Weeks passed by, the frenetic energy of the galactic gaming industry moving forward as Round Table Studio quietly built their new empire behind closed doors. But out in the vast expanse of the Stellar Accord, the ripples of Dorian's creations continued to touch the everyday lives of billions.
In a high-end, sunlit hospital room deep within the Core Rims, the sterile hum of medical equipment was replaced by a profound, exhausted peace.
A woman lay weakly in the pristine, elevated recovery bed. Her face was pale, completely drained from hours of grueling labor, but her eyes held a soft, undeniable warmth.
Sitting on a stool directly beside her bed, leaning entirely over a hovering, temperature-controlled crib, was her husband. He was staring down into the crib as if he were looking at the most impossible, miraculous artifact in the entire universe. Gently, with a trembling finger, he poked the incredibly soft, pudgy cheek of his newborn daughter.
The woman let out a weak, breathy laugh. "Stop it," she scolded him gently, her eyes half-closed. "You're going to wake her up. She needs to rest."
The man pulled his hand back for a second, but then the baby made a tiny, squeaking sound, her little nose scrunching up. The man's heart completely melted all over again. He couldn't hold back the sheer, overwhelming adoration radiating from the crib.
"Aawww," the man whispered, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. "Darling... just look at her. Look at how perfect she is."
The woman smiled, turning her head on the pillow to look at her husband's mesmerized face. "I know," she murmured softly. She closed her eyes for a moment, a thought coming to her exhausted mind. "What is it... that song you've always played while we were waiting in the ward?"
The man blinked, tearing his eyes away from the crib for a fraction of a second. "Ah. Isn't She Lovely."
The woman reached out with a tired arm, gently brushing the back of her fingers against her sleeping daughter's cheek. "She is," she repeated.
The man smiled. He tapped the interface on his holographic wristband, syncing it to the hospital room's ambient audio system.
It was Composer Percival's track.
[Stevie Wonder – Isn't She Lovely]
Instantly, the quiet room was filled with a bright, shuffling, and incredibly upbeat groove. It was a pure, joyful rhythm, a masterclass of bouncing jazz chords that perfectly captured the rushing flush of nervous, ecstatic energy felt by brand-new parents.
Then, Percival's easy, bright, and impossibly warm voice came in.
"Isn't she lovely?... "
Hearing the lyrics, the father felt a massive wave of emotion crash over him. The phrasing was an incredulous questioning.
"Isn't she wonderful?... Isn't she precious?"
As Percival sang, the repetition of the questions mirrored the exact rhythm of the father's own racing heart. It was the beautiful, raw sound of a human mind desperately trying to convince itself that what it was seeing was actually real. That this tiny, breathing bundle of absolute cuteness was truly theirs.
"Less than one minute old..." Percival's voice soared with a sun-drenched, unapologetic joy. "I never thought through love we'd be... Making one as lovely as she."
Inside the crib, the infant stirred. She let out a soft, bubbling coo, her tiny arms waddling blindly into the air.
The father immediately leaned in, his breath catching in his throat. He reached out with a large, calloused hand, gently trying to soothe her by caressing the back of her tiny knuckles.
At that exact second, the baby's impossibly small fingers closed tightly around his index finger. Her grip was weak, yet it felt like the strongest anchor in the entire galaxy.
As the joyful, bouncing music swelled around them, it became the perfect, external embodiment of that singular, monumental milestone. It was the exact second a man stopped being just a man, and truly became a father.
…
Meanwhile, back on the surface of Friton, the Round Table Studio HQ was humming with industry.
Dorian strolled out of the main junction and made his way toward the East Wing of the compound, home to the newly expanded Arts Department. The space was an architectural marvel. It was a massive, open-concept duplex that spanned both the first and second floors, boasting an expansive area of twenty by forty-five meters, with towering, seven-and-a-half-meter-high glass ceilings that let in a flood of natural Friton sunlight.
In the very center of the polished hardwood floor sat a state-of-the-art, industrial-grade holographic projector.
Dorian leaned against the doorframe, watching quietly. Lin Liseli and her two newly hired artists were moving fluidly around the room, wielding haptic-feedback styluses like conductor's batons.
They were physically sculpting a massive, breathtaking 3D environment right in the middle of the air. It was only the first stage of drafting, but the sheer scale of the hard-light projection made it look as though Liseli and her team were literally conjuring a living world around themselves.
Liseli twirled her stylus, smoothing out the curve of a massive, fluffy digital cloud, when she noticed the teenager standing by the door.
"Arty!" Liseli waved enthusiastically, stepping out of the holographic cloud bank. "Come here, look at this!"
Dorian chuckled, walking into the projection. He looked at the rolling, stylized grass and the soft, painted textures. "Are you already drafting the environment for Sky?"
Liseli rubbed the back of her neck, letting out a highly guilty, nervous laugh. "Hehe... I swear the Pokémon sprites will be completely finalized by the end of the month! We just... got a little inspired."
"Sure you did," Dorian laughed gently. "So, what exactly is this?"
"We are testing the limits of the new 3D software," Liseli explained, her eyes shining with artistic passion. She gestured to the sprawling digital world. "On our end, absolutely anything is possible. We can sculpt infinite horizons. But we know Bem's department is going to pull their hair out trying to optimize the render distances for the VR engine, so we are trying to familiarize ourselves with the entire cross-department workflow early."
Dorian nodded thoughtfully, reaching out to brush his hand through the projection of the tall, stylized grass. It was just light, offering no resistance.
"It looks beautiful, Lin," Dorian praised her. "But as you move forward, remember to always think of the player's haptic feeling. Sky: Children of the Light isn't a game about intense combat or rapid input; it is a game that stands purely on its emotional feel and its ambiance. When the player walks through this field in full VR, the feel of the grass brushing against their hands needs to feel entirely natural. The wind needs to carry weight."
Liseli nodded seriously, tapping a few notes into her datapad alongside her new artists. They continued their discussion, diving deep into the intricate intersection of visual art and physical sensation.
…
Several hours later.
The Millennium Falcon floated silently in the dark void of space, positioned in a stable, geostationary orbit just above Friton's atmosphere.
Dorian powered down the ship's primary thrusters, unbuckled his harness, and walked out of the cockpit into the spacious main hold. He stood in the center of the quiet cabin and took a long, steadying breath.
With a mental command, he pulled open his Creator System interface. He opened his private Hades inventory.
Over the past few months, as he quietly trained and upgraded his physical body, he had been systematically manifesting the Olympian boons. He had called upon the echoes of the gods, bringing their consciousness to act as his personal, divine teachers.
He had done it with Athena's tactical brilliance, Ares's martial prowess, and even Aphrodite's overwhelming charm. He had been completely honest with all of them about who he really was, and to his relief, the Hades versions of the Olympians were remarkably understanding.
But looking at the inventory screen now, there was only one god left.
Dorian ran a hand through his messy black hair, his heart suddenly hammering against his ribs. "This is it... shit... why am I so incredibly nervous?"
He began to anxiously pace around the Falcon's hold, jumping from foot to foot and shaking out his arms to burn off the adrenaline. He wished this could be as easy as summoning Dionysus, who had practically manifested with a drink in his hand and a joke on his lips.
"It's going to be okay," Dorian muttered aloud, trying to psych himself up. "The Olympians in the Hades universe are far kinder than their original mythological counterparts. He's just... the King of the Heavens. No big deal."
Dorian stopped pacing. He planted his feet firmly on the deck plating and focused his mind on the system.
A blinding flash of golden light illuminated the dim cargo hold. Floating directly in front of Dorian was a crackling, spherical boon adorned with the stark, jagged logo of a thunderbolt. The air in the ship instantly grew heavy, thick with the sharp scent of ozone and the terrifying pressure of an incoming storm.
Dorian looked at the crackling orb, took one final, massive breath, and spoke the invocation.
"Olympus. I accept this message."
For a split second, there was absolute silence.
DONG! DONG!!
The terrifying, deafening sound of something impossibly massive striking the outside of the ship reverberated through the cabin. The Millennium Falcon groaned violently in protest, the heavy durasteel airlock vibrating so hard Dorian was nearly thrown off his feet as the King of the Gods arrived.
Standing in the center of the cramped cargo hold was a colossal figure. He spun around slowly, taking in his surroundings. His massive, pristine white beard floated and shifted around his jawline like a gathering storm cloud in the sky. Adorning his head was a glowing, crackling laurel of pure thunder.
Zeus, the King of the Olympians, looked at the low durasteel ceiling and the metallic walls. He let out a booming, boisterous laugh that rattled the very bolts of the ship.
"Hoho! Quite a small space we have got ourselves here," Zeus observed, his voice echoing with the rolling depth of thunder. "And look what we have here."
Dorian swallowed hard, steeling his nerves. He forced himself to stand tall against the crushing divine pressure. "Hello, Godfather Zeus."
Zeus did not immediately answer. The Lord of the Skies closed his glowing, electric-blue eyes and took a deep breath, feeling the ambient energy of the air. His thick brows furrowed in genuine confusion.
"We are outside of Gaia," Zeus muttered, his voice dropping into a dangerous, serious rumble. "Hmm... no. There is no Gaia around here at all."
"Yes," Dorian said carefully, keeping his voice remarkably steady. "We are in an entirely different universe. And I am..."
Dorian did not finish the sentence with words. Instead, he pulled open his Creator System interface and selected a specific profile he had. He clicked 'Equip'.
In a fraction of a second, a wave of heat washed over Dorian's body. His messy black hair flared, his right eye shifted to a burning red, and a blazing wreath of fiery laurels ignited atop his head. His feet smoldered with embers against the deck plating. He had perfectly assumed the Prince of the Underworld profile.
Zeus's eyes snapped open, widening in absolute shock.
"Nephew?!" Zeus boomed, stepping forward. "What is going on here?"
Violent, crackling electricity suddenly buzzed around the King of the Gods, arcing wildly off his massive shoulders and striking the metal bulkheads of the Millennium Falcon. The ship's internal lights flickered dangerously.
Dorian knew it was incredibly foolish to call upon Zeus in his own domain of the sky, especially while trapped inside a highly conductive metal ship. One stray burst of electricity could easily fry the entire vessel's navigational array, sending Dorian plummeting into Friton's atmosphere.
But that was exactly what Dorian wanted. It was a highly calculated psychological play. He wanted to show Zeus that the God of Thunder was in absolute control. By summoning him in the sky, completely surrounded by metal, Dorian had placed Zeus on a towering pedestal of power. With his ego sated and feeling completely unthreatened by the tiny, fragile mortal standing before him, Zeus would be far more willing to actually hear him out.
Standing tall in his Zagreus form, Dorian took a deep breath and began to tell Zeus everything.
He spoke with absolute honesty. He explained the truth of this new universe, the concept of video games, and how he had meticulously forged the Underworld and Olympus from code and digital art.
He explained that through the belief and resonance of millions of players, he possessed the unique ability to call upon the Olympians to cross the void and manifest in his world.
Zeus stood perfectly still, listening to the impossible tale. The erratic, dangerous arcs of lightning slowly died down, replaced by a soft, thoughtful hum of energy.
"I see," Zeus mused, rubbing his cloudy beard. "Then... what happened to my older brothers?"
"Lord Poseidon has already been called upon," Dorian explained respectfully. "But as for Hades... I do not know. I cannot call upon those who do not offer boons within the structure of the game."
Zeus fell silent, staring down at the teenager with an unreadable expression.
"So," Zeus finally said, the weight of his gaze pinning Dorian in place. "You are my creator."
Dorian did not flinch. "In a way... yes."
For a long, terrifying moment, the King of the Gods just stared at him. Then, a massive, warm smile broke across Zeus's face, and he let out a hearty laugh.
"You are a very brave and honest young man," Zeus declared, his voice returning to its jovial, booming state. "I can see clearly that there is much more that you hide behind those eyes. But, hoho! What is life without a few things hidden in the dark? I will take you as my nephew. Hopefully, with time, you can call upon my stubborn brother to this universe as well."
Dorian felt a massive, crushing weight lift off his chest. He nodded deeply. "Thank you, Godfather."
Zeus smiled, and his massive form began to shimmer, his body slowly breaking apart into glowing, golden sparks of divine resonance. But before he fully faded, his blue eyes locked onto Dorian one last time.
"Take off your Zagreus mimicry," Zeus commanded softly.
Dorian blinked, but he immediately complied. He opened his system and unequipped the profile. The flaming laurels vanished, his heterochromia faded back to golden eyes, and the burning embers at his feet cooled into nothingness. He was just Dorian Kepler again.
Zeus smiled, looking at the boy's true face.
"Better," the King of the Gods said warmly. "Be proud of who you are, young man."
With a final, blinding flash of golden lightning, Zeus shimmered away completely, leaving no trace behind but the faint smell of ozone.
Dorian's knees instantly gave out. He collapsed onto the deck plating of the Millennium Falcon's main hold, his chest heaving as he gasped for breathless air, completely drained by the sheer, overwhelming pressure of facing the King of the Heavens.
…
By the time the Millennium Falcon broke through Friton's atmosphere and approached the Kepler estate, the sun had already dipped below the horizon, casting a blanket of twilight over the sprawling farm.
Dorian guided the ship over the glowing perimeter lights and set it down gently on the heavy durasteel surface pad. He let the automated docking sequence take over. The massive hydraulic lift engaged, slowly lowering the ship into the cavernous underground hangar.
With a heavy, exhausted sigh, the nineteen-year-old descended the boarding ramp and walked toward the brightly lit, polished tunnel system that connected the underground hangar directly to the basement of the Kepler mansion.
As he stepped out of the basement stairwell and into the mudroom, the savory, mouth-watering aroma of roasted spices, sizzling meat, and warm corn immediately hit his senses.
"I'm home!" Dorian called out, his voice echoing slightly in the hallway.
"Oh, you've come late, Dorian!" John's booming, cheerful voice answered from the direction of the dining room.
Dorian slipped off his boots, placing them neatly in the cubby. The moment his socked feet touched the hardwood, he let out a soft groan of appreciation. The floorboards were heated, radiating a deep, comforting warmth that instantly began to thaw the lingering, nervous chill Zeus had left in his bones.
He walked into the massive, sunlit dining room and paused, a genuine smile spreading across his tired face.
The large wooden dining table was absolutely packed. Sitting around it was his family, alongside several unexpected guests. Juno was sitting next to Lyra, laughing at something the sixteen-year-old had just said. Across from them sat Ratik, looking sharp as ever, alongside the galactic pop star Briane Taleini and her usually strict manager, Kio.
"Oh," Dorian chuckled, walking over to the table. "Looks like we have a full house tonight."
The dinner spread was magnificent. It was an Earth recipe Dorian had casually recreated from memory months ago, and John had absolutely perfected it. It was Taco Night.
In the center of the table sat a massive, steaming basket of freshly pressed corn tortillas, made entirely from Kepler-grade harvest. Surrounding the tortillas was a chaotic, beautiful constellation of bowls: sizzling spiced protein, shredded crisp lettuce, sharp golden cheddar cheese, vibrant red salsa, thick sour cream, and a plate of fresh lime wedges.
Dorian pulled out the empty chair beside Juno and collapsed into it. "When did you guys get here?"
Juno smiled, naturally reaching over to pass him a warm tortilla. "I've been here since noon. I picked up Lyra from the academy so dad could focus on cooking this feast."
Ratik adjusted her glasses, neatly placing a napkin on her lap. "I arrived an hour ago with Briane and Kio. Business matters, Composer."
Dorian glanced at the pop star, who offered a cheeky, excited wave, and then at Ratik. He gave a subtle nod. He knew they needed to talk about the upcoming concert, but he also knew the absolute, cardinal rule of the Kepler household.
"Alright, that is enough of that," John declared, carrying a final bowl of freshly made guacamole from the kitchen and setting it down. He wiped his hands on his apron and took his seat at the head of the table. "No business talk over dinner. Eat first. Let's dig in!"
The table instantly erupted into a symphony of passing bowls, clinking spoons, and cheerful chatter. It was a chaotic, deeply wholesome mess.
Dorian watched in profound amusement as Marcus, his eyes entirely focused, began constructing an absolute monstrosity on his plate. The twelve-year-old boy laid down a soft tortilla, scooped an absolute mountain of spiced ground beef onto it, and then buried the meat under a thick avalanche of shredded cheddar cheese and chili sauce.
He completely bypassed the bowl of lettuce.
"Marcus!" Lyra immediately groaned, pointing an accusing finger at her younger brother's plate. "You are making a meat-brick again! Put some green stuff on it!"
Marcus protectively shielded his taco with his arms. "Vegetables are for Muurbeasts!" he argued fiercely, his pre-teen voice cracking slightly. "I am still growing. I need protein for my muscles!"
"Put a pinch of lettuce on it, big guy," John laughed warmly, tossing a small shred of green onto Marcus's plate. "Even growing boys need fiber."
Across the table, Briane took her first massive bite of a fully loaded taco. Her eyes went completely wide. She chewed rapidly, letting out a muffled groan of pure culinary bliss.
"Oh my stars," Briane mumbled, covering her mouth. She looked at her manager. "Kio, you have to try this thing called salsa. It tastes so good!"
Kio, who was usually incredibly strict about her artists' diets and her own, took a hesitant, refined bite of her own taco. The manager froze. She looked at the taco, looked at John, and then frantically began spooning more Kepler-grade guacamole onto her plate, completely abandoning her strict caloric limits for the evening.
Beside Dorian, Juno was helping Lyra fold her taco so the bottom wouldn't tear and spill the contents. Once Lyra was happily eating, Juno grabbed a lime wedge and, without even thinking about it, squeezed the fresh juice perfectly over Dorian's assembled plate.
"Thanks," Dorian said softly, touched by the casual, intimate gesture.
"You looked like you needed it," Juno smiled, bumping her shoulder playfully against his. "You look exhausted. Long day?"
"You have absolutely no idea," Dorian laughed softly, taking a bite of his food. The explosion of fresh flavors, the warmth of the room, and the chaotic, overlapping laughter of his friends and family washed over him.
He looked around the table. From the feared, ice-cold manager Ratik delicately wiping salsa from her chin, to John laughing loudly at one of Briane's industry jokes, to his younger siblings arguing over who got the last scoop of cheese.
This table, this chaotic, beautiful warmth... this was his sanctuary. And it was exactly what he was fighting to protect.
⋘ 𝒍𝒐𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒂.. .⋙
🎮:
- Stardwey Valley: Completed.
- Hades: Completed.
- Pokémon: 4% ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒
- Sky: Children of the Light: ◌ Loading…
🎬:
-
♬:
- Your Song – Elton John (ch.9)
- A Lovely Night – La La Land (ch.20)
- Merry Go Round of Life – Howl's Moving Castle (ch.25)
- Small Fragile Hearts – Victor Lundberg (ch. 27)
- Skyfall – Adele (ch. 29)
- No Time To Die – Billie Eilish (ch. 30)
- Yesterday – The Beatles (ch. 32)
- Lovely – Billie Eilish, Khalid (ch. 47)
- Best Part – H.E.R. feat. Daniel Caesar (ch. 67)
- Lovely Day – Bill Withers (ch. 68)
- My Song – Labi Siffre (ch. 75)
- Isn't She Lovely – Stevie Wonder (ch. 89)