Divine Ascension: Reborn as a God of Power

The sun above Olympus shimmered with a warmth that soaked the marble tiles in gold. Light filtered through vine-covered columns, casting playful patterns on the ground as Akhon walked beside Athena, their sandals clicking quietly in rhythm.

Athena stole a glance at him, her usually firm expression softened. "It's good to see you like this again," she said. "Yesterday, I was worried. You were... distant. Confused."

Akhon offered a small, polite smile. "You said I was talking nonsense?"

She nodded, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Something about another world. A city named Kaeron. You seemed convinced it was real."

He frowned slightly, as if the name tickled something just out of reach. "I don't remember any of that," he admitted, gaze distant. "But I do feel… lighter today. As if something heavy's been lifted."

Athena gave a relieved sigh, her steps more relaxed now. "Good. You had me fearing something worse—like enchantment or madness."

They crossed a bridge that arched over a soft stream, its clear waters flowing through lush gardens below. Nymphs fluttered at the edges, giggling as they dipped their toes in the water and vanished behind trees when they saw the pair approaching. The air smelled of nectar and honeysuckle, a calm day on Olympus.

"I brought you here," she said, gesturing to a terrace ahead, "because you used to like this view. It always helped you clear your thoughts."

The terrace opened into a vast balcony overlooking the heavens, clouds lazily drifting beneath. Far on the horizon, a streak of lightning danced across the skyline—a silent tribute to his domain.

Akhon leaned against the railing, eyes scanning the endless expanse. "Do I come here often?"

Athena shrugged. "You used to. Not so much these days. You've been... quieter."

He looked over at her. "And that worries you?"

A touch of color rose to her cheeks, and she turned her gaze forward. "I care, Akhon. We all do. But yes, I worry more than most." Her fingers gently played with the edge of her armor's pauldron. "You're different than the others, you always have been. Even if you don't remember everything right now."

There was something earnest in her voice, a softness that wasn't often present in her public words. She was usually composed, poised, always ready to advise or argue with reason. But now she seemed… hopeful.

"Do we spend a lot of time together?" Akhon asked.

Athena smiled faintly. "More than people think."

A silence stretched between them, not awkward, but reflective. The kind of silence that allowed thoughts to gather before they took shape.

Akhon finally asked, "What was I like before all this confusion?"

She took a moment to answer. "Driven. Proud. A bit stubborn." She chuckled. "But fiercely loyal. And powerful, though you rarely flaunted it. You always stood your ground, even when you knew it would isolate you."

He raised an eyebrow. "Sounds lonely."

"It was," she admitted quietly. "But not always. You had your place here, Akhon. We may not show it well, but the gods rely on you. And so do I."

Her words settled into him with an odd weight, as though they belonged to someone else's story. He wished he remembered the emotions they carried. Still, he found himself watching her more closely—the way her lips tugged up in the corners, the way her eyes betrayed more affection than she intended.

"You said I talked about another world?" he asked again.

Athena winced slightly. "Yes. You insisted it was real. That there were people you needed to find. That everything around you was a lie."

"And now?"

"Now you seem fine," she replied, but her tone was careful. "It's probably just stress. Sometimes dreams feel real. Maybe some deep-rooted memory from a different era. You've always carried things deeper than the rest of us."

Akhon nodded absently, but his eyes were distant again, lost in the clouds. "Do you think it's possible… to forget something that mattered so much, you didn't even know it was missing?"

Athena tilted her head. "Yes. And I think that's why you need time to recover. We don't always need to chase ghosts. Sometimes, we just need to live."

That settled between them for a while. The clouds rolled on. Birds chirped in the garden far behind them. And for a fleeting second, Akhon felt the calm that she wanted him to feel. The peace of belonging.

"Let's walk a bit more," Athena said, brushing a hand along his shoulder as she turned.

He followed her through another set of archways leading into a quiet courtyard. Statues of past heroes lined the path, and a small shrine to Nike stood at the center. Athena paused by it, adjusting a loose ribbon tied around the statue's spear.

"You used to train here with Ares," she said, smiling at the memory. "The whole courtyard shook."

"Did I win?"

"Sometimes." Her eyes sparkled with teasing. "But I won more."

He laughed softly, the sound unfamiliar in his throat but natural all the same.

As they moved on, Athena stole another glance at him. "You really do seem more like yourself today."

"I hope that's a good thing."

"It is," she replied, before her steps slowed. "Akhon, I… I'm glad you're still here. That you're still you. Even after everything."

He met her gaze, the sincerity in her eyes unwavering.

"I don't remember everything," he said. "But I think… I'm glad you're here too."

And just like that, the weight in her shoulders seemed to ease, her smile coming more freely.

For now, the questions could wait. The mystery, the faded memories, the lingering pull in his chest—they could all wait.

Athena walked beside him, her usually firm stride now easy, relaxed. Her silver eyes sparkled with something lighter than calculation, softer than the weight of war. As they descended the winding paths of the east terrace, she looked up at him with a quiet smile.

"You seem more present today," she said gently, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "It's good to see you smile again. Yesterday… you worried me."

Akhon tilted his head, puzzled. "I did?"

She chuckled softly. "You don't remember? You were rambling about a different world. One where Olympus was fractured, and you weren't even born of this place. You said you were 'a god made from faith,' not from blood." She glanced sideways at him. "I assumed it was some strange dream."

"Must've been," he said. "It's a little fuzzy now. But… thanks for staying."

Athena touched his arm with a warm expression. "You're important to me, Akhon. I don't say that lightly."

They strolled toward the lower gardens, where crystalline fountains whispered beside blooming lotus trees. There was laughter in the distance—other gods, perhaps Eros and Hebe playing some game of their own. But here, in this part of Olympus, it was just them.

Athena guided him to a shaded bench beneath a flowering arch of moonvine, their petals glowing faintly like stars. "Do you remember this spot?" she asked. The M|V|LE&MPYR team worked hard on this chapter.

He looked around. "No. But I like it."

She smiled. "It used to be your favorite place to get away from your training. You used to come here when things felt… heavy."

Akhon ran a hand through his dark hair. "I guess old habits stick."

They sat in silence for a while, watching the reflection of clouds drift lazily across the surface of a tranquil pool. A pair of doves landed nearby and pecked at golden crumbs left behind from some forgotten banquet. Athena leaned back, stretching her legs, and let out a long breath.

"You've changed," she said finally. "Since your recovery."

"Is that bad?"

"No," she answered quickly. "It's… peaceful. You've always carried so much intensity in you, but now… there's calm. I like this version of you."

He turned his head toward her. "Do you think the other version was real?"

Athena blinked, caught off guard. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "The dreams. The strange feelings. What if they weren't just my imagination?"

She looked at him for a moment, then gently rested her hand over his. "I think dreams can tell us things we've buried. Desires, fears. Maybe even alternate paths. But here, now, this is real. I believe in this world, and I believe in you. That's all that matters."

Akhon nodded slowly, her words settling into his chest like warm embers. Her hand lingered on his. She didn't move it.

"Would it be alright," she said suddenly, "if we just… spent the day like this? No duties. No expectations. Just us."

"I'd like that," he said.

She smiled, then stood. "Then come on, there's one more place I want to show you."

They wandered through the outer gardens, a trail winding along the edge of a cliffside. From there, Olympus looked endless—cascading temples, floating islands tethered to the mountainside by ethereal chains, divine creatures lounging in open-air courtyards.

They came to a clearing where a tree older than the world itself stood tall, its white bark streaked with veins of light. Around it grew fields of blue-tinted grass and golden sunflowers taller than Akhon. At the foot of the tree, a picnic had been laid out—cheese, olives, bread still warm from Hephaestus's ovens, and a jug of sparkling nectar.

Athena blushed slightly. "I may have asked Hebe to prepare something earlier. Just in case."

He laughed. "So you did plan this."

"I'm a strategist," she said smugly. "I always plan ahead."

They sat again, this time in the shade of the great tree. As the golden light filtered through the canopy, it painted her armor with soft shadows. Akhon noticed how at ease she looked, out of her element but not uncomfortable. She poured them both a goblet of nectar, and they drank as the sun began to dip behind the mountains.

They spoke of little things. Silly things. How Hermes once tried to race Pegasus and ended up crashing into a fig tree. How Artemis had dared Dionysus to walk across the reflecting lake without slipping. Akhon found himself laughing more than he had in days—or perhaps in this entire new life.

Athena watched him with something warm and wistful in her eyes. "It's good to see you laugh again. You don't know how much I missed that."

He tilted his head. "We were… close?"

"Yes," she said softly. "Very."

She leaned in, resting her head briefly on his shoulder. "Even before your… illness, we used to talk about things like this. About peace. About what life could be if we didn't always have to carry the weight of Olympus on our backs."

"And now?"

She looked up at him, face flushed but calm. "Now, I'm starting to believe it's possible."

The breeze picked up, carrying the gentle sound of distant lyres. For a while, neither spoke, just enjoying the warmth between them. Eventually, Athena stood again and offered him her hand.

"Come. Let's go watch the stars from the terrace. Just like old times."

He took her hand.

And in that moment, for just a heartbeat, Akhon felt like maybe—just maybe—this world could be enough.