Most of the time, the overall strength of a god is determined by the number and quality of followers, with a strong emphasis on quality. A single second-tier [Archpriest] is the equivalent of a thousand [Priests]. Just so, an [Abbess] is considered the equivalent to ten thousand [Priests] while a [Chancellor] is in the realm of a hundred thousand. A [Grand Chancellor]? Even higher.

With this strength, the gods administer the skills of their flock. Weak gods, with but a handful of priests, grant minor skills little better than cantrips. Others, like a certain rising Goddess of Healing and Sadism, can offer more.

Said goddess now sits at a large circular table with what appears to be a tablet in hand. On the tablet, she watches lines of her [Priests] go around and literally whip [Slave Soldiers] back to health. The [Slave Soldiers] scream and cry in pain as their wounds are forcibly closed before the next patient is pushed through.

While the Aesir powers have launched an inquisition against her people under the orders of her father, Odin. The eastern Olympian power noticed the schism and saw an opportunity. They have requisitioned her [Priests] and [Priestesses] as healers for their massive slave armies. She can feel them leveling rapidly, gaining more and more skills at a pace only a major war can allow.

“You should put that away.” Loki says as he enters the conference room. The God of Chaos glances outside, through the windows, at the replica of Chicago in the morning. With a displeased frown, he raises his fingers and snaps. Time rolls backward, the sun sinks and the city is smothered in darkness. A moment later, the lights of buildings and streets flicker on, lending the city an eldritch air. Satisfied with the view, Loki turns to Eir. “They will be here any moment,” he warns her with a cheery smile. “I suggest more formal attire.”

Eir sighs. With a thought, her bathrobe and bunny slippers are replaced with a professional feminine version of a corporate business suit that matches the colors of Loki’s own, and the worn soft, leather dog collar on her neck is swapped for a gleaming metal choker. The God of Chaos gives an approving nod before turning to the end of the room. He raises his hand and snaps his fingers again. Five portals open at the same time, and five gods enter.

Laverna, garbed in a skintight, black suit, walks to her seat. Before she sits, she feels underneath the chair and removes a whoopie cushion. She puts it into her pocket and sits down. Kumiho, covered in an azure kimono with cherry boughs painted along the hems, takes to her seat next to Laverna, only giving a cursory glance through the windows.

Coyote, suntanned, dressed in worn jeans, cowboy boots, and not much else, slouches into his chair and puts his feet up on the table. He raises a curious eyebrow at the view outside, then checks out Kumiho with a cheeky smile. She snorts and ignores him. The old enemies have set aside their differences, for the moment.

Hermes enters in a jittery rush. He speedwalks to his seat and sits down. He notes the city, but ignores it. It’s not his first time seeing it.

Lastly, Anansi strolls confidently and with a smile to his seat. All eyes turn to the dark skinned man as he sits while wearing a full spiderman costume without the headpiece. The futuristic city only gets a slight glance. But a god in a spiderman costume apparently requires everyone's full attention.

Loki nods in approval.

“We’re all here now,” Coyote is the first to speak, “what’s this meeting about?”

Loki smiles at the canine god. He raises his hand. “Not all,” he replies and snaps his fingers.

Another portal opens and another god enters. An old, fit man in a robe walks through and stops to stare at everything and everyone. Old, cold eyes gaze at the gods before him… and the thing in the shape of a man is unimpressed.

“Loki, your pantheon is weak.”

The God of Chaos smiles and extends his hands to one of the seats. “Hades, please, take a seat. We are allies here, after all.”

The God of Death frowns in disapprobation. He despises weakness, and all he sees are weaklings, relics without the decency to die. Only the present daughter of Odin is even remotely capable. But the others? Weak. Even Loki, who only has a single follower, is far beneath him.

“I am no ally,” Hades says. “I answered your invitation, and I am thoroughly unimpressed. I will contribute to this war since you’ve released my people, but don't expect me to follow your orders.”

With a flick of his hand, Hades attempts to shatter this illusion and return to his realm, but nothing happens. Frowning, he inserts even more of his will, and… nothing.

“What is…” Hades makes eye contact with Loki and freezes.

The God of Chaos continues smiling. “Please, Hades, sit,” he says with a soft and respectful voice. But, the God of Death sees it in the man's eyes.

There is a thin barrier there, a veneer of intelligence, holding back this small fragment of a fragment of reality from being subsumed by the raging madness within. This god stands on the precipice and holds onto sanity because giving in would only slow him.

Without another word, Hades strolls to the chair and sits down.

A calm silence descends on everyone present, not because of Hades, but because a single chair is still empty.

The final portal opens. Through it, a man with a falcon's head enters. The man yawns loudly as he looks around. His eyes are still sleepy and lined with age.

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“Ra,” Loki begins, “thank you for accepting my invitation. Please take a seat.”

The Egyptian God of the Sun, leader of his pantheon, awakened from his deep slumber mere minutes ago, yawns loudly again and walks to his seat.

“Loki,” the god sits down, “how long was I asleep? Also, aren't you supposed to be banished? Did something happen while I slept?” Ra shifts his beak around and looks at the deities sitting around him. Each and every one of them has their mouth open and gaping. Even Hades.

“What?” Ra asks.

“You’re supposed to be dead!” Coyote blurts out before anyone else.

“Dead?” He yawns. “Not dead… just sleeping, and now awake, like the rest of my pantheon.”

The gods look between each other, trying to glean some form of information from the others.

“I see,” Hades slowly nods. “You faked the destruction of your pantheon so that Mimir would leave you alone. Smart, though I wonder how you were able to do it.”

“Do it?” Ra yawns. He shakes his head and releases a slight chirp to try to wake himself up. “I just had all of my devotees and citizens placed in stasis.”

Anansi chortles. “I didn’t even know that that was even possible,” he comments.

Ra twists his neck, all the way around and again to face the group, before twisting back. He looks at the befuddled others, growing confused. “You didn't? Then why is your [Hero] awakening Muspelheim and releasing my people from statis?”

Everyone pauses and blinks. Suspicious, questioning eyes turn to Loki.

The god of chaos intertwines his fingers on the table and smiles at his audience.

“Thank you all for coming. We have much to discuss.”

______________________________________________________________

“So, let me make sure I understand this: The [Demigod] Mimir wanted to ‘study’ the city of Muspelheim, and you told him to fuck off. So, he got pissy and started killing and destroying everything. You tried to fight back, but he was too powerful, so you took Muspelheim below the sands where he couldn’t put his hands on it. In reply, Mimir vowed to continue hunting you and your people until the Egyption gods no longer existed.”

Cleopatra nods.

Right. I can’t help but find this situation completely fucking weird. I swallow slowly as we stare at millions of sarcophagi lining the walls, filled with people. An entire city's population, dormant in a giant crystal-glass worm thing.

“Over the course of decades, he destroyed all of your cities and people, slaughtering everything, while the other world powers just sat and watched,” I continue.

“Most of them feared Mimir’s wrath. They didn't want him to turn his sights on them. So, for the most part, they stayed silent. Only the elves helped, but their aid was limited since they were so far away.” She explains and I nod.

“So, to escape his wrath, you and your gods chose temporary death,” I wave forward, “which involved putting the rest of your civilization into stasis so that nobody’d be around to worship your gods. Without worshippers, your gods ceased to exist and the [Demigod]’s wrath was placated.”

Alright, I have to admit, this is one crazy story. It's clearly true, but damn is it difficult to believe. I point at the glowy stone. “So why was that hidden in some random [Legendary] staff,” then I point to her crown, “and how did you get ahold of that item?”

“Mimir created the Crown of Domination and gifted it to a long gone [Ocean Empress] who was supposedly tasked with collecting unique aquatic species for Mimir’s dungeon. The empire eventually fell and I was able to get my hands on the crown.”

She raises the glowing stone in her hand. “As for the power crystal, it is the only key to locate Muspelheim. I needed to get rid of it and put it somewhere where he could never find it. So I hid it inside a [Legendary] item and then sold it. As an [Archlich], I was confident that with limitless time, the staff would make its way back to me eventually.”

“I’m guessing you didn't expect the staff to be left unattended in a dead, abandoned dungeon?”

She frowns. “I didn't, but it was a risk I was willing to take,” she shrugs. “Regardless, the crystal has been returned to me, and even better, Mimir is… dead?” she stares at me, asking what I’ve already confirmed.

I roll my eyes. “Yes, he’s dead.” I lift up my cane. “What, you don’t think this is his spine?”

She nods slowly and closes her eyes. When she opens them, they are glowing. She raises the crystal above her head and unleashes a tidal-wave of mana. The hieroglyphics on every sarcophagus light up at once, bathing the worm in dazzling brilliance. Mana flows into each and every sepulchre, returning life to their occupants. As one, the sarcophagi open.

__________________________________________________________

“It has been an entire day, where is Bone!?” Jessica growls at Darude who raises both hands to placate the angry woman.

“They are busy and he is completely safe. I promise,” he explains but the [Abess] glares harder.

“Safe isn’t the issue! I want to know what he’s doing and what stupid project he’s gotten himself into.”

“Miss Jessica, please rela-,” Naunet interjects, but is struck silent with a glare.

“Jess, let's give them another day. I’m sure my husband is fine. The [Empress] is still probably speaking with him. He is a [King], after all. Talks between monarchs can take weeks, if not months.” Fiona explains.

Jessica pouts at Fiona. She crosses her arms and returns her glare to Darude. “I don't like this.”

“Again, I apologize for the inconvenience, but he is fine and the [Empress] has told the palace staff that you are all guests.” Darude explains again.

“Hey, I think we have a problem.”

All eyes turn to the windosill of the room where Abernick is standing.

“I think something is happening outside,” he points in the distance.

Curious, the group moves to the window and stares outside. The sand churns, the desert lifts and bulges. A massive dune, bigger than they can see, bigger than the city, rises up, pushed from below.

A moment later, the sand parts, rolling in waves down the sides of a massive, crystalline vermis. The wave of sand thunders down on Luxor and buries part of the city outskirts. The ginormous crystal worm glides forward and parks in front of the [Butcher’s] house.

Jessica folds her arms across her chest and looks at the open-mouthed Darude with a look that says ‘I told you so’.