If there is one thing I have learned from thousands of hours of gaming, it's that raw stats are a trap.
You can dump all your skill points into Intelligence and Magic. You can have the highest DPS on the server. But if you don't have the mechanics to back it up, you aren't a god. You're just a walking loot piñata with a flashy particle effect.
Case in point: my fifth birthday. Or, as I formally documented it in my mental quest log, "The Roasted Squab Incident."
At age five, my physical avatar had caught up to the size of a healthy ten-year-old. The Dictaean Cave was starting to feel claustrophobic, but my primary issue wasn't the lack of space. It was the server's automated supply drops.
In the lore, Zeus is fed by the earth. Amalthea, the goat-nymph, provided the milk, and Melissa, the bee-nymph, provided the honey. But for the high-tier loot? The actual Ambrosia? That came via airmail. Every week, a flock of magical, glowing white doves would fly from the edges of the Oceanus stream, carrying chunks of Ambrosia in their beaks.
"Hark! The winged heralds of the deep approach!" Pyrrhichos bellowed, pointing his heavy bronze spear toward the sliver of twilight visible through the cave entrance. "Hold thy weapons, brothers! Do not startle the sacred flock!"
Three glowing doves fluttered down, descending like holy care packages.
Ambrosia is the ultimate consumable. It maxes your health, clears all debuffs, and grants infinite stamina for a limited time. I needed it for my daily grind. But the doves were notoriously skittish. If you spooked them, their AI pathing broke, and they'd drop the loot into the underground river.
"Stand down, Kouretes. I've got this," I said confidently, cracking my knuckles.
I didn't want to chase them around the cave with a net like some low-level NPC. I was the Sky Father. I had magic.
Plan: Create a gentle, localized electromagnetic net to softly catch the doves, retrieve the Ambrosia, and let them go. A simple Area-of-Effect (AoE) crowd-control spell.
Execution: I raised my hand and pushed my will into the air.
ZAP-KRAK.
I miscalculated the voltage. By a lot.
Instead of a gentle net, a miniature supercell thunderstorm erupted right above my head. A jagged arc of blue plasma leaped from my fingers, chained between all three doves, and vaporized the ambient moisture in the air with a deafening crack that shook the stalactites.
The Kouretes dropped their shields and covered their ears, shouting prayers to Gaea.
When the purple spots cleared from my vision, the glowing, majestic doves of myth were gone. In their place, three perfectly charred, smoking, featherless nuggets fell from the sky and hit the moss with a sad, pathetic thud.
The Ambrosia they were carrying had been superheated into useless, sticky ash.
Amalthea walked over, her goat-eyes blinking slowly at the smoking remains. "Verily... the Sky-Child hath smitten the messengers. Is this a new sacrifice to the Heavens?"
"I... I lagged," I lied, staring at my glowing, treacherous hands.
Melisseus poked one of the cooked birds with the butt of his spear. "The flesh is seared black. A fearsome display of thine wrath, Lord Zeus! Even the fowls of the air cannot escape thy judgment!"
"It wasn't judgment, Melisseus," I sighed, rubbing my temples. "It's a skill issue."
That was the day I realized I was a hazard to myself and others. I was basically trying to perform open-heart surgery with a rocket launcher. I had all the power of the cosmos, but zero fine motor control.
I sat down in the dirt, ignoring the smell of burnt poultry. Okay. New quest objective. No more flashy elemental attacks until I can thread a needle with an electron.
Age 10
It took five years of relentless, agonizingly boring practice to fix my mechanics.
I spent days sitting perfectly still by the underground stream, practicing electrolysis. I would separate the hydrogen and oxygen molecules in the water, one by one, without blowing up the cave. It was the DIVINE equivalent of the Mr. Miyagi "wax on, wax off" routine.
By age ten, I looked like a ridiculously athletic sixteen-year-old. The Kouretes no longer treated me like a fragile VIP escort mission. They treated me like a loaded gun with a hair-trigger.
But I had a new problem. Map fog.
I had been in the cave for a decade. I had no idea what the overworld looked like. I didn't know where Cronus was moving his forces. I needed a scout.
The universe, in its infinite mythological weirdness, provided the perfect gacha pull.
I was doing one-handed pushups while levitating a limestone boulder over my back when a massive shadow blotted out the cave entrance.
The Kouretes instantly snapped into their Phalanx formation, shields locked.
"Hold!" I ordered, dropping the boulder and standing up.
Landing on a jagged outcropping of rock was a bird. But calling it a bird is like calling a Ferrari a go-kart. This was the Aetos Dios—the Golden Eagle of myth. It was massive, with a wingspan of at least twelve feet. Its feathers weren't just yellow; they were literal, metallic gold. Its eyes burned with a fierce, terrifying intelligence.
"A beast born of the Sun!" Pyrrhichos whispered, his grip tightening on his spear, knuckles white. "It peers into our sanctuary! Shall we drive it back to the ether, Lord?"
"Are you kidding? That's a free epic mount," I muttered, my gamer instincts overriding my common sense.
I walked slowly toward the eagle. It shrieked—a sound that vibrated right through my sternum—and flared its golden wings, preparing to take off.
Don't blast it. Don't fry it. Use the finesse, I reminded myself.
I didn't reach for my lightning. I reached for the Earth's magnetic field. The eagle's feathers were metallic. That meant they were susceptible to diamagnetism.
I raised my hand, palm open. I didn't push. I pulled, gently matching the frequency of the magnetic resonance around the bird.
The eagle tried to flap its wings, but it found itself caught in a frictionless, invisible bubble. It hovered in mid-air, clicking its beak in confusion.
I walked right up to it.
"Hey there, buddy," I whispered. I let a tiny, microscopic spark of plasma dance on my fingertip—not to hurt it, but to show it my resonance. A peace offering of pure energy.
The eagle stopped thrashing. It tilted its head, looking at the spark, and then looked at my eyes. Animals in Greek myth aren't stupid. They recognize authority. And right now, my aura was broadcasting: I am the Admin. You belong to me.
I slowly lowered the magnetic field and extended my forearm.
The massive bird dropped onto my arm. Its talons were like steel daggers, but my DIVINE skin didn't even scratch. It folded its golden wings and nuzzled its sharp beak against my shoulder.
Familiar Acquired. I grinned, feeling a new, psychic link click into place in my mind. Through the eagle, I could feel the wind currents outside. I could see the ultraviolet spectrum.
"I shall name you... Aetos. Because I am terrible at naming things, and that literally just translates to 'Eagle'."
Aetos squawked in agreement.
Amalthea stepped forward from the shadows, bowing her head. "The King of the Winds bows to the King of the Heavens. The Fates spin a favorable thread this day."
"Forget the Fates, Amalthea. We have a UAV now," I said, stroking the eagle's golden feathers. "Aetos, buddy, I need you to fly a reconnaissance route over Mount Othrys. Don't engage. Just ping the map and bring me the telemetry."
I tossed my arm up. The eagle launched into the air, a streak of gold against the dark stone, and vanished into the sky.
Fine motor control? Fixed. Fog of War? Lifted.
Age 15
By the time fifteen years had passed, I was getting cocky.
I was physically in my prime. I had the Phalanx formation dialed in with the Kouretes. Aetos the Eagle was giving me daily live-streams of the Titans' movements outside (Cronus was apparently spending a lot of time yelling at clouds, which felt validating).
I thought my build was perfect. High DPS, high agility, infinite stamina, and a scout.
Then, the server decided to give me a massive vibe check.
It happened at midnight. I was asleep on my moss bed, dreaming of a triple-bacon cheeseburger, when my danger-sense flared so violently I practically teleported to my feet.
The Kouretes were already awake, their weapons drawn, forming a tight circle around the center of the cave.
"What breached the perimeter?" I demanded, my hands instantly igniting with blue plasma.
"We know not, Lord!" Melisseus shouted, his voice echoing in the dark. "A shadow moves! It bears the weight of a mountain!"
Grrrrmmm.
The growl didn't come from the entrance. It came from deep within the cave walls.
Out of the darkness stepped a dog.
But this wasn't a normal dog. This was the Golden Hound of Rhea. My mother had placed it here when I was a baby to guard the cave. It was the size of a rhinoceros, forged entirely of animated, living gold. Its eyes were ruby-red lasers, and its jaws dripped with molten heat.
"The Guardian!" Pyrrhichos gasped, lowering his spear. "Mother Rhea's hound! Why doth it bare its fangs at us? Have we offended the Earth?"
"No, it's an automated security system," I realized, the logic clicking in my head. "It was programmed to protect a helpless baby. I'm not a baby anymore. My power level just crossed a threshold, and its programming registered me as an intruder!"
"Lord, it is indestructible!" Amalthea cried out. "Forged by the Elder Smiths! Bronze cannot pierce its hide!"
"Good thing I don't use bronze," I smirked.
I was cocky. I thought I had fixed all my flaws. I charged the Hound.
Mistake.
I threw a perfect, concentrated Rasengan of plasma right at its chest. The attack hit dead center.
The Hound didn't even flinch. Gold is one of the most conductive metals in the universe. The Hound absorbed my plasma, its golden body glowing white-hot, and it used my own energy to overcharge its servos.
It lunged.
I tried to dodge, but my I-frames were off. The Hound slammed into me with the force of a freight train.
I flew backward, crashing through three limestone stalagmites before embedding myself in the cave wall.
Critical Hit.
HP: 40%
"Gah!" I spat out blood—golden ichor—and slumped to the floor. My ribs throbbed. I felt like I had just been run over by an armored personnel carrier.
The Hound stalked toward me, its jaws opening to snap my neck.
"Shield wall!" Pyrrhichos roared. The Kouretes threw themselves between me and the mechanical beast, but the Hound just swatted them aside with its massive paws like they were bowling pins.
I'm stupid, I thought, clutching my chest. I pumped all my stats into offense and evasion. I have zero armor. I'm wearing a literal wool tunic to a boss fight.
The Hound leaped for the killing blow.
I didn't have time to charge a big attack. I couldn't dodge. I had to use the one thing I had spent the last five years perfecting: Control.
I didn't aim at the Hound's body. I aimed at its brain. Or, whatever magical CPU was running inside its golden skull.
I raised two fingers and fired a micro-burst of electricity. Not a lightning bolt. An Electromagnetic Pulse (EMP).
The invisible wave of frequency hit the Hound mid-air.
ZRRRRT.
The Hound's ruby eyes flickered. Its golden joints locked up. The magical current driving its body short-circuited. It crashed to the floor, sliding to a halt inches from my boots, completely paralyzed.
I lay there for a solid minute, catching my breath, staring at the ceiling.
"Status report?" I wheezed.
"We draw breath, Lord," Pyrrhichos groaned, pulling himself out of a pile of rubble. "Though my pride is bruised sorely."
I looked at the paralyzed golden dog. I had survived, but it was a massive wake-up call.
If I walked up to Cronus with my current build, the Titan of Time would turn me into a smear on the pavement. My DPS was useless if I couldn't take a hit.
"I need gear," I whispered, pulling myself up. "I need actual, legendary-tier armor."
Age 18: The Final Build
Three more years passed.
The Golden Hound, after I carefully rebooted its magical hard drive, became my second Familiar. It was currently napping by the entrance, serving as the ultimate base defense. Aetos the Eagle was perched on a stalactite, preening its golden feathers.
I was eighteen. The tutorial timer was officially up.
I was sparring with Pyrrhichos and Melisseus, testing my physical limits. I didn't use any lightning. I was just using raw, DIVINE strength, parrying their heavy bronze spears with my bare forearms.
"Faster!" I commanded, deflecting a thrust and sweeping Melisseus's legs out from under him.
I stepped back to avoid Pyrrhichos's counter-attack, but my heel slipped on a patch of wet moss.
I stumbled backward, throwing my hand out blindly to catch my balance.
My hand clamped down on something hard and ridged. I put my full weight onto it to stop my fall.
SNAP.
A sickening crack echoed through the cave.
The Kouretes froze.
I looked down at my hand. I was holding a massive, beautifully curved, golden-brown horn.
I slowly turned around.
Amalthea, my divine goat-nurse, was standing there. Her left horn was completely snapped off at the base.
My stomach dropped into the Underworld. The brain rot, the gamer jokes, the cockiness—all of it vanished instantly. She had raised me. She had kept me alive. And I had just maimed her.
"By the Styx," I choked out, dropping to my knees. "Amalthea... I'm so sorry. I slipped. I didn't mean to—"
The ancient nymph-goat didn't scream. She didn't bleed. She looked at me, her rectangular eyes softening. She stepped forward and nudged my shoulder with her remaining horn.
"Do not weep, Sky-Child," she hummed, her voice a warm breeze. "The earth gives, and the earth breaks. It is the nature of all things. Do not burden thy heart."
"No. I can fix this," I said, my voice trembling slightly. I looked at the broken horn in my hands.
I am the King. I write the code.
I didn't try to stick it back on her head. I knew divine anatomy didn't work like that. But I could make sure her sacrifice wasn't just a clumsy mistake in my playthrough.
I channeled every ounce of my refined control, every drop of precision I had learned over the last eighteen years, into the hollow horn. I didn't pump it with destructive plasma. I filled it with life. I pulled the ambient essence of the Dictaean Cave—the magic of the earth, the nectar of the bees, the purity of the water—and wove it into the keratin of the horn.
The horn began to glow with a soft, golden light.
"Behold," I whispered, the mythological weight of the moment settling over me. "The Cornucopia. The Horn of Plenty."
A cluster of perfectly ripe, glowing grapes spilled out of the hollow end, followed by a stream of pure, golden nectar. It was a literal infinite resource glitch, born from an accident and refined by mastery.
I handed the Cornucopia back to Amalthea.
She took it, her eyes shining with ancient wisdom. "Thou hast learned the greatest lesson of all, my King. True power is not merely the tempest that destroys. It is the rain that creates."
She stepped back.
Suddenly, her form began to shimmer. The goat-like features faded entirely, leaving only the stunning, ancient Nymph of the Ash Tree.
But the goat didn't disappear. The golden, impenetrable fleece that had covered her beast-form sloughed off, falling to the ground in a shimmering, indestructible pile. She had shed it.
"The time of hiding is over," Amalthea said, gesturing to the fleece. "My physical shell is no longer required to shield thee in the dark. Take it. Let it be thy bulwark in the light."
I reached down and picked up the fleece. It was feather-light, but I could feel the density of the magic woven into it. It was completely immune to physical damage, highly resistant to magic, and practically vibrated with defensive power.
Item Acquired: The Aegis.
Rarity: Mythic.
Defense: +9999.
I threw the fleece over my shoulders. It instantly morphed and tailored itself, wrapping around my purple Chlamys like a tactical cloak, pinning itself with a golden clasp.
I stood up.
I had my ranged attacks. I had my Familiars. I had my infinite supply item. I had my ultimate armor.
I looked at the UI in my mind's eye.
Level 100 Reached.
Tutorial Area Complete.
I turned to the Kouretes, who were watching me with absolute awe.
"Pyrrhichos," I said, my voice echoing with finality. "Roll out the boulder."
The giant warrior grinned, a savage, eager expression. "To Mount Othrys, Lord? Shall we march upon the Devourer?"
"No," I adjusted the Aegis on my shoulder, feeling the invincibility frames settle over my avatar. "If we fight Cronus now, my siblings die in the crossfire. We need the emetic potion to make him throw them up."
I looked toward the entrance of the cave, where the sunlight was bleeding through the cracks for the first time in my life.
"We're going to the beach. I need to find an Oceanid named Metis. It's time to start the main questline."