Entering any pantheon in Heaven wasn't necessarily hard, unless you were Lucian. His father had personally decreed that he was barred from entering any pantheon unless on official business.
Heaven itself was a boundless realm, infinite in space and resource. When mortals began to believe in gods and miracles, their collective faith birthed various deities, and with them, pantheons. If Heaven were a pie, even the most ravenous gods couldn't devour more than five percent of it. That's how vast it was.
"All this is Father's fault," Lucian muttered, frowning at the golden gates of Mount Olympus.
"You know, Lucian, there are countless other places filled with wonders, towns, cities, sanctuaries. Why Olympus?" the scholar asked, hoping to redirect his student's unpredictable whims.
Lucian tilted his head thoughtfully. "You're right…"
The scholar blinked in surprise...had he succeeded?
"…but," Lucian continued with a mischievous grin, "have I ever told you why the Otaenians revere me?"
"Uh… because you were born from the perfect blend of Essence and Chaos?" the scholar guessed uncertainly.
"Partly," Lucian said. "The Otaenians were created when Origin still existed as a complete being and oversaw our formation himself. Our Essence and Chaos are fundamentally different...pure. Not like the diluted forms that now circulate through the cosmos."
"I'm aware," the scholar nodded. "Even the gods are born from those lesser energies."
"Exactly," Lucian beamed. "Now, consider this. I'm the fusion of Warborn and Pureblood. That union wasn't supposed to be possible… yet here I am."
The scholar's eyes widened. "You mean...?"
"I mean I can become anything, anytime… and even create something out of nothing!" Lucian declared proudly. With a flash of golden light, he transformed into a radiant snake, scales glinting like polished sun-metal.
While the scholar's jaw dropped in stunned disbelief, Lucian slithered at impossible speed toward the gates. A voice echoed in the scholar's mind before Lucian vanished: "Wait for me at Hill City."
Grumbling and half-regretting his life choices, the scholar turned the hoverbike and sped away.
At the Gates of Olympus
"Halt," said a melodic voice, sweet as spring rain. Lucian had approached the gate guarded by the goddess of Spring, the gentlest among the Horae.
"It is I, goddess," the golden snake said, coiling politely. "A humble being, eager to witness Olympus's splendor."
She examined him closely. His snake form shimmered with divine brilliance, like gold spun by the stars themselves.
"We need no snake gods. There are nearby cities far more fitting for you," she said softly.
"Would you deny a curious god such a gift?" Lucian asked, trying to play on her famous kindness.
"You're not yet a god," she replied. "But perhaps… I can help you become one."
Intrigued, Lucian waited quietly while she disappeared into her palace. Fifteen minutes later, she emerged with a small silver vial.
"This," she said, holding it out, "is a drop of pure Essence Liquid, the finest in all Heaven. It was gifted to me by the Emperor himself, for my service in blessing mortals with good weather."
Lucian blinked. "Why tell me this, goddess?"
"If you consume it," she said gently, "you may ascend into godhood."
"Damn," Lucian cursed under his breath, abruptly turning away. That was too close.
He didn't flee because she was kind, he fled because if she insisted, he might be forced to reveal himself… and everyone knew: the kindest souls turned the most terrifying when betrayed.
To the Winter Gate
Escaping the Spring Goddess, Lucian headed toward the coldest of the Horae. The Winter Goddess, known for her aloofness, was easier to bribe than trick. A proper offering would do the job.
"What better offering," Lucian smirked, "than a gown forged from Origin energy?"
He wove it from pure will, an elegant, flowing garment, so sheer it resembled cicada wings, yet imbued with divine defenses that protected against both heat and cold.
Appearing now as a strikingly handsome merchant, Lucian approached the Winter Gate. The goddess stood there, pale as moonlight, her gaze ice-cold.
"What do you seek?" she asked, voice flat as frost.
"My lady," Lucian bowed with practiced grace, "I'm a newly ascended god, once a humble immortal, now the god of Merchants. I've come to trade… and to admire Olympus."
"You've seen it. Go." She turned her face away, visibly uninterested.
Lucian, pretending to chant a spell (which only irritated her more, true gods had no need for incantations), summoned the gown into view.
The Winter Goddess froze. "The energy of Origin…"
She stared at the gown, wings of light and woven winter mist. Only one being was known to manipulate Origin energy like this.
"Why would an immortal-turned-god possess such an artifact?"
"It was a gift," Lucian lied smoothly. "From Lucian himself. I gave him rare relics in exchange."
At the name "Lucian," her eyes flickered with interest.
"What relics did you trade for this?" she asked.
Lucian licked his lips in triumph.