Thread 6322582

“Honestly, I could name a thousand reasons: I don’t like Prometheus, and I don’t trust him to mold me like a piece of clay. I’m not you, and I don’t want to be— hell, I don’t think I’d even deserve to be.”

“You wouldn’t-”

“There’s only one person in the world I’d want to trust my soul with,” you interrupt, “And it isn’t your dead boyfriend. I have things I worked hard for that I want to keep, people who I really want to stay dead, and I owe a debt of gratitude to the Architect for giving me this opportunity in the first place. I like power, I like having more than other people, but, more than anything…

I want to be free, and I want to be myself. If that means I don’t get to be happy, then, fuck it, who even needs to be? I have a more powerful impetus.”

You spread your arms wide, the fake soul of the fake you conjured by the Grand Art creaking and chipping beneath the pressure exerted by your real might, crimson light pouring through the breaks like water from the cracks in a porcelain vase. Arms painfully burst from your back, skin tearing and blood pouring out from the ruins of your tattered sweater. The limbs flex their freshly minted muscle, caressing the soft, tender pink skin, newborn, almost infantile despite their long, sinister build, You topple forward for a moment the weight cracking your spine under its crushing weight until your body reorganizes itself, reinforcing and regenerating shattered bone and torn sinew with metal and divinity, your skeleton shivering and popping as your new anatomy settles into place.

“...I see. Well, it was a free choice, a true choice, so a number of possibilities exist. I guess this just happens to be one where things turned out wrong.”

“You’re too vertical, both of you,” you sneer, “Your world is dead. The man who killed himself was someone you never knew, and he died for someone he never met. As far as I’m concerned, all of those “what if”s are only as real as any other predictive model. A glorified simulation, really. Well, if it’s any consolation, I believe your wish to have been granted before you ever made it: you have never been me, and you never will be.”

The other you remains silent, but you press on, the constructed world tearing away as your Impetus overrides the Grand Art, its caster no longer present to protect it from your will. Your body lifts into the air, scarlet fetters burst from your fingertips, slowly taking the qualities of the Sunset, first hard to notice, vermillion and magenta, then, less subtle, gold, lilac, blue, white, black. The chains bind to the fabric of the incomplete reality itself, each wild movement of your arms tearing out another piece.

>>6322582 (OP)


“You should know, I’m not entirely without heart,” you smile, hovering over the visibly rattled woman beneath your feet as you rend the scenery around you asunder, “I shall remember this world, and I shall sing for it. The musicians of a devoured world have showed me that I owe you that much.”

Your mouth opens, releasing a melody touched with a gentle sentiment you can hardly relate to even as it flows from your lips. The girl below falls to her knees, vacant eyes staring up at you as you sing to her a dirge for a dream denied.

~

You awaken in the maelstrom of orange flames, a vacant Marie standing behind you, lost in the illusions of the fire. You consider rousing her, snapping her illusion automatically, but the connection between her soul and yours has grown close enough that you can feel her will, both the might of her resolve and the outcome of its direction. You nod to yourself— though unintentional, the setup of the Grand Art really helped you sort yourself out. You sincerely hope that Marie’s side has done the same.

She snaps to attention in a matter of seconds that felt like minutes, scratching her head as if to knock off the useless thoughts clinging to her head. She smiles at you in a deliberate act of reassurance, straightening the collar of her shirt and dusting off her vest before turning her attention back to you, offering the spindly fingers of her pallid hand to you. You take them in your own, the coldness of her skin a soothing relief amidst the heat of Prometheus’s forge, walking lockstep towards the center of the maelstrom.

“Once we step forward, there’s no going back,” she glances down at you with her pitch-black eyes, the direction of her gaze known only to you through intuition and body language, “Not like there’s much point asking now, but are you ready? I’m sure we could diffuse it if you wanted, but I doubt you’d suggest it even if you were unsure about this.”

“I think I am. I don’t think I was, deep down, but after what I saw in Prometheus’s world, I think I have the grit to take the leap. After all, no matter what happens, I’ll still have you. That’s… enough. It’s more than I’ve ever had before this, anyway.”

She grins, sixfold wings exploding from her shoulderblades, iridescent feathers shining like amethyst in the raging conflagration.

“I’ll see you on the other side.” Marie declares, fearlessly taking the first step forward.

~

>>6322583

So, you’ve finally prepared to cast off your mortal shell.

”I don’t think I agree with the framing.”

This is a metamorphosis. An apotheosis. It’s what your destiny has been building up to.

”Even in a matter of souls, it feels like her hands are keeping me in the right shape. Similarly, I hear my own voice guiding her, a song of Marie Karmenov to keep her in lockstep with her own existence It’s all very… tactile. Even if I go to higher places, I don’t want to forget the sort of being I am deep down.”

I thought you above such trivial sentiments. When we met, you seemed to resent the weaknesses of the flesh as much as I disdained my own lot amongst the screaming of the King.

”Maybe once. Still, I’d be real disappointed if I never got to try that pumpkin cheesecake.”

What?

”Oh, I have a friend who really likes Olive Garden. It’s a restaurant. They have a seasonal pumpkin cheesecake, but I didn’t get to try it since it hasn’t been fall since the last time I went. I think I’d like to see another fall.”

You shall forget such a desire the moment you lose your shell. This has always been the case.

“You don’t have the sample size to determine that.”

I have seen more gods than you, Child of Ruin.

”Maybe, but if you really were that good, you’d have noticed…”

I already lost my Anchor.

~

>>6322584

“So, the time has finally come for me to pass on?”

A derelict throne stands before you, once in an inky void stained deep in the Colors of the King, now that high See resides in an ocean of flame, jaws, eyes. In a place so long beyond the passage of days, the light of the sun finally graces the old king’s eyes, the blinding light shining directly into his face.

Seems that way. You reply, an unwitting gravity leaking into your un-voice despite the nonchalant tone you intended. I can’t imagine you have hard feelings.

“On the contrary,” he chuckles, ignoring the burns blooming on his skin as fire laps at his withered flesh, seemingly reveling in the heat of the blaze and the warmth of the sun alike, “I am eternally grateful to have granted the privilege of seeing one more sunrise.”

It’s a sunset, you correct, slightly annoyed that yet another person has mixed it up.

“I suppose you must be right, but, to me, it is not,” Kieldrich decrees, clutching the hilt his rusted blade as he straightens his back, propping himself into a more kingly position before continuing, “Be it the grand construction of a proper throne room, or a temporary camp set up on a tent in the front lines, the Grand Seat of Malgha is always to face the Painted Aperture, the place from which the divine sun rises into the heavens. Ultimately, our family and our kingdom is one bound by faith and pact to the Light. As such, it is said that the master of Malgha must always be prepared to greet that holy radiance.”

Touching, but a sunset fits better here, you insist, This is, after all, an end for you.

“Maybe,” he smiles, “But it is also true that you have brought the first day to this wretched, endless midnight since that beast consumed my people. Isn’t it fitting to call that a sunrise?”

You really are a stubborn bastard.

“Such is the duty of a King. Still… I am weary. More than weary. Fatigued beyond description. I thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for granting my world this peace.”

I did it for me. Any benefit you might get is entirely incidental.

“Even then. Thank you.”

You turn away, watching the old fool melt into the burning water slowly encompassing his throne. It’s a waste of time to argue with someone so inflexible.

~

>>6322586

You know, You hear Marie’s un-voice echo through the burning abyss, There’s still enough fire here to… do something with it, if you wanted.

What do you mean?

The Grand Art. It’s broken and without will, but it’s still broadly intact. If you wanted to make some quick edits, it should be doable.

Wouldn’t that affect us, too?

It shouldn’t. Otherwise, the Grand Art would be at risk of a grandfather paradox which, well, I’m not sure how that works but it’s gotta be pretty bad, right? As it stands, we’re between realities, an outside space, so we’d be exempt from any ripple effects from the alterations.

So you’re saying..?

It’s pretty simple. All you really need to ask is—

Do you have any regrets?

>Yes, but I don’t see much point in dwelling on them
>No. Everything that happened was important to put me where I am today
>Obviously. Now that you mention it, I might as well patch up a few things… (specify)
>Write-in

This is a thread made mostly to keep the quest from getting bumped off before I finish it, and to leave a place for a bit of q&a and art requests after the narrative is finished. As always, here are the usual links:

>Past Threads
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=Olympus+Incarnation+Quest
>Rentry masterlink, includes character sheets, shop information, inventory, and general information
https://rentry.org/olympus-quest-links
>Inquiries: olympusqm@gmail.com

>>6322588

>Yes, but the pain, the mistakes, they're all an important part of me, of us. There are a million versions of our stories, but only this one is ours.

>>6322588
>"Hmm... Maybe let's behave godly. This isn't about my regrets, but let's reset the world to the point since before the Incarnation system started. The world was never kind to us, but with the Incarnation system it became an even worse place to be. There'll still be an Andrea in there with her own shit to deal with, but I'll not magic her to be happy. The system is the King's fault and the Architect's mistake. Also let's remove the horse armor DLC."

>>6322588
The only thing I can think of is the deer, not that I'd change the choice, but it did move us forward, pushed us into the person we had to be to get here. There were others that were similarly impactful to our growth, but unlike those, the deer wasn't a threat we had to deal with, or someone who fucked us over before.
I suppose, there is at least a shred of appreciation for that. Maybe enough to manifest her back into existence. After all, it's not like we can do anything else with this art, it's basically free.

Though I'd also ask Marie if she has anything she'd like to change as well.

(Not a concise write-in, but I do hope it gets the point across.)

>>6322731
I could get behind that. Not as an edit to the past, but as an addition to the future.

>>6322588
>Obviously. Now that you mention it, I might as well patch up a few things… (specify)
Revive our brother.
Revive our uncle, and give him to Dorota.

>>6322731
>>6322742
I advocated again and again for an attempted revival because I thought it was also part of godhood to create life or bring someone back. Of course, as an excuse for righting that regret.
But now... I feel like it's a bit disingenuous, that's why my write-in is an all or nothing.
that is to say, we retained our human desires, like wanting to eat food. If we leave the world as it is right now, I'd also really like to go back and stomp around a bit, maybe do a last livestream, just gloat a bit.

>>6323390
I do not agree with your method, but I do see your point of wanting to have a place to stomp around and have a place to hang out. I do feel that undoing stuff is not ideal on a large scale, it feels like it makes everything fake, especially if you include our minions, or Pendrix, as part of our human desires, which I do. We would be effectively unmaking them.
Instead, if would go for a middle ground. Remove obstructions.

To be fair, I don't see many, mostly the chinese leader (mostly because Ate can't do anything about her, but Pheme can), so that could be solved by Marie saying so, just making it so that the dear leader was never born. The only other possible threat would be the space colony, but I'd say we can destroy it for fun in collaboration.

>>6323564
I realize I haven't posted my "nothing"
Then again, in the convo we had just earlier the difference would be "cleaning up our mistakes" vs "going back to where we never made them and learned from them"
So on the route of just cleaning up after ourselves, I support reviving deer and our brother. And we should also release those whose soul we own.

Sorry for the unannounced and unexpected hiatus. Was busy IRL.

[POV: PANOPTICON]

It would only be a half truth to say I saw this coming.

These eyes of glass and wire stare up at the burning night sky, a burning blood moon bearing a radiance of likewise brightness to the sun and homoiousian to that gut-wrenching divine might wielded by the Uncrowned King. The terror that strikes this body, and the frantic, desperate calculus flittering through my Collective, make the cold certainty of the struggle against that beast seem almost comforting in comparison. Indeed, that fated war had— or, I suppose, ought to have had, but two possible outcomes: annihilation and salvation. Instead, we have before us a half-measure, two suns, crimson and ebony, one burning bright, the other so subtle it can only be felt, not seen, engulf the inky void and drown out the distant twinkle of the stars suspended in it.

I have undoubtedly miscalculated— I had disastrously underestimated the humanity of the girl who called herself Atë. I was sold an inhuman monster, a power-hungry beast only human in her cunning, driven solely and ferociously by an unquenchable lust for strength. In the end, it was my mistake to take what must have been an opinion of Prometheus as opposed to as objective a fact as the rest of the information he provided. Then again, I had only made that mistake because I had underestimated the humanity of that seer as well.

I shall have to send one of my more personable selves out to make some arrangements. Even if by treaty this world belongs to me, I can hardly presume that peace and its terms are anything less than a method of buying time.

We have become this world’s sole, uncontested ruler. Who could have predicted it would feel so unpleasant?

[POV: YOU]

>Bring back your brother and the Hind

I think it’s a little counterproductive to think of them as regrets. Instead, I think it would be nice if I brought back some things I missed. Besides, a resurrection is far godlier than Prometheus’s behind the scenes rewrite, is it not?

Well, it’s certainly more of a spectacle.

How about you, Marie? Was there anything you wanted to do?

Now that you mention it, there was one thing…

Ah, right. Now that you mention it, I was curious too.

[POV: PANOPTICON]

The lunar bonfire’s light bathes the world in crimson, as if the entire world were sequestered beneath the incandescence of an old neon light. Oddly, despite the nigh-apocalyptic atmosphere, there’s something almost natural about how it makes me feel. Like, it’s just a normal occurrence, like sometimes the moon just glows bright enough to match the day. I shake my head, snuffing out my cigarette on a nearby pillar before stepping into what, to mortal eyes, was merely the entrance to a derelict office complex.

>>6324679

Instantly, the shabby illusion melts away, replaced with a building that, while hauntingly empty, is still perfectly maintained and stuffed to the gills with evidence of life— mundane paperwork, memos, knick-knacks and office amenities placed side by side with the supernatural— medieval or classical weapons shining with what can only be described as magic, runes and relics and all other sorts of odd, incarnation related items making a striking, almost surreal contrast with the familiar workspace.

I step through those halls, the sturdy click of heels against linoleum reverberating through the empty rooms until, eventually, I find myself at the office at the end of the hall, a grand room with a plaque lacking in any due ostentation:

Incarnation Auction: Chief Coordinator

Then again, there is something subtly imposing about such sparse, matter of fact presentation. The cool confidence of knowing that no ado or introduction was required. The man himself was enough to make a sufficient impression.

Before I even touch the knob of the door, it clicks downwards seemingly of its own volition, swinging inwards as if to beckon me to enter. Having no reason to refuse, I cross the threshold, stepping into a simple, almost excessively minimalist office bleached pure white— pristine quartz floors, custom cut marble desk, and stark chairs and couch cushions are all dyed in Ate’s ascendancy, ivory bleeding sanguine as this space, every space, seems to become a part of her domain.

Facing me is the Auction Master himself, his attire, from the full-headed mask atop his head to the shined white loafers on his feet, and every inch in between, fully covered in the same colorless, now red, sheen that his office is built in. Though my initial impressions may have been wrong, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to call this an extension of himself (or at least, of this part of it). “Miss Chairman. To what do I owe the pleasure?” He asks, a low, level voice radiating an air of cold confidence as he speaks, “I can't imagine you’re simply here to flaunt your good investment.”

“If you speak without pretense,” I smirk, “I shall endeavor to do the same, Hermes. Or, perhaps, is Zephyr more comfortable?”

“You really are well-informed,” he begins to pry the mask from his face, revealing a complicated smile underneath it, “So, what do you want? If it's a date, I’m afraid I have plans tonight…”

>>6324680

My ever present smile, having lost its purpose, collapses into a small frown. "I wanted to discuss something with you. About the direction the world is going to go.”

“Listen, I like money, gossip, and getting action,” the Wind leans back in his desk, kicking his shoes up onto the table and allowing the British accent to leak back into his speech, “Not super lined up with your utopia business.”

“Naturally. This is different. I think you might be interested in hearing out what I have to say.”

I lean forward, whispering into his ear my last trick to keep the earth, and myself, alive.

“...a Vegas style entertainment district? I thought you hated that sort of opulence and public degeneracy.”

“The world has changed, Hermes,” I grimly reply, “After all, our planet just shifted from the most important place in the universe to, in the best case, God’s vacation spot.”

“...what?”

“Wake up to reality,” I chuckle, striking a match and lighting a new cigarette indoors, “Prometheus really fucked us over.”

[POV: YOU]

When you focus all of your attention on existing as a vessel, it's surprisingly easy to forget about your new existence. Still, it’s impossible to ignore completely.

Being a god is… well, it's difficult to describe. It’s like you’re playing a board game, and you see the pieces and board as having constructs, rules, maybe even a world, and a whole bunch of stuff you as the player have to follow while you play, but you, not being a part of the game but rather an outsider participating, one who can effortlessly reach any part of the board, or touch two spots at the same time if you’d like to. Space exists, but it seems so… not small, but perhaps you might call it accessible. But, before you dig deeper into that, is there anything you want to do while you’re back on earth?

>OPTIONAL WRITE-IN: ANY LOOSE ENDS?

>>6324681

> Send Perdix a present
> Cut loose our servants...if they want to

> Who...or what is the Architect of the System?
Thanks for running QM. It's really been a delight.

>>6324681
>Claim our mafia crew
>Pay a visit to our good friend Tangerine Owl

I can back >>6324870 too, although even now we may not be able to get full info on the Architect.

>>6324681
>>6324870
>>6324962
Sounds good, supporting

>>6324681
>>6324870
support + exit interviews
to keep the game going on a bit longer I kinda want to know the reactions of everyone

>>6324962
I'm not sure what you mean by "claim", also Tangerine... we only met once. You don't mean Crimson Dove?

>>6325218
> I'm not sure what you mean by "claim”
Don’t leave them with Ye Min, take them to wherever we’re going.

> Tangerine... we only met once
Once is all it takes.

I'm really amused that Ye Min's strategy is to make sure we see earth as a good vacation spot.

I want to FUCK Ate, no, not the human pussy version with empathy, I mean the Ate B, that wants to gain divinity by destroying all human life and not feel a shred of pitty of for it, she's hot

>>6326286
As do we all

>>6324870
>>6324962
>>6325197
>>6325218
>>6325278

You lean forward in your seat, contemplating your position in a game of solitaire. Distant sounds and tantalizing smells pour in from the kitchen as you thoughtfully rearrange the tableau, the soft flick of the playing cards and the satisfying texture transferred to your fingers as you slide them across the velvet tablecloth adding a satisfying tactility to the otherwise quite dull game. You hum one of your hit singles to yourself, recalling with satisfaction the times you’ve heard something you made playing in stores or on the radio. While such a mundane accomplishment is, in theory, entirely irrelevant in comparison to your ascendancy as a god, it still feels… unreal in a way that more concrete, human-scale merits are not. Well, it’ll probably sink in eventually.

You frown— you accidentally peeked at the cards. Really, it’s a considerable struggle to reign in your perception and keep everything in human terms. Sometimes you find yourself accidentally <Snap Cutting> things that annoy or inconvenience you, on occasion even people. Other times you slip through space, like picking up a piece on a chessboard and placing it back down on another square instead of sliding it across the wooden surface.

“They’re done,” Pheme strolls in, a tray of perfect cream puffs levitating in the space between her extended hands. Her hair is tied into a ponytail, an enormous plume of unkempt raven hair. Her face is in full view, scars having darkened and morphed, pale lacerations altered into cracks that sparkle like black amethyst in the dull light. Her eyes, still jet black from sclera to pupil, have a soft wetness about them that her former glass prosthetics lacked. Indeed, despite their outward appearance, these were real eyes molded to match the ones that had served her so well in her years alone in the dark.

“Didn’t you say they needed time to set and cool after baking?” You ask, leaning forward and picking one up, surprised at the perfectly room temperature choux even though it was in the oven less than a moment ago. “Are these an earlier batch like last time?”

“I accelerated the cooling process. Ripped off the trick from Kronos,” she smiles, her eyes crinkling up slightly in a way you rarely got to see thanks to her tendency to cover her face, “of course, my version is wildly inefficient…”

“Not that it matters,” you chuckle, taking the treat to your nose instead of directly popping it into your mouth. You recognize the rose from the last batch, but there’s something else. A shake of cinnamon? Seems so, yes, but that’s not what you’re looking for. It’s floral, but subtler, harmonizing and supporting the stronger flavor of the rose water rather than taking center stage itself.

>>6326405

Unable to wait any longer, you sink your teeth into the puff, cracking through the crisp exterior to relish the spongy pastry and soft filling within. However, that texture deviates from your expectations— the cream has a firm bite to it, almost meringue-like in its stiffness and mouthfeel, a barely discernible bit of elasticity instead of the more traditional properties of whipped cream. You turn to Pheme, eyes burning with curiosity, asking her a question your mouth is too occupied to pose.

“Salep powder!” She declares, the slight smile transfiguring into a triumphant grin as she stuffs one of the cream puffs into her face. As she chews, one of the mouths buried in her feathers speaks in her stead, “Dried orchid root. Not really seen here, but it’s really popular in Turkey for all kinds of stuff. Drinks, ice cream…”

“Oh yeah,” you muse, swallowing the sweet dessert and reaching for a second, “you did mention your family was from there.”

“I’m honestly shocked I didn’t know about it. Well, what else is divine power good for, eh?”

That’s right— Pheme had rewritten reality, changing the past such that she still possessed her grandmother’s recipes. You can only imagine what the past versions of either you and her might have done with that power, but you can’t help but think it’s better that neither of you really felt the need to do much more than that.

“Anyway, when you have time, we need to do a food tour,” she says, this time with the mouth on her face despite it still being somewhat full, “I brought back a ton of good places.”

“As fun as that sounds, I have some business to take care of first…”

>>6326406

>Exit interview: Pallas

You find Iwana in the training room as usual, bandages now mostly ornamental as her divine regeneration has fully patched up the considerable wounds she’d taken in her fight against Kobayashi Hajime. Though he may have died at their collective efforts, you shudder to think about how sharp that blade could have grown if left unchecked. Maybe, that level of mastery, the level of a Bladesoul, could even cut a god. Pallas seemed entranced by that image, swinging her staff and watching the aura encompassing it shudder and crack with her face twisting in increasing annoyance. She stops as you enter, wiping the sweat from her brow and planting the haft of the training spear on the ground, leaning slightly against it as she waits for you to speak.

“As you know, I’ll be leaving this world soon.”

“Naturally,” she nods, “but I think you mean we.”

“Actually, that’s what I came here to discuss. I’m giving you an out. If you want, I can release you from your servitude and allow you to remain on earth after Pheme and I go. After that… Well, you can do whatever you want, really.”

“Are you kidding? Of course, I’m still in.”

“Seriously?” You ask, “I am offering to give you your soul back.”

“And I mean, I’ll take it if you let me have my cake and eat it too, but you’re out of your mind if you think I’ll let you go have crazy space god adventures while I rot on this peaceful, overpopulated rock.”

“This place has hardly been peaceful.”

“It will be. Ye Min is ascendant now, especially in a universe that has you in it. Besides, even if I get to stay here, you’ll be taking the Bandit King with you, right?”

“I mean, he is a part of me. I can’t exactly leave him behind.”

“Exactly. I feel like he’s the key to reaching a new peak. Maybe even higher than that old Japanese guy. I can’t just give that up for, what, a domestic life away from combat? What’s the point of that?”

“That is very you.” you laugh, a hint of sentiment creeping into your mind as you see the fire of ambition burning in her eyes, “Very well. You’re coming with me.”

>>6326408

>Exit interview: Brigita

“...I’d like it if you let me go.”

You stumbled in on Brigita, still bedridden from the aftermath of your Elegy. Her room is opulent in an almost childish sort of way— canopy bed curtains in soft pastel pink, matching the mild, princess-esque decor of the rest of the room. The furniture and wallpaper are modeled after a sort of idealized fairy tale interpretation of Rococo, intricate patterns of twisting vines, flowers, and flowing embossments of gold and silver, either in paint or carving or both, give every square inch of the room a bit of visual interest. It’s very… storybook princess. She looks away from you, a hint of something separate from but definitively resembling guilt in her eyes as she asks to be let free.

“As a matter of course.” You really are unsurprised. After all, you and her never really interacted much if at all. It would be delusional to expect enough loyalty from her to let you keep her soul.

“...I really am thankful. For everything. But…”

“I know,” you turn to leave, “you always wanted to be free.”

“...”

“Well, it’s been fun, Brigita. You’ve come a long way.”

“I really hope you’re right.”

You begin to walk away, footsteps silent against the plush pink carpet beneath your feet, “Not to brag, but I usually am.”

>Exit interview: Ciotti/Lethe

A bell rings as you push the door open, the smell of cigarette and grill smoke wafting into your nose alongside the must of old carpets and the acrid tinge of buffalo sauce. It’s an old sports bar in an older small town, the same couple dozen people coming through every day to shoot pool, drink beer, and watch whatever game is on that night. You find Frank wrapping up a game of billiards, gently tapping the white ball with his cue at just the right angle to send the 8 ball near perfectly horizontal, deftly sending it into the pocket he called and securing the win.

You walk up to him, footsteps silent, and tap him on the shoulder. He turns to greet you unphased. “Hey, boss,” he nods, brushing a stray lock of shiny black hair from his face, “what’s the situation?”

“First, I call next.” you smile, gesturing to the table behind him, the balls neatly arranged in a perfect starting order despite nobody having ever set them up, “Second, I’m here to ask what you want to do going forward.”

“Challenger goes first.” Ciotti declares, “and I didn’t know I had a say in that sorta thing.”

>>6326411

You launch the cueball with a satisfying clink, watching with interest as it scatters the triangular arrangement on the other side of the table. A solid red sphere falls into the pocket on the back right, and you see another easy solid shot, yellow on the opposite side of that end of the table. With practiced confidence, you easily sink it in. “I played a lot in college,” you smirk, deciding to hit a setup for your next turn instead of going for a risky trick shot.

“I’ve played a lot in my own time,” he deftly hits one, two, three of his targets with calm, steady shots. “but you still haven’t told me what you wanted to ask.”

“It’s simple,” you lean on your cue a bit, the tapered end in your hand as the haft pokes into the old carpeted floor, “I’m leaving town. And by town I mean this entire galaxy. Do you want in or out?”

“Does out mean..?” he draws a line across his broad neck with his thumb, mimicking the high gurgle of a person being choked out.

“Nope. In or out. That’s all.”

You watch him accidentally nick your ball while trying to pull off a difficult shot, sending it into the pocket instead of his own. You happily take your turn, but your hand slips as you line it up, hitting the cueball off in a random direction instead. He can’t suppress a smug grin, but it only flashes for a moment before he puts his business face back on.

“I’d like to stick around for a while,” he answers, “I have some things I’d like to wrap up.”

“In that case, I suppose I’ll have to let you have your soul back.”

“Don’t bother,” he refuses, perfectly executing a ricochet move and sinking his ball into the net behind it, “You bought it fair and square. ‘S far as I’m concerned, you’re my boss until I die.” He stops, using his cue to gesture at the pocket for his final shot.

“You’re a real oddball,” you shake your head, not an ounce of regret in your gut as you see him land the finishing blow to absolutely thrash you at billiards, “But, sure, why not? If you like the idea of it so much, I’ll keep your soul in my pocket. Say hi to your kids for me, Frank.”

“Will do,” he shrugs, inexplicably casual about the fate of his mortal soul, “Until next time, then.”

“I’ll kick your ass at pool if we ever meet again.”

“Don’t bet on it, boss,” he laughs, shaking his head mostly to himself as you walk back out the door, “I’ll be practicing.”

>>6326412

>Exit interview: Dorota

“Am I… no longer useful?”

You and Dorota sit together at the top of the Burj Khalifa, looking out over the bustling city of Dubai from the highest manmade peak in the world. You hear rare emotion sounding from her voice, trembling with uncertainty as your soul has grown too big for her to read.

“Not at all,” you reply, keeping your gaze fixed on the distant lights and frantic activity below, “I just felt like giving all of my subordinates an out. You know, in case they felt like keeping their souls.”

“Of course, I refuse.”

“But you could-”

“If you leave me here alone, I will kill as many people as I am able and then end my own life.”

“Sounds about right,” you snicker, “I knew it was a waste of time, but I thought I’d ask anyway. Hop in my shadow— I still have errands to run.”

>Tangerine Owl?

You alight on the patio of a quaint little building in the outskirts of Vienna, the very same city you had met Owl in in the first place. You knock on the door, maintaining a fully human facade and suppressing your divinity enough not to cause a stir to a potentially sensitive incarnation. Instead of the person you were expecting, a tall, white man opens the door— blonde hair, handsome features, and a body that, while lean and slender, has at least some effort put into it despite his outwardly geeky appearance with a loose polo, khaki pants, and a heavy pair of thick rimmed glasses.

“I’m looking for an acquaintance,” you announce, having effortlessly copied the language and dialect from his brain, “Your wife, I believe.”

He pauses for a moment, seemingly surprised at something about you before shrugging and calling back, “Chidera! Someone you know is at the door!”

For the first time, you see Owl unmasked– despite her high stature (though notably shorter than her husband) she seems far less… warrior-like than you were expecting: her body is curvy and feminine, arms and calves slender in a manner almost entirely unrecognizable from the huntress you met at the auction. Her face is round, soft, almost harmless looking if you couldn’t feel the strength and divinity behind that gaze. You can instantly tell that she has transfigured herself to some extent, that her true body is the one you remember, not this (presumable) copy of what she had looked like before her deification. You pull her in by the arm, whispering into her ear quietly enough that her husband won’t overhear, “Owl, yes? We met at the auction. It was a passing association, but I felt compelled to talk to you again.”

>>6326413

“That cadence… yes, I think I recall.” she replies in hushed tones, speaking in her native English with her native accent, “You are, Serpent, yes?”

“I’m surprised you remember. Even more surprised that you recognized me despite the anonymization of the Auction Masks. You really are impressive. Oh, and you can just call me Ann” You smile, leaning back and speaking the introduction at a normal volume.

“Of course. Would you like to come in, Ann?” she asks, “I have tea.”

“I was just curious to see how you were doing. Well, I think I got my answer there.”

“I really would recommend it!” she beams, genuine relief and pride shining from her face like sunlight off the sea, “The novelty of… how you live, it wears away quickly. Eventually, you will find yourself face to face with something truly terrifying. Once that happens, you will experience unimaginable suffering. Those sorts of monsters… anyway, that’s the last piece of advice I have for you.”

“I know. Better than anyone,” you tilt your head, a sad smile creeping itself across your lips as you turn to leave, “But I decided to see it through. And, well, here I am.”

“It isn’t too late to change your mind,” she objects, “Human beings are beings of change. Growth. As long as you are human, I believe that one may always choose a different path.”

“As long as you’re human indeed,” you chuckle, walking off into the night. The woman who used to call herself Tangerine Owl could have almost sworn that she saw you vanish into thin air.

>Meet with Perdix?

“I’ve heard the news. Congratulations!”

You’re in your own Realm this time, Perdix having brought in a small box filled with party items— streamers, confetti, balloons, even a cake— all in shades of red, black, pink, and purple. He sets the dessert down on the table— coffee buttercream on layers of dark chocolate. You gingerly cut yourself and Perdix a slice each as cogwork attendants set up the decorations.

“Is this a real celebration, or did you just want to get on my good side?” You speak through a mouthful of cake, savoring the rich taste as you watch him hook up his game system to the tv.

“Why not both?” He chuckles, a grin halfway between roguishly charming and boyishly goofy plastered across his face, “I just wanted to hang out one more time before you, I dunno, go do god things.”

“I can do god things AND still make time to play, what is that, smash bros?”

“Legal stages only, no items,” he puffs out his chest a little, plugging in an adapter for gamecube controllers and placing one down next to you and the other on the table besides his own platter of cake, “Oh, and don’t fill up too much on dessert. The assisto-droids are cooking schnitzel. It’s not quite as good as the place where we met, but it’s not half bad for automata.”

>>6326416

You chortle— “You named them ‘assisto-droids’? What, was “go-go-gadget kitchen bot” taken?”

“...I thought it was cool.”

“You think everything is cool.”

“I don’t think you’re cool, you dick.”

“I know you do,” you poke him on the nose, eyes curled up into a smug smirk, “Otherwise you wouldn’t have let me use all of those ‘super awesome’ weapons and gear, would you?”

“We just happen to have a contract.” he pouts, turning his face away from your fingertip, “That’s all.”

“Keep telling yourself that. Anyway, I know this is my party, but I actually have a gift for you.” You pluck out a strand of your hair, watching the pink wisp thicken and liquify, forming a swirling droplet of pink and gold in your palm. You flatten it out into something with the approximate dimensions of a credit card, etching “For Perdix Only: Blank Check,” into its metallic surface with your fingernail.

“Blank check?”

“That’s right. I’ve set aside a few galaxies adjacent to the milky way as a sort of collateral that I— and now you— can use to make requests of Ye Min. She’ll be hungry for more territory now that I’m actually, well, this, so you can get plenty of milage out of this.”

“So, you’re saying…”

“That’s right. As long as you have this card, a request from you is a request from me. Just, uh, don’t overdo it, ok? I also made sure to set a hard limit on how much you could spend with it, and made it so it’ll only work in your hands, but it’s still a lot of trust, you know?.”

“...I don’t know what to say.”

“Wow Atë! You’re the coolest! The prettiest! I swear my undying loyalty to you, O master of the universe!”

“Pass. I will say thanks, though. Seriously, I don’t know how I can repay you.”

“Let me win?”

He leans forward, gripping the controller in his hands tight as his eyes narrow in concentration, “Not on your life.”

>Family reunion?

“It must have been awkward. Coming back to life at your own funeral.”

You stand in your brother’s doorway, looking at his visibly exhausted with a touch of impish satisfaction— it probably would have been easier for him if you just made it so he never died in the first place. Of course, it would have been just as easy to do it that way, but it just didn’t feel as… godlike, you know? Well, you certainly do, but the guy you pulled a Lazarus on probably wouldn’t be as understanding, so you decide to keep that tidbit to yourself.

“...I thought you might be behind that.”

You cock an eyebrow, “You make it sound like I did something bad. And not, you know, defy the laws of nature and bring you back in an unreproducable act of divine intervention.”

>>6326417

“Right. Sorry.”

“A thank you would be nice. You know, for saving your life.”

“Of course, you’re right. Sorry again, it’s just been… a lot. Thank you.” he earnestly follows through, his entire frame seeming to slump forward as he lowers his head to you, “..but if I may ask, why did you do it? I thought… well, maybe you’d have preferred it if I turned up dead.”

“Mostly… I did it just to see if I could. And, if I could, because I could. Well, I also wanted to prove myself wrong about something. About the type of person I was. I think you can relate to the impulse, ‘big brother’.”

“...”

“Plus… well, I couldn’t forget how, after things got bad but before they really went to shit— I felt like you were the only person who still liked me. Or at least, saw me as a person instead of some kind of scarlet letter on the family. I just wanted to wipe that slate clean.”

“Hey, Drea, if you want-”


“Sorry, but no,” you firmly draw the line, having already begun to turn away from him, “We both know that there’s nothing left there anymore. It’s over. Not necessarily fixed, or even really resolved, but it is done. Has been for a while.”

“Then why come back?”

“Just tying up loose ends.”

>Preparations for exit?

Ye Min slides a small aluminum box across the desk of her office. Backlit by the sun, there’s something almost holy about her mere presence. It may have left quite the impression on someone else, but even if she really were chosen by some god, that would hardly be impressive to you now.

“This is the promised population. Ah, of course, the promised number in addition to the organized criminals you ask be brought with you. Also, I have confirmed Perdix’s identity and use of the blank check. I will notify you if any particularly exorbitant purchases are made on your behalf.”

“How are you keeping them fed and stuff? Is there an oxygen generator in there?”

“It’s time dilated,” she presses her fingers together, something of a salesman about her demeanor, a sort of professional deference you’ve never seen before in Ye Min, “You could wait a year and they’ll hardly notice any time has passed at all.”

“People really do like Kronos’s gravity trick, huh?”

“Actually, this is a Hephaestus project. Well, it was completed posthumously…”

“I’d say sorry if I was.”

Her perfect expression remains as unchanging as ever, “It was obvious self defense. Of course, if you felt an impulse to compensate for the damages…”

“I gave you an in with a new smith.”

“...one I can’t pay with anything he can’t just ask me for.”

“Well, uh, unfortunate,” you crack an apologetic smile, “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

“I suppose I’ll have to.”

>>6326418

“Oh, my last concert is tonight. Did you want to come?”

“I already planned on it. I am a fan, after all.”

You narrow your eyes— you’re certain she was telling the truth about attending, but probably mostly for the sake of observation and information gathering. As for the latter… well, your stuff is popular internationally, but it’s hard to imagine Ye Min listening to anything made not just in the pop genre, but to any music made in the last couple centuries. Regardless… “I’ll see you there.”

She leans back a little, returning to some papers on her desk, “Indeed you will.”


>Concert.

Sweat pours down your back— you wanted to do this as unmodified as possible, but a perfectly human body (aside from a couple tweaks to compensate for the lack of vocal stamina training) is susceptible to a lot of things: nerves, exertion, and the oppressive heat of the spotlights on your skin and the fire burning inside your chest. Still, the roar of the crowd, the words you wrote and melodies you crafted being thrown back at you by more people than you can count with mortal eyes, send an energy through you that’s of a whole other sort to a slaughter or an accomplishment of a task assigned by yourself to yourself. It’s electrifying.

You conclude your last song, raising your microphone into the air hard and fast enough to be picked up by the audio system. You hear the cacophony of cheers and screams reverberate through your body as a stadium of fans beg you for just one more song.

“I’m sorry,” you bring the microphone back to your lips, “but that’s all I have for you today. But, before I go, I just have one thing left to tell you.” You pause, catching your breath before staring down the sea of people beneath your stage, “Thank you. For taking the time out of your day to come here and see me perform my art. It’s what makes the process meaningful. So, yeah. Thank you, and goodnight.”

You sigh, letting the microphone fall to the ground with a loud whine of feedback. The entire arena falls silent, eyes upon eyes staring at you with reverence and respect. Unlike the piercing, incomprehensible gaze of the King, this feels… good. Ecstatic, almost. A feeling of power and approval that grabbing someone by the soul and forcing them to follow could never hope to replicate. You stand as tall as you can, spreading your arms before dramatically lurching forward, bending one arm and lowering your body into a bow, one last bow, before disappearing in a blinding flash of crimson light.

The end.

So, that's the end. I tried my best to weave in everything people wanted while still fitting my concept of what this ending would be. Sorry for the nosedive in update speed towards the end, but I think it should be pretty self evident why that happened. Anyway, yeah, it's been a wild ride. Honestly, this quest has been such a big part of my life for the last couple years that it's kinda weird to imagine being done with it. Still, I'm pretty happy with how it all panned out-- I think this is the closest thing to a 'good ending' that this version of you can get, though I did leave the ultimate fate of the characters and relationships up to interpretation. I might come back some time and make a sequel series about Atë's godly misadventures, but I'm planning on letting this sit for a pretty long while, so I wouldn't expect to see that any time soon.

Regardless, that's Olympus Incarnation for you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you all for reading. Even if there are few enough of you to comfortably count on my fingers, each and every reader and voter meant the world to me-- seeing the effort you all put into write-ins, character speculation, dialogue, shitposts, and even fanart and statistical analysis--- I can confidently say I could not have done any of this without you.

TL;DR: It's been fun. That's all, folks. Feel free to ask questions, make comments, or do whatever else it is you want with the rest of this thread's life. I'm always happy to hear from you all.

>>6326423
Thank you for running Olympus.

Was there more to characters like Epimetheus? Was there anything we could have done with his power (I can't remember exactly what it was as it was a while ago now)?

>>6326423
cool story, bro
seriously though, you're a champ, running a quest this fun is already crazy, running it to completion, with a satisfying ending? that's just mad

as for questions, how is deer doing? how did she react to being brought back, and what is her future?
also, how will the space colony go? both independently and it's interactions with earth?

>>6326423
thanks for running QM. You brought joy to people. Your quest has been part of my entire masters course at university and the pace was just slow enough to take part in every major decision and fast enough with accompanying quality for me to stay interested.
There's a bunch of really good quests which are just too fast for me, and outside my timezone to participate. But yours was just perfect for me.

But I also miss Jane's exit interview.
If I can put another request in, the thread will stay up for a few weeks, so you needn't do it in the next two weeks even, but maybe a one-shot scene where we try to teach the architect how to enjoy food

>>6326423
Thank you for the quest! You're now part of a small elite number of QMs who successfully and satisfyingly ended a quest with a double digit number of threads.

Firstly, thank you all for the well wishes. I really am grateful for not only the fact that you stayed to read, but that all of you contributed with incredible write-ins and speculation. Again, I really couldn't have done it without you.

I've decided I might as well throw out some bonus scenes since you guys seem to have wanted a few. I'll release one now, and probably post the next in a couple days. Before that, though, to answer >>6326447's question:

Yeah, I did have a decent chunk of stuff planned for various side characters in case they came up more often. I had whole potential arcs etched out for subordinates like Lethe or Brigita, other world powers like Yama or Hades, and even, indeed, for cannon fodder like Epimetheus or the Boar. Of course, I didn't have a TON planned for the former specifically, since I was really sure you guys were gonna kill him, but Dorota did inherit (a modified version of) his powers which also may have come up if you spent more time with her.

Anyway, here's that exit interview >>6326476 asked for:

>>6327594

Exit interview: Jane

On the night of the apotheosis, the eclipseless blood moon, the world around you seems bright enough to be lit by day. Of course, the light ought to be crimson, but somehow, here in this little stretch of the world, red filters into gold, which melts into the grey of the clouds and thick vapor hugging the dirt and grass.

“Where… am I?”

You and the hind stand alone in the misty nowhere, a crossroads deep into the wilderness of the Pacific Northwest. Your presence is vague but all-encompassing, a faint crimson hue and a tinge of iron in the thick fog belie the presence of something less than— or, more accurately, more than mortal. Your control over your vessel and your presence is still ambiguous, your body still becoming accustomed to godhood. Sparks and wisps of tangerine fire burn silently and smokelessly beneath Jane’s feet, their light seeming not to bother her, or even draw her attention, as she is forged from the echoes of her former self, her existence transplanted from a moment past to a moment present. You open your mouth, but close it again— as you are now, your voice alone would almost certainly kill her.

You are at the crossroads, my dear. you soundlessly reply, keeping your form obscured in the mist as the temporary anchor writhes and crackles beneath the magnitude of your soul, vermilion light exploding out of your eyes and through fractures in your skin. You temper that divine might, sending it to fuel the flames, but even then a haunting incandescence is visible in your eyes. Surely you remember your own death. Your betrayal. I have taken that supernatural misery from your body, but I can only imagine the extent of the shock and melancholy.

Indeed, this Jane is not the person you had spoken to in your soul. Even if you shielded her somewhat, she had become inexorably dyed in your colors, slowly becoming incorporated into the endless sanguine sea. It wasn't truly her, not really, so you had decided instead to bring her back as she was when she died.

“Wow, I don't… know what to say. Who are you, if you don't mind my asking? Or, um, is that impolite for, uh, whatever it is you are..?”

>>6327595

I have a lot of names. Most all of them would be meaningless to you. Well, it doesn't really matter anymore. you breathlessly sigh, dropping the divine majesty angle and returning to your more usual manner of speaking, Ultimately, your revival is just another aspect of my selfish desire. So, I wanted to give you a choice: I could either revive you as you were, as you died, or I can wipe your slate clean. No memories, no trauma, and a brand new life with brand new people. So, Jane, what will it be?

She pauses, her form melting from hart to human, her unflattering, baggy clothes returning to her as her hide shifts into flesh.

“I think I’ll go this way,” she smiles, pointing off into the distance.

You’ve been dead for a long time. Reintegrating in that environment is gonna be difficult.

“I didn't know too many people anyway.”

The things you were running away from, using me, are going to still be there when you get back.

“Then… maybe you could stay with me?” She replies, seemingly entirely unsurprised at your reveal.

You do remember, don't you? The things I did. The things I said.

“I remember that it tore you up inside.”

The man you loved isn't real.

“Um. Could you… make him real, then? I… I know a lot of that— a lot of us— it wasn't just a lie.”

If your lungs worked, you wouldn't have been able to help but laugh at yourself. Some things never change, huh?

...

…

Well, whatever. What's the point of being god if you can't do a couple miracles? I may as well sort out the memories and records too, while I’m at it. Oh, and he’ll probably be just a little meaner than he was when you knew him. Just a bit. Anyway, sure…

Let there be man.

Your vessel twists and shifts, its brain being wired with a mix of fabrications and realities filtered through the lens of a man who never was. Your— now his body swells, strengthened muscles wrapping around an expanded, masculine skeletal frame as you delicately tinker with this anchor until it meets the appropriate specifications. You melt away, leaving only a tiny, insignificant human fragment of the universe of might that makes up your current self.

It’ll be a long walk back to the nearest town from here, but for once, Jane won't be walking alone.

>>6327596
nice

a good end point