The Twelve Olympians
The sun rises, and dawn breaks.
My day begins the moment light spills over the horizon.
Though I hold the title of Supreme God of the Constellation Realm, my daily routine — quite apart from the prestige of the position — was remarkably ordinary.
"Mmmnnghhh…!"
First, I wake up in the cabin at the peak of Cliff Mountain and stretch with a long, satisfying groan.
Ever since I'd shed my human body, sleep had become largely unnecessary, but when it came to killing boring stretches of time, nothing beat it. And so, having finished my eight hours and risen, the very first thing I did each day was carve a fresh tally mark into the cliff face of the mountain where I lived.
A tally mark — the method of counting days by bundling strokes in groups of five.
Glancing back, I could see that four thousand years' worth of marks covered the sheer face of Cliff Mountain so densely that the mountain, already tall enough to pierce the clouds, seemed buried beneath them.
"Honestly, there's no real meaning to it anymore…"
Truth be told, this ritual had long since lost any significance. I'd been rotting away up here for several thousand years by now — caring about the date had stopped mattering ages ago.
But back when I'd been here less than a year — on the very day I first built Cliff Mountain, the place that would become my home — I'd started this practice, and somewhere along the way it had hardened into habit.
At this point, skipping it actually made me fidgety and uneasy. And so my daily routine had always begun with a single stroke carved into the cliff face of Cliff Mountain.
Scaaatch───
Today's new mark, gouged in with my own fingernail.
Normally, after drawing the tally, I'd head down to a place untouched by divine power and raise a new structure there — that was the usual course of my day. Today, however, was different.
Instead of descending, I climbed back to the very top of Cliff Mountain.
"Looking down at it like this, I have to say — I'm pretty damn proud."
From there, I drank in the landscape of the Constellation Realm, all of it visible at a glance.
"Four thousand years… just to get this far, huh."
My assigned responsibility had been to decorate and complete the Constellation Realm.
To put it in easily understandable terms, the job was something like a territory-expansion game. When I raised a structure made of my divine power on a barren plain, the completeness of a certain radius around that structure would rise.
And once a place reached sufficient completeness, it began producing divine power on its own — just as trees generate oxygen — supplying the parched Constellation Realm with the power it created for itself.
Building mountains, seas, buildings, all manner of things in this fashion and distributing divine power across the entire realm — that was my work.
Some might hear that and ask: wouldn't it have been simpler to just fill the whole realm with nothing but oceans and mountains?
It's not as if the thought never crossed my mind.
Back when I'd considered that particular shortcut and asked Eve about it, her answer was one and the same:
Eve was the core of the Constellation Realm — in other words, the realm itself was effectively her body.
Which meant that decorating the Constellation Realm was, functionally, decorating Eve's own body. She couldn't touch the realm herself, which was precisely why the job had been handed to me — and I could still picture, with perfect clarity, her begging me not to make a mess of it.
She'd pleaded with genuine sincerity, so I couldn't exactly refuse. And besides, we'd be stuck with each other whether I liked it or not, so I had no choice but to honor her wish and furnish the Constellation Realm as harmoniously as I could manage.
"Phew… it truly was a long, long age of persecution."
All the effort I'd poured into beautifying this realm over the years. Thinking back on those days — brainstorming with Eve, squeezing aesthetic sensibilities out of a body that had never possessed them — brought a sting of tears to my eyes.
But the long era of persecution was over at last.
At the end of four thousand years, the completed Constellation Realm was finally ready to begin operating properly.
And so my unchanging daily routine naturally had to change as well. No longer would I go out to raise new structures — from today, I would watch over the opening of the Constellation Realm itself.
And then, as though everything were finally in place, Eve appeared at my side as I gazed down upon the world below.
Swoosh───
"I wondered if this day would ever come — but here it is, all the same."
So began Eve, materializing out of thin air like a ghost.
I answered her lightly.
"We worked hard to get here. We've rested long enough — it's time for the Constellation Realm to open its doors."
"Heheh, well, you're not wrong."
At my reply, Eve let out a soft laugh. Then, hands folded lightly behind her back, she followed my gaze and looked out over the realm below.
There was something almost wistful in her posture, and I turned to look at her.
"So? What do you think of the finished Constellation Realm? Do you like it?"
"……"
At my question, Eve fell silent for a moment and looked back at me. Those eyes — which after all these years I still found beautiful, no matter how many thousands of times I'd seen them — met mine.
To anyone else, her expression might have read as utterly blank.
But I'd lived beside her for four thousand years. I knew exactly what that face was: the look she wore in the instant before breaking into a bright, unguarded smile.
As if to prove the point, Eve's impassioned expression soon softened into a sunny curve.
"Asking a question with such an obvious answer. Were you hoping I'd flatter you, Arche-nim?"
"…Ugh. Fine, that one's on me for asking."
So said Eve, flashing a smile so radiant it bordered on infuriating.
She was pretty, sure — but her answer was annoying beyond that, and I turned my head away with a sigh.
At my reaction, Eve burst into mischievous laughter and hurriedly grabbed my wrist.
"Oh come on, it was a joke, a joke! There's no need to even ask — I love it to bits, and I'm incredibly grateful to you, Arche-nim."
"I'm not really feeling the sincerity in those words… Look, if you hate it, just say so. I'll torch the whole thing on the spot."
"You do realize that's the same as saying you'll set my body on fire, right?"
"Exactly. Why do you think I said it?"
At my words, Eve pressed a hand over her mouth, her face the very picture of a tragic heroine.
But even through her look of shock, the glimmer of amusement was unmistakable, so I narrowed my eyes at her.
"You really want me to burn it down?"
"No! I'm sorry!"
The moment I conjured a small flame at my fingertips, Eve bowed her head at once and groveled shamelessly.
A snort escaped me at the sight, and I snuffed out the flame, steering the conversation to business.
"By the way… when exactly does the gate to the Constellation Realm open? You said it was opening today, remember?"
I knew without being told that Eve's gratitude was genuine, so the teasing could end there. Which was why my question cut straight to the heart of the matter: when the gate would open.
Four thousand years, all spent running toward this single day. I hadn't shown it on my face, but right now I was thoroughly, undeniably excited.
Because at last, the gate that had been sealed for four millennia would swing open, and other intelligent beings — Constellations, apart from Eve and me — would finally set foot in this place.
So when I asked the question, a faint tremor of excitement in my voice, Eve answered with a simple shrug.
"We could open it this very moment, if you wished — though I imagine you'd like some time to prepare first, wouldn't you?"
"Prepare? Prepare for what?"
"It seems quite likely that fights will break out when the Constellations arrive and I begin guiding them."
"Fights? Why would there be figh… ah."
A beat behind, I let out a groan of realization. It had taken me a moment to understand why fights might break out.
"You remember the Laws of the Constellation Realm, don't you?"
"Yeah — I just remembered now that you mention it. I'd almost forgotten those existed."
The reason Eve said battles might erupt while she guided the newcomers was none other than the laws that governed the Constellation Realm.
Every Constellation who came to live here would be bound to obey them. And those laws began from a single, foundational premise:
Law One — The Supreme God of the Constellation Realm is absolute.
The Laws of the Constellation Realm began with the premise that my name and my authority were absolute.
Needless to say, the Constellations hearing this weren't about to nod along with a breezy "Oh, of course!" and laugh it off — which meant, exactly as Eve predicted, the odds of a fight breaking out were high.
From what I understood, most Constellations tended to be prideful creatures who worshipped power above all else.
"Hmm… Still, if we got gentler-natured Constellations, it might not be so bad. Do you happen to know who the first ones coming through are?"
Even so, if the other party had a mild temperament, surely things could be settled with words. That was the tiny hope I clung to as I asked — and it was crushed almost instantly.
"The Constellations arriving today are the Twelve Olympians. And for the record, this is the order I planned and prepared over a very, very long time — so it's not changing, you know?"
"…Yeah. We're screwed."
The first Constellations to enter would be a pack led by a horse-faced degenerate. My face went slack.
Today would mark the Constellation Realm's very first induction ceremony.
Somehow, I doubted it was going to be a peaceful one.