Divine Celestial Sphere.
A plane of existence vast beyond measure. It was rumored that even after billions of years, not a single force had mapped its full size.
Mountains taller than skies, oceans deeper than abysses, and forbidden zones that devoured entire worlds without leaving a trace, should they accidentally drift into edges of their axis.
Below it, thousands of lower worlds existed, bound as tributaries.
They offered faith, worship, loyalty and best of all entertainment, or they were erased.
Its history stretched to the earliest cycles of the universe.
Ancient records spoke of the Primordials, beings who carved the primal laws into order, establishing the framework of the cosmic order.
Eons have passed since then. Countless civilizations risen and fallen.
To many, this was a higher plane of existence. But there was also one popular name it was known by. This was the Divine plane. The heavens—the domain of gods.
Of course, such a place was not ruled by a single hand.
Instead, different pantheons shared dominion. The Gnostic gods, the ancient Buddhas, and beings of the like, each held their own territory.
Their struggles shaped the destiny of existence.
The lives of mortals below, to be decided in talks between tea sessions.
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Sokkvabekkr (Treasure Bank), Asgard.
The grand golden estate stood like an ornament of gold in a sea of green.
Lush gardens and trees surrounded its splendor, and the rhythmic murmurs of cool waves from the numerous waterfalls pulled the soul deeper and deeper into the ambiance of the scenery.
Within its grand majestic hall, filled with tomes older than civilizations and scrolls more ancient than beliefs, the serene air that carried the sophisticated smell of ancient knowledge, aromatic teas, and fine wine, suddenly rippled.
A space crack opened up in the empty air, revealing a tunnel of black that was darker than the abyss, and from it, Nolan fell out, his body dropping unceremoniously to the floor.
"Ugh"
The impact seemed to have jarred him awake as his eyes fluttered open, unfocused and swirling with a myriad of colors.
"Fuck!"
He groaned, closing his eyes and massaging his temples as though trying to relieve himself of a massive headache. The kind that usually came with a hangover.
"This is why I hate drinking," he rasped.
He opened his eyes again and immediately regretted it.
Colors swirled with so much saturation in his eyes that his brain felt overloaded, pounding in his skull like the hammer of an ancient blacksmith.
"Fuck!" He cursed again.
Slowly the feeling subsided, and he was finally able to gain his bearings.
"The fuck is this shit? I didn't know hangovers came with chronic hallucinations," he muttered, the disbelieving scene of otherworldly opulence feeling like a foreign dream to him.
"Oh, you're here? Nice, the kid did say he'd be sending someone new."
Suddenly, the serene and melodious voice of a woman cut through the haze of his confusion, and instantly clarity seemed to come to his eyes.
Nolan turned towards the direction of the voice, and instantly, his whole being drew taut.
From a hallway to the side emerged a woman of terrifying beauty, and Nolan felt himself lose his grip on reality for a fraction of a second.
Her beauty was enough to command the skies and silence the seas. Grace, capable of raising empires to the peak and ruining them still, in a single lifetime.
He didn't know where the thought to implement those analogies came from.
Nolan could be said to be a literary genius, but of course, he didn't go describing people like that, whether in his thoughts or out loud. Yet, the thought had come unbidden and he couldn't find any way in the deep recess of his mind to refute it.
She was that beautiful. In fact, he might still have been underselling it.
But aside the beauty, Nolan felt as though he was standing before a being that was larger than life.
It was ironic considering that he was taller than she was, standing at 6'4.
Compared to that feeling, her beauty was at most background noise, despite how incredible it was.
"Hmm? At ease child, I don't bite," the woman chuckled softly.
Her voice was just as ensnaring as she was. Her laughter even more of the same—beautiful and elegant beyond doubt, yet carrying a weight that he couldn't explain.
Somehow, he was still wondering if this was a hallucination of some sort , as he was still finding his reality hard to comprehend.
Suddenly, a scene flashed in his mind, and his heart immediately chilled as if by frost.
"That author..."
"Ah yes," her voice cut through his, interrupting his contemplative thoughts that had come out loud.
"I see you've met my herald in that desolate place."
Nolan's confusion only grew. Somehow, he could already picture where this was going and the understanding of what was going on was already being made known to him, yet...
It wasn't making sense. That was fiction; this is... Well, this! Reality!
But considering what he was and what he knew about the world, perhaps he was a fool not to have suspected that something like this could actually be real.
Still, he decided to ask questions. Speculations were speculations and reality wasn't always what we speculated.
"Desolate place? Herald? Wait, who are you? And where is this place?"
"Well, it seems you already have an understanding of what is going on," she started.
How she knew that... Well, Nolan wouldn't be surprised if she could read minds.
"I am the goddess of stories Sá..."
RIIIIPPP!!!
The irritating sound of fabric ripping suddenly tore through the air, and to Nolan's shock, and perhaps to the goddess's as well, the empty space before the two of them was ripped open, revealing a darkness that felt like staring into the maw of a dragon-black mamba hybrid.
From beyond the void, a woman that made the world look like mud as compared to her beauty and presence stepped forward.
Her presence was so heavy that the previous goddess's impact, which made Nolan incredibly wary, felt like a summer breeze as compared.
"I'll be taking the boy to Olympus, Sága. And from now on, he would be under my jurisdiction," the new woman, most probably a goddess to, declared the moment she stepped out.
"Wha..."
Nolan did not even get the chance to make a corrigible sound, as the moment she finished speaking, he was already by her side, and then into the still open jagged space that went shut after them.
Sága remained rooted speechless for a few seconds, before her expression morphed into fury.
"YOU DARE?!" She roared.
A ripple followed in the air an instant after, and an old man with hair full of white, and a thick, fat beard of similar gray, yet still pulsing with the vitality and virility of youth in his skin, posture, and bearing appeared.
Her head snapped in his direction, and seeing who it was, she made haste to explain before the Olympian witch could go far.
"All father..."