Chapter 1: The (Damp) Dawn of the Fallen Gods
The sleep of the fallen gods in Cosmos City's Re-education Camp No. 78 was anything but divine. Once revered for their power and glory, they now slept on hard straw mats in icy dorms, divinity reduced to distant memories… until the brutal awakening that came each morning.
"GET UP, YOU MISERABLE WRETCHES!" screamed a shrill voice, followed by a cascade of icy water. Aphrael, goddess of beauty and love, jolted awake, screaming as water dripped down her face. "My hair! My curls! I just styled them! You bastard!"
Nearby, Vahan, god of Economy, sneezed loudly. "Water? Couldn't you, I don't know… recycle this method?" he muttered, trying to pull his soggy blanket over his face.
Ezekiel, the god of Knowledge, shivered, disheveled and wide-eyed. "This water… it's as cold as cosmic annihilation, my friends…"
A few steps away, Nyssa, goddess of the Arts, rose with feigned elegance, trying to turn her damp posture into a work of art. Raising her arms, she murmured, dramatic, "See how each droplet captures my melancholy…"
The guards, unfazed by her theatrics, continued their rounds with dull expressions, to the chagrin of the gods. They finished with the last bucket over Asher, god of Divination, who'd miraculously fallen asleep standing against the wall. Startled awake, he cursed, muttering, "May my visions help me foresee the end of this suffering…"
---
The gods, now wide awake, carried on with their absurd morning routines. Aphrael admired herself in a cracked mirror, swooning at her reflection despite the constant dark circles and dull complexion. She had improvised makeup from local plants to make up for the lack of her sacred beauty products.
Vahan inspected a few crumbs of bread like they held immense value. "I managed to save these bits yesterday. If we ration carefully, they could last… maybe five minutes." Ezekiel, exasperated, rolled his eyes.
Asher, meanwhile, improvised prophecies he murmured to the others, half-closed eyes: "This morning, I see… you don't feel like another day of re-education. Am I a genius or a seer?"
The "Spiritual Re-education" class came soon after, led by a stern old reformer-god, ready to teach "Cosmic Humility for Dummies." The first lesson was to recount their past mistakes. Nyssa, delighted, launched into a grand tale of her "misunderstood artistic genius." The professor cut her off coldly.
"Humility, Nyssa. Is that word unfamiliar to you?"
Lifting her chin, she replied indignantly, "I am the Incarnation of Art! Who are you to question my talent?"
The teacher sighed, forcing her to sit down. Vahan, on his turn, lamented about "the failure of forced cooperation," earning a dark look from the professor.
"Miss Mavora, how did yesterday's therapy session go?" he asked the goddess of Death and Medicine, who gazed into the distance.
"Fine," she answered curtly.
"Care to elaborate?" the professor asked, impatience mounting.
"Oh, sure," she adjusted herself with a smug look, chin resting on her hands. "See, esteemed professor, this whole life-death cycle… it's just a myth, a worn-out concept people cling to out of habit, without any real reflection. Think about it: who decided that life has to end in death? No one asked mortals if they consented to this 'cosmic wheel' of beginnings and endings! Someone just decided they must die to supposedly 'make room' for newcomers. But is it their choice, or just collective illusion? This cycle is an outdated social invention, like taxes! So as long as I'm here, I refuse to blindly participate. Why should I, Mavora, perpetuate such an archaic tradition? I refuse to stain my hands with the deaths of innocents who could live forever. That's what I told my therapist. Satisfied?"
"You know what? Go to hell," the professor muttered, storming out the door.
---
At the day's end, the gods regrouped in a corner of the courtyard, exchanging weary looks. Ezekiel, excited, gestured for them to come closer. His eyes sparkled, and a sly smile crept onto his face.
"I have a plan," he whispered.
Asher raised an eyebrow. "A plan? Are we talking a real plan or one of your pseudo-scientific schemes?"
Ezekiel rolled his eyes. "No, a real plan! A guard told me about a new planet on the verge of being colonized by a young pantheon. These young gods are adored across the cosmos for their discipline, ambition… their insufferable perfection!"
Just hearing about these young gods was enough to make the fallen ones boil with anger. The mention of these prodigies, revered by the Elders as paragons of virtue, was deeply irritating.
Aphrael clenched her teeth. "They know nothing of true devotion! I was worshipped long before they even knew what worship meant!"
Vahan nodded. "Yes, and they've never known real restrictions! You think they survive on breadcrumbs? Ha!"
Nyssa sighed, eyes blazing with artistic disdain. "They know nothing of the true sacrifice... They're so… ordinary."
Ezekiel seized the moment. "Friends, this is our chance. This planet is practically untouched by any divine influence. The humans there are in their 'Antiquity'… they have no knowledge of gods, no pantheon in place. Imagine what we could do!"
Nyssa chuckled. "You mean… a new playground?"
Ezekiel nodded. "Exactly. We could re-establish ourselves as rulers of this world. No more re-education, no more humility… there, we'd be gods again. And with some organization, we might even surpass those young prodigies… in our way."
They exchanged eager glances. Asher broke the silence with a laugh. "By the stars, you want us to be gods again? But this time… actually have fun doing it!"
Aphrael smiled wickedly. "Perfect. I'll finally bring this world the concept of absolute glamour. No more godhood without blush!"
Vahan nodded approvingly. "Alright. But if we go, we establish an egalitarian economy. No room for greed. The only real governance is of the proletariat."
Ezekiel grinned. "Excellent! Get ready, friends. We're going to take this planet and make it our own divine empire."
They exchanged a conspiratorial look, and with one last murmur, Ezekiel added, "What they call 'divine humility,' we… will call it our revenge."