Tyr remembered the myths and legends of this world, and always would. He loved those stories of the triumphant hero beyond perfection who struggled but never lost. The undefeated champions of good, always wishing that was him. But at the end of the day, all they did was swing their swords to solve problems. Unfortunately life was never that easy no matter how willing he was to be the person swinging said blade. Life was hard, complicated, and gritty. He wished swinging his sword would solve a problem, he'd have no more to worry about if that were the case.

This was the problem of all problems, and he had no sword by which to solve it.

“So...?” Tormund boomed, he was always so loud. It was a wonder that he in particular was allowed to speak while his father, the god of wisdom and knowledge, remained silent. Pensively observing the boy in front of them. But he, as in Tyr, could feel their promises. All of their offers. Except for fire, the power they were offering him was practically endless. Enough to snuff Hastur out like a candle for all time and save many lives in the process, but any choice he took would result in him saving the world. The chosen one, they'd make him that. Lucian was far more powerful than he'd have thought, it seemed, if he'd undertaken such a gift. And yet he did nothing with it, and that was something worth considering, Tyr had come to hold great disdain for the gods even whilst sharing gratitude with one of them. They, if anything, weren't nearly as good as the churches would make people believe. “What'll it be? We don't have all day, boy. Well... I suppose time doesn't move at the same speed here, but it's a figure of speech, yeah?”

“I would advise you to choose fire, in consideration of yourself.” Bumi said, speaking for the first time with a voice that sounded like a literal landslide. Raspy yet powerful, an avalanche of syllables that didn't sound unpleasant at all to Tyr's ears. “You are most suited for it, but should you choose earth, we will take good care of you. Your resistance to their compulsion is more impressive than you know, and I will do something I have never done before and offer my council upon this ascendancy.”

Tyr thought about it for a long while. Water offered flexibility, spiritual enlightenment and balance, but he'd have to do a lot of killing to ensure the world acted in concert with that. He would be a brutal despot, though for the greater good.

Yue would be his patron, not Veles, and she would name him equal and husband. He liked that. Yearned for it. Liked the idea of calling a storm down on Baccia and wiping the nation from the face of the world. Or, more blunt but no less effective, sinking them into their cracked soil, never to be seen again. Such incredible power, it made Tyr hate Lucian in that moment, thinking it over. Such strength and all he did was sit around in Dorian, the capital of Varia, waiting for the order. But the choice was beyond obvious to Tyr. Always had been, he was who he was and change had never come easy. In his mind, this was a trick, events they'd allow him to act on and then he'd be as Lucian was. There was no possible way that man had the power to destroy a single city, even if Tyr was supposed to be stronger – Jartor couldn't punch a city to dust – it would take more than a single wave of his hands. Was this all a lie? He didn't think so, but it wasn't the truth either.

He could smell it.

Making the choice rather simple. Tyr did not kneel, not even to the greatest temptation, it was part of his character to frown down at a thing and refuse it offhand. To do it himself, they offered him power but with it came chains and limitations. He would accept no limits, no strings to pick him up or hold him down. He didn't need a magic sword, or any of the powers he'd received thus far, all he needed – and the lesson this place seemed intent to teach – was...

“I...” Tyr paused, weighing his words and deciding to keep it succinct. “I choose myself.”

He said this, and the entire circle of gods fell silent. Almost the entire circle. Bumi was appropriately booming with laughter, splitting his stony mug and not much time passed before he was joined by Astarte. All of the other gods looked at him in a mixture of disappointment, scorn, or blatant derision. Vestia smiled at him proudly, going so far as to step across the floor of the place and squeeze his arm affectionately. Filling him with warmth, and Aotrom... For whatever reason, the Sunhammer looked triumphant, smug and giddy. Nodding respectfully to Tyr and pounding his hammer into the stone with a resounding clank.

“You refuse the gift...?” Bumi asked, but he didn't seem surprised. Curious, but not shocked like the many of others, hence the laughter. Tyr was of the fire, but he'd come of the earth, Bumi knew Jartor and had watched the steps he'd taken throughout the centuries. And there were others, all of the gods were here in this place, observing but choosing not to make themselves known. Swimming around like so many sharks around a school of mackerel, ready and waiting for something to happen. One of them a spider, not unlike an arachne, watching quietly from the far back with gleaming scarlet eyes. Tyr could have chosen any patron and they'd have accepted him immediately, that was the sort of bargaining power he held at the moment. “May I ask why?”

“That is an awfully respectful way to address a mortal. Or... Whatever I am.” Tyr couldn't help but chuckle. Astarte was the god of war and violence, albeit the consensual kind, but his passion was truly infectious. There was genuine happiness in him that made every mortal equally passionate. Like his warrior priests, quick to laughter and jest but equally quick to challenge someone to a deathmatch. Smiling berserkers, a pleasant vocation but that had never been Tyr, he didn't live to fight – he fought to live. “I thank you for them, but I deny your gifts. I'll do this alone, no strings, I will do it myself.”

“Alright.” Astarte's laughter was cut off in an instant. “So be it. I offer you a seat at my table, full godhood with none of the demi, the right to finish what you started as a saint first – twenty cycles on this planet before you join me as Agni once did. Satisfactory?”

“Thirty.” Vortigern spoke for the first time and his voice was power incarnate, the rumbling of thunder made words from the mouth of that bearded and robed sage.

“Forty.” Veles countered haughtily, as equally as bearded but far more youthful in countenance. Far more pleasant in the voice, manic and unabashedly insane in the face as he was.

These cycles indicated years, which meant he'd be given an opportunity to live his life the way he wanted for that period of time before... Becoming a god, and considering their offers were rising – that might not be a wholly good thing. Another trap.

“We can offer you as long as you want.” Vestia said, her voice sweet, gentle, and girlish. She was the one Tyr liked the most, inherently, everything he yearned for was her very aspect. Family, brotherhood, equity. Warmth and peace of mind, and a little bit more sprinkled in – she was a goddess of love – and the process of making a family required quite a lot of that... “Two, three, four hundred years. Along with the house of earth, life is our domain. We will make you a god, I will call you brother and we will spend eternity together, you and I as bonded partners. I see the way you look at me, and I consent.”

“You are not telling the truth.” Tyr spoke to her, she was still gently gripping his arm and smiling up at him. Her radiant face creased by the crescent moons of her eyes, gentle and loving. It made it hard, but steel in the hand was steel in the land. Steel in a man.

“The 'truth' is an abstract concept. But I would never lie to you.” Vestia said. “You will become a god, and one day you will be our equal. All saints eventually become gods in a manner of speaking, it is the way of things, gods of this plane rather than others like your primus'. It carries a cost to us, a great responsibility, but in doing so you will first be given the power to solve all problems. Next, you'll be given the power to raise your faithful and either guide or use them as you see fit. You can only do so much by yourself, and through them you will be shaped to your purpose, as I was. As we all were, personifications of things perceivable by mankind, emotional aspects and the things they cherish. Or fear.”

“I would become your puppet.”

“Of the light, you would be our brother.” Vestia's rebuttal came. “Would you not do anything to see your loved ones cared for? I see it in you, the fear of loss.”

“I would be a slave.”

“You would be what you wanted to be. All things are slaves to something, even us. You know this intimately, you've said it.”

“Still I refuse.” Tyr frowned. He wanted to accept her, his whole being wanted to step into the light and stand beside them. To be truly immutable, someone who could fix the entire world. There was nothing in his mind that bid him to refuse this gift of theirs. That's why he continued on like this, because his whole life he'd been pushed subconsciously towards one thing or goal and he didn't know how to act without it. And he did not trust them, no matter how good they appeared, something was wrong.

“Understood.” Vestia never seemed to stop smiling in that contained and gentle way she did. “Then refuse, and become a champion rather than a saint. They are one in the same, but if you agree to step into the light I will raise you up with no strings. You can have your death and release from this world, but you will be given power on par with the child Lucian, perhaps greater should you earn it. This is a great gift, one we have not offered in over a millennia, the path of the mythic hero. The powers of the primus within you are fracture, but I can fix them. What say you?”

“You're kidding yourself if you think he'll accept, we all know how this ends.” Thanatos chided them all, looking toward Tyr. He'd refused once, and he'd refuse again, forever. No matter what they put him through, Thanatos had been watching this boy deny such wild gifts with abandon for a long while in human consideration of the construct. He was of the light, but he was of the darkness too. A child of duality, the power of one and the spirit of another – as all shaper born children were. “You want to accept the origin trial, don't you?”

“I would strongly advise against that!” Aotrom boomed, smile vanished and stomping forward with a hard expression. “You've no idea what suffering you'll bring upon yourself. I have watched others do the same, and mourned their loss.”

“This is not the wisest course of action, child.” Freyja stepped forward as well. “Sainthood is a gentle easing into the divine. You will not be a god, truly, for many eras – but you would stand among us regardless. Under our guidance, given free reign of our kingdoms, and with that comes much succor familiar to mortals until you no longer wish to experience them. To seek to separate yourself from the pantheon can bring about terrible disaster. You know of Altrimar, I see it in your eyes, do not do this.”

“Heed their warnings, my love.” Aphrosia appeared, stepping from the light with a smooth swaying of hips – the goddess of lustful love, beauty, and she looked it. It was hard to rattle on about that, considering they were all aesthetically attractive, but Aphrosia was apt to her aspect – and Tyr's parts reacted in tune with that. Aotrom seemed offended at her intrusion but she paid no attention to him. “You will damn yourself. Without the protection of bargained bonds you will become as Altrimar did. We cannot protect you if you step on this path, and we of the light have nothing but genuine concern for you, I swear it. There are no lies here, but many truths cannot be shared with one who is not risen, you are far more than you seem – but you've begun to see it. We are begging you to join us, and to help, we need you – unlike the others I will tell you the inverse is not true. You will always pass on, but we gods will die permanent deaths very soon if nothing is done, please do not forsake us.”

“Ah.” Tyr smiled. “But I've heard them as loudly as any of you and I've already accepted. I have never recognized your authority and you'll never stand above or beside me. Prepare for my coming, because it'll be for quite a few of you. Whether in ten years or a billion, I will make you feel what I felt in the street where you denied my call.” And with that he was whisked off by an orb of roiling fire, blinking away into a cloud of sparks, leaving the very gods themselves refused and denied.

“Wow.” Agni's brows were sky high, genuinely surprised. But at the end of the day, and again, that was a challenge too, everything was with that boy and that's why he liked him. Perhaps they were speaking to him all the while, or perhaps he'd heard the call of the elements all along. “He actually wishes to go through independent apotheosis...”

Elemental apotheosis was looking a component element, in the more literal sense, of reality and facing it down. 8 out of 10 times someone would simply die. The remaining 2 steps to that probability would either drive one mad, shredding them and leaving them worthless – or raising them up to become as Altrimar had. An elemental spirit stripped of practically everything that made life worth living, not a monster or foul beast – the elements were natural – but it was a doom arguably worse than death. Slowly whittled away might the might of raw magic, made a construct of the world and hunted down for their transgressions.

“The threats were unnecessary, honestly.” Tormund frowned. “What did I ever do to him?”

“He already is a god, and he knows it.” Yue's voice was ethereal and preternatural in its calmness. Such was Luna, the personification of the moon, two goddesses made one for the two moons above, mother and daughter – the crescent and the wax. “What silly offers you petty divines make to someone well aware that he would not benefit from your blessings. Even if he could be risen by your hands, he knows of your lies.”

“We did not lie.” Aotrom posited.

“An omission of the truth is a lie as any other, and now I'll never get a taste of him.”

“Gross.” Vestia scowled, edging away from the insane goddess making the claim.

“Perhaps.” Veles shrugged, unconcerned and stable now, for the time being. “But he'd have had kin among us, and suffered far less. We tried our best.”

“He is who he's always been.” Astarte asserted. “Nothing has changed, and I relish the great wars he will bring to my table. An offering is an offering whether he means to give it or not. Shame on you all for allowing it to happen in the first place. He is too young and too damaged to be standing on the altar.”

“He brought himself here.” Vortigern said. “We did not call, he earned his way, not that I disagree with you in totality.”

“We allow the nim and Guardians alike to do as they please.” Aotrom said, and he could – for his followers would participate in no war against man. In truth, he agreed with Astarte as well, the gods were far too lax with mankind, but that was the 'deal' so to speak. “All of those in attendance took a stance against the ordering long ago, and he's a part of it. Let him retain his sapience for a while longer. If we force him, they may come early, there is no sense in pushing the issue.”

“What's even in there?” Thanatos peered through the rift but all he could see was starry blackness. A plane linear to their own, but they couldn't access the sphere of elements. Those forces, and the seeds they sprouted from, were many times more significant in terms of authority than even the greatest gods. Only the high ones could go there, the place where all gods were born and made. Or monsters, and not the kind the humans fought in those dungeons of theirs. “Our parents, right?”

“I'm not sure it works like that.” Vortigern wore a sage smile on his lips, turning around without another word as the others departed from this place. Leaving only Agni and his father behind.

“Father, did you feel that?” Agni asked curiously. 'Father' wasn't exactly correct, it was all in the authority and where they sprang from. The mythos was a bit confusing, Agni had bonded with himself, in a way – to become something greater that had always existed, and always would. There were many gods, but only a select few were given a seat at the table alongside the primes such as Astarte and Bumi. Time did not work the same way for celestials, and that added complexity to how they existed, beyond existence. Dreadfully contrived stuff.

Like a tree that drops a seed in the soil that one day grows to become its own, there was no parentage in the more primordial methods of creation. They made those bonds themselves, adoptive in a way. Agni had never even been a child, not in this life. They were nascent, and then they just were. Perhaps there was some further complexity to it, but none of them knew, they couldn't remember much of the time before they'd been brought to their individual posts. Pulled here by the faithful and given a face and a self, all Agni knew is that he'd become Agni after serving his time as a saint in the far past. But Agni had always existed, a gestalt consciousness perhaps.

Celestials were not omniscient, nor omnipresent, they had clear and definable limits – simply far above living things. Hence why they didn't refer to themselves as gods in a literal context, allowing the faithful to do as they pleased.

“It's nothing.” Astarte frowned, but he could've sworn... No, he did. He was a being of constant change, but never uncertainty. The moment that rift had swallowed this shard of the destroyer, there had been eyes in the aperture. An apex predator, capable of judging even the divines.