At the peak of Mount Olympus, or rather, within the temple situated at its summit, Morpheus found himself surrounded.
Encircling him were the Greek gods, all present except for Hermes.
"Spill it... who's your patron god? Or perhaps, their divine envoy?!"
The one who spoke was Artemis, who was probably the closest to Morpheus among them. Her tone was playful, her expression far from serious as she asked.
Morpheus' displayed strength had left the gods in awe. No one would be foolish enough to pick a fight with someone like him, especially when he clearly wasn't the type to stir trouble.
Of course, if someone's mind were addled, such a thing might happen.
But clearly, this group of Greek deities was not only sound of mind but perfectly rational.
Even gods born from mechanical foundations understood logically what the best course of action was.
At this moment, the gods gathered around, partly because they were accustomed to interacting with humans, but also due to a very human trait: curiosity.
They were curious about Morpheus' secrets, about all sorts of things, which was why they lingered here. It wasn't coercion... just a simple wait for his response.
The gods' thoughts were remarkably straightforward.
"If he answers, great. Waiting costs us nothing."
That was roughly their mindset.
Medea watched the scene nervously, whispering to her teacher, "Lady Hecate, is this really okay?"
"It's fine. They're just curious," Hecate replied. "And it's obvious they're just teasing. You've spent enough time with Artemis to know she loves to play."
"So, the Moon Goddess is just messing around?"
"Of course. She's having the time of her life," Hecate said.
Medea glanced over, and Artemis' expression did indeed seem gleefully playful. As for Morpheus, facing the question, he was smiling, showing no sign of offense at having his secrets probed.
"What if I said I don't have a specific god I worship?" Morpheus replied.
His answer stunned the gods. They hadn't expected such a response.
Artemis immediately retorted, "Don't joke! Those figures you summoned... they were clearly projections of gods, weren't they?"
"I'm a magician. I borrow the power of gods to summon these supernatural entities and use them, not because I worship them," Morpheus explained lightly. "If I had to use an analogy, it's like me invoking Lord Zeus' name to command lightning and make it serve me."
The explanation was blunt... so blunt it left the gods stunned again.
"Isn't that the same as the connection between us and our priests?" one god said. "Priests can use our authority to cast magic imbued with divine power. Isn't that exactly what you're describing... using a god's name to wield their power?"
Morpheus shrugged. "I don't need their approval."
The scene fell into a brief silence.
To wield a god's power without their consent, simply by invoking their name, was almost unthinkable.
Yet the man before them spoke of it so naturally, so casually.
To the gods' silence, Morpheus dropped another bold claim: "Isn't it only natural for a magician to be able to do this?!"
Such a feat wasn't entirely impossible. A magician could theoretically connect directly to the Root, interacting with the source itself.
But almost no one could meet such a requirement. Those who truly reached the level of a magician typically formed contracts or connections with gods, relying on divine authority to cast magic.
In other words, gods acted as a sort of connector between humans and the Root. The attributes of the connector varied, leading to differences in the magic that could be cast.
Gods had their own consciousness and wouldn't easily grant a mortal's request. To gain access to a god's authority, a magician naturally needed to show loyalty or faith to that god.
Take Medea, for example. While studying magic under Hecate, she was also Hecate's priestess. She learned countless magecraft techniques, most of which were ordinary, but she could also wield powerful magic through Hecate's authority.
For Morpheus, however, none of this seemed necessary.
He could manifest powers originally belonging to gods purely through his own ability!
The gods didn't strictly require humans to worship them, so what shocked them most about Morpheus' theory wasn't the lack of faith but the fact that he could use divine power without divine consent.
In his mind, Morpheus silently scoffed.
What's the big deal? In the future, there'll be someone bold enough to steal Gabriel's divine power right in front of Gabriel and use it to counter them. If I could return to the Toaruverse, I wonder what year it'd be. Hopefully, the plot hasn't jumped straight to World War III…
Knowing what the gods were worried about, Morpheus reassured them, "Don't worry. The magical theory I use is completely different from the one you know... it's an entirely separate system. I don't need to interact with the Root. In fact, the magic I use is more like a facsimile shaped by legends and myths."
"A facsimile?" a god asked.
"It's like there's an original entity, and I use that entity to create a false version, mimicking it in every way... or rather, mimicking the version that exists in the public's imagination.
"For a simpler example, take Heroic Spirits. Say there's a real hero who later becomes a Heroic Spirit... like Heracles, for instance."
Heracles, who had been listening to Morpheus, blinked in surprise. "Why'd you bring me up?"
"Just an example!" Morpheus said, continuing, "At that point, the Heroic Spirit is an elevated form of Heracles himself. But if there's a popular novel featuring a character named Heracles, based on him but with all sorts of strange additions, you could use that as a basis to have the Root create a Heroic Spirit like that.
"That's what I mean by a facsimile."
At this, the gods finally grasped what Morpheus meant. This way, it wasn't about bypassing a god's consent to use their power but about crafting a god-like facsimile from widespread legends and using its power.
Even so, this magic was undeniably terrifying. After all, it wasn't about crafting fictional mortal heroes but fictional gods!
What they didn't know was that Morpheus hadn't revealed everything. His explanation covered part of it but not the whole truth.
The Sword of Promised Victory he'd created appeared to be an imitation, and it was, but in truth, the spell he'd devised for it was drawing power from the original entity!
As long as the imitation was close enough, it could siphon a significant amount of power... potentially reaching a fraction of the original's strength!
***
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