Divine Ascension: Reborn as a God of Power
Chapter 90: A New Olympus?

Chapter 90: A New Olympus?

[Akhon POV]

Darkness is usually defined as the absence of light.

Well, I did confirm that when I ended up in a void.

Now I was shrouded in darkness, and it really was something else. I had forgotten how darkness felt. Not just a lack of sight—but a suffocating silence that wrapped around my mind, my body, my soul. It was like floating in regret.

"Where am I? Did I die again? Shit... I hope not. Shit... Aegle. I hope she’s right."

I thought of her face—defiant, worried, luminous—before everything went to hell.

I could feel I was drifting through nothingness. No ground. No sky. Just that oppressive black that felt deeper than any night I had ever known.

"I mean... what the hell happened?!" I said aloud, though my voice sounded muffled, like shouting underwater. "Last thing I remember... there was that glowing light with Hermes on the battlefield. He looked terrified. Not at me. At something else. And the next thing I know, I’m here, floating like a damned soul in the Styx."

I clenched my fists, but felt no resistance. Not even the weight of my body.

I hated that feeling. That helplessness. That uncertainty. And the worst part? I didn’t even know if I deserved it.

Was this punishment?

A consequence of my choices? Of pretending I could be a god and a protector at the same time? Of letting mortals believe in me like I was some destined savior when I was barely holding myself together?

I remembered every choice like a scar etched in my mind.

Standing before Zeus and defying him.

Accepting the worship of Kaeron’s people.

Kissing Aegle even when I knew what danger it would bring her.

Siding with mortals... over Olympus.

"Did I make the right choices?"

The silence answered with more silence.

Then—

Something changed.

A faint warmth brushed across my face.

My eyes, accustomed to the black, winced as the slightest glimmer of light began to pierce the void. It wasn’t coming from far away—it was blooming from within, around me. Small at first, like embers in a hearth. Then brighter. Stronger.

"What the—?"

The light pulsed once, like a heartbeat.

And then again, faster, radiating golden tendrils like lightning spreading through storm clouds.

I raised my hand, watching as the glow traced along my arm like veins of fire. The sensation wasn’t painful. It was... warm. Familiar. Almost divine.

"No, no, no... what’s going on now?" I muttered.

I turned—if "turning" was even the right word in that weightless emptiness—and the light was now everywhere. A sphere of brilliant, golden energy expanding with each second, swallowing the void, reaching toward me with purpose.

And then—

It touched my chest.

I gasped.

It was like someone pulled a thread inside my soul, and every memory, every emotion, every power I held screamed to life. I saw flashes. My mother. The temple. The battlefield. Aegle’s hand reaching for mine.

And then the light consumed everything.

The light exploded in my mind.

And then—air. Sunlight. Solid stone beneath me.

I shot upright with a gasp, as if I’d been drowning. My chest heaved. My skin felt hot, my heartbeat erratic.

The sky above was impossibly blue, clouds drifting lazily over tall marble columns. The air carried a familiar scent—clean, serene, with that subtle divine aura I hadn’t smelled in ages.

Olympus.

I was on Olympus.

"Lord Akhon!"

I turned my head sharply.

Aegle was there.

But something was wrong.

She wore a formal golden robe, the kind only priestesses or divine attendants wore. Her hair was neatly tied up, her posture elegant, her voice... respectful.

"My lord, are you all right? Your light overflowed again. I’ve already asked the servants to prepare some ambrosia tea to settle your energy."

"...What?" I managed to say, still disoriented.

She smiled gently, as if this were all completely normal. "Your divine energy. It happens sometimes when you dream too deeply. But you’re safe now. Do you remember what you saw?"

"No..." I placed a hand over my chest. "Aegle... what’s going on? Where are we?"

"Where...?" she blinked, a little confused. "We’re in your residence in Upper Olympus, as always."

I looked around more carefully. The walls were etched with symbols—my symbols. Glyphs I had designed in the early days of Kaeron. They weren’t burned into stone with urgency, they were carved, celebrated, honored.

"Aegle... what do you know about the war between Nemesis and the Olympian Council?"

She tilted her head slightly, clearly puzzled. "Nemesis? You mean the goddess?"

"No, no—the organization. Aphrodite. Hecate. Poseidon. The rebellion. The war."

Her face darkened slightly—not with fear, but with concern. "My lord... I don’t know what you’re referring to. There is no war. No rebellion. All the gods are united under the Concord Pact."

That made my blood run cold. She didn’t remember. None of it.

Not Kaeron.

Not the real Olympus.

Not us.

She didn’t even look shaken by my questions—just politely confused, like I’d spoken in riddles.

"The Oracle warned this might happen," she added softly. "Dreams can sometimes echo... lives that never were. Possibilities. Or maybe... other timelines."

Timelines.

That word stuck.

I stood, ignoring the dizziness, and turned toward the wide balcony beside us. The curtains flowed gently with the breeze, and through the open archway I stepped outside.

And what I saw stole the breath from my lungs.

Olympus, whole and majestic, stretched before me.

Not the broken battleground I remembered. Not a city split by ideology or war. This Olympus was divine perfection.

Temples floated in the sky. Banners with my crest flew alongside those of Athena and Zeus. A radiant temple stood high above the rest, crowned with an enormous statue of—me.

Me, standing tall beside Zeus.

Akhon, god of Olympus. One of the high hierarchy. A ruler. A symbol.

My voice caught in my throat. My hands trembled.

What the hell is this?

Had I been transported into another reality?

Was this the result of some cosmic shift? A dream? A trick?

Or worse...

Was this the world shaped by my own decisions?

I stepped back from the balcony, cold sweat running down my spine despite the warm breeze brushing across my skin.

This wasn’t a dream. The marble floor felt real beneath my feet. The scent of blooming ambrosia trees. The golden hum of divine power in the air. All of it too vivid to dismiss.

Aegle watched me from the threshold, concern still in her eyes. But she didn’t move to stop me as I walked past her and into the hall.

The corridors were lined with polished white stone, lit by floating orbs of soft celestial flame. Murals covered the walls—scenes of battles, victories, peace treaties. And in nearly all of them... I was there.

Fighting beside Zeus. Standing in judgment with Athena. Blessing crops with Demeter. Leading gods into war and mortals into prosperity.

I stopped in front of one massive painting, easily ten meters wide. It showed Olympus crowned in golden light, with the gods assembled before a glowing throne. My throne.

"What the..." I whispered.

"Do you not remember commissioning this mural, my lord?" a voice asked behind me.

I turned to see a robed servant bowing respectfully. A young man—barely more than a boy—with a scroll in hand. He looked at me like one might look at a king.

"No," I replied curtly. "Where is the Grand Forum?"

"Just ahead, my lord. Shall I announce your arrival?"

I shook my head. "No. I want to see it for myself."

He bowed and stepped aside.

I moved quickly, trying not to run, but with every step my heartbeat rose.

As I emerged into the Forum, I found myself standing at the heart of divine Olympus.

Everything gleamed. Gods walked the open plaza in togas of light, discussing matters of fate, weather, and cosmic balance. Nymphs and spirits tended to floating gardens. Even the Titans—those few who had earned clemency—mingled freely, as if centuries of war had never happened.

And then I saw them.

Zeus. Athena. Hermes. Hera.

They stood beneath the great olive tree at the center of the Forum, laughing. Talking. Peaceful.

This isn’t right.

Hermes turned his head. Our eyes met. For a second, his expression twitched—something almost like surprise or confusion—but it vanished quickly, replaced with a casual grin and a nod.

Like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t been there on the battlefield.

I stepped forward, but as I moved toward them, a whisper caught my ear.

A voice, deep and dry, like rustling leaves in the wind.

"This is not your Olympus."

I froze. Turned.

No one. Just a breeze. The light shimmered for a second as if warped.

My hand instinctively went to my side, reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there.

Was it in my head?

A warning?

A memory?

But the moment passed, and the peace of Olympus resumed around me, like a stage set perfectly for a performance.

Too perfect. Too clean.

And I knew then... something was deeply wrong.