Olympus.
Yes, that Olympus.
Golden clouds like someone decided the sky needed to show off, white columns untouched by time, and a breeze that feels permanently curated. For some, a paradise.
For others…
Let's just say living forever with other gods is the divine equivalent of a workplace nightmare.
And yet, I'll admit something.
It's refreshing.
Afternoon naps here are unmatched. No shepherds yelling, no goats chewing on things they shouldn't, no drunken satyrs trying to start competitions nobody asked for. Just… silence.
Glorious, blessed silence.
Which, considering who I am, says quite a lot.
Who am I?
My name is Pan.
Yes, that Pan.
Don't make that face. It's not like I'm in the top tier of the pantheon.
I'm… well, a minor god.
And no, I'm not ashamed to say it.
God of flocks, a touch of fertility and nature, a flute that sounds best when no one is listening, and a reputation that swings between "charming wild spirit" and "why are there hoofprints in my garden?"
I'm not one of the twelve. I don't have massive temples or hysterical followers throwing sacrifices every five minutes.
And normally, I'm not even here.
Olympus isn't exactly… my style.
Too clean.
Too orderly.
Too… Zeus.
But it turns out that, for reasons I still can't process without getting a headache, someone had the brilliant idea to organize a tournament.
Yes.
A tournament.
Between gods.
Don't ask me why.
I stopped trying to understand them centuries ago. Their thoughts are like a labyrinth designed by someone who gets bored halfway through and changes the rules mid-walk.
The worrying part isn't the tournament itself.
The worrying part is who organized it.
Eris.
And Themis.
…
Let me repeat that so the scale of cosmic bad judgment sinks in.
Eris. And. Themis.
I would not trust anything created by both of them in the same sentence.
Eris is the divine equivalent of tossing a torch into a barn just to see what happens.
And Themis… well, Themis is right.
Always.
Which is far more terrifying.
But there they were, smiling like they weren't about to turn reality into a social experiment.
The "game," as they called it, was simple.
Too simple.
Take humans from different worlds, places, times… whatever.
Give them something called a "system."
And observe.
As if they were pieces on a board.
As if they weren't… well, human.
But that wasn't all.
Those of us who aren't part of the main twelve got something curious.
"Points."
Supposedly to balance things out.
So we wouldn't be completely outmatched.
We could use them to modify, adjust, or influence our humans' systems.
Add abilities.
Change conditions.
Little nudges.
The theory sounded… reasonable.
The execution…
Well.
The execution ended with several gods trading their points for far more interesting things.
Like wine.
Yes.
Wine.
But not just any wine.
Dionysus' wine.
And let me tell you something.
That isn't a drink.
It's an experience.
A liquid whisper that promises bad decisions with excellent flavor.
Rare.
Scarce.
And Dionysus guards it like a dragon hoarding joy.
So when the chance came up to trade points for bottles…
Let's just say I wasn't the only one who temporarily forgot about "divine responsibility."
Questionable priorities?
Maybe.
Do I regret it?
Not even a little.
And yes, I know.
I should probably be more concerned about the human I got.
After all, according to the rules, if he dies…
Well.
Goodbye Olympus.
Goodbye comfort.
Goodbye naps.
But here's the thing.
Humans are… interesting.
Not in the "oh, fragile adorable creatures" kind of way.
No.
They're resilient.
Adaptable.
Stubborn in ways that border on impressive.
I've seen humans survive things that would make far larger, far more dangerous creatures collapse.
I've seen them get back up, again and again, even when they shouldn't be able to.
And the most curious thing of all…
They tend to do better when no one is watching.
When there's no god interfering.
When there's no divine hand guiding every step.
When they're… alone.
So no.
It's not that I don't care.
It's that I trust he'll be fine without me hovering over him all the time.
Besides, if I'm being honest…
This tournament is ridiculous.
I don't even know what the prize is.
No one explained it.
There was just a long speech, some dramatic words, and suddenly everyone was very interested in winning.
Typical.
But the best part…
The really best part…
Is watching how other gods handle this.
Some, like Hestia, treat their humans like children.
Literally.
They watch them with almost painful tenderness, intervene whenever they can, worry about every tiny detail.
It's… admirable.
A little suffocating, but admirable.
Then there are the others.
Most of them, actually.
They see humans as tools.
Pieces.
Means to an end.
If they survive, great.
If not…
Well, there are always more humans.
And then…
There's Alpheus.
That idiot.
River god, stubborn to the point of exhaustion, with an idea he refuses to let go of.
He did something that still makes me laugh.
He went into debt.
Yes.
Debt.
Spent more points than he had to create what he called a "self-insert."
I'm not entirely sure what that means, but it sounds as bad as it is.
He gave his human absurd advantages from the start.
Power.
Skills.
Everything.
And what happened?
The most predictable outcome imaginable.
The moment his human got the system…
He went straight to challenge something completely out of his league.
No preparation.
No strategy.
No common sense.
The result?
Let's just say trying to fight someone like Tao Pai Pai in that state…
Was not a good idea.
He didn't last long.
And Alpheus…
Well.
He's still in debt.
And his pride?
Especially his pride.
As for me…
I chose something simpler.
No ridiculous bets.
No constant interference.
No playing protagonist in someone else's story.
I'll observe.
Watch.
Make sure he stays… alive.
And that's it.
If I had to put it in human terms…
I suppose I'm something like…
A caretaker.
A very relaxed one.
The kind that shows up every now and then, checks that everything is still in place, and then disappears again.
Without meddling too much.
Sure, I was a little annoyed when the kid woke me up out of nowhere.
But come on.
They don't call me the creator of "panic" for nothing.
There was a time, long ago, when even Typhon —yes, that Typhon, walking natural disaster— decided retreat was the smarter option after hearing me.
So really…
What could I expect from a human?
The poor thing didn't even understand what happened.
One second he was there, existing quietly in his small gray world, and the next…
Well.
Let's just say his soul almost tried to clock out early.
It was funny.
A little cruel, maybe.
But funny.
Though if I'm honest, the most interesting part wasn't that.
It was how I chose him.
Because you see, most gods —especially those trying to look impressive in front of the Twelve— follow a certain… protocol.
A pretentious ritual.
They observe for days, weeks, even months.
And yes, time flows differently if Zeus feels like it. You can watch someone for years while only seconds pass here.
They look for tragic humans.
No love.
No family.
No home.
Broken lives waiting to be "saved."
Zeus does it to feel magnanimous.
Hera to feed her pride.
Athena… well, Athena thinks she's designing strategic pieces.
Apollo does it because he enjoys the drama.
Everyone has their style.
Everyone doing something meaningful.
And then there are the nymphs and minor gods copying them like it's a trend.
As if that makes them more… relevant.
Honestly, it feels like a waste of time.
Too much effort for something that, in the end, depends more on the human than any divine intervention.
So I did the opposite.
No prolonged observation.
No emotional analysis.
No speeches about destiny.
Just…
I looked.
I waited.
And when I saw a young man die…
I took him.
Simple as that.
His soul floated there, between what was and what wouldn't be.
I held it. Examined it.
It didn't shine.
Didn't burn with some ridiculous purity or rot with twisted darkness.
It was… gray.
Neutral.
Common.
And that, interestingly enough, I liked.
Extremes are boring.
Perfect heroes break too easily.
Absolute villains are predictable.
But someone in the middle…
Someone who can go either way…
That has potential.
So I didn't overthink it.
I chose him.
That's it.
Meanwhile, other gods weren't so… lucky.
Especially those who tried to follow Athena's example.
She picked someone with a slightly dark soul.
Not completely corrupt, but enough to be noticeable.
For her, things are going relatively well.
For the dryads who copied her…
The result…
Well.
Let's just say it hasn't even been a week since this "tournament" started, and there are already problems.
A lot of problems.
Humans with that kind of inclination don't need much to cross certain lines.
And when they have a "system" that rewards them for it…
Things spiral quickly.
But that's not my problem.
I've got mine.
My little improvised experiment.
Now…
What did he reincarnate into?
Ah.
That part.
You see, there were options.
A lot of them.
Configurations.
Adjustments.
Details I could tweak.
I could decide if it would be a full reincarnation or some kind of fusion.
If he'd keep his memories.
If I'd alter his essence.
If I'd make him something… more.
It was complicated.
Too complicated.
And frankly…
I wasn't in the mood.
So I left it on default.
Unprofessional?
Maybe.
Efficient?
Definitely.
Now then…
The most important question.
Why that world?
Why that body?
Why… Jaune Arc?
…There's no grand reason.
No prophecy.
No hidden destiny.
No mystical thread tying everything together.
Just…
A memory.
A long time ago, there was a place.
Arcadia.
A place where, interestingly enough, I was worshipped.
Nothing grand.
Nothing excessive.
But enough.
Enough to leave an impression.
So when I saw that name…
"Arc."
I couldn't help it.
It amused me.
A small private joke.
A coincidence I decided to turn into a choice.
And that was it.
That's how my "champion" was born.
No meticulous planning.
No grand expectations.
No constant intervention.
Just a regular human, with a gray soul, placed into a life he didn't ask for…
With a system neither of us fully understands…
And a god who, instead of guiding him…
Well.
Is busy drinking.