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Ganesha's laughter echoed across the arena, deep and booming. "Gods and Goddesses! Ladies and Gentlemen! Round One is over! Drop your weapons!"
His Familia members rushed into the field, separating fighters still locked in combat. Some refused to yield, too caught up in their adrenaline and pride to hear the divine command, until the Ganesha Familia enforcers physically intervened.
"Now!" Ganesha's voice thundered again, full of infectious joy. "Let's see who advances to Round Two! And in first place… someone you would never expect!"
A shimmer of divine light flared above the coliseum. A massive, floating screen appeared, its magic radiance showing the updated rankings
[
1 — Damien Ardent (No Famillia) : Points Collected — 74
2 — Nógá (Freya Familia): Points Collected — 41
3 — Samira (Ishtar Familia) : Points Collected — 38
4 — …
5 — …
…
19 — Welf Crozzo (Hephaestus Familia): Points Collected — 17
…]
A hush fell over the crowd.
A Falna-less adventurer—someone with no divine blessing—had dominated not just a few opponents, but the entire tournament field. The difference was staggering. Even accounting for the system where you could steal the points of your defeated foes, collecting seventy-four meant Damien had defeated high-ranked, battle-hardened adventurers.
Murmurs spread through the stands like wildfire.
...
And in the stands of the gods, one goddess in particular was staring at the board in silence.
Freya.
Her silver eyes, normally unreadable, gleamed with a mix of intrigue and something more primal. Damien Ardent. A mortal without Falna, yet his presence radiated strength potent enough to outshine her Level 3 child. For the first time in centuries, Freya found herself unsettled—not by fear, but by desire.
Her thoughts tangled as she gazed at his name. Could this boy… be what I've been waiting for?
That unshakable magnetism, that raw, untamed will—he was not a polished warrior, but something purer. Wild. Free. Irresistible.
And for the first time in her immortal life, Freya felt something she rarely did—hunger that wasn't merely divine, but personal.
"Oh, already picturing him in your bed, are you?" came a teasing voice beside her. Loki leaned back in her seat, grinning lazily. "He's just a boy, you know. Sixteen, if the rumors are right. Not that you ever cared about boundaries."
Freya's lips curved faintly, eyes never leaving the magical display. "You see it too, don't you?" she murmured, almost to herself.
Loki chuckled softly. "Oh, I see it. That look you've got? I've worn it before."
All around them, the air in the stands seemed to shift. Whether divine or mortal, every woman watching could feel something about Damien that pulled at instinct and fascination alike. His victory wasn't just impressive—it was seductive.
He didn't know it yet, but in that moment, every gaze—mortal and divine—was drawn to him.
…
Elsewhere, Apollo's temple was filled with furious shouting.
"Damn you! Damn you all!" Apollo slammed his fist into his captain's chest, eyes blazing with frustration. "How could they lose to a rookie! A rookie! This is unacceptable!"
"I will reprimand them personally, my lord," the captain stammered. "I hadn't expected—"
A sharp slap silenced him.
Apollo seethed, his pride bleeding through every word. "You've humiliated me! Me! I am Apollo—how dare you fail me like this!" He sank into his throne, breathing heavily. Then, a dangerous smile curved his lips. "No matter. This isn't over."
His gaze turned sharp, predatory. "I will have that boy."
...
A guttural, wanton moan tore from Ishtar's throat, a sound that seemed to make the very air in the rose-tinted VIP room thicken with lust. She was a vision of divine decadence, her body arched back against the plush divan, legs splayed in an invitation that was also a command. Between her thighs, a Servant—his identity irrelevant, his purpose absolute—was buried in the slick, heated core of her.
Her fingers tangled in his hair, not in caress, but in demand, forcing his mouth and tongue to a rhythm that served only her rising pleasure. Each skillful stroke sent shivers of raw, electric need through her divine form. The room filled with the wet, explicit sounds of his devotion and her ragged breaths.
Through a haze of building ecstasy, her burning amber eyes locked onto her child, Aisha, who stood watching with a mixture of awe and fear.
"Aisha…" Ishtar's voice was a throaty, strained command, dripping with the honey of her arousal. "Get. That. Boy. For me."
Her hips rolled, grinding herself against the Servant's face, demanding more, taking everything. "I need him… I haven't ached like this in ages…" Another sharp, desperate cry escaped her. "This… this desire… I cannot allow Freya, that simpering Loki, or any other so-called goddess to experience this! He is… the one."
Her body began to tense, the coiled spring of her climax tightening. "The one in a timeline warrior who makes gods fight for him… There was Achilles… Heracles… the arrogance of Gilgamesh… all in eras past. But the last… the last was a millennium ago." Her words became frantic, punctuated by gasps. "This boy… is the living embodiment of any woman's deepest fantasy and any god's bane… A true Hero… for this age…"
With a final, shuddering cry, her release crashed over her. Her back arched violently, her divine form seizing as waves of unbearable pleasure wracked her. For a long moment, she was lost to it, the only sound her keening moan echoing off the walls.
As the last tremors subsided, a cold, ruthless clarity returned to her eyes. With a contemptuous, powerful kick, she shoved the Servant away. He fell back, his face glistening and smeared with the evidence of her climax, gasping for air. Ishtar rose, her naked form radiating terrifying power. In one fluid, menacing motion, she closed the distance to Aisha and seized her by the collar, yanking her close.
Her voice dropped to a venomous, intimate whisper, laced with the aftermath of her passion and the chill of absolute possession. "Listen to me, child. Kidnap him. Steal him. Break his legs if you must to keep him from others… I do not care." Her grip tightened, the fabric of Aisha's collar straining. "You will get him for me. Or… you will find a way to kill that Fated Boy. He will be mine, or he will be ash. Do you understand?"
...
Hestia shouted, "Yes! That will be my Child! Hardworking! Handsome! And from the looks of it—smart enough to work hard for his future goddess—me!"
Hephaestus raised an eyebrow, her tone dry. "You found one already?"
Hestia puffed her chest out proudly, eyes gleaming with excitement. "Yup, that's him right there!" she said, pointing straight at Damien's name flashing at the top of the ranking board.
Hephaestus let out a small laugh. "What? Him? The number one? Yeah, good luck with that. Damien refused even me. I think his gaze is set a bit higher."
Hestia blinked. "Oh, he was the number one? I didn't even know…"
Hephaestus sighed, rubbing her temple. "Typical Hestia… Well, I won't say it's impossible—but you'll be competing with Freya and Loki for him, that's for sure."
Hestia froze for a moment, then turned sharply, her expression twisting into mock outrage. "What? That kid Freya? Or Flat Loki? Heh! I'm winning for sure! One look at me—and he'll realize I'm full of what they lacked!" she said, proudly puffing her chest up again.
Hephaestus groaned softly, rolling her eyes. "You never change, do you…"
/*\
If you Like this story! Check out my other story's ! Sukuna in DC! and Dragon Slayer in Marvel!
AND
If you wish to read more or simply support me just because ? than check out my patreon at
"https://www.patreon.com/Riadooo"
You can Get Access to 3 More Chapters OR 7 More Chapters if you want !