THUD.
The heavy sound of a body hitting the dirt echoed across the Kepler pasture.
"Ahahaha!" Marcus laughed, lying flat on his back in the soft soil. He didn't look hurt at all; in fact, he looked exhilarated. "That was fun!"
John stood over him, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead, a proud grin stretching across his weathered face. "You're mastering the Doh'pa technique like a natural-born miner, Marcus. You know how to take a fall without breaking a bone."
Marcus scrambled to his feet, dusting off his pants. He turned as a small, apple-shaped creature with thin stick-limbs waddled over, holding up a tiny, leaf-woven cup of water.
"Thanks!" Marcus said, taking the cup and downing it. The Junimo squeaked a happy little sound and waddled back toward the sprawling, neatly tilled fields of the farm.
Marcus wiped his mouth and looked out over the fields. The crops were flourishing, stretching further than they ever had before. "The farm is becoming larger and larger, Dad. Are you sure you can handle it all?"
John puffed out his chest, placing his hands on his hips. "Hahahaha! Who do you think I am? I'm still in my prime! Hahaha–"
*Coughs* *Coughs*
His booming laughter suddenly caught in his throat. He doubled over, a series of harsh, rattling coughs hacking their way out of his lungs. It was a deep, dusty sound, the unmistakable legacy of decades in the Mord Tida mines.
Marcus's smile vanished. "Are you okay, Dad?"
John waved a hand dismissively, straightening up and forcing a smile. "No big deal. You just hit me hard on the chest on that last slam. Knocked the wind out of me."
Marcus looked at him skeptically, but then let out a small, proud chuckle. "Hehe. Guess I did."
High above, looking down from his bedroom window, Dorian watched the interaction. The smile that had been on his face faded, replaced by a tight knot of worry. His father was brushing it off, but Dorian knew better. John's time was catching up to him.
Dorian turned away from the window and looked at the blue holographic panel floating in the center of his room.
He needed items from the Hades banner. He needed Ambrosia, or Nectar, or a Kiss of Styx, anything that possessed the restorative power of the gods.
But the memory of his first attempt at the banner still haunted him.
The day the banner had opened, he had excitedly dropped 100,000 Resonance points for a 100-pull. The result had been agonizing. Out of one hundred drops, every single one had been a purple, teardrop-shaped crystal.
[Item: Darkness x1]
He had spent a fortune of Resonance and received exactly 100 Darkness. It was traumatizing. The RNG of his own creation was mocking him.
"Should I pull again?" Dorian muttered to himself, pacing the room. "What if it yields another hundred Darkness? That's two hundred thousand Resonance down the drain..."
He stopped, glancing back toward the window, thinking of his father's rattling cough.
He steeled himself. "No. I have to try."
He raised his hand and swiped the air, tapping the [100 Pulls: 100,000 Resonance] button.
The panel shifted. The massive, menacing three-headed skull of Cerberus materialized on the screen. Its jaws unhinged, opening wide, and a flood of golden chests burst out, scattering across the digital interface.
Dorian couldn't bear to watch them open one by one. "Open all of them," he commanded, squeezing his eyes shut.
A cacophony of digital popping sounds filled the air as the chests popped open and the items flew straight into his inventory.
Dorian opened one eye, looking at the newly updated inventory list. He saw the 'Darkness' counter rapidly ticking up.
"Goddamn it," he cursed under his breath. The counter finally stopped. The total now read: [Darkness x199].
Ninety-nine more Darkness.
But then, his eyes drifted to the slot right next to it.
There, glowing with a soft, radiant luminescence, was a round, golden emblem. It featured a delicate, heart-shaped crest set against a backdrop of soft pink.
A Boon.
"Aphrodite!" Dorian gasped, his heart leaping into his throat. "A Boon! Let's go!!"
In his overwhelming excitement, logic entirely left his brain. He didn't check the skill, he didn't read the description. He just selected the icon and slammed the [Materialize] button.
The air in the middle of his room suddenly warped. A brilliant, blinding pink light erupted, projecting the massive, glowing crest of Aphrodite onto his floor.
Dorian stood up straight, feeling a sudden surge of theatricality. He cleared his throat, puffing out his chest. "By Olympus... I accept this message!"
DONG! DONG!
The signature, heavy orchestral bell of a Hades boon activating rang out. It wasn't just a sound effect; it was a physical vibration that rattled the walls of the apartment, loud enough to wake the dead.
Dorian jumped a foot in the air, completely startled. "Shit!"
He scrambled to his bedroom door, hitting the manual lock just as heavy footsteps pounded down the hallway toward his room.
He spun back around.
The pink light coalesced into a figure floating a few inches off the floor. It was an ethereal woman of impossible, breathtaking beauty. She was entirely devoid of clothing, but long, flowing locks of vibrant pink hair curled and draped around her body, covering every single spot with strategic, maddening perfection.
She opened her eyes, and a sultry, echoing moan escaped her lips, a sound of pure, unadulterated divine pleasure.
"Mmmhh..."
At that exact second, frantic knocking hammered against his bedroom door.
"Dorian! What happened?!" John's voice boomed from the hallway.
Dorian panicked. He looked at the ethereal goddess of love floating in his bedroom, looking around with a lazy, seductive smile, and then looked at the locked door separating her from his family.
"Do I hear a woman in there?!" Lyra's voice shrieked, sharp and utterly scandalized.
"Aahh! Uuuhh!" Dorian stammered, his brain short-circuiting. He grabbed a pair of headphones from his desk and practically threw them across the room. "I'm just trying my sound system! I got the wrong calibration on the audio interface and… and the feedback! That's right, what you hear is just the vocal feedback loop!"
There was a pause outside the door.
"Are you okay?" John asked, his tone shifting from panicked to highly suspicious.
"Uuhum! Yeah! I'm okay! Just... fixing the audio!" Dorian squeaked.
In the center of the room, Aphrodite drifted closer. She looked Dorian directly in the eyes.
Instantly, Dorian felt his knees turn to jelly. A wave of profound, debilitating weakness washed over his entire body. His heart fluttered, and his mind went completely blank, filled only with the overwhelming, intoxicating presence of the goddess.
The Charmed and Weak status effects. Just like in the game.
He slumped against the door, sliding down to the floor, staring up at her in a daze.
'Shit,' his last rational thought echoed in his mind. 'I was way too hasty.'
Aphrodite floated closer, the ambient pink light of her manifestation casting soft shadows across the room. She bent toward Dorian, her impossibly beautiful face filling his vision. The debilitating aura of her charm made it hard to think, let alone move.
"Who are you?" she asked, her voice an intoxicating blend of honey and silk.
Dorian's breath became haggard. He was losing his grip on his own consciousness. In a split-second decision driven by pure survival instinct, he mentally clawed his way to his system panel.
Equip: [Prince of the Underworld] profile, he commanded.
In a matter of seconds, the world warped around him. The change was visceral. His skin rapidly turning a deathly, aristocratic pale. His unruly black-and-white hair shortened, spiking into a messy, dark mop adorned with a laurel wreath. His body shifted, his muscles becoming denser, carving out a lean, statuesque physique.
He blinked, and his vision shifted. His left eye morphed into the vibrant green of Persephone, while his right eye bled into the deep, commanding red of Hades. He felt a sudden, intense heat at his soles as ethereal, harmless fire ignited around his feet. He even felt his perspective drop ever so slightly as he lost exactly one centimeter of height, settling at 5'8".
The crushing, debilitating weakness vanished, replaced by the innate fortitude of a demigod.
Aphrodite's eyes widened in sudden recognition. Her sultry confusion melted into a beaming, affectionate smile. "Ah, my little godling!"
Dorian, now fully occupying the physical form of Zagreus, pushed himself off the floor. He cleared his throat, forcing his voice into the smooth, rebellious cadence of the Underworld prince.
"Cousin."
Aphrodite drifted around him, her eyes tracing his flaming feet and pale skin. "You have broken your ties with the Underworld! You are in the overworld now! How did you manage to escape Uncle Hades for good?"
Dorian held up a hand, his mind racing to construct a plausible lie. "It's... more complicated than that."
Aphrodite went quiet. She closed her eyes, the playful demeanor dropping for a fraction of a second as she reached out with her divine senses. "Hmmm... I cannot sense Uncle Hades. Or any other relative, for that matter. The air here is entirely devoid of Olympus."
"As I said, it is complicated," Dorian replied, keeping his tone even. "We are in a new world now. In fact, we are talking about several worlds."
Aphrodite looked up at the ceiling, though Dorian knew she was looking far beyond the physical confines of the Kepler apartment. A look of genuine surprise crossed her flawless features.
"You are right," she murmured, her voice filled with awe. "I can sense... countless worlds. And more impressively, some of them seem to know me. I can feel their adoration. Their desire."
Dorian sighed, a massive wave of relief washing over him. The millions of players who had downloaded Hades across the Accord, their collective focus and thirst over the goddess in the game was actually registering to her as real worship. It was the perfect alibi.
"Yes," Dorian nodded smoothly. "Some of them know us."
Aphrodite floated back down, locking her gaze onto his mismatched eyes. "Why are we here, little godling?"
Dorian shook his head, his expression grim and mysterious. "I cannot say too much for now. But when the time comes, I will tell you everything."
In truth, Dorian was sweating internally. He was completely stalling, desperately trying to buy time to form a believable narrative to feed Aphrodite and the other gods he would inevitably pull from the Gacha in the future. He couldn't exactly tell her, 'You're a digital asset I pulled from a slot machine using internet points.' Aphrodite pouted, her lips curling perfectly. "When is the right time?"
"When all of our family is reunited together," Dorian said, hoping the grand, dramatic promise would satisfy her.
Silence fell over the room. Aphrodite scrutinized him for a long moment, the air thick with tension.
Then, her smile returned. "Fine. I can take that for now."
She floated closer, leaning in until her lips brushed against his ear. "But do not take too long."
She pulled back and gently kissed his cheek.
Dorian blinked as she began to drift backward, her form becoming translucent. "Wait, where are you going?"
"I will always be by your side in the meanwhile, my little godling," she whispered, her voice echoing as if coming from a great distance.
With a final, sparkling burst of pink light, she faded into thin air, leaving the bedroom completely empty.
Dorian stood there in the quiet room for a full minute. He opened his system panel and mentally commanded, Unequip.
The divine power receded. The pale skin, the spiked hair, the fiery feet, and the mismatched eyes melted away, leaving Dorian Kepler standing in his own body once more. He immediately slumped onto the edge of his bed, burying his face in his hands.
"That was way too close," he groaned.
He looked at his hands, a sudden thought occurring to him. "Wait... what about the boon?"
He stood up, facing the empty space in the middle of his room. He took a fighting stance and threw a quick one-two punch combo into the air.
Swish! Swish!
As his fists snapped forward, a trail of shimmering pink particles erupted from the motion, tracing the arc of his punches in the air. He felt a surge of latent power behind the strikes, a magical weight that hadn't been there a minute ago.
He realized it instantly. He had received Heartbreak Strike. His physical attacks now dealt more damage and inflicted the Weak status effect on whatever he hit.
He stared at his glowing fists, both amazed and deeply concerned.
"Cool..." Dorian muttered, lowering his guard as the pink particles faded. "But for how long?"
…
Several hours later, the low, powerful hum of thrusters broke the quiet evening air over the Kepler farm. A sleek, black Corvette-class ship descended gracefully, kicking up a small cloud of dust as it settled onto the landing pad near the pasture.
The front door of the farmhouse swung open before the engines even fully powered down. Marcus stood on the porch, waving enthusiastically.
"Sister Ratik! Come in!"
Ratik stepped off the ramp, adjusting her sharp, tailored suit. Despite the rustic surroundings, the manager always looked ready to walk into an Accord boardroom. "Good evening, Marcus," she said, her usual stern expression softening into a fond smile for the boy.
She stepped inside the warm, brightly lit house. Almost immediately, a hand grabbed her sleeve.
"Sister Ratik, come here," Lyra hissed from the hallway, pulling the manager behind the corner of the living room wall.
Ratik raised an eyebrow, letting herself be dragged into the shadows. "What is it, Lyra?"
Lyra looked left and right, ensuring the coast was clear, before leaning in close. "I think brother has been close to a woman."
Ratik let out a small, amused huff. "To Juno? Yes, Lyra, that is not exactly news to me."
"No, no!" Lyra whispered fiercely, shaking her head. "I know Sister Juno's voice! I heard another woman's voice."
Ratik blinked, her professional demeanor slipping for a second. "When?"
"Several hours ago," Lyra explained, her eyes wide with investigative zeal. "Dad and I heard this loud, booming sound from his room. Like a giant bell. When we went to check, he locked the door! He said he was calibrating his audio equipment and it was 'feedback'. But Sister Ratik... I heard a woman moan! It was... it was a very strange audio."
Ratik stared at the fifteen-year-old, processing the information. A slow, cynical smirk crept onto her face. "Hmmm. I never thought he had it in him. I guess it's true what they say about the entertainment industry. A superstar needs his harem."
Lyra's face contorted in absolute horror. "No, no! You must tell him no! I don't think Sister Juno would want–"
"Oh, Ratik. Are you here about the album?"
The conversation was instantly severed. Dorian stepped out of the kitchen, casually taking a long drink from a pitcher of water. He looked between the two of them, huddled suspiciously in the hallway. "Oh. Were you guys talking?"
Ratik smoothly stepped away from Lyra, her expression snapping back into a mask of perfect managerial composure. "No, we were just catching up. Let's go to the studio. We have a lot of ground to cover."
Dorian lowered the pitcher, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Let's go, then."
He turned and led the way down the hall toward the home studio. Lyra peeked out from behind the wall, her eyes narrowing into dangerous slits as she glared at her brother's back.
"I must get to the bottom of this," Lyra muttered darkly to herself. "And find that homewrecker."
"Who?"
Lyra shrieked, jumping nearly a foot in the air. She spun around to find Marcus standing directly behind her, holding a half-eaten donut and blinking innocently.
"What?! No! Nothing!" Lyra stammered, her cheeks burning red. "I… I have to go back to my book! Accord Laws don't memorize themselves!"
She skedaddled down the hallway, retreating to the safety of her room and slamming the door shut. Marcus watched her go, took another bite of his food, and simply shrugged.
…
Inside the soundproof walls of the home studio, Ratik had just finished projecting a complex holographic calendar onto the main screen. Dates, promotional beats, and distribution channels for the upcoming Sun-Drenched Soul album were neatly organized.
"So, this is it," Ratik said, crossing her arms. "The marketing rollout is fully prepped. How does it look to you?"
Dorian leaned back in his producer's chair, staring at the timeline. He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Hmmm. Isn't Briane still doing her stellar tour right now?"
"She is," Ratik confirmed, checking her datapad. "A week from now is the end of her tour. The grand finale is on Sela. Why?"
Dorian's eyes glinted with a sudden, chaotic spark. "How about doing the song with her on that tour?"
Ratik froze. She slowly lowered her datapad, staring at him as if he had just suggested flying a ship into a sun. "You want to jump onto a massive, galaxy-spanning stellar tour as your first live performance?!"
"I'm sure Briane is okay with it," Dorian said casually, spinning his chair side to side.
Ratik pinched the bridge of her nose, letting out a long, long sigh. "Dorian... it is not about her. It is about her management team. The stage directors. The lighting crew. The security protocols. The logistics of inserting an unannounced, masked guest artist into the grand finale of the biggest pop tour of the decade!"
"Oh," Dorian said, looking down at his wristband, which had just chimed. "She says she looks forward to it."
Ratik stopped breathing. "Did you... did you just message her in the middle of our conversation?"
Dorian looked up, flashing a brilliant, unapologetic smile. "Relax. It's good promotion. She is one of the featured artists on my album, anyway. We sing Best Part together. I'm sure the people behind her tour will see this as an added advertisement for her as much as for me."
Ratik let out a defeated exhale, shaking her head. "Fine. I will smooth things over with her team. Dealing with EMG's live event coordinators is going to take years off my life."
She turned on her heel and walked toward the studio door.
"Thanks, Manager!" Dorian called out cheerfully to her retreating back. "Love you!"
Ratik paused at the door, glancing over her shoulder with a dry, reluctant smile. "It's hard not to love you, you menace. Bye."
The door hissed shut, leaving Dorian alone in the studio. He looked at his wristband, confirming the setlist with Briane, and then glanced at the empty space in the room. His mind briefly flashed back to the pink light, the overwhelming aura, and the goddess currently existing somewhere in the ether of his system.
"One week," Dorian muttered to himself.
…
The galactic net was a fragile ecosystem, and Dorian Kepler was currently hitting it with two massive tectonic shifts at the exact same time.
It started on the music side of the net.
At exactly noon, standard Accord time, a single image was uploaded to the official @Composer_Percival Stellarcast and Echoflow accounts. Just a date; 7 Days and the official album art for The Sun-Drenched Soul.
The artwork was a masterpiece of lighting and contrast. It depicted the interior of a grimy, dimly lit transport ship, completely cast in heavy, oppressive shadows. In the center of the frame, a lone silhouette of a boy was reaching out toward the opening doors of the transport. Beyond those doors was a blinding, impossibly warm golden light. The boy's fingertips were just barely brushing the edge of the light, the illumination outlining his hand in a brilliant, fiery glow.
For Dorian, the image was literal. It was a direct recreation of his personal experience, the memory of taking the transport out of the sunless lower levels of Nexus Prime, reaching his hand out to feel the real sunlight of the upper tiers the day his System had awakened.
But for the fans, it was high art. It was poetry.
–––
[STELLARCAST - Official Feed]
@Melody_Junkie
"The symbolism is INSANE. He's trapped in the dark transport of the industry's expectations, and he's reaching out to touch his own 'Sun-Drenched Soul'. Percival is a literal genius."
@CoreWorld_Critic(Verified)
"A stunning visual metaphor. The juxtaposition of mechanical oppression (the ship) and natural liberation (the light) perfectly encapsulates the raw, unedited sound Percival is known for. Can't wait."
@BrianeTaleini_Stan
"I'M SCREAMING!!! The cover is so gorgeous! Just 7 more days until Briane's feature! 😭😭☀️"
–––
The hype for the album was reaching critical mass. Percival was poised to dominate the audio charts.
But then, a completely unexpected contender entered the ring. It wasn't another pop idol. It wasn't a veteran maestro.
It was a video game.
As the week went on, the hardcore gamers who had bought Hades were finally pushing past the brutal difficulty of the first floor, Tartarus. They were entering the magma-scorched islands of Asphodel. And there, amidst the chaos and fire, they stumbled into a quiet chamber.
They met Eurydice.
Players expecting another combat room were instead greeted by a lush, green oasis in the middle of a lava river, and the soulful, enchanting voice of a woman singing a song of farewell (Good Riddance).
And if that wasn't enough, players who had gathered enough resources were finally unlocking the Court Musician in the House of Hades. They would return from a grueling run, bloody and defeated, only to find Orpheus standing in the great hall, plucking his lyre and singing a lament so heartbreakingly beautiful (Lament of Orpheus) that it stopped them in their tracks.
The gaming forums exploded. The collision between the music audiophiles and the hardcore gamers was instantaneous and violent.
–––
[RTS Official Forum - HADES: THE UNDERWORLD]
[Thread: Is anyone else literally just standing in the House doing nothing?]
> Zag_Main:
"I have a confession. I booted up the game three hours ago. I haven't done a single run. Orpheus started singing 'In the Blood' in the great hall, and I just put my controller down. I am currently doing my homework while my game idles just so I can listen to this ghost sing."
>> Reply from HomeAlone:
"Same. I'm trying to route a speedrun, but Eurydice's room is a run-killer for me. Not because of enemies, but because I physically refuse to leave until her song finishes."
> BreakerOfHeart:
"The integration of music into the narrative is revolutionary. RTS wove the music into the tragedy of the characters. Eurydice singing while cooking over the fires of hell? It's breathtaking."
> ActionGamer99:
"Bro I came here to smash demons with a big sword, why am I crying in the club right now? RTS has no right making the OST this good."
–––
The phenomenon bled out of the gaming forums and onto the mainstream platforms. It didn't take long for the inevitable comparisons to start.
–––
[THE GALACTIC NET - MUSIC DISCUSSION HUB]
[Thread: The Percival Album vs. The Hades OST - The Ultimate Showdown]
> SynthSnob:
"Look, the Hades music is 'cute' for a video game, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. You cannot compare a basement game developer to a classically trained, industry-shifting prodigy like Percival. The Sun-Drenched Soul is going to redefine music. Hades is just a fun distraction."
> Hades_Simp:
"Cute? CUTE?! Eurydice's vocal track has more soul in its first ten seconds than the entire top 40 Accord pop chart! I will bet my entire Void wallet that Hades OST will win Soundtrack of the Year."
> MusicTheoryNerd:
"Actually, if you analyze the acoustic arrangement of Orpheus's songs, the use of the Dorian mode and the tragic minor falls are incredibly sophisticated. It rivals some of Percival's acoustic work on 'Your Song'. It's highly unusual for a game studio to have this level of audio engineering."
> Pop_Culture_Junkie:
"Could you imagine if Percival and the composer behind Hades collaborated? Percival producing the music for RTS's next game? The universe would actually explode."
>> Reply from RTS_Fanboy:
"RTS doesn't need Percival. RTS does everything in-house. Percival is a lone wolf snob."
>> Reply from Percival_Defender:
"Percival wouldn't stoop to making video game music anyway. He's too busy working with legends like Gil Nothos and Briane Taleini."
> Conspiracy_Carl:
"Guys. Hear me out. Do we even know any employees behind RTS? and have we ever seen Percival's face? 👁️👄👁️"
>> Reply from Logic_Bro:
"Shut up bro. One is an indie studio, the other is an elite producer rubbing shoulders with stars in the Core Worlds. Touch the cosmos."
–––
The irony of the internet fiercely debating whether Dorian Kepler was better than Dorian Kepler was completely lost on the masses.
While the audiophiles defended Percival's emotional depth, the gamers championed Arthur's immersive atmospheric genius. Trenches were dug. Memes were forged. The internet was engaged in a civil war of hype.
And in his bedroom on Friton, Dorian scrolled through the furious debates on his monitor, reading people passionately insulting his game dev persona to defend his composer persona, and vice versa.
He took a slow sip of his teebu, a highly amused, chaotic smirk playing on his lips.
"If only they knew," he chuckled to the empty room. "If only they knew."
**A/N**
~Read Advance Chapter and Support me on [email protected]/SmilinKujo~
~🧣KujoW
**A/N**