and maybe just a little sentimental, Edward strung the ring onto a thin leather cord and looped it around his neck, letting it rest near his collarbone like a locket.

The moment it touched his skin, a soft chime echoed from the gem, and a voice burst forth with the urgency of a storm.

"Edward, my beloved! You finally put on the ring! Does that mean you accept our union? Where are you? I'll come to you immediately. I long to see you, to hold you…"

Edward froze in place, mouth half-open. "There she goes, and I can't even be mad because it's sincere." he muttered, then raised a brow as he answered aloud, "You're still the same as ever, Hera."

He rubbed his temples. "This isn't a marriage acceptance. I just needed to tell you, and Hippolyta—that I'll probably be gone for a while."

A commotion stirred on the other side of the connection, a scuffle of voices, muffled curses, and what sounded like someone elbowing another. Then came a familiar, firm yet flustered voice.

"Edward, please don't leave," Hippolyta said, her voice both commanding and pleading. "If it's the relationship between us three that troubles you… Hera and I have spoken. We've agreed. We'll share our love with you. We would be happy just to stand at your side. "

Edward's soul nearly left his body.

"Cough, cough… Wait. What did you just say?" He coughed harder. "Are you proposing I marry you both? We just met once! That's not how things work!"

Hippolyta's voice was hesitant, but honest. "I know it sounds fast. But after what life has thrown at me… I trust my judgment. And I believe you're the right person."

Hera quickly jumped back into the fray. "Wait! and me! Don't forget I was the first to love him! Edward, I truly believe you are the only one for me. Please… return to us, beloved."

Edward groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's the potion in you talking."

"I am the goddess of marriage, you know!" Hera protested with rising indignation, but Hippolyta cut her off smoothly.

"I've already spoken to my sisters," Hippolyta said, her voice proud. "And they have accepted it. They support my decision to marry you. Not just for political reasons, Edward. The things you've done… the songs they sing of you have reached even Themiscyra. My sisters respect you. I respect you."

Edward couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity. "So I've become a male celebrity crush to even feminist warriors. Wonderful."

Then his tone sobered. "Listen, Hippolyta… It's not that I don't care for you. Even you, Hera." He paused, the words sticking slightly in his throat. "But I've started something bigger than anyone ever dared to. I need to see it through. I may travel for decades. Maybe centuries. You can't stay away from Themiscyra that long."

But Hera, as always, was undeterred.

"I can," she said, her voice softer, more wounded now. "I'll follow you wherever you go. You don't know how much it hurts me… a goddess of marriage, spurned by the man I've chosen. Our bond, it gnaws at me. The longer we're apart, the more it aches. I might not even last a century like this…"

Edward hesitated, heart wavering. He knew she was exaggerating, but not entirely. Divine emotions were strange, volatile, and powerful things.

"Alright," he said at last, exhaling. "I'll contact you both from time to time. I've got an artifact that lets me project myself to people. I'll do that much, at least."

Hera's voice brightened instantly. "So… does that mean you'll always keep me in your heart?"

Edward closed his eyes. "Yes. Fine. I'll think of both of you fondly." He couldn't help but chuckle.

There was a pause, then Hippolyta answered, her voice flushed with warmth. "Thank you, Edward. I won't lie, it hurts knowing you'll be gone. But if you remember me, and return… I'll welcome you gladly. Husband."

Edward coughed, nearly choking on air. "Umm… we're not married, though?"

"Well," Hippolyta said coyly, "this one here claims to already be your wife and the first woman who have..... claimed you . I don't wish to fall behind. Is that a problem, husband?"

The chill in her tone at the end made Edward shiver involuntarily.

"Nope!" he said quickly. "Call me whatever you like."

Hippolyta laughed, a warm, happy laugh. "Then I wish you safe travels… and pray you return to us soon, dear husband."

"…Yeah," Edward murmured, still dazed. "I'll try to come back soon."

As the call cut off, silence returned to the wind around him. He stood there for a moment, unmoving. Then the hyperventilation kicked in.

"Wait....what the fuck just happened?" he gasped. "Did I just get double married? I mean, it's not official. Just promises… right? But still… two women, one divine, one a queen, and both semi-immortal. And I was a virgin until recently. Is this my so called springtime of youth?!"

He let out a nervous laugh. Then came the dread.

"But… how the hell does a guy who's never had a proper relationship balance a harem of two mythical women? Is this a blessing or a divine prank?"

Panicking slightly, he turned inward, into the corner of his mind where the spirits of legends resided.

"Any advice on harem management?" he muttered to them, hopeful.

But silence answered. Except for one smug voice.

Gilgamesh.

["All the beauty and pleasure in the world belong to me. So it's only natural that you, who carry my acknowledgment, would be chased by women."]

Edward groaned. "Not helpful, Dude."

Caster's voice followed, ever calm, ever sagely. But the answer was anything sagelike.

["You could try setting a schedule. Even time distribution is key to managing multiple wives. I would know."]

"…That's it?" Edward asked, frustrated. "No sage wisdom? No divine plan? Is that how managed your harem! "

Caster shrugged, [" I wasn't even at the harem most times due to work.]

Ruler chuckled, [ I only had one wife, and even she didn't stay long with me."]

The rest of the voices, a chorus of legendary men, offered little else, mostly laughter, teasing, or flat silence.

Heroes, it seemed, were better at fighting wars than handling love triangles. Or rectangles. Or whatever this situation had become or develop into.

Edward collapsed to the ground with a defeated sigh.

"This is fine," he muttered. "Totally fine. Just a dude juggling two powerful women who want to marry him and call him husband. One slightly more crazy than the other. What could possibly go wrong?"

He stared up at the sky.

"…I need a drink."

****

The midday sun shimmered over the rugged hills of Hellas, casting long shadows across the ancient trees and sun-drenched glades. After his short trip to Athens, Edward had chosen not to take to the skies this time.

For almost a year, he had flown through storms, across oceans, and over mountain peaks. But now, something in him longed for a slower pace. The clip-clop of hooves, the scent of pine and earth, the sound of birds in the canopy—these were the quiet things he missed in the rush of god-killing and divine upheaval.

So he rode through the forest and rivers. A fine black horse, sleek and strong, carried him down a forest trail near the edge of the Peloponnesian wilds. Birds flew over his head , and some wild animals followed nearby. Edward rode for one and half a day, enjoying the brief peace.

It was peaceful. Serene. And yet…

His eyes narrowed.

There, tucked away between the trees, was a house.

Not the kind he expected in this late Bronze Age world—this one was… different. It was old, yes, but not decayed. It looked out of place, more like a home from centuries ahead.

Clean lines. Sturdy build. Still humble, but with a strange modernity that made it feel like a painting out of time. Edward's brow furrowed in curiosity.

What the hell?

He nudged the horse gently toward it. He didn't notice that the animals following behind him stopped as he moved closer to the house.

As he approached, the soft murmur of voices reached him, followed by the low rhythm of a man muttering rhymes under his breath.

A tall, middle-aged man with wild red hair and a thick beard sat outside on a smooth stone, a piece of parchment in hand, scratching out verses and immediately frowning at them. His frustration was evident, though not angry—more… playful. He chuckled softly to himself even when his lines failed.

Beside him sat a man of stark contrast.

This one was pale, unnaturally so. His skin held a pale complexion, his long black hair falling across a dark robe that whispered of endless midnight. Like a vampire , but without any bloodlust.

He didn't glow or didn't shimmer under the sun, as certain movies said, that's for sure.

He sat still as stone, watching the red-haired one's poetic attempts with thinly veiled annoyance.

Then the rhythmic clatter of hooves drew both their attention. The red-haired man turned first, squinting up at Edward with open curiosity. His eyes were kind, crinkled with mirth. The dark-haired one merely shifted his gaze—sharp, quiet, unreadable. His expression didn't change, but his eyes glinted with the faintest flicker of recognition.

Edward slowed the horse, taking a deeper look. They were not human. That much was immediately clear.

The power they radiated was immense. Not chaotic or hostile, but ancient. It made the divinity of the gods he had slain feel like sparks beside a bonfire. His senses screamed at him to be cautious, but neither of the two moved with any hostility.

He slid off his horse calmly, landing with a soft thud on the forest floor. Brushing his cloak aside, Edward gave a polite smile and tilted his head.

"Hello, strangers," he said with relaxed charm. "Nice day for a walk, ain't it?"

The red-haired man chuckled heartily, folding his parchment and setting it aside. "Good day to you too lad. But tell me, stranger, what brings you to the middle of nowhere , in my humble abode?" He leaned forward slightly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "And why do you feel so… different from humans?"

The pale man remained silent, unmoving, though his stare didn't waver. He watched Edward not with suspicion, but with the still, unblinking weight of an immortal.

Edward gave a small bow, masking his tension behind an easy grin. "Name's Edward. Edward Elric. I was just passing by and heard someone trying to compose a poem. Got curious."

He turned toward the red-haired one and added with a smile, "By the way, keep at it. You may just end up composing a great ballad one day. Your efforts are… quite sincere."

The red-haired man beamed like a child handed a gift.

"Ha! You hear that brother?" he said, elbowing his companion. "Finally, someone with taste appreciates my efforts!"

The dark-haired one exhaled through his nose. "Or perhaps," he said in a voice like rustling silk, "he shares your lack of discernment, brother."

But the jab didn't seem to faze the redhead. He waved it off, laughing as he extended a hand to Edward. "Pleasure to meet you, kind man. To be praised by the hero of Greece and the famed savior of humanity—it's an honor."

Edward's eyes didn't betray the flicker of panic behind them. They knew him? Of course , his fame has spread far, but the way he spoke, it looked like he knew more than he let on.

"Oh where are my manners!" the red-haired man continued. "I'm Olethros. And this gloomy bastard here is my brother, Oneiros. Don't mind him. He's just not used to company."

Edward face showed a calm smile but Inside, he was screaming. What the actual fuck?

His mind raced. Olethros. Oneiros. Why do they sound familiar? Then he remembered.

"Fuck fuckity fuck. What is wrong with my luck?! This is not B rank luck. This is E-rank in disguise of B rank! E for 'Edward, you're fucked.'

I decide to take an enthusiastic walk ,and I run into two beings who could erase me from existence with a snap. Lucifer, you bastard, this is your fault. Wait… No, I've been cursed even before I met that smug prick…"

Outwardly, Edward nodded with a grin. "Nice to meet you both. Pardon my intrusion."

"Come," Olethros gestured with genuine warmth. "Sit with us. Have a drink."

Edward took a seat on a flat stone and accepted a small cup offered by the red-haired giant.

"This one's my own brew," Olethros said proudly. "Bit strong though."

Edward took a cautious sip and nearly gagged.

The taste was overwhelmingly acidic and bitter, like someone had fermented regret with a hint of vinegar and tree bark. He coughed, eyes watering, and Olethros scratched his head with a sheepish grin.

"Ah… I guess this batch also didn't turn out too well…"

Oneiros, for the first time, showed the faintest trace of amusement, barely a smile, but unmistakable. His lips curled as he observed Edward's suffering with dry satisfaction.

Recovering with a slight wheeze, Edward placed the cup down and smiled weakly. "Maybe… maybe I should provide the wine this time."

He waved a hand. A golden portal shimmered open beside him with a soft hum. From it, he withdrew a sealed jar of ancient wine, fragrant and potent, a scent of old vineyards and deep earth rising from within. Usually humans would react with awe or surprise, but they looked like it was normal.

Olethros's eyes lit up. "Now that's a neat trick! Can you teach me that? It Would make carrying stuff so much easier."

Oneiros nodded slightly. "A rather convenient magic."

"I'm not sure if it's replicable." Edward poured three glasses and handed them out.

Olethros raised his in a cheerful toast. "To new acquaintances!"

They clinked their cups.

Oneiros drank quietly, but his eyes widened slightly at the taste.

Olethros sipped deeply, then blinked in wonder. "Whoa. That's very good. This… this is Mesopotamian. A vintage from Uruk, if I'm not wrong. Didn't think there were any left!"

Edward chuckled. "Glad you like it."

He set his cup down and leaned back against the stone wall, his tone growing more serious now. His blue eyes glinted with quiet intent.

"But I've got to ask…" he said carefully. "What are Destruction and Dream, two of the Endless are doing out here in the woods of ancient Greece? Is this just a vacation, or should I be worried about some impending doom?"