THEOS

“Sorry,” Luke said quietly. His expression, his tone of voice, and even his posture were the epitome of sincere and utter remorse.

Clite glared at him.

Well, it was a long shot anyway.

“I’m really sorry.” Rex bowed with his own apology. So low, in fact, that Luke suspected his nose might actually be scraping the ground.

Clite glared harder.

She was understandably angry. Luke and Rex’s brawl had escalated more than either of them had anticipated. The fight itself remained good-natured, with both of them keeping sufficient control over themselves and their abilities to make sure no one got hurt and nothing too valuable broke. Really, it was just some good fun, and besides a few scorch marks, there was barely any damage. Even Blinky, for all her terrifying faults, caught on to the fact that neither of them was trying to actually hurt the other and had stayed docile throughout their battle.

Except the demon’s mere presence evoked a certain sense of terror in those that beheld her. Normally, that wasn’t a big deal. Everyone who was employed in Cyzicus’s castle, from the lowest servant to the highest chef, was a cultivator. After months of exposure and many assurances from Rex and Cyzicus of the demon’s good behavior, all the castle’s residents had grown used to the dreadglare’s harrowing form. Not comfortable, for that was likely impossible, but they knew enough, and had enough mana in their bodies, that they were fine. For the most part.

The problem, however, was that there were more than the castle’s usual occupants present. The city had been shaken by the giant’s assault, and while no lives had been lost, people were afraid. It wasn’t every day that a skyscraper-size giant threatened to kill them all. So to calm his populace, Cyzicus had invited every mortal of some renown and all their friends to celebrate not only the giant’s death, but the end of the tide. The best bakers, shoemakers, actors, and singers were all in attendance. Maybe if they weren’t drunk, things would have gone better. As it was . . .

The mortals of the capital weren’t prepared to handle Blinky.

To say the least, it caused a stampede. One that Cyzicus, at that very moment, was quelling.

It shouldn’t be too hard. He has a bunch of warriors and he’s their emperor. It sucks that I ruined the festival, though, Luke thought guiltily. Life on Theos was hard for people in ways that Luke could barely even begin to fathom. Being responsible for making it even marginally harder left a bad taste in his mouth. He felt like he had stolen something from them. Worst of all, he hadn’t even gained anything but ill will for the act.

And just when I was about to ask Cyzicus for a favor, too, he thought morosely.

Talk about bad timing. I guess . . . I could ask Jason instead? Taking the Argo won’t be as fast as teleporting, but that might even be better, now that I think about it. Not the slow part, but the spectacle of it.

The tournament is going to elevate my profile . . . a lot. I’ve already spilled the beans about my past, and Hephaestus literally knows everything he needs to know in order to find out that I have the God Seed if he ever chooses to investigate. Which means that I need to get rid of some loose ends. Preferably before I make myself even more famous. Which means dealing with Nefkha.

I wanted to ask Cyzicus to teleport me there, but if I can get Jason to take me there instead . . . the distraction of a flying ship above the society might be enough for me to find Nefkha and . . . not kill him. That’s too much attention.

Murder isn’t really a big deal in this world, but that doesn’t mean that people won’t ask why if someone suddenly gets decapitated. It’s easy enough to answer that question when I actually have a reason I can share. Like, the tomb and or the Rebel. Literal cause and effect. No one will really feel the need to dig deeper. Someone can’t, however, just die. Especially not one of the handful of warriors of a tiny sect. Besides, if the timing is too suspicious, they’ll point fingers at the new people on the block, among which will be me. Theos is dangerous, but that doesn’t mean lawless. That said, it’s not like Arke is going to investigate every murder in the archipelago, but if I do go with Jason on the Argo . . . No, it’s too high-profile. It’s not all of them, but enough of them have some sort of direct line to a deity, and who knows how big that club is and how much they gossip?

At least I have it on somewhat good authority that Hephaestus is a recluse. Still, murder is out.

Meaning that either I have to frame Nefkha for something and take his life as justification . . . which seems kinda scummy. Or I can forgo that entirely and just get an oath from him.

Speaking of. Luke opened his status and scrolled through his inventory until he found what he was looking for.

Just thinking of it brought to the forefront of Luke’s mind the terms of the oath Cyzicus had sworn to him, along with another option.

It hadn’t quite been apparent when the deal had first been struck, likely because Luke’s mana hadn’t been as heavy back when he was a mortal. But, just like the Mask of a Thousand faces, the orb had a little more depth to it than he initially thought it did. Namely, as the person Cyzicus had sworn the oath to, Luke had the option to absolve Cyzicus of it and, in doing so, free the orb to take on another oath.

Considering both his origin and the fact that the face he currently wore was fake and known to Hephaestus, anyone else the god had shared that information with, Spiros, and Arya, well, holding Cyzicus to the oath wasn’t the assurance it had been. Too many people already knew Luke of Sylcra was the same person who had joined the Luminous Sky Society. If anyone went around asking about Luke and met Nefkha . . . it had the potential to end badly.

But I can fix that. If I can intimidate Nefkha into swearing to keep my secrets, then that will finally put an end to all this. He should be the only person alive who knows that I came back from the dead. Considering that he tried to hide my existence from Arke for his own gain, he also should have been smart enough not to spill the beans to anyone else.

Especially considering that he lost me. It’s been long enough at this point that, even if he wants to turn me in to Arke, he’d implicate himself. That doesn’t mean, however, that if someone else comes asking about me—someone who doesn’t know the full picture—he won’t tell them I came back from the dead.

Someone like Cybele, for example. Who likely knows that Arke was looking for someone who came back from the dead.

He suppressed a shiver at the mere thought of her knowing what he had.

Why is this sooo hard? At least Cybele is a goddess already. Which, worse comes to worst, means she has little to gain from the God Seed. She also probably has better things to do than to dig up my origins. I’m just a warrior, and she knows where to find me.

She’s so much stronger than I am that she probably never even thought to use any kind of leverage. Honestly, what do you even need leverage for when you’re a deity? The implication of that kind of power is enough of a threat.

“What were you two thinking!” Cyzicus yelled as he barged into the room.

“Umm . . .” Rex shuffled uncomfortably. Luke couldn’t blame him. Cyzicus wasn’t the type to show anger easily, making the times he did raise his voice a nerve-racking experience.

“It’s my fault. Rex barged into my room at a . . . compromising time and I didn’t realize the castle was full of mortals,” Luke admitted.

Cyzicus stilled. “Compromising?”

“Uhhh.” It was Luke’s turn to shuffle uncomfortably as he considered what to say. His bloodline wasn’t quite the secret the God Seed was, but Luke had kept it close to his chest all the same. Prometheus wasn’t really a subject mentioned in any book he had read so far, and Luke didn’t know how well his connection to the mad titan would be received. That said, it wasn’t like he planned to keep his copies of the flame spell secret. He couldn’t, really—they were too potent a tool to hide.

Luke wouldn’t go around advertising how exactly he could make more copies of it, but even if someone did find out, it wasn’t the end of the world. He hoped.

“I got a prize from the tournament, and I was just playing around with it,” Luke said after a while.

“Oh.” Cyzicus suddenly seemed less angry and more curious. “Something from the ring?”

“No, actually. I got this spell for completing the second round. It was only supposed to be good for a dozen uses, but I kind of figured out a way around that.”

“A spell . . . fascinating. I’ve never been fortunate enough to acquire or craft one of my own.” Cyzicus scratched his chin.

“Really?” Luke asked. “I didn’t realize they were that special.”

“Mmm-hmm, quite. Spells are imprints of a technique. I’ve heard some use them as means to train their juniors, but to even inscribe something like that into runes, the understanding you would need to have . . .” The emperor sighed. “It’s not something just anyone can do.”

“Huh.” Luke activated his bloodline and inspected the icons orbiting in his mana pool with fresh eyes. He had known that spells existed before he had gotten one, but neither the descriptions he had read in Cyzicus’s library nor the knowledge that came with the spell itself had mentioned how exactly they were made. Just that you needed a high cultivation level to do so. Luke had just assumed they were a higher form of talisman, and while that wasn’t completely wrong, the knowledge of what a spell really was raised a few possibilities and even more questions.

If there was a way that he could learn a fire-based technique from the spell, it was much more valuable than he had thought it was. It also made the fact that he could copy it as easily as he had been able to with his bloodline a lot more interesting.

“Ahem.” Clite cleared her throat and looked at Cyzicus meaningfully.

“Right, Rex! I’ve told you before, but if you’re going to keep that demon, you need to make sure not to expose her to the mortals. Without mana in their bodies, they’re much more vulnerable to her aura. If something like this happens again, you’re going to have to go back to the Rising Sun Sect, or . . .” He pointed at Blinky and dragged his thumb over his throat.

Luke heard the emperor’s grandson swallowing his spit.

“It won’t happen again. Please don’t make me go back there!” Rex pleaded. Cyzicus ignored him.

“Luke! It’s good that you woke up. Taking that giant’s mana was a risk, but not one that I can begrudge you. In your place, I would have done the same, and I applaud your courage. You’ll need every advantage to win the tournament. However, next time you intend to do something so reckless, please let someone know. This time, I managed to see your sword entering and leaving the giant’s body, and we were able to administer some healing potions to you while you slept. Next time, you may not be as lucky.”

Healing potions. What? With the one Cybele gave me, I shouldn’t have needed another— Don’t tell me he didn’t see her and . . .

A pit formed in his stomach.

“How long was I asleep?”

Rex answered, “Thirteen days. We thought you might miss the Olympics.”

Well, so much for going to Carim. They must have fed me so many potions that I went into a stupor again. Fuck.

No. No worries.

Sure, I have a pretty big loose end right now that I can’t really do anything about. Yeah, someone can chase that thread and find my secret out. But, really, what are the odds? It’s been two weeks, and no one has come knocking yet. I can wait a few days and deal with it after the Olympics.

Yeah . . .

Besides, the Seed’s been quiet. I’m sure if it felt the need, it would have given me a quest. Right? Luke mentally poked the Seed.

It stayed silent.

He poked it again.

Nothing.

Relieved, Luke took a deep breath, ignored the feeling of impending doom, and met Cyzicus’s gaze. “I need to look through your armory and get a full set of gear. Armor, shields, everything. They changed the rules a bit for the last round, and I’m spending every last merit point I have on your best stuff.”