Beyond the Common Grounds, the harmony of different cultures began to fracture slowly. The paths leading outward grew more purposeful in design. The blended architecture gave way to four distinct outer sectors, each occupying its own arc of the great circle. From the north where Marcus came from and is now returning to, stood the Olympiarchy. White marble roads always remained polished to a reflective sheen. Colonnades lined every major avenue, the fluted pillars towered overhead and supporting pediments carved with magic. The pediments were like stone billboards, they often showed scenes of epic battles, scenes of mythology or to honor demigods. Especially those who passed and were considered heroes like Marcus’ parents.

  Statues of certain gods marked major intersections, their stone eyes forever watching those who passed beneath them. They made sure to take the best parts of Greece and Rome, each structure is balanced and symmetrical. Everything here felt measured.

  Marcus stumbled, walking through what was like a haze. He eventually caught himself against a marble column etched with names of fallen warriors. His reflection in the polished stone showed a face that didn't know how to process the feeling blooming in his chest.

  He'd spent so many years being cruel, being kind had never occurred to him as an option. So many years, compensating for weakness by making others feel smaller and weaker. So many years, chasing the shadow of parents who'd died. He didn’t even put in the time to understand what made them worth remembering. For the first time in longer than he could remember, Marcus Minatius smiled genuinely. It felt like a veil was lifted from his grey eyes.

  “I'll prove to the General that I don't need cursed blades or cheap shots. No matter what happens, I will live proudly like my parents would have starting today!”

  Mithra felt the optimism like a knife in his ribs, he couldn’t find the happiness in his heart for Marcus right now. He knew how stories like this ended with people like Arcturus Steelborn, there’s no way Tracy would come out unscathed. Something about Arcturus bugged Mithra, but he couldn’t remember the plot well enough to point out why. Maybe he was just judging a book by its cover.

  'We didn’t get to really experience Concordium's internal politics as the reader or the player. I do remember he wasn’t the leader of the House, during the later parts of the story. Is that why he bugs me? Maybe I’m overthinking it?'

  Marcus, unknown to Mithra’s worries, took some laps around the Olympiarchy. He decided an evening jog was the best way to run off the remaining adrenaline. As he ran, he came across his usual targets. They were the most stereotypical nerd and introverted characters Mithra ever saw! Marcus only acknowledged them and smiled to their terror. That was it. Each of them flinched at his approach, but he didn’t do anything to their shock! Marcus let them go and the freedom in that simple act of not being cruel was intoxicating.

  The duel would likely happen at noon in the arena, all of the Concordium invited to watch. The House of the Red March would make it so. It’ll be something to look forward to, seeing Marcus get put in his place again by the hero of the story. Who wouldn’t like seeing a bully get punished? The narrative was practically writing itself. However, Marcus wouldn’t let Tracy have his win easily.

  That's when he heard the voices. Low. Controlled. It must be around midnight, Marcus was about to settle in for the night, until he decided to get one more lap around the house grounds. The equipment barracks should have been locked and empty at this hour. Marcus froze, his instinct screaming at him to leave, to ignore it, to not get involved in anything that required locked doors and whispered conversations.

  But Mithra pushed. He needed to know every detail for their survival.

  Listen.

  Marcus, despite his best instincts, he followed his silent thoughts. He got close enough to the door to run to give him room to escape and then he cupped his hands to hear more clearly through the crack.

  Two voices. No, three. One he recognized immediately and another he couldn’t quite place his finger on.

  "—the Bolt Quest is confirmed," Helen sighed. "Tracy Johnson will lead as expected."

  Mithra nodded along, recognizing the voice with Marcus. It was the hooded woman from earlier.

  "And our agent?" A second voice, unfamiliar, rough as gravel and old as stone. "Still embedded in the support team?"

  "Still embedded. I made sure he was comfortable, and unsuspecting." The third voice spoke, this one was much smoother. "Zeus will blame Hades for the theft"

  "Hades suspicious, blames Poseidon. That’s why the quest starts, because of Tracy Johnson being at the right spot at the wrong time. However we will make it so he ultimately fails. The elder three will start throwing around more than just accusations. It’ll be the kind of argument that levels cities." The rough scraping voice finished.

  "And in the chaos, we secure the weapons" The smooth voice said, satisfaction bleeding through.

  The woman cackled excitedly. "I’ll see to it we secure the other artifacts ourselves. Deliver it to-"

  "Names," The smooth voiced man cut her off sharply. Mithra snapped his ghostly fingers in frustration. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.

  "No names.” The smooth voiced man reminded her. There was a brief silence and what sounded like shuffling around. Were they packing up items?

  "Unbound appreciates the Red March's cooperation in this endeavor. When the pantheon war begins, we will offer you a seat at the table we're building from Concordium’s ashes."

  Mithra’s stress caused Marcus to feel ice in his veins. Unbound. Marcus wasn’t familiar with Unbound, but Mithra sure as hell was! They were the primary antagonist group in the games. If the demigod heroes weren’t dealing with gods or monsters, they were dealing with Unbound. An organization of rogue demigods who wanted to tear down the entire system of divine hierarchy and Concordium tradition. Only a select few know of their ancient existence in the Concordium, there was on and off silent war between them.

  Were they in the setting this early? Everything they talked about was the plot of the first arc but unbound being involved was new! More importantly, one of the houses was working with them.

  Marcus’s House.

  'We need to go', Mithra screamed internally. 'Now. MOVE.'

  Marcus’s mind was reeling, trying to process the reality of his house being willing participants to this kind of act! They were trying to cause a war within Olympus!

  Marcus ran.

  He sprinted through the darkness like harpies were on his heels. Nobody followed, but Marcus couldn’t help but feel they knew. Even if they didn't know it was him, they'd be paranoid now. Watching. Waiting to see if whoever overheard would talk.

  'You need to report this', Mithra urged.

  ‘Who?’ Marcus's thoughts came ragged with panic and betrayal. ‘Who do I trust? The Mars and Ares House has connections everywhere in the Concordium. If I accuse them without proof, without witnesses, it's my word against them. Besides I recognize one of them, I don’t know the whole scheme either.’

  Mithra knew he was right, but there had to be something. Someone.

  'What about-'

  ‘Arcturus!’ Marcus thought. ‘I'll report it to HIM. He has the most authority in the house, maybe his officers are being brainwashed. Whatever the case is, he could convince them to stand down with words or by force.’

  ‘Marcus, No-'

  But the decision was made.

  ‘Marcus! What about the Camp Director Chiron or at least Tracy? Literally anyone else!'

  Marcus waited until his heartbeat slowed. He couldn’t run in there attracting attention, he had to calm himself down before he headed for the General's private quarters. Mithra couldn’t stop him, he only succeeded in slowing him down. It looked like it’s inevitable at this point, they were meeting Arcturus again.

  Arcturus' Steelborn room was on the Mars side of the officers' wing. Only the best were allowed a suite on that side of the house. Each of the chambers managed to be both spartan and comfortable.

  The General himself sat behind that desk, reading reports by lamplight, still in his armor despite the late hour. Marcus was raised by this man, it was a bit silly but he saw him as an older brother. Arcturus was everything Marcus wished to be. He looked up when Marcus knocked, and smiled at him with familiarity.

  If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  However for just a fraction of a second, Mithra saw something else flickered across his face. Calculation.

  "Marcus. Bit late for a pep talk, isn't it?"

  "Sir." Marcus stood at attention, every line of his body screaming military discipline. "This isn’t about the match tomorrow. I have something to report. Potential security breach."

  “Marcus, are you sure it wasn’t your nerves?” Arcturus sighed when looking at his face. Marcus was serious, he wasn’t budging from this. Arcturus set down his papers, giving Marcus his full attention. "Go on."

  "I was near the equipment barracks, taking a jog as you know I like to train every evening." Marcus explained his daily routine that others would verify. "I heard multiple people. Discussing... discussing the Bolt Quest, something about a theft."

  Mithra waited for the knife attack that never came, half expecting to die here and now only to be met by soft laughter.

  "What about it? It’s common knowledge at this point that there's been an argument going on between the three brothers for a while. It would’ve reached the boiling point in some way or another and as always us mortals have to suffer the consequences." The man dismissed it, continuing his soft laugh.

  “ We’re all at the whims of the gods Marcus. You’ll never know when you have their approval and how quickly you have their disapproval. Tracy is quite lucky, of course there will be discussion. He came back from his previous quest at the right time. Had he been slower, perhaps someone more worthy like Claude would’ve taken the Bolt Quest.”

  Marcus swallowed, Mithra glared. "It didn’t sound like gossip sir. It sounded like... like sabotage. Like someone's planning to attack Tracy Johnson's quest team or frame them."

  Arcturus listened without interrupting, face carved from stone, giving nothing away.

  "Did you see who it was?" he asked finally.

  "No, sir. I left to report it immediately."

  "Did you recognize the voices?"

  "One sounded familiar but I couldn't place it," Marcus looked to the side. Arcturus nodded slowly, stood, walked to the window where he could look out over the Concordium's night lights.

  “You can’t let this go, can you Marcus? It just sounds like overzealous members of our house who want to take credit for the quest.”

  “Sir, it sounds like we’re in collusion with some foreign organization! I think they want to destroy the gods. This is like a stepping stone to something bigger!” Marcus pleaded.

  "You did the right thing, Marcus. Coming to me immediately. That's exactly what a good soldier should do when they suspect something wrong. Did you catch the name of the organization?"

  "Thank you, sir and no.” Marcus looked to the side a bit embarassed. “I was worried I might be overreacting-"

  "You weren't." Arcturus turned back, and his smile was gentle, almost paternal. "You heard what you heard and I'm glad you came to me first. I’m going to handle it. But first I think you need my attention first-" He moved to a cabinet, pulled out a small wooden box. Mithra stood on edge peeking through the cracks of his fingers."-I have a secret to share."

  He opened the box. Inside, nestled in velvet, was a vial of liquid that glowed faintly golden in the lamplight. Mithra breathed in relief, thinking now was definitely the time he’d be stabbed.

  "Tomorrow's duel is important. More important than you know. I need you at peak performance." He lifted the vial like it was something precious. He quietly guided Marcus to his room as he spoke about the vial. "This is a special tonic. You see, usually before a major battle or event, it’s hard to calm our nerves. This is especially the case due to our divine lineage, we’re battle ready at a moment’s notice. It's great during quests but not during situations like yours.”

  Marcus stared at the vial in hand once they finally got to his room.

  "Is it... safe?"

  "I've taken it myself dozens of times, in fact your parents used to take these before major engagements as well. This tonic is even said to help access your divine heritage much easier, that’s why only the chosen of our house can drink it." Arcturus's voice carried sincerity, it didn’t sound like he was lying to Mithra. "Your mother made me promise on her deathbed that I'd give this to you when you were ready. " He held Marcus's gaze. "I think you're ready now."

  The invocation of his parents did what it was designed to do. Marcus's hesitation crumbled.

  "To my parents," Marcus said, taking the vial.

  "To your parents," Arcturus echoed. Marcus drank it in one swallow. It tasted like honey and copper, went down smooth and warm. Arcturus clasped his shoulder, "They would be so proud of the warrior you've become, give them my regards. "

  “Your regards…? Marcus felt his chest tighten. His vision blurred at the edges, darkness creeping in like spilled ink. "General?"

  “You always have this bad habit of looking to the side when you’re unsure or hiding something Marcus.” The general said in a smooth manner. His hands went numb. His legs stopped responding to commands. He fell from the bunk to the floor, body convulsing with pain that felt like his blood was turning to acid in his veins.

  “You lied…”

  “No Marcus. That vial really does help you access your divine lineage. In fact? It also sharpens your senses as well, it’s a powerful elixir that you must carefully cultivate after harvesting to medicinal form. It takes 100 years just for one drop, we usually dilute it with water. That’s the funny thing with medicine, in high dosages it becomes poison.”

  Mithra screamed into the void, he felt the same pain as Marcus. His entire body felt like it was being churned and blended from the inside out. Was he melting?

  [ERROR]

  [HOST VESSEL COMPROMISED]

  [SPIRIT VESSEL COMPROMISED]

  [TOXIN DETECTED: Divine-Killing Poison]

  [PURGE ATTEMPT... FAILED]

  [HOST TERMINATION IMMINENT]

  Holographic dialog boxes appeared before Mithra, he was next to the fallen Marcus who tried to reach for Arcturus.

  “Why couldn’t you just walk away…” Arcturus looked at Marcus writhing on the floor with a complex expression before leaving. Mithra on his knees glared at Arcturus refusing to fall, before he saw Marcus. Even though he was in ungodly amounts of paint he tried to do chest compressions to Marcus. It felt useless despite his best attempts, he felt his eyes bleed.

  “Even if I become bones you have to live Marcus! Don’t you dare die on me!”

  Marcus tried to call for help, but his lungs wouldn't pull air. His throat was closing. The edges of his vision went black before red. He heard the cries of someone before he saw something beyond color. The colors all converged to a point, the point came closer to him by the second. Looks like your life flashing before your eyes was not the way people said it would happen. It wasn’t a smooth linear progression from birth to death. He saw memories in the light fragments that went into the void. They were snapshots of a life lived mostly in shadow.

  His parents smiled, telling him they were proud before they left for the mission they never returned from. The funeral. Everyone assured him and took care of him, they believed he'd be just like them. Everyone expected greatness. Years of training. Years of falling short. Never strong enough. Never smart enough. The Mars kids called him weak. The Athena kids calling him stupid.

  The first time he'd pushed another student down and saw the fear in their eyes. How powerful he felt for the first time. How seen he felt. Then came the years of bullying that followed after trickling down. Years of cruelty. Years of using fear to build the reputation skill couldn't earn him.

  The shame. Gods, the shame. Lying in his bunk every night staring at his parents' medals, wondering what they'd think if they could see what he'd become. And then.

  Last night. Saving Tracy. Feeling like a hero. Feeling like his parents would finally, finally be proud. The warmth of that moment blazed against the darkness trying to claim him.

  ‘I wasted my life…’ Marcus thought. Tears he couldn't cry burning behind his dying eyes. ‘All those years being cruel, when I could have been kind.’

  His mind was fragmenting, consciousness dissolving like sugar in hot water, but the thoughts kept coming with crystalline clarity.

  Time was locked to a standstill, something held onto him but marcus himself wasn’t sure what exactly. It was his first time dying after all. The void pulled harder, however there wasn’t that much movement.

  “...What’s taking so long?” Marcus looked curiously to the void. It didn’t look like it was coming closer.

  “Do I need to reflect some more maybe?”

  [HOST TERMINATED]

  [EMERGENCY PROTOCOL INITIATED]

  [SYNCHRONIZATION PROCESS CORRUPTED]

  [TRANSFERRING FULL CONTROL TO: MITHRA]

  [WARNING: ORIGINAL CONSCIOUSNESS PERSISTING IN DEGRADED STATE]

  [THIS SHOULD NOT BE POSSIBLE]

  [ERROR]

  [WARNING: BODY FAILING]

  [REBOOTING SYSTEM… INITIALIZING SPIRIT’S ORIGINAL BODY AND REMAINDER OF HOST]

  Mithra gasped awake in a body that was finally fully his and found himself staring at a ghost.

  Marcus Minatius, translucent and flickering like a candle flame in wind, sat on the edge of his bunk. Not too far from his bed, was where his corpse had just been lying. The corpse that looked back at him. He looked down at his hands, or what used to be his hands and watched them fade in and out of visibility.

  'I'm dead,' Marcus said, voice echoing like it was coming from the bottom of a well. Then he looked towards Mithra, wearing his mostly melted body like an ill-fitting coat. It started to reassemble itself into something he didn’t recognize. Was that how he’ll look like now? What replaced the blond 6’7” warrior was someone much shorter. Maybe around 5’10”? He was a brunette with golden eyes and warm light brown skin.

  'You're... You were that voice right? The one helped me do something right.'

  Mithra tried to speak, and found his throat raw. "No. I'm sorry. I- I got you killed. If I hadn't made you save Tracy, if I hadn't pushed you to refuse the blade-"

  'Don't.' Marcus's ghost smiled, sad but genuine. "Don't apologize for making me a hero. Even if it was just for one night."

  "It should have been longer. You deserved longer."

  'Maybe.' Marcus studied his translucent hands. 'But I died finally living up to my parents. They would’ve been proud. For the first time in my life I felt that and that's more than I deserved.'

  Silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant sounds of birds and other creatures of the night.

  'What happens now?' Marcus finally asked.

  Mithra pushed himself to his feet with muscles that answered to him now.

  "Now?" Mithra's hands clenched into fists. "It’s time I finish what you started. I take down Arcturus and the other villains of this story. That’s how it usually goes for settings like these."

  'That’s great! Do you know how to fight?' Marcus asked curiously.

  “Not particularly? I just swinged until the person fell in high school"

  'Well the duel's in-' Marcus checked his wall clock, '-six hours.'

  "Then I better learn how quick," Mithra coughed awkwardly.

  Marcus laughed, clutching his stomach. He couldn’t take this guy seriously. 'You're insane.'

  "Yeah, but you saved Tracy knowing it might kill you. I can at least get my ass kicked by him gracefully," Mithra, not wasting time, began to pack up. He stuffed what felt like the most needed essentials in his pack. He didn’t pay attention to the holographic windows in his peripheral just yet, he had to get to safety.

  'Hey. Thanks. For making me a hero. Even if it was just for one night.'

  Mithra looked back at the translucent figure of a boy who'd died too young. He zipped up the bag and slung it over his shoulders.

  "You did that yourself," Mithra replied quietly.

  The hidden conspiracies of the Concordium would continue to unfold. However, just as the sun would rise in a few hours, the truth would come to light. The unlikely hero and his ghost would thwart those plans.

  Marcus Minatius was out. But Mithra? Mithra was just getting started.