On another screen, a group landed somewhere in Tokyo, their faces awash in neon lights, blinking signs, and fast-paced chatter. One teen mouthed, "What the hell does that sign even say?" while another groaned, "We are so screwed."
Hermes chuckled softly. "This is gonna be good."
The gods, for the first time in eons, looked genuinely entertained, like kids watching their favorite chaotic TV show unfold. For them, it wasn't just about the game or the challenge—it was about what came after.
The stories, the victories, the failures. Humanity had always surprised them, and now these teens—products of a changing, modern world—were stepping up.
Ares raised his goblet, the wine sloshing as he grinned. "To the chaos ahead."
"To the mess ahead," Hermes corrected, laughing under his breath.
Jupiter just sighed, watching Cleopatra flip her hair as she strolled through the LA streets like she owned them. "This is going to be a long century."
Still with his arms crossed, his face an unreadable mask as the stream flickered to his domain.
****
On Earth...
Palm trees swayed lazily against a perfect blue sky, the heat shimmering off the pavement. Skyscrapers loomed in the distance, but it was the sight of a certain curved, white-tiled building—its smooth walls catching the light like a beacon—that made him groan.
Cleopatra's crew stepped out of the golden gate and into the blazing lights of the city that never sleeps. Neon signs bathed the streets in vibrant colors, casting electric hues across their faces.
Yet no human seemed to see the gate or thier arrival.
The air was thick with life—music, laughter, the endless clinking of slot machines from nearby buildings. A giant, flashing sign of a golden pyramid lit up the skyline in the distance, surrounded by the chaotic hum of the strip as if welcoming her.
Cleopatra tilted her head, her eyes narrowing with interest as she took it all in. "Oh," she drawled, the corner of her mouth curling into a smirk. "This is so my vibe."
Cleopatra's sandals clicked against the concrete as she threw a glance over her shoulder, her smile annoyingly confident. "This'll indeed, do."
One of her group snorted, shoving their hands into their pockets. "City of sin, huh? Figures they'd stick us here."
"Better than some cornfield, I guess," another muttered.
From his place in the heavens, Jupiter groaned, his hand dragging down his face like he was already exhausted. "Why did I agree to this again?"
Ares, sprawled lazily across his throne, burst into laughter. "Oh, this I gotta see. She's gonna own that place in a week."
"She's gonna burn it down in a week," Jupiter corrected, his voice heavy.
Hermes grinned, leaning closer to the stream. "Look at her. She's already sizing it up like a chessboard. Cleopatra's in her element."
On the street, Cleopatra turned, flashing her group a sharp smile. "Well? Let's get moving. We've got a kingdom to build."
Jupiter groaned louder. "A kingdom, she says! Someone save me!"
The gods chuckled as the stream zoomed in, watching Cleopatra lead her group straight into the chaos of flashing lights and temptation, the city itself humming like it knew who had arrived.
Jupiter slumped back in his seat, muttering under his breath.
"This is going to be a nightmare."
Jupiter barely had time to recover before the stream shifted again.
Another golden gate shimmered into view, spilling out another group—Chione, Isis, Perseus, Cassandra, and Atalanta—right into the heart of the same sprawling city.
The backdrop remained unmistakable: palm trees swaying under bright lights, iconic golden stars embedded into sidewalks, and towering letters high on a distant hill.
Jupiter sighed loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "At least this group will fix what Cleopatra destroys."
A loud burst of laughter erupted behind him. A velvet voice cut through the amusement—it was Aphrodite, lounging effortlessly as if she'd been waiting for this moment.
"Fix what she destroys? Jupiter, are you sure?"
Beside her, Anubis—the Egyptian god of the afterlife—chimed in, his deep, mirthful chuckle carrying weight. "Oh, Jupiter. Have you met Isis? Or Perseus? And you're forgetting Chione entirely."
Jupiter's head snapped up to glare at them, but they were both grinning like conspirators, clearly enjoying his misery. "Don't start," he muttered.
Aphrodite leaned forward with a sly smile. "I mean, let's talk about Chione for a second. Given that girl's beauty, half the city will be at war over her before sunrise."
"And if they're lucky," Anubis added, his grin sharp, "she'll just glare them into submission. If not…" He paused meaningfully. "Let's just say, some men might suffer fates they'll never forget."
A ripple of laughter passed through the gods, though Jupiter looked no less aggrieved. "You're all impossible," he grumbled, shifting his gaze back to the stream where the group was fanning out.
Down below, Chione strode through the crowded streets with her usual icy detachment, every gaze around her lingering for a second too long. Perseus trailed beside her, exuding calm confidence while Cassandra and Atalanta took in the sights like they were scoping out their new battlefield.
Isis, however, walked like she owned the place—swagger in every step, eyes sharp as she scanned the unfamiliar streets.
Aphrodite shook her head, still chuckling. "This is going to be fun. Chione attracts attention she doesn't want, Isis causes the trouble Chione refuses to. And Perseus? Oh, Perseus will find a way to get everyone tangled up in his hero complex. You're in for it, Jupiter."
"Enough," Jupiter groaned, slumping deeper into his seat. "I don't need a play-by-play of my suffering."
Athena, who had been silent, finally spoke with cool indifference. "You're overreacting, Jupiter. They'll adapt."
Zeus, sitting smugly on his throne, chimed in with an airy wave of his hand. "Indeed. Besides, you assigned this batch into one group. All we did—me and Athena was to assign them to your domain. You only have yourself to blame. Test you own medicine."
Jupiter shot both of them an exasperated glare. "This is your fault. Both of you."
Neither Athena nor Zeus reacted, their calm, impassive expressions firmly intact, as though they hadn't just been called out.
Aphrodite snorted softly. "Classic. They're acting like they didn't hear you."
Anubis smirked, leaning back with his arms crossed. "Well, Jupiter, good luck with that group. I'll be watching. This is bound to get very entertaining."
Jupiter sighed again, the sound heavy enough to echo through the heavens. Down on Earth, the group disappeared into the lights of the city, their journey just beginning.
"Eons without entertainment, and now this," Aphrodite said, smirking as she watched them vanish into the stream. "I almost feel bad for the mortals."
Jupiter shook his head. "The mortals? I'm the one who needs your pity."
Anubis and Aphrodite exchanged a look, their laughter ringing through the heavens as the gods leaned back to enjoy the chaos about to unfold.
And with that, the gods settled in, their streams glowing brightly, their anticipation palpable. For the first time in ages, they didn't just rule from afar—they watched.
****
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