"To wear the mantle of a god is to bear the storms and fires of the world, to rise beyond mortal bounds and be the strength they cannot muster. Only in the tempest can one forge a crown worthy of devotion, and only by commanding the forces of creation may one stand as Monarch of the heavens."
My name is Order. The First born of the goddess Ravanna. I am the Boundless. From me, all that is formed or yet to be imagined flows. I have watched creation unfold, splinter, and bind itself again, endlessly. Worlds and stars spark in my wake, mortals and gods alike finding their places in the great design, each thinking they understand their purpose, their worth. But none see the whole tapestry—save me.
I observe, and I ponder, for I am older than even the dust of time.
And so, I see everything, including the rot that hides in plain sight. Among the gods—those children of divinity who presume dominion over all creation—there is one whose arrogance reeks above all. Zeus. He who commands the heavens, lord of lightning, a ruler, yes, but one who mistakes power for wisdom, reverence for fear. I have watched him revel in his own arrogance, treating his dominion not as a duty but as his due. His conceit, his reckless indulgences, his scorn for mortal bonds—how effortlessly he shirks all that he owes.
But perhaps... Perhaps there is something left to consider.
A test.
One born to power rarely sees beyond it. Yet, if I were to take a mortal, a creature who has known limits, and grant them the role of Zeus… might they wield it with humility? With strength honed by struggle? Might a mortal—a simple, flawed, fragile thing—bring dignity to a throne a god has tainted?
And so, I reached into the world of men and found one who harbors his own flaws: anger, ambition, even bitterness toward the very gods he once revered. Yet he has within him a spark, a potential the gods, born blind to struggle, would never know. A mortal will take the throne of the thunder god. He will walk among deities, not as a puppet but as a test.
Let him prove that mortal hands can hold the heavens more justly than those who have always claimed them. Let him remind the gods that divinity is not a birthright, but a mantle that must be earned.
In the storm to come, he shall either fall… or rise as the Monarch of Lightning.