Chapter 1: Chosen
Preemo didn't wake up the way people usually do.
No slow stretch.
No heavy eyes adjusting to light.
One second—nothing.
The next—
He was standing.
The ground beneath him wasn't solid. It looked like marble, but something about it felt… off. Like it wasn't meant for human feet. The air carried weight, pressing lightly against his chest with every breath.
He looked around.
Endless space.
No walls. No sky. Just a vast, glowing emptiness that stretched farther than his eyes could follow.
"Yeah… this ain't Earth."
His voice echoed, but not the way sound normally travels. It lingered, like the space itself was listening.
Then—
A presence.
No.
Two.
Preemo didn't hear them arrive. He felt them.
The pressure shifted.
Heavy.
Ancient.
The kind of presence that made your instincts shut up and pay attention.
He turned.
And froze.
At the far end of the space—
Two massive thrones stood, carved from something that looked older than time itself.
Seated upon them were the figures.
Still.
Unmoving.
Watching.
One radiated raw authority. Lightning danced faintly around his shoulders, flickering like it was barely being contained. His gaze alone carried weight, like judgment didn't need to be spoken—it was already decided.
Beside him sat a woman.
Calm. Composed. But no less dangerous.
Where his energy was loud, hers was quiet… controlled. The kind of power that didn't need to prove itself.
Preemo exhaled slowly.
"…Yeah. I'm definitely dead."
The man's voice came first.
Deep. Controlled.
"You are."
No hesitation. No emotion.
Just truth.
Preemo nodded once, more to himself than them.
"Figures."
A pause.
Then a small smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.
"So… what now? Judgment? Heaven? Hell?"
The woman spoke from her throne, her presence carrying without her needing to move.
"Neither."
Silence stretched for a moment.
Then the man spoke again.
"You've been chosen."
Preemo's expression didn't change—but his eyes sharpened.
"Chosen for what?"
The space around them pulsed.
Not violently.
But enough to let him know this wasn't a normal conversation.
"A tournament," the woman said.
"Legacy Tournament," the man corrected.
Preemo let that sit for a second.
Then—
"…Of course it is."
The man's eyes narrowed slightly.
"You don't seem surprised."
Preemo shrugged.
"I was ranked number one on Earth for ten straight years. Competitive games, simulations, strategy systems—didn't matter. If it had a leaderboard, I was on top."
He tilted his head slightly.
"So yeah… getting pulled into some kind of cosmic tournament after I die?"
A faint smirk.
"Sounds about right."
A brief silence passed between the two.
Then—
The man spoke again.
"You were not chosen at random."
The air tightened.
"For ten years," he continued, "you adapted to every system placed before you. You learned faster than your opponents. You broke patterns. You created new ones."
The woman's voice followed.
"You don't rely on strength."
A slight pause.
"You rely on understanding."
Preemo didn't respond right away.
But his attention?
Locked in.
"Each power in existence selects a single champion," the man said.
"One."
The word carried weight.
"No replacements."
Preemo's smirk faded slightly.
"…And I'm yours."
Lightning cracked softly in the distance.
"You represent us."
A pause.
Then Preemo looked at him more carefully.
Really looked this time.
The lightning. The presence. The authority.
It clicked.
"…Zeus."
The man didn't confirm it.
He didn't need to.
Preemo's gaze shifted to the woman.
"…So that makes you—"
"Hera," she said calmly.
Preemo let out a quiet breath.
"…Wow."
Not fear.
Not excitement.
Just acknowledgment.
"Alright," he said, rolling his shoulders slightly. "So I'm dead, recruited by Greek gods, and about to fight in some universe-level tournament."
He looked between them.
"What's the catch?"
Zeus remained seated, his presence alone answering part of the question.
"This is the only time we will assist you."
The space seemed to grow heavier.
"Once you leave here," Hera added, "you are on your own."
Silence.
Preemo stood there for a moment.
Letting it sink in.
Then—
He smiled.
"…Good."
Hera's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Good?"
Preemo cracked his neck, like he was about to load into a match.
"I always hated easy games."
For the first time—
There was the faintest shift in the air between the two.
Subtle.
Almost unnoticeable.
Zeus raised his hand slightly from his throne.
The space around them bent.
"Then prepare yourself."
The air pulsed.